#litchfieldhouse

[ganseyenthusiast]

hii i wrote a little sort-of character study for henry pre-canon about Stuff I Just Made Up about litchfield/henry broadway. its not long enough to post (yet?) but have it here

small notes: some word choices/certain traits are deliberate. aka have you ever MET an unproblematic teenager. on top of that imagine ur like 16 and ur Crime Boss mom has thrown you into racist yt kid land & made u a middle man for her Crime Dealings. wouldnt u go apeshit too i would

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Henry Broadway is the new kid. He arrives halfway through the year, because his daddy and mommy didn't like each other anymore, and they wanted him nicely out of the way while they fought for an impressive fortune. You hear of him before you see him, as these things often go. A teacher calls him vivacious. Something stirs annoyedly in you. You've grown up with siblings; middle child to the extreme. You like being the odd one out. 

Not too odd, mind you, not like Gansey-Lynch-And-Now-Parrish, a three headed beast that haunts you for how bad you want it. Want what? You want something like what they have, or do you want them? Or something else? Lackeys, your mind supplies before you can reconsider. Peers, maybe. You'd settle for followers. Three is always a good number, your mother tells you. 

No, you correct yourself. Seondeok. Seondeok tells you. She's not your mother any more than you're her son.

It's an impossible task to be the only Henry in a school full of white boys with whiter teeth and even whiter nicknames. The names they use change around. You recall some of the nicer ones. Asian Henry. Henry with the hair. Henry-from-Vancouver. Chinese Henry. Henry-No-Not-Smith-The-Other-One. They all make you sour, even if they're less obtusely racist than some of the others. 

Being the only Cheng is easier. It comes with a different set of problems, yes, namely a distinct set of sounds that prepubescent boys love to fail to pronounce. But the only other Cheng is in senior year, and he'll be gone soon, and he goes by C anyways, fucking poser. So you're Cheng. 

You make it a spectacle. That's the trick to these things. You make it razzle and fucking dazzle. You hate it, you resent it, you sour with jealousy each morning. It's always something new, too, a new car, a gifted watch, the way a sophomore catches his friend's hand with unrestrained tenderness.

But. Broadway. 

You try it out. It's a mouthful. You've already shortened it in your head, a nice concise B, B for bee, B for bitch. 

You catch him in the lockers. He's preparing to leave, leaned halfway inside his bag. Ryang had been with you, but he's a fucking moth, so he'd slid away with a just-a-second you both know is a lie.

You clear your throat, but that doesn't work, his rummaging loud and absurd. You kick him. Not too hard, but enough that he makes a little sound of surprise. His voice is high pitched. That's pleasing, a sense of stupid male machismo that you will acknowledge as such but not do anything about. He's mixed enough that he looks white. Something in you curdles. He's pretty too, all brown hair and big eyes and double lids. His smile is crooked, politely terrified in the way that most kids your age are. Your name is Cheng, you tell him. Henry Cheng.

He takes your hand. His hands are soft. You bet he's never had to break his nailbeds to smithereens clawing at dirt. He tells you he's heard of you. You agree, of course he has; you're cool and hot and incredible and future president. He laughs. He asks if you two can be friends. You agree.

…

The rest of Aglionby designates his place on the food chain. Cheng-2, they decide, because you're the real goddamn just-Cheng and this is a shiny imposter. You're sourly pleased with it, and that makes you nicer to him, because you're nothing if not a kind king. After all. Every President should have a Cabinet. You'll build your own, even if you don't think any of the members are particularly interesting. 

It's all about the goddamn politics.

You offer him the open spot at Litchfield when he complains about the dorms. He's been a spoiled only child his entire life. He jumps at the opportunity. 

Your smile is fucking Hollywood.