Work Text:
He'd always wake up around 3 in the morning to do something, this something was cut himself on his upper thighs.
Tonight was trickier, Patrick was asleep beside him. He had a arm wrapped protectively around his waist. He gently nudged Patrick's shoulder in attempts to wake him up, "Pat, I gotta piss. I'll be back." He let out a groan before turning over in the bed.
Henry carefully grabbed the razorblade he kept on his nightstand and made his was to the bathroom, down the long hall. His dad was in the livingroom chair, drunk, asleep with a beer spilled on the floor.
He entered the bathroom. He had prep for this sorta thing, he'd run the water and plug the drain and put soap in there to let the razor soak before mentally mapping out where he wanted to do it. The old ones where finally starting to heal, maybe he could recut over those?
He slid off his jeans and slid up the legs of his boxers to get a better view of where to cut. Perfect. He took the razorblade from the sink and tried it with a wad of toiler paper he yanked from the holder.
He made the first cut, ugly and deep. Not too deep. He used his two fingers to spread it out and make the blood well. He didn't notice he was crying until his tears fell on the cut making it sting. He hissed.
Several more cuts, only getting deeper and harsher. Thoughts ran wild in his head, he felt like his throat was going to collapse from silent cries. It stung, it hurt, but it help distract from the pain his father caused him.
His mom left and his father blamed him. He hit him, told him he'd never amount to anything in this world. Touched him at age 9 after it didn't work with one of his girlfriends. Told him it was what father and sons did, told him it was normal. If he didn't do it he'd beat him bloody. It continued to this day, Henry knew damn well what it was by now. He was docile and compliant with it, he didn't want to be beat like that.
He tried one last cut, he did it on his arm this time. He pressed hard but never cut, the razor dropped to the ground with a small clinking sound. He fell to the ground with it. He crawled into a fetal position and started sobbing.
Patrick had noticed Henry had been away for awhile now. He would've figured he was shitting but it was well over 30 minutes. He got up from the bed and pulled on his sweats and walked to the bathroom quietly, careful not to wake up Mr. Bowers. He leaned against the door to hear what Henry was doing. He heard a sobbing sound and carefully opened the door to see Henry with his pants in a fetal position. He went over to kneel by him.
"Henry-" he reached his hand out to touch him and he flinched. "No- Dad-" he cried out, trying to hide himself.
"Henry it's Patrick." He sighed. "Patrick Hockstetter, not your dad."
"D- Don't hurt me-" he whimpered. "Don't-"
Patrick noticed a red substance on the yellowing tile of the floor, then the razorblade. He wasn't a stranger to these items.
"Henry," he paused "What did you do to yourself?" Patrick would usually get excited over pain and blood but he just felt really bad. He felt like he needed to help him. He started to run his fingers through his hair to calm him down.
He could hear his breathing slow down, "It's okay Henry, I'm here I'm not going anywhere." He let Henry sit up.
"Can I hold you?" Patrick whispered. Usually that would earn him a punch in the jaw from Henry but he just nodded. He looped his arms under Henry's and gently pulled him back. He looked down at Henry's thighs, cuts. Ugly red, cuts.
It hurt him so much to see Henry in pain, he's the only one he truly cared about in this world. The only one that truly felt real. Was this love? He wondered. "I'm sorry you feel like you need to do this Henry." He whispered into his ear. "Do you wanna talk about it?"
"There's so much more than the beatings, you'd hate me if I told you." He sighed.
"I'd never hate you Henry, I want to help you. I want to protect you." Patrick said squeezing him gently, not to much to hurt him.
Henry took a deep breath, "He touches me Patrick. He touches me like I'm his girlfriend." He started to shake.
Rage filled Patrick instantly, he burried his face into Henry's shoulder. "I'll kill that bastards. I swear to god."
"Don't- Please you can't!" He cried.
"I'm sorry. It's okay I won't." He ran his fingers through his hair. "He shouldn't be doing to that to you, it's not right.
"It started when I was 9 after Rena didn't work. Told he it was normal for father and sons, if I tried to resist he'd beat me bloody." He started to pick at the scab forming over his old cut.
Patrick pulled his hand away from it. "We need to get those clean."
He stood up and placed Henry on the toilet, he looked looked at the boxers that where soaking up the blood on Henry's thighs. He started to pull them down until he felt Henry place his hand on his.
"I'm not going to touch you there, it's okay." Patrick said looking up at him.
Henry nodded and let him pull them down and toss them to the side. Patrick stood up to get a washcloth, soap, and anything to patch him up with from under the sink. Luckily he found gauze and medical tape. He wet the rag before wetting the soap before walking over to Henry.
He started to rub the soap over the cuts gently, he heard Henry hiss.
"It's gonna hurt but it will keep it from getting infected." Patrick whispered.
One he was done soaping his wounds he dabbed the rag along the wounds, wiping up the blood. Once he was done he examined the wounds. None of them where deep enough to need stitches luckily. He placed the gauze over the spots and taped them, wrapping the tape all away around his thigh. He knew he was probably doing this wrong but it didn't matter, he wanted it to stay.
"There you go," he patted his calf. "All better. Let's go back to bed." He smiled up at him.
"Thank you, Patrick." He sniffled. "I appreciate the fuck out of you."