henry “vecnussy” creel. (
vecna) wrote in
finalflight2022-11-14 08:35 am
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Entry tags:
PSL; [TERRIBLE THINGS WE HAVE DONE]
[It's difficult being the new kid at school, the new kid in town, everyone a stranger, every setting a readjustment, a fresh (and always failed) expectation to fit in hanging over one's head like a knife. It's even harder when your name is Henry Creel; a twelve year-old boy who is a little too lanky, a little too quiet. Who would prefer to keep to himself and not always look someone in the eye, finding more companionship in books and his collection of drawings than any of the kids his age. Who doesn't look like he wants to try to fit in—and struggles with every teacher’s gentle encouragement—even if he’s hardly a rule-breaker. Always punctual, always presentable, good grades, a nice new home to return to at the end of the day.
But his faith in his own integration is low. He had never flourished in his old town — why should he in this new one? As if moving would change how the world is, how he is, but he tries so hard not to linger on these thoughts today. They make him indescribably—
Well, he doesn’t know.
School lets out. The weather’s nice. It’s time to walk home, detaching himself from the excitable crowd of his classmates as swiftly and quietly as he can, his backpack slung over one shoulder and half-unzipped. He tries to stuff a book into it with one hand, paying no attention to where he’s going, and stumbles right into someone in an utterly ungraceful showing.
The book, of course, goes flying and lands splayed open, pages-down. Blue eyes flick up, out comes an automatic:]
Sorry.
But his faith in his own integration is low. He had never flourished in his old town — why should he in this new one? As if moving would change how the world is, how he is, but he tries so hard not to linger on these thoughts today. They make him indescribably—
Well, he doesn’t know.
School lets out. The weather’s nice. It’s time to walk home, detaching himself from the excitable crowd of his classmates as swiftly and quietly as he can, his backpack slung over one shoulder and half-unzipped. He tries to stuff a book into it with one hand, paying no attention to where he’s going, and stumbles right into someone in an utterly ungraceful showing.
The book, of course, goes flying and lands splayed open, pages-down. Blue eyes flick up, out comes an automatic:]
Sorry.
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H-hey, you don't-- [ have to cry. The attempt to console stops halfway out of his mouth, because Henry calls them friends. Alec has... never had friends, before, he's pretty sure. There's always an underlying air of pity when other kids try to be friendly with him, or obligation, like their parents told them to "be nice to that poor boy", or whatever. This is different. He can't really explain how. ]
... Yeah. We're friends.
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Okay... okay, good. Thanks, Alec. For being my friend, and for wanting to help me with my powers. I don't know what I would have done if I had to figure it all out by myself.
[He would have struggled, would have found less than affable ways of testing them. Maybe.]
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You don't have to thank me. It's... kind of nice, I guess, having someone to share a secret with.
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[He must not have many other... "powered" friends at all.]
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[ No powered friends, try no friends at all. ]
That's all right, though.
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[Right? He's not sure if Alec ever really felt lonely the way he did--he had his father, didn't he?--but keeping secrets to himself must have been difficult.]
Wait, so does this make me a wizard, too?
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Psychics and wizards are usually different sorts of things, but in this case I think we can call you an honorary wizard.
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I like that. [Tests it out on his tongue.] Honorary wizard.
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That settles it. Honorary wizard.
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[Now, if he’s considered different, it’s just because he’s an honorary wizard — which is probably the best way to be different than most people (but not even all people, now!), anyway.]
I have a lot of questions about how this all works now. I— [Politeness needling itself back in.] I’ll try not to take up too much time talking about it over dinner.
[Spoiler: he does not. He is too curious of a young man not to help but let them spill forth, trying not to sound too excitable. When was the last time he felt excited about something, anyway? The funny thing is, these aren’t the kind of questions he asks himself during this shared dinner; they escape his mind completely, and it’s nice for a change.
Time passes. The school year marches onward. Henry finds that friendship is not as strange and awkwardly-forming as he thought it might be with Alec; instead, it’s almost instantaneous how things have changed, how he greets him with a smile when they pass each other in the hall, how he looks for him during lunch period, and how he always finds him after school’s let out. They talk about everything and nothing. And on the weekends, Henry finishes all of his homework assignments early, so there’s no fuss about him visiting Alec and his dad, and they can talk about magic and psychic powers, continuing to learn more about his own — hone them into something a little more impressive than just moving a few objects with his mind.
One day, Henry invites Alec over instead, for no practical reason other than that’s what best friends do, right? (At some point, Alec had been promoted to best friend, but that was an easy choice when he boy was his only friend, too.) The neighborhood is full of well-kept lawns and houses, and his home is freshly-painted and two-story.
Whenever Alec arrives and decides to either knock or ring the doorbell, the door swings open, and he’s greeted by…
Alice Creel, Henry’s older sister by three years, bright-faced, curious, and with perfectly pleated pigtails. She leans in, wide-eyed, gripping at the doorknob.]
Hello! You’re Henry’s friend, right?
[“Friend” is stressed like it’s so rare a thing, one needs to verify that it can even exist.]
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The answer at the time had been something along the lines of "I don't think so," but standing here on this big front porch of this big, bright house, Alec is pretty sure that Henry is actually rich.
Anyway, after a bit of plucking up his courage, he knocks at the door, only to be greeted by... Henry's sister. He's kind of seen her in passing but this is the first time she's spoken to him. ]
Um. That's right. I'm Alec.
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Hi, Alec. I'm Alice! Alec and Alice, that has a ring to it, doesn't it? Anyway, Henry's been looking forward to having you over. And I was wondering what you were like... It's not often that he has friends over, like, at all, so-
[For a moment, it seems like he's going to be trapped in her enthusiasm, stuck on the porch with no escape, but soon Henry appears just behind her, shouldering past with a hiss.]
Alice, move.
[Oh my god she's so embarrassing. Alice lets out a hey! as her brother elbows past, but she doesn't look too bothered, given how she shrugs and disappears back into the house a moment later.
Henry gives Alec an apologetic look.]
Sorry. She's just... that way. Come on in.
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He put his hands on Henry's shoulders, slumping forward a little. ]
I thought she was gonna talk to me forever.
[ Alec, you're fine. Anyway, he steps into the house. ]
Whoa. This place is huge.
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Good thing I was here to save you.
[He closes the door as Alec steps in, shrugging. The house sprawls out before them; the foyer, actually small for a house of this size, leads straight into a long corridor directly in front of them. The walls are decorated with little pictures of landscapes and old family photos. The lighting is warm and amber, reflecting off darkened wood floors. A grandfather clock, nestled against the wall down that same hallway, fills the air with tick, tick, ticking.
To their right, a set of stairs leading up. Henry's room is up that way. To their left, just a little down the hall, the space opens up to what appears to be the living area.]
Um... I can show you around if you want. There's not a lot to see.
[He says about this six bedroom, six bath home. It's whatever.]
Or we can just go to my room.
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C'mon Henry, you can't invite me all the way here and not give me the grand tour.
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[ Alec's expression lights up. ]
Show me, show me!
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Okay! This way.
[He leads them down the corridor, into the living room, which then connects to the kitchen through another doorway. In here, it’s big and clean with wide countertops and plenty of electric appliances. It smells like something baking — cookies?
When they enter, Virginia Creel turns around, heels clacking on the floor, seemingly surprised to see them rush in. She’s pretty and blond and it’s easy to see where Alice takes after her. Henry, too, in the shape of her eyes.]
Oh, boys! You startled me.
Mom, you said you were baking something for when Alec came over—
Well, I can see where someone’s priorities lie. [She smiles, looking the two over.] Aren’t you going to introduce me to your new friend?
He’s not that new. This is Alec. Alec, this is my mom.
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He's not expecting an encounter with one of Henry's parents, though he supposes if there is a place in a house where moms hang out, he doesn't know it. The kitchen is as good a place as any to run across her. Alec freezes a moment. He promised his dad that he'd be polite to Henry's family, and it takes him a moment to fumble for the words - "polite" isn't usually in his repertoire. ]
It's. Um. Nice to meet you. [ A beat. ] Ma'am.
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Minus Alec now, probably.
Virginia smiles at Alec. My, he’s about as bad with meeting new people as Henry is; somehow, this thought is a comfort. It’s nice that her boy’s finally connected with someone else, even if it took him such a worrying amount of time.]
It’s nice to meet you, Alec. Henry’s told me plenty about you — I’ve never seen him so talkative when he does!
Mom! [oh my GOD]
What? It’s true! That’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m just happy for you and Alec both.
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Thanks. And... thank you for having me.
[ He reaches over and fumbles for Henry's sleeve. YOUR ROOM NOW MAYBE?? ]
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Okay, well… Let us know when the cookies are done. We’ll be back. Bye, mom!
[And with a turn of the heel, hand gripped around Alec’s wrist, Henry leads them out of the kitchen in a rush.]
Wait, boys!
[TOO BAD MRS CREEL, they’re gone.
Out in the hallway, he brings back to the foyer.]
Sorry, you’re getting ambushed by everyone today.
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[ He rubs the back of his neck a little. ]
Do you really... talk about me?
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Embarrassing. Thanks, mom.]
I mean... sometimes. They want to know because I never really had friends before, and- We have a lot of fun, don't we? I don't see why they shouldn't know that.
Is that... weird?
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I guess I'm not used to anyone having anything good to say about me. It's kind of nice.
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comes back here after a million years
shh it's fine
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