Liar // Patrick Hockstetter x fem!Reader x Henry Bowers

Fourteen 》Careful

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. "I like you.", he repeated with an annoyed sigh.

"This can't be fucking true...", you mumbled to yourself. "It is, whether you want it or not.", he stated with a stern face, looking at you whilst hiding the emotions in his eyes.

"I guess you can leave now. We won't keep this going. You were right, it's better this way.", he said before he grabbed the knob of his front door and opened it.

You stumbled forward, falling against his chest. But he was quick to push you off of him and towards the exit.

"Henry, let-"
"Leave."

"Henry, I really want to-"
"Leave!"

He shoved you out of the house roughly, before pulling the door shut. Fucking great. Now that you knew he had feelings for you, you would of course be okay with kissing him!

Now you knew he wasn't intending to do anything bad. Well, he kind of still did, because you fell flat onto the floor infront of his door.

You tried catching yourself with your hands, but they slipped away and your face met the lovely, hard ground.

You whined while sitting up and holding your knee. Shit, you were bleeding and your pants were ripped... and blue. Meaning your parents would definitely notice the red.

You tried standing up, but it hurt too much, so you simply sat down again and leaned against the handrail behind you.

Your look shifted from the door to the stairs, that led down to his garden.

Only three stairs, you could hop them down on your ass. No problem. But then there was the rest of the way, which you couldn't fucking overcome on only your butt.

You shifted, trying to sit down comfortably, although your leg and your palms hurt. Not to mention your right cheek.

At least ten minutes you just sat there and waited. You didn't know for what. Maybe for Henry, maybe for your knee to magically heal or maybe just for some sort of wonder to happen.

Slowly, you started tearing up again. Why hadn't he just let you talk?

You were panicking, because you didn't know how long you'd have to sit there; because you didn't know when his dad would come home and because you had fucked up.

No matter his feelings for you, he now clearly didn't care anymore if you were doing fine or not.

Sobs started escaping your lips as you just straight up stared at his door. You hadn't heard him move, nor had you heard him yell or punch. So, what was he doing in there, if not letting his anger out?

Suddenly, you heard a klick and your eyes widened. Was he locking the door? Did he knew you were still outside?

But you were completely wrong. He stepped out of the house, keys in hand and eyes not even looking at you.

And then he noticed a person sitting on his porch. He looked down only to be met with your sad and wet eyes.

Then his gaze fell onto the wound on your knee and he inspected your face again.

When he got down on your level, you wanted to push yourself away from him, but there was no way you could do so.

Carefully, he picked you up. One hand under your legs and one under your back. He then carried you inside again and walked you upstairs.

You didn't know where he was heading, which caused you to be nervous and grab a hold of Henry's yellow shirt, staining it with blood.

Your eyes were closed as you got comfortable in his arms and let your head fall against his chest.

A smile formed on your lips. He still cared for your wellbeing.

Henry opened a door and walked inside of a room with you before kicking it closed and laying you down onto his bed.

You looked up at him confused. Was he mad now... or wasn't he? He didn't show any emotion at the moment because he didn't want you to see how he felt.

"Thank you.", you mumbled, looking away in embarrassment. Now, the boy had to take care of you after you just had that massive misunderstanding.

How pathetic you must have looked...

He didn't respond. He just walked out of the room and left you there. You didn't know what he was doing, but you heard shuffling and other sounds before he came back two minutes after.

In his hands was a box. What the fuck? Was he going to torture you now? Was he actually that angry?

But as soon as he set the box down on the bed and opened it, you regretted ever thinking of him that way.

Even in jokingly manner.

In it were different medical supplies. And a bottle of water, that he probably put in there previously.

He stared at you for a moment, before blinking and looking away slightly uncomfortable. "You need to pull your pants down.", he said, not daring to lock his eyes with your's.

You gulped.

No way. No fucking way! Especially since you were wearing some too small, old, rosa panties from two years ago.

He then did take a look at you. "Listen, if you want to get that shit cleaned you need to follow my orders, got it?"

You nodded hesitantly, before trying to shove your pants down while still laying in bed.

"Can't you fucking stand up, dumbass?", he asked jokingly, but furrowed his brows in serious concern afterwards.

"Not really...", you murmured.

He leaned over you and grabbed the hem of your jeans, tugging at it. You stared at him in shock as he slowly pulled them down.

His fingers were so warm if you compared them to the coldness outside. He was careful not to hurt you or touch your wound, although it wasn't impossible and you hissed a few times.

When he was finished, he smirked. "Nice underwear you got there.", he commented.

You hit him with your bruised palm and cursed, holding your hand afterwards.

He took out the bottle of water and handed it to you, before he got out some other stuff. Without asking, he grabbed the bottle from you and poured some water over the wound on your leg.

"Ahh! Fucking asshole! Fuck!", you yelled, trying to move your wound away from him. But he held a tight grip onto your lower leg.

"Shut it, [Y/n]. I'm all for hearing you moan, but right now I'm fucking concentrating.", he said, making you roll your eyes.

He poured some more water down onto the wound as you bit your lip to not let any noise come out.

"See, all done.", he told you when he handed back the bottle.

"Well, do you know what to do now? I'm guessing a bandage would be best, right?", he wanted to know, looking overstrained.

"No fucking idea, man.", you mumbled after taking a sip from your drink.

He sprayed some sort of disinfection spray onto your leg, before doing his best to bandage it properly.

"There we go. Hands.", he demanded, so you held out both of them. He just sprayed the weird shit onto them again and put everything back into the box.

"Wait.", he uttered before he left the room one more time.