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"Dude." Henry slumps into the passenger's seat, and lets out a relieved laugh. "I can't believe you actually came for me."
James can't really believe it either, fingers still clenched around the steering wheel, heart pounding in his chest. It's been a long morning—one moment he's finally shooting the opening sequence of his dream movie, the next he's floating inside the gooey, endless expanse of a monster's stomach.
He feels stupid, feels used for trusting Goomi—he barely even knew the guy, his buddies much less—and allowing him to summon the Consumer of Worlds. Henry had seen right through Goomi's façade, and James had called him an idiot for it.
"Of course I came," James tells him, keeping his eyes trained on navigating the unreal landscape ahead. He swerves around some hubris; a mangled car, a house, the windows glowing in the dark. "I didn't want for you to get hurt because of my mistakes."
They sit in silence for a moment, side by side, the faded, orange light illuminating the distance between them. Henry eventually braves the gap, leaning over to nudge his elbow with his own.
"It wasn't your fault, James," he says. "You just wanted to make your movie."
"Yeah, and that nearly came at the cost of your life," James replies, voice wobbling. The corners of his vision begin blurring, a sign of tears yet to come. "I filmed Eyereen trying to kill you."
"And then you drove a van into her body to come save me."
"I should’ve listened to you in the cave."
Henry shrugs. "I mean, yeah, probably, but that’s a thing of the past now."
"It's just—" James turns to face him, his breathing growing shallow. "You matter more than anything to me, you know? And I almost threw that away for some stupid movie—"
"Hey." Henry reaches across the divide to rest a hand on his shoulder, fingers brushing against the strap of his overalls. They're close enough that James can see his reflection in Henry's eyes, all vulnerable and shaking. "Your movie's not stupid. Sure, a few—well, okay, maybe a lot of things have gone wrong, but it's not over yet. We're still here. And we still have time to create a happy ending."
Something unwinds in James's ribs then, a feeling he can’t quite describe—something akin to letting go of a breath he's been holding for years, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. He sits up a little straighter, blinking back tears. "Yeah?"
"Yup," Henry declares, squeezing his shoulder. His face brightens up into a smile. "We'll figure it out. Together."
James grins and turns back to face the windshield, letting Henry's touch linger. "Okay, let’s start by getting out of here…"