Hey there, anon! I’m so sorry I didn’t see this sooner, but better late then never I hope. This is such a good word for Henry on the whole and this prompt slides right in perfectly to the timeline I’m working on with him right now.
Anyway, I’ll quit stalling. You’ve waited long enough. Enjoy!
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Warnings: implied sexual context, implied impaired consent/dubcon, implied drunkenness; recovery relapse, trauma recovery arc, trauma survivor, unhealthy coping, self disgust, self loathing; bad decisions time with Henry.
Guilt flooded him in the come down.
Soft, easily smushed, but still there.
Still nagging at the back of his head, just under the lingering feel-good of two more shots in him.
He slid off of the guy — no longer No-Name, but Daniel; Daniel Something, it didn’t matter — Henry felt an ache growing in his stomach and bones. He was dizzy from the endorphins, the effort, the haze of alcohol burning off, and now distinct, unshakable guilt.
He rolled onto his side, dropping an arm off the side as he stared at the door. He could smell Daniel more strongly now that he was closer to the sheets and pillow; now that he was moving to press up against his back, biting open-mouthed at the back of his neck. If he wasn’t still drunk, Henry might have pushed him away. If he wasn’t still drunk, he might have been more upset with what he’d just done.
It isn’t cheating, the anger yelped at him from over the haze of crappy alcohol and party energy. He walked away, it’s not cheating.
Henry groaned and buried his face in the pillow under his cheek. He wanted to curl up and hide; wanted to will a chasm to open up in the shitty dorm mattress underneath him for him to fall into.
Daniel seemed to take that as fresh encouragement; his hands moved with more urgency, more insistence. Henry just went still, trying to push back against the disgust welling up in his throat. No encouragement, no movement, and Daniel would roll over and fall asleep. It worked with Alexander every time, why wouldn’t it work now?
Maybe it would work on him too, letting him fall asleep and forget himself. Forget this whole night. Forget this whole, meaningless fuck. Wipe it out, start again, start fresh. This wouldn’t look great in the morning, but at least in daylight he could figure out a way to glue himself back together.
He wouldn’t though. He never slept when he was drinking.
Dread dropped over him.
It wasn’t Carter laying on the bed behind him. His familiar, comforting presence wasn’t there for Henry to sink into, roll himself in, and hold onto. He wasn’t there to hold him, smooth out his anxious jittery feeling, warm him up until things felt better. Carter had walked away and left him there.
Because you told him too, the voice yelped again. He was clamping down too hard on you, wanted to tell you what to do just like they all did before.
Henry rolled his eyes. He was just sobering up enough to know that was stupid. None of this felt good anymore. None of it felt victorious or sparkling or liberating. It was stupid and selfish and foul. Each one rolled over him, over and over, dragging him further under the surface.
The anger started to turn on him. The voice turning vicious, fork-tongued in his ear.
He deserved it. He needed it.
Henry felt Daniel’s arm get heavier, his breathing even out and deepen. Finally asleep, finally alone. Alone with his guilt and his anger and his own nastiness. Henry ran a hand over his face and settled in for a long night.
