Lol idk, there was some talk about it so I figured I'd just do it
This is one of the bonus chapters I've worked on for the finale. Bonus points bc it's completely canon (as far as canon can go for a fanfic plot lol)

Shout out to Rainy_RiuChan ! They were the only one in my message board letting me know they wanted this one out early 😤 I'll do anything for them frfr (also I really did want to post it too lol)

This is just Henry being sad in Canada w a different, also very hot reader

For clairity:
F/n - the new reader in this one
Y/n - pertaining to regular degular Y/n from Woven

F/n is gender neutral

hahaha enjoyyy!

Word count: 4709???

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The morning sun called me from my bed, a gentle beckoning that warmed the top of my sheets and soaked into the patches of skin it could reach. I sighed groggily, content and empty minded.

As my eyes cracked open and looked to the sun rising off my balcony a sudden deep, incapacitating dread plummeted me straight back to earth. Back to this god forsaken planet again. The feeling washed so quickly over me I couldn't quite contain it all and a disgustingly familiar welling sensation pushed against the back of my eyes.

I sat up, catching the water in my palm before it fell. It was hot against my comfortably warm hand as I stared at it, angrily.

I pressed my palms to my eyes, holding firmly as if that would stop the tears from slipping out. Upon the darkness I found from behind my palms and closed eyes, an image of my father painted itself red across the emptiness. A long, shaky sigh fell from my aching lungs.

There was no use wasting anymore time with my thoughts today.

I gave up on holding the annoying water in and threw my blankets aside, letting my legs dangle off the side of my bed. The colder temperatures here were welcome, something for me to focus on instead of my tormented mind that rattled with horror.

As my bare feet pressed on the wood floor a chill shot up my body. That wasn't enough. I walked to the balcony, tearing the thick glass door open to get a fresh shot of Canadian winter air. Snow blew in and scratched my unclothed body painfully and I breathed it in wholly. It burned my protesting lungs, it bit every inch of my skin, and it went to work on freezing the water trailing down my face.

I stood there for too long, but my god was it welcoming. My life had gone up in flames, so nothing was quite as cathartic as the biting cold putting a stop to the movement of time.

I left the door open to gust in more snow as I walked to my closet. The mirror waiting inside greeted me with the reflection of a husk of a man. It didn't make sense that this was once Henry Ashmore. He was thin, his usual stubble had grown out into an unkept, scraggly beard, his head of short beautiful curls had grown into a matted mess atop his aching head.

And his eyes, my god his eyes. I couldn't meet them.

I avoided looking at that man in the mirror as I grabbed black joggers and a shirt that used to have a snug fit. I pulled a dark green toque —that was in a desperate need of a wash— back in its place atop my broken crown.

I tugged a zip-up over my shoulders and left the closet in haste. I couldn't be around him longer than I needed.

As I left my room to the rest of the empty house the urge to think came back. I wouldn't give in, not yet. I raced to the front door, grabbing my winter coat and snow boots, shoving them on my body as I stepped out. I don't think I closed the door.

The blizzard tore at my body once again. A welcome feeling as I shivered through the weather. Days like these I'd walk until night fell and I had to go back to that house, otherwise I probably fully succumb to the glacial air and be buried beneath the mounds of gelid powder.

A few kilometres of nothing but the cursed cold blessed me with an empty mind. Unfortunately I knew I couldn't continue without thawing periodically throughout the day. The streets of the city were wide, empty, perfect for the wind to blow through uninterrupted. As I began to reach the edge of the suburb, stores and businesses came into view, taller buildings merciless in their obstruction of the wind chill.

I ducked into a library first, greeted kindly and quietly by a librarian. I nodded in her direction and continued on, floating through the sections like a ghost.

I strolled through the non-fiction section. As dull as it was, it was equally as grounding. It held facts that I could process without issue, the base of human discovery and explanation.

Stifled laughter stole my dazed attention. I peered between the shelves at the origin of the foreign sound. There sat two people studying together, sharing notes and chatting. A sharp, painful stab sunk its grief into my heart, nearly knocking me off my feet at the sight. Yet I stood perfectly still.

They don't even look like Y/n.

I thought, trying to rationalize away my grief, but I couldn't look away.

I miss her.

My mind blazed.

No, you do not.

Then why couldn't I tear my eyes away from this stranger that looked nothing like her. I almost wished they did, just to remind myself she was real. Just to remind myself that I didn't need her. Just to remind myself that I don't care about her. Just to remind myself how much I don't love her. Just to remind myself what she looked like so I wouldn't have to go back.

I shut my eyes hard and forced my body to turn away and walk. I was warm enough.

I shoved myself through the doors and back into the northern prairie winter. What was it, -38 degrees? Plus the windchill being -41? A perfect temperature to chase my brain into submission.

Or so I thought.

Walking past a restaurant, I peered in for only a moment, just to see a blonde woman diligently writing notes for an order with a smile I couldn't discern. Another more intense, heart ripping sensation tore through my body. Mercilessly breaking my ribs and shattering my spine.

She stood over chunks of what was once my father, flinging the her pen clean of blood with a heavy, exhausted flick of her arm.

Blood was everywhere, coating her hands, her torso, her legs, her tear soaked face.

I force my eyes away from her, but the images haunt me. What was I supposed to do? I left the fucking country and I still couldn't manage to remove myself from this in the slightest. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I heaved in deep metallic breaths and forced myself forward for far longer this time. The snowy world was barren, not a single life-loving thing wandered this horrifyingly frigid street.

I trudged blindly through the snow, jacket left unzipped as my consciousness faded in and out blissfully. Easing my mind somehow became harder than believing there were mutants in New York, and who knows where else. I cast an uncoordinated glance about the winter storm, desperately trying to remain upright as I did so.

Could one be hidden within the storm, waiting to flip my entire life upside down once again?

My vision began to fade and my legs were long past numbed, I only knew I was still moving when I supervised their clumsy forward push.

The cold stinging my cheeks began to bite even harder through the new tears that shed. Icy, whipping wind and the erratic sobs forcing through my throat worked in tandem to choke the life out of me, not
a single moment to pull in oxygen that didn't scrape and cut through its passages.

Home was so much more forgiving.

I lost my unsteady footing and stumble forward with that thought haunting the slowing of my mind. I tiredly stopped shivering. The snow, no matter how worn in by shoes it was, became nothing but a warm cloud against my body.

My fading psyche wandered to my father. Maybe if I'm lucky this'll be the last time I think about him.

Now what a note to go out on. Snow blew over me in welcoming sheets, tucking me in like mom used to.

The notion startled me, I hadn't thought about her in a long time. It was almost foreign to think I ever had one to begin with.

Mom...

I stared across the street at a figure who stood in the snow, gentle and warm. A smile pulled across my frostbitten face as the hand out to my side lifted ever so slightly towards the figure.

She came back.

The figure encroached quickly and suddenly, shattering the calm facade they held. I couldn't recognize much outside of them being fast.

Only when I was being pulled from the ground did I bother trying to lift myself out of the stupor.

"Are you okay?!" The voice asked worried.

I blinked heavily, fighting to open my eyes as I peered over at them. They weren't dressed for this weather at all, sporting only a black tee shirt and what looked to be an apron. My head fell back tiredly. "You're gonna freeze." I grunted.

They didn't say anything, they may not have even understood me as they rushed me across the street. I wanted to be of some use to their efforts, but my stupid feet only managed to bounce uselessly like cans tied behind a car of a newly married couple.

They ripped open a door, causing a jingle to sound as they carefully led me inside.

I deliriously let my eyes wander about, but nothing seemed to register.

They shoved some things out of the way with a loud scraping on linoleum floors before settling me down in a comfortable seat and began to take my jacket off. "Don't move." They command as they take my snow soaked winter coat. I sighed to myself and they hurried away.

My brain finally began to catch up with patchy recognition. I was sitting in some kind of booth, plush seating supported me as I rested in the corner of the entire room. I blinked a few times again as my stare looked about.

Wherever I was, it looked modern. White and green took over the colour schemes with a few pops of orange, or was it a lighter copper?

There wasn't much time to try to understand where I was before the person came back with some kind of metal bowl... a bucket maybe?

They placed it on a chair in front of me and took my hands, gently submerging them in a soft, fuzzy substance. I blinked a few times before turning my head in their direction as they tossed a thick blanket over my shoulders.

Finally they bloomed into focus. A worried expression painted clearly on their face as they met my eyes. "I'm calling you an ambulance." They exclaimed before letting go of my hands. "Keep your hands in the water."

I nodded and looked back to the water in the bucket. So that's what I felt.

They came back with two more blankets and a space heater, carefully wrapping me up while talking into their phone. Finally, when they were satisfied with their work they sat across from me and pressed what I believed to be a freshly dried washcloth to the left side of my face.

"Yeah... yeah... Kind Café, 305 Hawkins street." They adjusted their hold on the cloth as they inspected me. "He's conscious, but he's pretty out of it. He definitely has frostbite on his fingers, a little on his face too." They listened intently as the chatter on the other line went on for a few quiet seconds. "Right. Okay."

They lifted their chin towards me. "What's your name?"

I frowned lightly. "Henry."

"Okay Henry, what's your favourite warm drink?" They asked sweetly.

"Coffee." I answered, trying to pin my brain down.

They managed a smile, but the worry shone clear through. "How do you like your coffee?"

"Warm," my brain tried to float away again, but I forced it back into my head. "With... two sugars. Please."

The smile they wore seemed a bit more genuine at this. "Okay, I'll get that for you right away. You just stay here and think about your favourite animal."

My favourite animal? What kind of infantile exercise was that?

As they rushed off a horse was suddenly planted in my mind. This is so stupid...how was thinking about a horse suppose to help in any way?

But... I guess while I'm on the subject about horses, when was the last time I'd watched Spirit? That movie was probably the closest I'd ever gotten to a real horse in my entire life. Tiberius said they were admittedly majestic but also extremely dangerous, and there was no way in hell he was going to let his son anywhere near a beast like that. I think he once said in passing that he was bucked off a horse and thrown into a fence, back when he lived on a farm, he had a barb-wire scars all over his left leg and low back. I can appreciate that sentiment, it was the rare time he showed any love or protectiveness for me, even if it inevitably kept me away from ever interacting with a horse... maybe it's not a coincidence I move to a city called Whitehorse.

The person was back before I knew it and sat back in front of me with a warm cup of darkness. They lifted it to my face, to which I tried to grab the cup, but my fingers were noticeably weak.

They continued to support the cup, but let me lead as I brought it to my mouth. I took in a deep breath of it, the first breath in a while that was easy to take.

"So, what kind of animal did you think about?" They asked as I tentatively swallowed the first sip.

"A horse." I answered plainly.

"What kind of horse?" They asked.

"I don't know." I kept my eyes on the cup as I spoke. "The horse from spirit."

"Ah, a buckskin." They mused, smiling. "That's a good one from what I hear... Are you a horse person?"

"No," I sip the drink again before continuing. "I'd like to be, but I've been in a city my whole life."

They chuckle at this. "Tough to keep a horse when you live in an apartment I guess."

An apartment was a far cry from the former glory of the Ashmore estate, but something in me warmed to know they didn't know who I was. They helped out of the goodness of their heart, despite how busted I look.

"Yeah..." I eye them, letting the cup lower into their hands. "What's your name?"

They smiled brightly. "I'm F/n!" The name bubbled pleasantly in my slowly returning mind.

I nod once and move to bring the cup back to my lips, to which they comply, lending their strength. "That's a nice name." I say before taking a long sip.

The smile on their face only seemed to grow within the sweetness of a compliment. "Oh, well thank you!" They said bashfully before tipping their head to my head. "I like your toque."

A laugh nearly fell from my lips, "this thing? I don't think you'd like it so much if you got any kind of whiff of it." I informed carelessly.

They shrugged. "Everyone stinks it up once and a while."

I eye them, fighting my shivering hands.

They visibly retreat into themselves and avoid eye contact at the silence that meets them. "You should put your fingers back in the water." They urged, pulling the coffee away from me to lower my hands back into the bucket.

I feel myself fall into body wracking shivering again, sending small waves about the water. "Is shivering... a good thing?" I ask, fighting it with an irritated frown.

They tilt their head. "Uh, I'm not sure..." the coffee in their hold was pulled back to their body as they get up and walk towards the cafe's bar. "I think it's better than being cold and not shivering." They offer over their shoulder as they rustle through some things out of sight. The sound of a microwave sets between us.

I hum and focus on my deeply chilled body, readjusting the space heater to blow directly up into my blankets.

"So, are you new to Whitehorse?" F/n asks from across the empty café.

I force my brain to answer the question, "yeah," I mumble, flexing and uncurling my whitened fingers under the waters surface.

"That's kinda what I thought," They said, opening the microwave before it had the chance to beep, "You have a bit of an accent."

"Accent?" I looked over toward them as they rounded the coffee bar towards me with something they were fervently wrapping in sandwich paper. "What do you mean? I sound exactly like you." I pointed out.

"Well... sure we sound pretty close, but there's a few inflections you use that stand out a little." They explain as they reached me with what I could only assume was a warmed burrito. "May I?" They asked.

I nod once, slowly, and they move to place the securely wrapped, pleasantly warm food to the back of my neck. "What kind of inflections?" I press.

They sat back down across from me, coffee still in hand. "I don't really know how to describe it. I guess your tone has less... bounce to it?" They smiled sheepishly.

"What? Never had depressed people up here?" I ask, a mix between a joke and genuine sourness.

They're eyes shift about a bit before looking away awkwardly. "Oh, uh... I-I..." a small realization crosses over their face, eyes widened only a fraction as they dare to look back at me. "Is... that why you were...?" They point outside with their thumb.

A shot of weak adrenaline shot down my spine at the pieces coming together. But what's the point of denying it? I don't even know this person, and I won't see them again. "Yeah." I say flippantly, settling into the inevitable uncomfortable silence.

However, to my surprise, it doesn't come.

"I see." They mull the confession over carefully, meeting my eyes again. "Is that why you moved here too?"

My eyebrows twitch closer together, "Yes."

They think for a moment, choosing their words as they leave their mouth. "Do you have anyone to talk to about this?"

As if I ever could talk about it.

An anger bubbled behind my exhaustion. "No," I snapped, "and I'd like to keep it that way." My challenging eyes locked onto theirs, unyielding and merciless. But I was only met with a softness that caught every drop of emotion, safely coddling my emotions with an understanding expression I wasn't expecting.

"Alright." They said softly, with a gentle smile.

Something pulled their attention to the front door. "Oh thank god." They breathed.

I looked outside and spotted an ambulance with their lights spinning and a couple paramedics quickly filing in, all dressed in warm coats and mittens.

I don't really remember much else as the medical staff collected me and transferred me to the ambulance. The only thing that seemed to linger aside from the cold was the thought of F/n.

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I stood at the end of the block, staring at the sign for the Kind Café. The hospital visit was only a little over a day, of which it just consisted of monitoring my recovery and feeding me hot soup, among other things. It wasn't anything too serious from what I gather, but I know for a fact I'm not supposed to be standing out in the cold like this.

Despite this fact urging me forward, I find myself struggling to move. Clutching the box in my hold a bit tighter steadied my mind, just enough to continue walking along the freshly shovelled sidewalk.

Life had resumed in the city, people bundled up walked the roads with rosy smiles, soaking in as much sun the North would allow. So it was no surprise to see the cafe had many more patrons today. I didn't give myself the chance to think as I pulled the door open. The chimes called brightly through the warm café that smelled of cooked sugar and sandwiches.

An unfamiliar employee greeted me upon my arrival. I nodded to them with a tight lipped smile while walking to the coffee bar. "What can I get you?" He asked with a smile, leaning forward. An octopus tattoo wrapped around his left elbow, it's tentacles coiling about his entire arm and hand.

"Ah, could I get a chaga chai latte and a... roasted cauliflower bowl?" I asked as I spied about behind the counter, scanning the other employees.

"Sure! That'll be twenty-five dollars." He said, spinning the pay machine towards me before busying himself with a nice brown mug.

I eyed about, tucking the box carefully under my arm as I fished my phone out, tapping it to the machine. Finally, I spotted them. They walked in from the back with what looked to be a bag of bread, and tossed it at a station with a cutting board before passively talking to the woman next to them who was chopping some kind of vegetable.

The uncomfortable pressure in my throat squeezed the pipe closed as I fought to swallow my nerves.

"Sir?" The man asked, snapping me back to him like a rubber band.

A warmth flooded my face as I met his quizzical expression. "Yes! Yeah uh thank you."

F/n turned around like some of the others to see what was going on. They looked passively for only a moment until a recognition sparked in their eyes and a surprised smile pulled across their face.

As the man handed me my receipt I headed to a less crowded area farther back into the cafe. F/n's persistent stare followed me to my chair.

I fell into the wooden chair, placing the box in front of me as I attempted to settle under their occasional glance in my direction. My leg bounced restlessly as I fiddled a slight bend on the lid of the box, bending it back and forth under my thumb. Minutes ticked by like hours.

However, when I saw them walking towards me time stood still. The urge to duck under the table was nearly as strong as the overwhelming dread of embarrassment that fell over me.

"Hey!" They chirped, and my stomach sank to my feet, "I'm glad to see you're alive. How're you feeling?" They ask, placing a flavourful bowl of cooked cauliflower in front of me along with a latte.

"I'm good, the doctors say it was mild so as long as I stay indoors I should be okay." I say, bringing my hands to my lap as I sit straight up.

"That's good. Hope you didn't walk here then." They chuckle, placing their hands in their apron pockets.

"Uh..." I avoided eye contact for a split second before rounding back and meeting their inquisitive e/c eyes. "Yeah, Heh."

Their brows twitched together momentarily as the lingered in the awkward silence, tipping on their toes. They lift their hands out of their pockets and clasp them in front of their body "...Alright then! Well it's good to see you're feeling better. Enjoy your food!"

Just as they begin to turn a panic surges through me. The thought of having to come back with this same stupid box made me want to vomit in embarrassment. "Uh hang on!" I called a little over my normal speaking voice.

They turned back to me attentively. "Yeah?"

I inwardly wince as I push the box towards, wearing my usual million dollar smile. "Here, for helping me yesterday."

Their eyes flit down to the box then to me before pulling up a chair. "What is it?" They ask, already situating it in front of them.

"A gift." I respond, relieved that they weren't weirded out by it as my shoulders fall a little.

They smile at me wholly before redirecting the joy to the lid that their fingertips pressed under. "Looks fancy." They note playfully, as their eyes run over the minimalistic Japanese label.

Carefully they flipped the lid open to be met with two layers of perfectly identical cherries. Each red fruit was lined up meticulously, flawlessly. It was nearly hypnotizing.

Their eyes widened at the sight before settling on slight confusion as a timid smile overtook their features when they looked to me.

"They're... my favourite cherries." I explained. "I wasn't sure what you'd like, but since you work at a vegan café I figured fruit wasn't a bad guess."

They're confusion melted, giving way to their usual soft, lovable grin. "Not a bad guess at all!" They agreed, looking over the cherries as if they were alien. "I just can't say I've seen any come in a box... or all look exactly the same." The inspection they gave didn't stop at just looking as they plucked one from the container, examining it further.

I had a feeling F/n would be the type to refuse any kind of gift they'd classify as expensive, so I refrained from giving too many details about the fruit. Semibikya Cherries are delicious, and a price tag wasn't going to stop me from sharing them with F/n, the person who quite literally saved my life. "Yeah, it's just the way this kind of cherry grows."

They eyed me playfully, suspiciously. "What kind of cherry is it?"

"I don't know." I lied.

They raised an eyebrow as another less playful eyeing met me. "You don't know your favourite kind of cherry?"

"It's hard to remember when it's in another language." I reasoned, flicking the lid closed so the label was back in their sights. "They are delicious, and from Japan."

They pushed the cherries towards me. "Okay. You eat one then." They challenged.

They didn't have to wait for even a second before I popped one in my mouth.

Their eyes widened as I chewed away, contently folding my arms atop the table as I kept my eyes on theirs, unfazed. As I swallowed a proud smirk wormed it's way into my face. "Delicious."

Their face turned from surprised to suddenly flustered as they sat back in the chair avoiding eye contact.

My smirk grew wider as my brows pinched together in sudden shock. It's been a while since I flustered anyone. A pleasant swell in my chest boosted my confidence. "What's wrong?" I asked through a playful laugh.

They shook their head, still avoiding my gaze. "Nothing," they reply tightly.

I huff and toss my hand up flippantly before pulling the cherries towards myself. "Hey, if you don't want these I'll gladly eat them." I tossed another in my mouth, much to F/n's sudden horror. "It's been a while since I've treated myself."

As I went for another they snapped the cherries closed, just a millimetre shy of my fingertips. "You can't eat someone else's gift!" They hiss with a composed smirk of their own, pulling the cherries back to themselves. "I'm going to put these in the fridge in the back, and if I see one more cherry gone," their tone was low as they leaned forwards, jabbing a finger towards me. "I'll know who it was."

A flutter in my chest suddenly pumped warmth into my face. My tongue felt swollen and I'm suddenly hyper aware of my breathing. "Uh— yeah! No I wouldn't—!"

"Good." They nod before a warm grin break out across their face and they stand. "Well I hope you enjoy your boring, loser cauliflower. I'm going to hide in the back where my manager can't find me and much on these bad boys." They exclaim, lifting the box of cherries with a wiggle in their wrist.

My composure returns as the proximity expands. "Alright, well I hope you like them."

They shrug, looking at the box in their hands as they turn away, "Eh, if Henry likes them, then they gotta be special, right?"

I blink after them as they make their way back to the coffee bar. The warmth that had tied my tongue sat perfectly still, deep in my knotting stomach. "...right."