MATTHEW HALE.

                    ❛ Or I just don't tell either of them anything so that they can't corroborate. ❜ There's a bitter edge to his voice— one that makes it difficult to tell where the truth ends and the joke begins. While he doesn't think that the people in his life would actually go behind his back like that, he also doesn't trust either of them with image-altering information. Some things are simply too shameful to admit to. ❛ ... kidding. ❜

                    Sort of— more like he wishes there was more jest in it than there is, but hell if he isn't trying. This is a prime example of him not being good at therapy, isn't it?

                    His coffee is all but drained by now, yet he doesn't feel any more awake than he did when he walked through the door. He supposes that much shouldn't surprise him; the last time he slept is coming up on three days ago, and even then it was roughly only four hours. He needs some proper rest... he just can't seem to get it. It feels like he's exhausted his options now. You know you're screwed when you've even tried the glass of warm milk before bed ritual.

                    ❛ Maybe you're right, ❜ he admits, shuffling somewhat uncomfortably. ❛ I mean, how much more honest can you get than a song? At least from me. It could be a good avenue for me to take. ❜

                    He looks decidedly pensive now, a hand combing through his hair habitually. He's stressed out just thinking about broaching the topic, and while he isn't the type to emote outwardly very often, he can't exactly mask the impending dread that accompanies potentially losing his best friend's trust forever.

❝ You've always thought far too little of yourself, Henry. ❞ 

It's a truth they've spoken about before, though Matthew is always careful with how the subject is brought up. These kinds of things are delicate, and the younger man's self-esteem shouldn't be made even worse while they discuss it. It's not as though it's Henry's fault he's been through what he has; it's understandable that he'd question the world and his place within it, even when it comes to those he's known and loved for years.

                    ❛ It just— it's hard. To not do that, ❜ Henry admits, feeling more than a little on display. He's never considered himself a good therapy patient; he has the tendency to talk in circles, think too much, and isn't always receptive to suggestion. It's hard to pluck himself from the rigidity that was enforced upon him, and even harder to think that he deserves this time at all. While this isn't strictly a therapy session, it inevitably unfolds this way when they haven't seen one another in person for months. Living in Chicago has freed him in so many ways, but it's also limited contact with the one person on this earth that he can speak to openly. ❛ I live a life where right out of the gate, there's about sixty percent of it that I can't say a thing about. I can't tell the truth about the doctor, or my powers, or anything that happened in Hawkins. The Creels are gone except for me, so there's no one to hold accountable for the negligence in my youth. Stifling myself is kind of... part and parcel of just being who I am. Even the people I trust, I trust at arm's length. I haven't even told the girl that I'm dating anything about... anything. ❜

                    And not that there isn't power in taking that back, but the off switch is hard to find— especially when Hawkins Lab, in some capacity, still stands. He isn't so naïve as to think that the research starts with Doctor Brenner and ends there.

                    ❛ So you think I should do it, ❜ he muses slowly, taking a measured sip of his coffee. In truth, he isn't sure if he could've kept himself away from it in the end. His mind is a damaged force, but it's also incredibly resilient. Persistent. Once an idea takes root, it's very hard to convince it to let go. ❛ You don't think a song would feel a tad like commodifying it? ❜

                    It isn't as if he wants music to replace talking to his brother.

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐡, Matthew would do anything to alter the accuracy of what Henry says. To live a life filled with forced secrecy isn't one he'd wish upon anyone; and even if there are no better alternatives —for the world simply will not handle the existence of monsters well— the doctor's heart still aches for the younger man. 

Matt is no stranger to secrecy; while he does what he can to help others open up (that's his job, after all), his own issues remain confidential, festering tiredly beneath a smiling surface. For him, there's something noble to be found in utilizing the terrible experiences in his past to help others through their own — or, in the best-case scenario, to prevent such experiences completely.

❝ You know, ❞ he says, the words offered over the rim of his mug, ❝ You're right. There's a lot of information you can't share with most people. However...that doesn't mean you can't choose to share it with some people — ones you're close to, who you trust. ❞ Of course, it's easier said than done; Matthew himself is living proof of such a thing, but that's not the point. Henry is meant to be better than Matt is. Is better.

❝ You don't have to share everything with everyone. Some things you might want to share with Eddie, some things you might wish to share with the woman you're dating, and some things you share with both. There isn't a one-size-fits all, Henry, and I don't want you to feel as though you can't share anything hidden about yourself. ❞ 

For if anyone in this world deserves to be heard, it's the man sitting across from him.

⸸ ⸻ 𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐄'𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐏 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐄. The man's never been one to lie for his benefit, yet Henry will always feel some degree of suspicion towards anybody that expresses an affinity for the things he produces. His confidence when it comes to creating is simultaneously high and low— an impossible blend of meeting his expectations and bypassing them in an effort to get noticed. He should cut himself some slack from time to time, but he's inevitably stressed about the quality of his work; his perfectionism, the very same perfectionism he'd had bred into him from youth, controls a lot of the pleasure he receives from doing what he loves in the first place.

                     ❛ You mean it? ❜ he asks, resisting the urge to shrink into his seat. It's far from the first time he's been told that his music has resonated with people, and yet it always feels different when it comes from somebody he knows. There's a certain disconnect with strangers; they don't know the real him, and so he can take what they say at face value. Conversely, the people in his life know what he's truly like. It's harder to accept that they can love him and the things that he makes in spite of that.

                    TELEPATHETIC was indeed the birth of a newfound desire— the desire to build and create something outside of the confines of Corroded Coffin entirely. While the band enables him to do so much with his life, it also stifles some of the honesty that motivates him. He's fine with guitar-heavy music; he himself is a guitarist, but he's also a story-teller. A writer— and dear god is he aching to be heard.

                     ❛ Of course I'd want him to. ❜ It's always different when it comes from the perspective of somebody else, isn't it? They haven't done the things that he's done— don't have to live with the choices he's made. They deserve more than he ever could.  ❛ But I wouldn't want him to leave the band either. People villainise normal human emotions like jealousy and sadness all the time. I would want him to find himself in art outside of what we could provide, I'd want him to succeed, but I'd also be bitter. Bitter that I couldn't give him what he wanted. I'd forever wonder where we went wrong— where our wires crossed. And the idea of him being bitter like that at me? I don't know if I could take it. ❜

                    These people form his family. The last thing he needs is to lose them all because he decided to search for something that he already has elsewhere. And the thoughts, they keep on coming— spilling, jumbled and messy and truthful.

❝ Yes, of course I mean it. ❞ Though in truth, Matthew can't fault the other for asking. Henry has always been hesitant to admit any of his own accomplishments, his skills often overlooked and unacknowledged — shoved down in favor of focusing on others; devoting himself to their wants, talents, and goals.

( It's something Henry and the doctor have been working on during their sessions, but nothing happens overnight. )

❝ There's no shame in wanting to find out how far you can make it on your own, Henry. ❞ And if TELEPATHETIC'S success is anything to go by, Matthew's certain Henry will climb as far as he'll allow himself to. ❝ You've been stifled by many terrible people throughout your life — some of whom should have been there to protect and nurture you. Obviously, they did the very opposite, and you were made to believe your desires don't matter as much as someone else's; the last person you should add to that list of buffoons is yourself. ❞ 

Matthew's mug is set down gingerly, his expression as he regards the other remarkably soft. ❝ Why don't you write a song about what you're feeling, hm? It might be a good way to ease into the conversation I think you should have with Eddie. ❞ Music is honest — a looking glass that reflects only the deepest pieces of the soul. There's no doubting Henry's talent being an incredible gift; to leave it underutilized would be nothing short of a tragedy.

⸸ ⸻ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐃, he winds up choosing caramel. He isn't typically the type to make additions to his beverages, but after the past few weeks that he's had, he can't help but indulge in the comfort of excess sweetness.

                    ❛ Were you always this much of a smartass? I don't recall you being quite so... ❜ He makes a vague hand gesture as he sips his coffee, not making any further effort to have the thought take off. ❛ Yes, there's something else. Isn't there always? ❜

                    He follows him as he's beckoned, the changes to his living space noted immediately. Eyes flit over the many available seats before he winds up choosing one he can sit in alone. It's dignified at first, the position he assumes as he perches on the end of it, though it doesn't take long for it to change; legs tucking under himself with the utmost grace as he curls into the chair's right corner. With both hands clasping his mug, he almost looks small.

                    ❛ It looks nice in here. You had a vision, certainly. ❜ And he means that. He hasn't had to think much about the contents of his own space. He's minimalistic in nature, and while he can afford to live in a large, state-of-the-art house, the one he lives in is both modest and rented out. Like a normal person. ❛ Comfortable chairs, too. ❜

                    Eyes sweep over his surroundings once more, unsure of what it is he's looking for. Perhaps a flaw; perhaps evidence of someone else staying here. The doctor has always been someone who strikes him as preferring his own company, but his ability to maintain normal relationships— of any kind— really sets him apart from the other drones that work for his old benefactor. It's proof of his humanity, of the fact that he isn't just a shell that's playing the part of a person.

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐰'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐚, 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐧'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞.

❝ I've always been this much of a smartass; I just think before that you didn't want to see it. ❞ It would have humanized Matthew too much, and for a while, Henry couldn't function with that possibility. Understandable, of course; most of the men employed by that facility were monsters, and so the other's suspicion of him had been completely warranted. Painful, yes, but accepted.

Matthew should have known better than to trust Martin, anyway.

Still, what Henry next confesses is something entirely human; the desire to pursue his own goals and dreams now that Henry's realizing his own worth. While the other still has a long way to go, this is progress in and of itself; and for that — Matthew's proud.

❝ TELEPATHETIC was actually my favorite, you know. ❞ And he isn't just saying that, either. Corroded Coffin's music tends to rely far more on instrumentals — not a bad thing, of course, but the doctor's always been a fan of soul-searching. Henry's solo-track seamlessly blended both instrumentals and honest lyrics, the likes of which could propel him into success on his own. 

❝ You love them. They're your family, and you feel like you owe them for the success you've had thus far. But...Henry, people who love you? They want you to succeed. They want you to be true to yourself, especially if your visions have been shifting apart. Has it occurred to you that perhaps Mr. Munson may be feeling the same way? His tracks tend to be very guitar-solo heavy, while yours emphasizes lyrics. Neither approach is bad or wrong — just different. Sometimes it takes a while for an artist to develop their own style...and when it develops, it doesn't always match up to what they've been doing to get started. ❞ He's seen it happen in several clients; young art and music students alike, all worried about switching mediums or changing instruments.

( But at the end of the day, good art is always honest. )

⸸ ⸻ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋. His life has become exponentially bigger since Corroded Coffin's popularity finally exploded, and yet one of the best parts about it is always returning home. While Eddie seems to miss the open road and the distance from their old tin can of a household, Henry finds comfort in the fact that the haunted little hamlet is still standing.

                    ❛ Oh coffee, please, ❜ he says. While most things have improved as he's been put to work, his relationship with sleep is still ugly; he has yet to stop evading it, and slumber has yet to visit him in intervals larger than three. He supposes some things just can't be fixed— but they can be remedied. Coffee is good for keeping him awake.

                    The doctor's quip earns a slight furrow of his eyebrows, an uneasy smile stretching demurely across his face. ❛ I didn't peg you for a fanboy, Doctor. ❜

                    A joke, of course, but it shows how their relationship has morphed. Henry used to give him a wide berth, not wanting to associate with anybody from that dreadful place— not even after the kindness he'd shown him when he was young, because he'd been too angry and too tormented to properly appreciate it. Learning the truth of the man's employment had been pivotal in the sweetening of their relationship.

❝ I'm very good at keeping my fanboy status on the...what do you people call it? Down-low? ❞ It sounds so ridiculous that he can't help but laugh. ❝ But I do have all of your band's music downloaded into my library, so I didn't think I could go wrong with a signature. ❞ Playful it may be, but it's a brilliant change from the distance that used to fester between them.

With the coffee machine already loaded for morning, Matthew turns it on — he can easily reset it before bed, and if it's coffee the other wants — well, coffee he'll get. ❝ I have several different kinds of creamers in the fridge, if you care to take a look. ❞ He's always liked changing up his morning routine for the sake of variety, his collection of creamers boasting not only the usual flavors (mocha, hazelnut, caramel, and French vanilla) but some unique ones as well — like mint chip, peppermint mocha, Snickers, and M&M.

Henry's hesitance to answer doesn't go unnoticed; as the coffee pot dings and signals the cup's completion, Matthew retrieves the mug, handing it to the other with a soft, knowing smile. ❝ Mmm. If only you knew someone you could speak to about whatever is troubling you. ❞ He won't force it out of him, but knows Henry well enough to understand the offer is needed — the poor man always thinks he's bothering people, especially when it concerns his own wants and emotions. 

❝ Success is a funny thing, isn't it? We spend our whole life searching for it, chasing it down, thinking that once we have it, we'll finally be happy — but happiness isn't a destination, Henry. ❞ In truth, happiness can best be described as a series of special moments throughout one's life instead of a perpetual state of being. ❝ You're talented, so talk of a tour to Europe doesn't surprise me; I do wonder, however, why you seem hesitant about it all. Overwhelming it may be, but I'd like to think I know you a little better than that. There's something else, isn't there? ❞