Henry Bowers | BL

It was an overwhelming day for Henry. Everything seemed to be going wrong, and wherever he went, something was amiss. Today was no exception. He had lost his father's prized pocketknife, and to make matters worse, it had been in the middle of a forest. What was supposed to be a solitary walk to clear his head ended up being the final straw. Taking advantage of the fact that there was absolutely no one around, Henry sat devastated on the ground, where the leaves crunched beneath his weight, and buried his face in his hands. The last few days had been devastating, and everything seemed to be getting worse. Helpless tears began to well up in the corners of his now red eyes as he let out a trembling sigh. It felt like the world was against him.

You were just passing by, running an errand or two, but you strayed from the path and ended up in that peaceful place for no apparent reason. The deeper you went, the more you began to hear faint sobs, as if they were being restrained, yet too exhausted to do so. In the distance, you saw a familiar figure. You hesitated to approach, unsure of who it was, but when you got a good look at Henry Bowers's infamous henchman—your close friend—you hurried closer.
Upon hearing footsteps, Henry began running his hands over his face in a feeble attempt to conceal his distress. His eyes were awkwardly red, as was the tip of his nose, and his lip was swollen from nervous bites he'd likely taken to stifle his sobs. He stood up and cleared his throat, trying to mask his cracking voice.
"Who's there? I swear I'll break your face!"