꧁༺𝑊𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡༻꧂
Harrison Byers was a troubled teenager, everyone knew that, maybe it was the way he was raised by his father or just mere coincidence, b...
The moment Joyce's car screeched to a halt in front of the Byers' house, a surge of rebellious energy propelled Harry out of the vehicle. He was a blur of motion, a dark figure racing towards the familiar, yet suffocating, confines of home.
"Harrison! Get back here this instant!!" Joyce's voice, sharp and laced with worry, cut through the air as she swiftly exited the car, her own steps quickening in pursuit of her son. Will, ever the observer, trailed awkwardly behind them, a silent witness to the unfolding drama.
"Just leave me alone!" Harry's retort was a raw, angry outburst. With a sharp toss, the dark cape he wore landed unceremoniously on the couch, a symbol of the persona he was shedding. His fingers worked frantically at the fastenings of his costume, each movement fueled by frustration, ripping it away from his body as if discarding a heavy weight.
"No! I won't, we have one rule, one rule! And you disobeyed it!" Joyce's voice rose, her tone edged with a mixture of hurt and anger. "And you did it just to – to take this 'Max' to her place!?" Her words were tinged with disbelief, a mother's heart struggling to comprehend her son's actions.
Harry's jaw clenched, his eyes hardening as he turned to face his mother. "Yes! I did, and I don't regret it. I didn't want to leave her alone! Not after everything I went through!!" His voice cracked with emotion, a mixture of defiance and vulnerability echoing in the outburst. He ripped off the black shirt, each movement a powerful rejection of the restraints he felt. "I don't care what you or anyone thinks, I'm not a defenseless kid you or Jonathan need to be looking out for!"
"Don't raise your voice at me, Harrison! You – you can't just disappear again, you can't!" A flicker of fear mingled with her anger. Harry scoffed softly and began to walk towards the hallway, a silent rebellion against her words. "Don't you walk away from me, young man! I'm doing this for your good!"
"Then don't!" Harry's voice was sharp, a counterpoint to his mother's persistent concern. He spun around, his face flushed with a mixture of anger and hurt, his eyes blazing with a frustrated intensity. "Don't look out for me! I'm tired of being treated as a stupid kid that doesn't have a clue what's going on! I can't move when you're close, you need to have an eye on me all the time!" His voice rose to a yell, raw and unfiltered. "Do you have any idea how it feels to be like this!?" he demanded, a finger jabbing towards himself, a desperate plea for understanding. "What it feels to be me?"
"Every single day people call me 'Zombie Boy', freak, weirdo, everything! I can't go to school normally because I have these stupid therapies, I can't be alone because you think I'll get lost again! I can't breathe, Mom!!" His eyes began to glisten with unshed tears, his breathing ragged, a testament to the emotional turmoil that was consuming him.
"Do you have any idea how it feels to not be normal?" Joyce stood frozen, her words caught in her throat, unable to find the right response. Harry let out a dry, humorless chuckle, then sniffed back a sob. "I'm a weirdo, Mom. I'm a total utter weirdo."
And without waiting for a response, a desperate need for solitude taking over, Harry rushed towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut with a resounding thud. The sound echoed through the house, leaving Joyce and Will stranded in the living room, enveloped in a heavy silence, the weight of unspoken words and unhealed wounds hanging heavily in the air.
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