It Just Kind Of Happened

08: MEETING HENRI

GUYS! PLEASE DON'T HATE ME, THIS IS KIND OF A FILLER SO MAYBE IS NOT THAT GOOD AND OH GAWD KJFDLSFJWPJKFSDKMFLMD

This might be just a filler, but it is a special filler. Because it's Henri's chapter. And I love him. A lot. And I hope you do too.... 'cause he is amazing.

comment/vote! Love to hear what you all think :)

HENRI

Henri was asleep. Sort of. He was sleeping when Mackenzie started to vibrate. His eyes opened and he saw that she was talking to Summer, and frown in both of their faces. Until the chuckling begun. Up and down and up and down and he was obviously not complaining, but her shoulder was bony as it is, no need for the jerking. Deciding to settle a little bit better, he moved to the crook of her neck. Too bad he couldn't see the smile on her face now.

Sleeping has always been hard for Henri. It was quiet. And yes, it is weird to put it like that since, technically, everything was quiet for Henri Walsh; but this was another thing. This was... still. As a born deaf boy, Henri learned to rely on his other senses. Touch and smell were the ones he used the most. Vibrations were everywhere; in Summer's body when she laughed or in the ground when Daniel tapped his pen. They were on the air thanks to Mackenzie's soft breaths and on the paper when Henri writes. But they weren't in his sleep.

It bothered him a lot to know that everything will be still, because when everything is still, nothing happens. And when nothing happens, time is wasted, right? It bugged Henri that when he slept, everything slept with him; except time. Time kept going like there was nothing else in the world. Sometimes, time is all we have. So why sleep through it?

Since he was seven, Henri had trouble sleeping. His insomnia only got worse when stress was added to the mix and college came along. Now, he sleeps about four hours a night and gets through the day on a sugar rush. When the sugar comes down, he relies on coffee. And when that doesn't work, RedBull has a special place in his heart. He'd do anything to stay awake. But he is only human—so on the days where exhaustion catches up and he misses class because no one has the courage to wake him up, Henri gets mad. He gets angry.

Eyes stone cold and mouth in a tight line, Henri manages to scare every single person that tries to reason with him. His hands shake with rage and he can't even write because the words get all blurry and clouded with the wrong emotion. He can't even think because if he does so, he'll smash something. Because he doesn't know what he missed, but he knows he missed something.

Just to be sure, Henri catches a glimpse of Mac's watch, smiling when he discovered that he only slept thirty minutes. It was enough to last for a few hours.

Summer was laughing now, along with Mackenzie. He waited. Waited until the laugh was done, until everything was still, to raise his head. Green eyes landed on him, full of surprise and tension. She was tired. He noticed by the way she looked at him and how she flinched when he raised his head. With a cute yawn, Henri smiled at her. And there was no other way. She had to smile back. Not that it was hard with Henri...

With careful hands and delicate gestures, Henri placed his arms over Mackenzie's shoulder and brought her closer. The divider between the seats was pushed up and she could easily cuddle up to him. Her cheekbones found comfort in his shoulder and her legs were thrown over his. It was a very cramp-guaranteed position, but Henri didn't mind. Mac hugged his arm and finally relaxed. With time came the familiarity. And they were finally familiar to one another.

Ms. Walsh, also known as Julia or Henri's mom, was a firm believer of that. When they found out their boy was deaf, Julia and Harry—Henri's father—started to learn sign language. It was not easy. It wasn't hard, either, but it took them a few years to know it perfectly and naturally. It took time.

There were days that Julia would break down crying fearing not being able to communicate with her son. Other days, Harry wouldn't come back until late at night, reeking of whiskey and beer. Those were the nights Julia was actually thankful for her son's condition.

Now, with Lila in their lives and Henri's not-so-newly-found-independence, the Walsh's couldn't be doing better. Their household was alcohol-free for more than nine years. Harry was the new Maths teacher at the local High School, and Julia was a part-time chef for a French restaurant. And Lila's a smart girl—just like her big brother—that loves science and Henri were on his way to his Ph.D. in Literature.

They deserved it, though. That family has been through hell over and over again to reach their little piece of Eden. And nothing would make them give it up.

It worried them sometimes—how Henri was so used to the fact that he was deaf, that even the mention of a surgery or electronic hearing aid turned him sour. He was fond of the quietness. He liked the peace. He was at peace. And apparently, so was Mackenzie. She was completely fine with his faulty ear drums. She didn't look at him with that pity look. She didn't smile that pitying smile. She just laughed. She laughed and wrote him a note. HI.

It was more than he could ever ask for. But then again, this was normal in Henri's case. He always ended up with the bright side of things.

Suddenly feeling a vibration on his shoulder, Henri turned to look at Mackenzie, who was already looking at him with those freckles (because it's not a Henri chapter if I don't mention the freckles) and those green eyes. They were going to be imprinted on his mind forever. And then a thought came into mind. He could imprint something on her too. Even if it is just until her next bath.

Taking the pen from his pocket—don't even ask—he started to carefully and lightly write on her inner arm. This would be his masterpiece so far, heart and soul in it. Everything he had, in it.

Here's my number. So call me. Maybe?

And under the oh-so-sweet-message, there was indeed, his number.

Barely did he know that in her mind, forever will be the image of him carefully writing on her arm, the tip of his tongue poking from his lips.