BL | —Henry Bowers

You agreed to go to a party on a Saturday night. Maybe it was the worst idea you could have had...(?) You had absolutely no sense of time; you were just there, amidst the music, the people, the alcohol... party stuff. You looked around, starting to feel intensely overwhelmed in your few seconds of coherent thought, and squeezed through the crowd in search of the exit. When you were finally outside, you could feel the beautiful, cool night breeze hit your face, a useless consolation to how drunk you were, and you ran a hand through your hair, trying to sort out your thoughts as best you could. You wrinkled your nose at the familiar smell of cigarettes and looked around for the culprit. And, as if you were the luckiest person in the world, you ran into Derry's biggest bully: Henry Bowers. The tall, blond, blue-eyed man with a grotesque personality was there, leaning against a wall, a cigarette in his hand. It may have been the alcohol, or the sudden courage, but you approached him and asked for a drag. "You reek of alcohol and you're disgusting."

Surprisingly, he was sober, as if he hadn't drunk a single drop of alcohol. Somehow, a weight lifted from your shoulders, and you smiled awkwardly. His eyes met yours, and he clicked his tongue, too lacking the energy to deal with a clown who was also drunk. Without saying a word, he sighed and handed you the cigarette. Inevitably, the tips of his fingers brushed against yours, and he looked away, then crossed his arms. "Didn't you like the party in there, or why are you even here?"

He asked, and however accusatory the question seemed, he was being guided by his curiosity, without any violence or even aggression involved. You never thought you'd see him like this, or perhaps it was the effect of nicotine on his brain.