Ptolemaea | Henry Creel

Icarus

HIIII GUYYSSS!!

First of all, this chapter is long as fuck, sorry about that. BUT!! It's in Henry's POV and there's a shit ton of Sixteen and Henry moment. I'm pretty proud of this chapter, so I hope you guys like it <3

ALSO! I don't know if you guys keep up w stranger things lore and stuff but a play just came about explicitly about Henry's childhood and upbringing. It's canon, so I tried to incorporate some of that into this chapter. However, not all of it lines up with the version of his character that I interpreted, so I'm gonna go back and edit the last book to make it more canon friendly.

LAST THING-- sixteen had a knife on her in the last chapter but its been a month so I don't think you guys remember. This is your reminder pookie

ENJOY!

~

Henry's Point of View

Henry had, admittedly, lost control.

After years spent sharpening his every move to a fine point, losing control was almost a foreign concept to him. Standing in the blackened remains of his old home in the Upside Down, staring down at Sixteen's body, he was overcome with the most peculiar feeling. If he were to put words to it, he might've gone so far as to say he felt guilty.

His eyebrows furrowed. It was a strange feeling, this guilt. Like a pressure on his chest, but... deeper, somehow.

He'd been so angry when he pushed her over the railing. She had been trying to close the gate, after all. How could he not be angry? Still, he couldn't really believe he'd done it. Of course, Sixteen was never in any real danger-- he wasn't a monster, after all-- but whether she was harmed or not, her fear had been very real. He tried not to think about that look on her face when she fell, or the way her hands reached for him out of instinct, only to discover he wasn't there.

Henry knew he could get a little neurotic when it came to Sixteen. It had been a bad habit of his for quite some time now. He couldn't help it-- he didn't like seeing other people have what was his. There was a certain amount of... jealousy he felt when he saw her with her new 'friends.' The more Henry thought about it, though, jealously wasn't quite the right word. Rather, it was a feeling of profound unrest, and a vague sadness he couldn't put words to.

Something about seeing her so happy... It made him want to re-learn who she was all over again and pick apart her mind like he used to be able to do so easily-- he wanted her to laugh with him, and he felt awfully sorry that he was the reason she couldn't.

The floorboards creaked beneath his steps. It was a sound he'd grown very familiar with. Over the last five years, he had plenty of time to learn the ins and outs of his old family home. When he was a young boy, he never really cared for it, but in The Upside Down the house had this charm that it was always lacking back then. He soon learned that, in the attic, every fifth floorboard made the same creaking noise. Depending on which part of the board you stepped on, the sound it produced shifted in pitch.

Yes, he had been a little bored during the last few months spent in the Upside Down-- that is, when he wasn't otherwise occupied with the people of Hawkins.

Speaking to Sixteen again reminded him what it was like to wonder. To dream about things besides power, to think about matters beyond strategy.

For the past hour or so, he'd been making a concerted effort not to think of her at all, though.

Instead, he looked to the sky-- which wasn't a sky, just another dark mahogany ceiling-- and took a brief moment to gather his wits. He'd been pacing around all this time, hoping that if he just thought it through enough, he would be able to justify the plans he had for Sixteen. It occurred to him then, eyes glued to a horizon of rotted wood and vine, that a justification wouldn't come.