[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.]
[It does seem like an age ago at this point. It was just a few weeks ago. So much has happened between then and now, and yet somehow that dream still felt crucial for them both — even if it ended less than, ah, pleasantly.]
Pieces of it, yes. How it manifests if we were theoretically to visit my subconscious mind instead.
[A mindscape is not necessarily a memory, after all. The pieces of his old home in his mind are purposefully broken and unwelcoming.]
But I would show you how it actually was before it fell into disrepair.
[Alec saying such things... It makes Henry want to guarantee that he'll always be near. Always beside him, like now. His fingers flex in a gentle squeeze around his hand, as though to cement him there with the gesture.]
I hated that place. I never thought of it as home, not really.
[And yet it's still important to him. It's why it still exists, ravaged, in his mindscape.]
But it's still an important place in my memories. And I want to show you everything important to me.
[ Though he has no way to know exactly what Henry is thinking, he returns that small squeeze without so much as a second thought. It feels so utterly selfish to want to stay close like this, to seek out little moments of contact and gestures of affection, but what are they both if not selfish creatures? Were it anyone else but Henry next to him, Alec might think he doesn't deserve this kind of warmth.
Because it is Henry, it's perfect. A pair of broken pieces, sticking together. ]
Everything, huh? [ Seems like a tall order, but there's already so much he knows about Henry. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to know more. ] I'd like that.
[All the ugly pieces. The parts where they align more perfectly than the rest. He still has a few skeletons in his closet; not that he ever feels the need to hide anything from Alec anymore, anyway.
But maybe some other time.]
Something to look forward to. But for now, I'd like to focus on this place. Your home, and this frankly impressive river.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
striketwice) wrote2022-10-02 07:47 pm
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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.]
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He follows along as Henry wanders toward the river. ]
Penny for your thoughts?
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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.
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Well, to start, there's more places to shop than just one mall.
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I see you as someone more apt to enjoy the view than go shopping.
[This memory is very clear, very vivid. It's nestled itself into Alec's head with some poignancy, so it must be a view seen very often.]
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Alright fair. I walk here a lot. Or run. It's a good place to come clear my head when work is getting annoying.
[ He motions to the sidewalk running along the river, then offers that same hand to Henry. ]
So about that walk?
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But he does not hesitate to complete the gesture, hand clasping his.]
Lead the way. Show me the route you take.
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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. ]
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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".]
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A pretty far cry from Indiana, isn't it?
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Have you been to the state? This is as opposite as it gets.
[Sorry to anyone actually from Indiana but Henry is biased. And his experiences skew nearly rural.]
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[ Though he realizes that little podunk Hawkins is probably a far cry from any city. ]
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Right. The beating heart of the state.
[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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Guess it doesn't really matter now, huh?
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Jokingly-]
Because you won't be taking me on any road trips? What a shame.
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I don't use roads, Henry.
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You can't possibly have a convenient portal located everywhere.
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[He Never Wants To Go Back There Ever Again
Well, with one small addendum:]
Someday, though, maybe I'll show you the old house.
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[ Now that experience feels like a lifetime ago. Truly, how did they get here from there? ]
If you wanna show me the real thing, I won't say no.
[ "Real thing." ]
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It was just a few weeks ago.So much has happened between then and now, and yet somehow that dream still felt crucial for them both — even if it ended less than, ah, pleasantly.]Pieces of it, yes. How it manifests if we were theoretically to visit my subconscious mind instead.
[A mindscape is not necessarily a memory, after all. The pieces of his old home in his mind are purposefully broken and unwelcoming.]
But I would show you how it actually was before it fell into disrepair.
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Weeks that somehow feel like months.]Like I said, only if you want. Take me wherever, you know I'll go.
[ Henry's subconscious, his dreams, his memories. A zoo exhibit full of spiders. Doesn't matter. ]
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I hated that place. I never thought of it as home, not really.
[And yet it's still important to him. It's why it still exists, ravaged, in his mindscape.]
But it's still an important place in my memories. And I want to show you everything important to me.
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Because it is Henry, it's perfect. A pair of broken pieces, sticking together. ]
Everything, huh? [ Seems like a tall order, but there's already so much he knows about Henry. He'd be lying if he said he didn't want to know more. ] I'd like that.
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[All the ugly pieces. The parts where they align more perfectly than the rest. He still has a few skeletons in his closet; not that he ever feels the need to hide anything from Alec anymore, anyway.
But maybe some other time.]
Something to look forward to. But for now, I'd like to focus on this place. Your home, and this frankly impressive river.
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