My Number One (001/Henry Creel/Vecna x Reader)

Islanders

Of course, as you'd imagine, the remainder of that month-and-a-half-long boat trip was very painful for me. I don't remember too much of it; each day it was quite repetitive.

I would lie awake at night, replaying Eleven's death in my head, and picturing her dead body lying still in the cage where I'd last seen here, while Henry led down with me as I didn't want to be awake alone, trying to distract my thoughts for me, or waiting for me to fall asleep so that he could too. Then, even after my body would finally give in from exhaustion, it would wake me up again with nightmares, and the process would start all over again.

During the days, I would mope around and play chess or cards with Henry and the Demogorgon, with bouts of crying in between as I recalled my days in the lab with Eleven.

On the rare occasions where I could bring myself to clean myself and bathe, Henry would kneel behind the tub and help me while I cried, massaging the shampoo into my hair and rinsing it off with jugs of warm water.

I expect you're wondering how Henry felt during this, knowing he was the cause of my depression. He felt sorry for me, and helped improve my days as much as he could, but the truth was that he wasn't the cause, and both he and I knew that. If it wasn't for Eleven's longing to have us both killed and have our plan wasted for nothing at the first chance she had to do it, then Henry wouldn't have had to kill her. He was protecting us, and to be honest with myself, it had been irresponsible of me to keep her alive, and risk putting her in a cage and bringing her across the world in such close proximity to us. I had put mine and Henry's lives at risk by doing it. I was in denial by thinking it would work out. Henry did what I was too cowardly to do. Now we could relax knowing there was no threat left to loom in the background of our lives.

*

Henry didn't tell me when we were arriving on Fiji until we were there. It was best that way, because I was sure the trip would have felt even longer if I was counting down the days, and it was the most wonderful surprise to see the island rising in the distance one morning.

"Land!" I had exclaimed as I reached the wheelhouse where Henry was steering the ship.

"Our stop," Henry said with a smile.

*

As we finally drew the boat to shore, I collected our belongings. Holding our suitcases, I walked up to Henry where he waited in the wheelhouse. "Henry...what will we do about...?" I whispered tearfully.

He knew my thoughts; he could read me like a book sometimes. "I'll take care of it," he assured, in reference to Eleven's body. "We can talk about it later. You can tell me what you want done with it. But, for now, I want you to let yourself enjoy this day as much as you can, and think about her the least you can. Okay? Can you do that for me?"

*

To reach the shore, we had to paddle little rowboats onto the beach, as the water was too shallow for the ship to get close enough. Henry and I had a few babies on our boat, and the Demogorgons and Demodogs had a few on theirs. The sun glistened on the water, and beat down on my bare arms as we rowed in silence. It was bliss.

Barefoot, I stepped onto the warm sand as Henry held me stable like a gentleman. I hadn't felt sand on my feet in so long that I had forgotten what it felt like altogether. The beach was breathtaking—massive, wide, with palm trees dotted around, and set before a thick forest of tall green trees. The ocean was crashing behind me, and birds sang as they swept above the woodland.

*

We'd been exploring the island the entire day, discovering rivers, waterfalls, fruit trees, exotic animals, natural materials for our home, and, best of all, a huge lagoon.

At first, finding no sign of life—no houses, no tools—we'd suspected the island was desolate, uninhabited, until that night, we heard a noise.

We'd been sat on the ground in the dead of night, against a tree trunk, under the canopy of its leaves, drunk on whiskey we'd found on the ship, our laughs thundering through the quiet forest, until a rustle in the leaves somewhere nearby hushed us for a moment.

We were too out of out of our minds to process it properly. After our few moments of silence, we burst into slurred laughter.

That was until two people, a man and a woman, emerged from the trees.

"Survivors?" the woman whispered in hope and astonishment.

"They must be!" the man exclaimed. "Hello!"