That's right. You have all the control here. I'll just give us a nudge in the right direction.
[Henry actually has all the control here, and that's why this requires so much trust. But he's letting Alec take the lead, letting him form the memories as he likes, so it's just splitting hairs, really.]
Just close your eyes, imagine the river, and open them again.
[ So it's a joint effort. That's fine by him. His whole life is going to become a joint effort with Henry, isn't it? They can start here, with this.
And it's an easy request. Alec knows the Riverwalk well, and it's a simple thing to pull up an image of the place in his mind's eye. Henry can do the rest, and soon enough, they'll find themselves on the bank of the Chicago River. ]
[From one place to another, just as before. But this time, when the scene changes, it is quite unlike anything Henry's ever seen.
Even in the 50s, Chicago had impossibly tall buildings, the sort that jutted up into the blue expanse of the sky. That hasn't changed, though the thing is, Henry would not know it. He has never been to a city as large as this one, and the modern touches that were never present in his time add an ironically fantastical feel. At least for a man who had spent all of his life in a small town, or a government lab, or a dark, unpleasant alternate dimension.
The orange-yellow of the trees are so starkly contrasted against the neutrals of the pavement, the buildings, the cornflower of the sky, that his eyes are drawn to that first. But then the river glistens beyond, and of course Henry just... walks towards that direction, to get a better look.
It's all simultaneously striking, overwhelming, and it makes him feel small. A bit like being thrust into the Upside Down for the first time, but frankly without all the harrowing pain and alarm that caused. This, at least, is pleasant, even if that has not had time to settle in.]
[ As has become his habit, Alec watches Henry. Watches him take in their new surroundings, from the tallest building to the blue of the winding river. There's nothing like this in small-town Indiana, past or present, and certainly nothing like it in that hellscape that is the Upside Down. It must be a lot to process.
He follows along as Henry wanders toward the river. ]
[Nothing at all like small-town, middle-of-nowhere Indiana, and it likely never will be. Does Hawkins even exist in this world? For a moment, he wonders, but then the idea is swept away again by the sight of the city, the river catching the light of the sun. Henry realizes that he simply does not care if it does.
Alec's question draws him out of his very slight reverie (no pun intended).]
It's big.
[Well. It is.]
There must be enough to do in the city to last a lifetime.
[ "Big" is a pretty fair assessment, all things considered. Alec's been here so long it's all ceased to be wondrous to him, so seeing Henry look at all of it for the first time has made the city somehow seem fresh and new. ]
Well, to start, there's more places to shop than just one mall.
[What's this? A public display of affection? Even if the term is used liberally when it's within the confines of Alec's head, there is still something so striking to Henry about the offer; once again, this other man ushers in that strange, warm and coiling feeling in his chest.
But he does not hesitate to complete the gesture, hand clasping his.]
[ Is it really "public" if they're together in a memory? If the few people around are fewer than there would be normally, and if they're not technically real?
Well, it hardly matters. Henry's hand curls around his own, and the feeling it elicits in him is warm and all-encompassing. Still wholly alien to a man like him who has never felt this way about anyone in his whole, long and miserable life, but welcome all the same, now that he knows what it is. ]
This way.
[ So saying, he leads Henry along the riverbank. ]
[This is still a big and unusual step for them both, okay.
He falls into step easily beside Alec. The environment around them has far from lost its grandeur to Henry, so of course his eyes still wander to the river, then to the buildings again.]
I had seen photographs when I was younger. [Of a big city, of Chicago, or other places like it.] But to see it in person is something altogether different. [Well. "In person".]
[ Their walk takes them through more towering buildings, under bridges with morning traffic trundling by overhead. A few boats and a handful of kayakers drift by on the water. ]
[There's a disaffectedness to how he says it; like he's never really cared about what existed in which parts of the world, having decided people were the same everywhere at such a young age.]
We never visited. Not that I'm complaining.
[The fewer family outings he had to endure, the better.]
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