𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡, 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄
JULY 4TH, 1985

Henry's mind raced, a relentless flood of thoughts crashing into him all at once. Scarlette's confession, his brother being Flayed, the Mind Flayer closing in—it all felt like too much. He pressed his palms harder into his face, as if that could somehow block out the chaos around him, but it didn't help.

The voices of the others barely registered. Mike's frantic pacing, Nancy and Jonathan whispering furiously to each other—it was all muffled, like he was underwater. His chest tightened further, the weight of it all settling like a stone. His breaths came short and shallow, his throat constricting as panic clawed its way up.

Get it together, Henry, he thought bitterly, but the mantra wasn't working. His hands trembled as he dragged them down his face, staring blankly at the floor. The edges of his vision blurred as the pressure in his chest built, suffocating and relentless.

"Hey. Hey!"

Henry flinched, startled by the sudden interruption, and looked up to see Max standing over him. Concern etched every line of her face. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping back to his trembling hands. The truth was, no, he wasn't okay—not even close. He didn't want to be here in Hawkins, trapped in this nightmare. He wanted to go back to California, to some semblance of peace, but he wanted to take his friends with him. He wanted it all to stop. He wanted to breathe again without feeling like the weight of the world was pressing down on his chest.

"Henry," Max said again, her voice softer this time, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts.

When he lifted his head, Max's breath hitched. His usually composed, guarded brother had tears welling in his eyes, threatening to spill. She'd never seen him like this before. It wasn't just rare—it was unheard of.

"I just..." His voice cracked, barely audible. "I just want this to be over."

Max's expression crumbled at the quiet confession. Without hesitation, she leaned down and wrapped her arms around him. Henry didn't resist, his body folding into her embrace as if it was the only thing keeping him from completely breaking apart.

He buried his face against her side, the sobs he'd been holding back for so long finally breaking free. His arms clung tightly around her waist, as if letting go would mean falling apart completely.

"It's okay," Max murmured, her hand moving to the back of his head, gently stroking his hair. She didn't tell him to stop crying or to be strong; she just let him feel it. "I'm here. It's going to be okay."

Henry's never been comforted like this before.

As Henry clung to Max like she was the only stable thing in his crumbling world, he suddenly felt another pair of arms wrap around them. Startled, he glanced to the side, his tear-streaked face meeting a pair of soft brown eyes.