Orion || RWRB fanfic || Henry's POV

Part 32- London Boy

Tw: Phillip.

***

"We've got Jaffa Cakes...?"

From the other side of Henry's door, Bea rattles the packaging enticingly. 

Henry groans into his hands and yanks his headphones out of his ears, pausing London Boy to scratch at Mr Wobbles' ears. He meows pleadingly up at Henry, who sighs deeply, switches his phone off- the most recent photograph he has of Alex (one from some gossip-filled magazine, in his burgundy suit at the party, cheeks flushed with life and alcohol) fading into a black screen- and shoves the cat off his lap, leaving fur sticking to his pyjama trousers in his wake.

"Fine," He calls to his sister. A murmur of relief filters through the wood, as Henry pulls it roughly open, and lunges for the Jaffa Cakes. 

Nimbly, Bea darts back and out of his way, holding them above her head even though he's been taller than her since he turned eleven. She pouts up at him as he makes another desperate swipe.

"Uh, uh. Not yet." 

Abruptly, she darts past him, inside the room, a blur of neon that is Pez's outfit today follows her. Bemusedly, Henry spins on his heel and heads back inside, and-

Then Pez slams the door.

He locks it, twists the key in the lock, then promptly runs over to the window, tugs it open, and throws it outside. Appalled, Henry races over in time to watch it drop silently into the midst of the gardener's favourite patch of flowers.

"No escaping now, Hen," He says gleefully. "You can't just avoid us again."

"I talked to you like last week," Henry points out. Mr Wobbles begins weaving between his legs, pawing impatiently at him when Bea tosses the packet of snacks over his way. "Not now, you fat lump!"

"Excuse you, Your Highness! Watch your fucking language." Pez winks and smirks. 

Henry just sighs again.

"What d'you want?" 

Steepling her fingers, Bea leans towards him, almost conspiratorially.

"We want to set you free."

And that's how, a few hours later, all free of them have commandeered the top storey of a crimson London bus.

They trundle slowly through the crowded roads, but to Henry, it feels like flying. 

A pair of tiny sunglasses are perched on his nose- "Disney Princess? I'm not seven!" he'd complained, to which Pez had taken great offence- a floppy tourist hat droops over his face, even though it's not even sunny today; more a watery grey that hangs over the whole city like a veil; and he's dressed in something he hasn't worn in years. 

A plain shirt and jeans. No suits or ties or fancy collars. Just scuffed trainers and a black hoodie tied around his waist.

"Pez! Can you at least sit down?" He hisses, but can't help the laugh that escapes his mouth as his friend balances precariously atop one of the seats, wind rushing through his hair, picking out random strangers in the confused crowd below; firing finger guns and winks off faster than Henry can yell at him to stop. 

Really, it's a miracle they haven't been recognised yet. Or hunted down by Phillip. 

A dozen missed calls from various family members decorate his notifications, but he only glances at his phone to put London Boy on loop again, and then to pass the second earphone to Bea- who makes a face and pulls them clean out of the socket.