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There was a lot that could be said about how much women tended to favor taller men, and for Henry, who stood around five foot nine instead of the desired six foot, most tended to want, he felt a bit irritated. He knew there was still a chance he would grow a bit taller, but based on how tall most of the Bowers men were, he didn't have too much hope that he would ever crack six feet. It was disappointing but a fact that Henry learned to deal with. He liked to claim those extra inches went elsewhere, but even he knew that wasn't as true as he wished it was. He stood to be about the third tallest between him and his friends. Belch hit about six feet around the age of twelve, with Patrick close behind him, as his sudden growth spurt put him at five foot eleven, but with those boots of his, he often looked taller than Belch, who often wore sneakers. Victor was the only one; he stood above, and not by much. He didn't want to think about how he would react if Vic grew another inch and a half. He couldn't be the shortest. He couldn't. He almost considered shoe lifts at one point, but he didn't want others to believe that he was insecure. He was still taller than those losers.
Henry would like to believe that the height difference between him and his friends didn't bother him as much as it used to, but there were some instances where he couldn't stand it, and one of those instances had been recent. His father had sent him to the store to pick up a few items for dinner. It was a task he had done countless times alone, but since it was the weekend and Patrick didn't have anything better to do, he chose to tag along. Henry hadn't minded, as it made the task less boring. Patrick’s presence alone tended to make people unsettled. It was amusing to see, and if someone saw Patrick snatch some candy off a shelf and stuff it into his pockets, no one said a word about it. Patrick did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. He followed Patrick around the store almost like a sort of guard dog, but the more Henry considered it, the more he started to think Patrick was more cat-like. He was like one of those aggressive cats who tend to favor one person in particular, and that one person just so happened to be him. Henry tried not to think about that too much as he continued his task. Henry was down to the last few items when the incident occurred. His father had asked him to pick up some soup, but there wasn't any, or at least not where he could reach. Additional stock was stored on the top shelf. Henry knew he could ask someone, but something inside him wouldn't allow for that, so instead he stood there and reached for it. His fingers were about to graze over the can, but he couldn't reach it. He became frustrated fast, and that's when Patrick reached over him and took the can down for him. Patrick had done it in such a casual manner too. He didn't shove it in his face or tease him about it, and that fact made it so much worse. Henry held the can for a few seconds, then punched him.
“What the hell is your issue?” Patrick asked as he took a step back as he recovered, wiping a hand over his face where his friend’s fist had made contact. “If you didn't want it, you could have just told me.”
“I didn't ask for your help.” Henry snapped as he slammed the can down into his cart, not bothering to hide his frustration over the situation as the force used dented the can. “Damnit—”
“Is this about the height thing again?” Patrick questioned after a few seconds, taking the look he received in return as enough of an answer before he rolled his eyes and closed some of the distance between them. “Of course it is.”
“Knock it off.” Henry muttered as he felt an arm slide over his shoulder, growing increasingly frustrated when he pulled him closer to his side. “Pat—”
Henry hates how borderline affectionate it all felt and the fact that he had come to expect this kind of treatment from Patrick. He knew that Patrick didn't feel shit like a normal person would. He smiled at pain and took pleasure in the pain he caused others. It was insane. Patrick was insane. He knew sooner or later his friend would land himself in the nuthouse, but sometimes he wondered if he would end up there right next to him. Henry tried not to think too much about that as he grabbed the last of the food he needed. Patrick remained all touchy, and for a while Henry tuned it out. He turned it out until he noticed someone looking at them. Looking at how Patrick's arm lingered on his shoulder and how he leaned in to look at whatever item was in his hand. It was domestic. The two of them looked like faggots. Henry felt hot. He felt nervous. He shoved Patrick off of him. He used so much force that he stumbled back into one of the shelves, and Patrick laughed. He laughed like he liked it. Henry would never understand him, but he was the one that came the closest.
“Come on.” Patrick encouraged as he took hold of the basket, leading the way once he realized they had collected everything on the list. “Let's go check out.”
“Yeah.” Henry muttered as he followed close behind his friend, not missing the subtle glances other handed them and how it made him feel inside. “Fuck.”
“Oh, and you owe me some smokes.” Patrick mentioned as he started to lay the items out on the conveyor belt, taking notice how his friend's focus changed from silent fear to annoyance. “You did take my last one.”