TWISTED GAME: A Patrick Hockstetter x reader x Henry Bowers

Chapter Five*

     The summer was finally coming to an abrupt close. Suddenly you were out back to shop for clothes with your mother, and preparing with a new supply of pencils, and notebooks. You were fully prepared to start your Sophomore year of high school, or so you thought. The last week of summer rolled around with that familiar summer haze. Only heavier than usual. You awake on your last free Monday with a splitting headache that racked your whole body.

     Sweat stuck to your body as your shift between your unusually heavy sheets. You pushed the fabric off of your body with the little energy you had. Immediately regretting it when the action brought the feeling of nausea. You heaved your hand up to your face and ran your fingers across your sweat-covered forehead. You were utterly miserable. You'd been hungover before, but never something like this. Besides, you hadn't been drinking very much as of late. You feared that being too drunk you might slip up, and Henry would find out your secret. No matter what, Henry couldn't know.

     You waited for nausea to pass, but it didn't. At first, it was a dull feeling that made everything heavy. And then you felt the tickle of regenerated food in your throat and you bolted up. Throwing yourself to the floor and lunging for the small trash pail next to your desk. You gagged and let up what remained. Gasping and panting as the sickness took you a few times. You sat there, clutching the plastic container, and let yourself calm. Shit.

     Once that passed, you pulled yourself up from the desk. You felt, a little better, a little. You shuffled out into the hallway. And looked around. You made your way to your bathroom and turned on the shower. A good, cold shower to wash everything away. You gargled the water in your mouth to take away the rank taste of gunk in the back of your throat. The heavy feeling started to let up. And when you got out, you almost felt hungry. You did your best to get dressed in the most comfortable clothes you had that still passed as presentable.

     Then came the familiar honking of a car horn. You cringed. Not now...You groaned and pulled yourself out of the house with bags under your eyes. Your brows knitted together and you squinted to make sure your vision was correct. It was just Belch in the driver seat. His arm out the open window as he watched you walk down the drive. You opened the car door.

     "Just you?" You ask, and he gives you a nervous shrug.

     "Apparently they're all already at Fix." The fix was a not-so-popular diner in the town that the group often inhabited when they were looking to sit down and grab a soda. It was that or the McDonalds in town, but that was always filled with kids. The diner was mostly for sad old people, drug users, hungover men and women, and bored teenagers. Making it perfect for the gang.

     "Gotcha." You sat down and closed the door behind you. Your squint didn't relax. Your eyelids drooped over your usually bright eyes and grunted slightly when you sat down. Clearly, not your best morning.

     "You alright?" Belch asked, staring at you. You shrugged.

     "I threw up this morning. I hope it's not the flu."

     "Jesus. If you wanna go back to bed I won't stop you." He offers, a look of genuine concern over his face. Reggie was probably the nicest of the group when it came to his friends. With strangers, he was impartial, and gross even for a laugh or two. But when it came to the gang, he was a caregiver. Vic was nice too, but he was a little more shy than Belch.

     "No, I'll be fine." You shook your head. "You won't stop me, but I'll get a visit from Henry later." You pulled your seat belt on, and he started to car. The movement shook you slightly and going over small bumps and the turns in the road made it worse. Suddenly the wind through the open windows wafted the scent of cigarette smoke impeded deeply in the car, into your face. Nausea came back with a vengeance, and you grabbed onto the car door. Belch looked at you with a start.

     "Shit. Y/N. You okay?"

     "Pull over." You managed. You tried to hold yourself back and shut your eye tight as he pulled over into the dirt on the side of the road. You threw open the door, and the seatbelt off and leaned out. You spit up what was left in your stomach until you were gagging up saliva and nothing. You felt a warm hand on your back as he awkwardly patted and rubbed your back. You held back your hair with one hand while the other clutched tightly around the car door. The moment left you sweating, and panting all over again. You leaned back up into the seat and closed your eyes as you wiped your mouth.

     "I'll take you home." He said as you closed the car door again.

     "No...no...I'm fine. Just, drive slower."

     "Y/N, you're clearly sick."

     "No. I feel better I swear. I just need some water I'll be fine." He sighed, in defiance. "Look, we're halfway there. Let's just go." He shifted and gave you a 'fine' look before driver off. With a little more caution st your request. The smell of cigarettes kept making you gag, which confused you more than anything else. You'd been around the smell almost all your life, why now was it bothering you? You held it together until you reached the diner. Belch held the door open for you as you walked in. You looked up and saw the three boys at the table. Patrick saw you first and an uneasy real smile stretched across his face. He gave a wave as you sat down next to Henry in the booth.

     "Damn Y/N. You look like Hell." Vic blurted with concern. You glanced up with a small glare. In no mood for anyone's shit.

     "Hey." Henry scolded, as he swung an around your shoulder. The weight was surprisingly heavy. You kept your eyes down at the table, as you slid the menu over and you look over it.

     "You alright babe?" Henry asked as he looked over you. Belch sat next to Patrick on the other side of the booth. Sandwiching the lanky boy between him, and Vic. His shoulders were pressed a slightly up, but his head drooped as he inspected your expression. When you didn't answer, Belch looked at them and answered for you.

     "She got sick on the way here." All eyes were on you, but you tried to just ignore them.

     "You sick?" Henry looked at you. You put your elbows on the table and held your head in your hands, and you shook your head.

     "Hungover, or something." You brushed it off, still confused yourself.

     "You didn't drink last night," Patrick mentioned, clearly examining the issue. Sometimes he reminded you of a focused scientist the way he studied people and situations. You could see the gears turning, as he analyzed, and cataloged. You shrugged and shook again.

     "Fuckin, I don't know." You stated. The very clearly hungover herself, and the hateful waitress walked over and just looked at you. Her name was Clair. You knew her. She'd been there since you could remember, but you couldn't remember a time you had a real conversation with her. "A coffee, and a plate of fries." You requested. She scribbled down the order and marched away. You sighed.

     "Well, whatever it is. Don't get me sick." Vic tried to lay a joke down, and you ignored it. Earning a, 'really?' Look from Belch. Vic wasn't a bad guy, he was just awkward. Didn't really know what to do with himself, and as a result, came across as an ass. He wasn't. You could recall several times where he'd gone out of his way to help you with homework. He taught you how to widdle a spear with a pocket knife.

     You felt cold fingertips graze over your knee, and you glanced up. Patrick's deep blue eyes met yours. And it sent a shiver down your spine. Was he showing...affection? Sympathy? You didn't like it. That wasn't like Patrick. His eyes shifted as they looked over yours. No. He was searching for answers. You pulled your knee away, and he shifted his jaw to pop it as he leaned back. Something he did, often to intimidate, or get across that he was uncomfortable or upset.

     "I feel fine now. I just need to eat something." You said, and Henry ran a hand over your back. Henry could be very caring when he wanted to be. You don't think he knew how to react when it came to those things, but now he had a strange surge of sympathy for you. They all did. It was odd. All of it.

The random sickness. The situation. Their reactions. All of it. And on top of all of it. You had missed a whole month. Wait. Shit...