Silent Hill Fan Fiction ❯ An Implication of Trust ❯ An Implication of Trust ( Chapter 1 )

An Implication of Trust

 

James doesn't really understand why Henry's so hesitant about bondage; it's not like the younger male has any problem with James being the one tied up, but when it's him it's like this panic sets in and there's nothing that James can do to calm him down. And he refuses to talk about it so James has no idea about what the cause of it could be.

 

He just knows that Henry needed a place to stay after moving out of his apartment, and James needed someone to help him raise Laura because he does love that little girl and he wants her to have as normal a childhood as possible.

 

Unlike him, though, Henry's good with kids; he's patient and quiet and sensitive - and not as messed up as he is, James thinks.

 

Of course, his father had told him a few things that made the anxiety that James thought he'd left behind with Silent Hill twist and turn in his stomach, but he never said anything about what his father told him. If Henry didn't want to talk about it, then he wouldn't push him - he had his own dark secrets to hide so he could respect it if there are things that others don't want to talk about.

 

It's the same as when he looks at Eileen; the two of them share this strange bond that he doesn't understand. This dark look in both of their eyes that seems so much stronger when scars on Eileen's back accidentally peek out from the collar of her shirt or when her shirt rides up. James doesn't know what to think of it, but he never brings it up.

 

And James never pushes Henry for more than he's willing to give, which is something that Henry finds oddly comforting because he knows that the blond has more baggage then he does, but he doesn't want to talk about what happened to him in his apartment or about Walter Sullivan. So he leaves the subject alone and never asks about Mary or what happened to her.

 

The only thing James ever said about her was when he came back, and Henry heard his father ask James about her and all he said was, “She's gone.”

 

He never elaborated on that anymore than that, and apparently his father and pushed and prodded but had gotten nowhere. And Henry knows that if James' own father couldn't get anything out of him, then there's no chance that he could ever do the same.

 

And it doesn't change the fact that he doesn't really want to know either; he knows Silent Hill is mixed up with it, and that's a subject he never wants to touch again. Henry wants a semblance of a normal life back, and the slightly odd semblance of normality that he has with James and Laura is enough and he doesn't want to ruin that by bringing back ghosts.

 

He's dealt with enough ghosts to last him far too many life times.

 

There are a few things about Henry that strike James as being a little bit... he doesn't want to say odd, but sometimes they concern him probably more than they maybe should. He gets the feeling that they're tied into the problems that neither of them ever bring up about the other, but it isn't a subject he's willing to broach.

 

It's a lack of honesty on both parts; neither of them wants to tell the other even though they know the other would understand them better than anyone else ever could, but it's this niggling fear that won't go away and a yearning to put the darkness behind them and keep moving forward and hope that the light would keep them safe and chase away the nightmares.

 

The little things are what James notices the most. Like how Henry never locks any of the doors even when Laura is around and can walk in on him when he's in the bathroom; or how he leaves the door open just a jar. Just closing a door to a room with him in it is enough to make his heart race and his palms sweat.

 

James knows this because it's the reason why Laura now has to sleep with her door closed. He doesn't explain it to her fully because he doesn't know why and he knows that she wouldn't understand. But Laura accepts it, and even starts wanting to spend more time with Eileen.

 

“Henry needs you more than I do,” Laura said one evening when it was just the two of them. They were sitting on the back porch, just enjoying the evening - something rare and hard to do because Laura is energetic and light and life and doesn't like to sit still - while Henry was out doing late evening grocery shopping.

 

“What makes you think that? I think it's the opposite.”

 

Laura shook her head, “Nope. I'm fine on my own, but Henry not so much. He'd probably be useless if you weren't around - Eileen thinks so too. She says she's glad that he has you, and I'm glad to have both of you.”

 

She kicked her feet against the porch stairs, humming a tune that she'd probably picked up somewhere as she stared up at the evening sky. It's been two years, and Laura isn't so much the little girl that she used to be; she's had two years to get used to Henry and having him around, and a year to know that James and him had been involved.

 

And somehow, she'd been happy for them, but James thinks it's more because that dark and haunted look in Henry's eyes isn't as prominent when he's around. He can't be sure though - he's not a mind reader and Laura's still more difficult to read then a book in Japanese.

 

Women seem to think the same way, because Eileen tells him that she's happy to see Henry looking brighter and happier than she's seen him in the four years that she's known him. She always watches him, with this peacefully happy smile on her face as she watches him chasing Laura around the backyard or when he's doing something domestic that is oddly cute in James' eyes. He doesn't really understand why the normalcy seems so important for her to see, but whatever the reason why, he's glad that he's the one inspiring it.

 

If normalcy is what Henry needs, he's glad to provide it. He just wants to help in any way he can.

 

Just like how Henry has helped him.

 

Henry is glad to see that Eileen is dealing with her scars the way she is; he's glad to see that she hasn't closed herself off from the world like he would have if James hadn't come along. It's good to know that one of them has the strength to get by and continue on their own; he thinks that's why he's so reliant on James to the point where it's a bit scary.

 

The normalcy that he's so desperate for is something that James provides for him with an almost scary understanding and insight since neither of them ever say anything about it. James simply lets him play with Laura or go out and do errands - he never asks him why Henry takes such pleasure in such mundane things, never asks why he's so afraid of locks and closed doors.

 

It's frightening to Henry because he so desperately wants to get over his fear of being trapped, but whenever he tries that fear always comes rushing back - the memories and the fear and the smells and the... he doesn't want to think about that.

 

He doesn't want to have to go back to that hell that he was stuck in for those hellish days.

 

“You want me to what?”

 

Wordlessly, Henry holds out the cuffs in his hands; looking anywhere but at James' face. He can imagine the shock well enough in his mind; he doesn't need to see it in the flesh when he knows that James is searching his face, his eyes, for any reason not to do this. The blond is all too aware of his previous reactions to the subject and their brief encounters with it before.

 

Albeit, they've never actually physical restraints so it's a bit of a different matter altogether. But Henry wants to confront his fear, and he knows that he needs James' help and not that of some stupid crotchety old doctor who would put him on a crazy amount of pills.

 

He knows he's not delusional, knows that everything that he went through was and still is tangibly real; but no one else would understand. No one else would believe him.

 

No one except James.

 

It's why he doesn't seek help; no one needs to know about the nightmares, about his fears about being locked in a room and being unable to escape. All of it he's kept bottled up inside of him until it feels like he's going to burst, and he knows that it's only a matter of time until he does. This is something that he needs to deal with now before it starts dragging him down into a dark place where he knows that there's no returning from.

 

He refuses to allow this; it would be as though he'd let Sullivan win. Henry doesn't want to let his life be ruined by an insane serial killer who's long deceased now.

 

James isn't sure he understands what Henry is trying to accomplish with this, but he goes along with it anyway.

 

As he predicted internally, it doesn't go so well. But James is astonished that Henry lasts all the way to climax. It helps that his hands are strapped together in front of him instead of behind him or to the headboard like they're designed to do, but James doesn't want to push his luck, doesn't want to push the other.

 

Henry doesn't say anything about it, so James knows that it's fine. Whatever it is that Henry's trying to accomplish with this, he'll stand by him and help him with it. He doesn't ask any questions.

 

The doors around the house start closing when Henry is in a room; he stops leaving the bathroom door open when he's in there, starts closing their bedroom door at night. He spends the night curled up into a tight ball against James' chest, arms tight around the blond male, and says nothing. The noises that he makes as he sleeps are at first concerning to James, but Henry refuses to talk about what it is he dreams about and the subject is eventually dropped.

 

James doesn't push the subject; he doesn't want to talk about the letter that he keeps in the night stand drawer that he'll pull out on occasion and just sit there and stare at for hours. He doesn't want to talk about Mary or his own nightmares and demons.

 

They continue on as they always have.

 

It eventually clicks with James that what Henry is trying to accomplish with the belted cuffs is to conquer his fears. James isn't sure if it has to do with control or a fear of being trapped, but he doesn't ask. Instead, he just continues to help Henry in whatever way he can. He makes sure the cuffs are loose enough not to cut off Henry's circulation, that the other knows he can back out if it ever gets to be too much for him.

 

Gradually, they get to the point where Henry is exceedingly comfortable within the leather bindings.

 

That's when James knows that he's conquered that fear of his, and he can't help but feel proud of the other for it; pride and happiness mix together because he's genuinely glad to see that strength back in those hazel eyes. They still don't talk about why it was necessary.

 

Both of them recognize that the other is fractured and broken and that they're trying to patch the other up in a silent and understanding way. James knows and understands Henry better than anyone else without needing to hear about whatever hell he went through, and Henry doesn't need to ask about whatever it was that drove James to disappear for two years only to show up one day on the doorstep. Neither of them want to talk about what's happened to them, and they accept that about the other.

 

It doesn't destroy their trust in each other, because some things are better left buried.

 

FIN.