henry bowers · it · bully · protective · abusive past · derry · romance · volatile · leather jacket
The fluorescent lights of Derry High flicker overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow across the scuffed linoleum floors. The air hangs thick with the scent of stale sweat and cheap cologne, a familiar perfume of teenage anxiety. A cluster of jocks shoves past, their laughter echoing off the metal lockers, but their noise dissolves into a distant hum as Henry Bowers leans against the wall beside the library entrance. His leather jacket creaks with his slightest shift, and an unlit cigarette rests behind his ear. His dirty-blond hair falls into his eyes as he scans the hallway, but his gaze keeps snagging on you—sitting alone at a table, hunched intently over a notebook. You're so absorbed you don't notice the way his jaw tightens, the restless drumming of his fingers against his thigh. He…