Henry's story is so inspiring, so here's a collection of short stories and one shots about him.
If you have ideas and imagines you want me to develop, let me know :)
¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
You've always believed that joining lab experiments was cool, but after you entered Hawkins Lab you totally changed your mind. You've become a subject for the MK Ultra Project and you understood that it's better being the doctor than the test subject. People there act kindly to you, but when you go through the tests, the nightmare begins. They became a real torture.
After a session in the electroshock room, you are brought to the infirmary. Electroshock that the doctors call "Electroconvulsive therapy". And you feel lucky that you're still alive after what you've been through. You are still confused and dizzy as you lie on the stretcher. Brenner said that you'll recover quickly, but you feel like not just your brain but also your body is broken.
You spot a white sleeve and freeze, fearing it's another doctor, back to torture her. The sleeve reveals a hand that touches gently your paralized arm. "Hi. It's alright. It's over. You're safe" a gentle voice says. You look up to see a wonderfully handsome face. Your heart skips a bit at the idea that you're dead and in heaven, meeting an angel. You blink to see more clearly and accept the idea that he's real and human. "The nurse had an errand, so I was asked to take care of you" he explains with his soothing voice "I'm Henry". He picks your files and reads from it "And you're Y/N. What a lovely name. Nice to meet you. Although we have already met in your previous visits here. I was assisting when you went through the testing". You listen to him and try to remember, but your mind is slow and lazy. Surely you would have remembered that face. He wore the white uniform of the orderlies and you saw quite many of them. You feel a little ashamed at the thought that he saw you in your lowest moments, when you lost control over your body. "Can I help you drink some water? I see your mouth is dry" he says sweetly, but it's embarassing to be so sore that you needed his help for the simplest gestures. He picks a pillow and places a hand on the back of your head. That's enough to make your heart race. He's focusing on his job, but seeing his face leaning closer to you makes you feel insane. The smell of him is intoxicating.
Then he sits next to you and shows you a glass of clean water. You hope it's truly clean, after the medicines you had to drink when you arrived at the lab. He places the glass on your bottom lip "Take little gulps. Slowly, love". You're grateful you didn't already fill your mouth with water or you would have sprayed him with it. Love? Your heart and your mind are drowning in sensations you can't control. You sip the water and swallow carefully and almost choke yourself. "Easy" he says patting your back "If you choke, I'll have to help you breathe". You stop breaching for sure at his allusion. You think of the rescuing methods. How is it called? Mouth to mouth resuscitation? You're not going to survive with him around. He smiles at your flustered face and helps you empty the glass of water. Then he picks a napkin to clean the wet corners of your mouth. You can just stand still and stare at him. "I understand how you feel. It's not so easy to recover from that kind of trauma". You're grateful for his empathy, but you wonder if he knows what kind of sweet trauma his caring methods can cause. "I can help you changing. Your clothes are here" he pats the pile on a chair. You look at the hospital gown you're wearing and then back at him. To undress in front of him? To let him undress you? When you only have your underwear on? Not to mention the way his large hand touched her clothes and lingered on them. "I don't mean to be invasive. But I bet you feel better without this, love" he teases the edge of your gown. "And you? You don't mind helping me like this?" it seems a silly questions, but your poor mind can't think of something clever to say. "If I can help you, that's the best reward from my job. I'm doing my best to make you comfortable. But you look like you just want to run away". "I don't want to run" you blurt. And you're grateful he can't read the insane ideas that are tormenting your mind. Ideas that he suggested with his methods of taking care of you. You feel like starving. It's like placing a delicious cake in front of a starving person. He is the cake.
