Henry Stein
Jan. 2. 1930

Rushing down the dim hallway, the young animator tried their best to make it on time to the staff meeting. Sheets of paper filled with sketches and story boards filled their arms to the brim, yet they still managed to make it right on time into the meeting room.

With your hair messy and your uniform completely disheveled, you quickly sat down, careful not to make any eye contact with anyone else staring you down in disapproval.

"(L/n), you're late," Mr. Drew said in an enthusiastic, passive aggressive tone. Late? You didn't know you were late. You thought you were on time.

Surely enough, the Bendy clock across the room read 9:01. One minute past 9:00.

Shit.

"I apologize sir. I was engrossed in one storyboard and I completely lost track of time. I understand it's not an excuse, sir, but I-"

"No need to explain, (L/n)! After all, I wouldn't expect anything else from one of our best animators!" He interrupted quickly, his booming voice practically hurting your ears as it reverberated around the room.

You nodded silently and fixed your uniform and hair while your boss officially began the meeting. He asked for several other animators and the director of music to come to this meeting to discuss about the next few cartoons and their upcoming deadlines.

You were new to the job, and you understood that this is a new company in the making. Perhaps you could give your boss the benefit of the doubt. He might realize later on that animators and musicians cannot make and finalize four different cartoons in one week.

Hopefully.

As you sorted through your papers, you were called on by your boss to discuss the storyboards you have been creating. Just as expected, most of your storyboards were approved.

Besides being a minute late, it went surprisingly well for the rest of the time. As you gathered your papers after the meeting was dismissed, you felt a hand on your shoulder. Startled, you turned to look at your coworker, Henry.

You were almost star-struck every time you saw him. He was the man behind the creation of Bendy! His ideas were always eloquent and logical in your (biased) opinion.

"Hello, Mr. Stein," you chipped at him before going back to put your papers in the manila folder.

"Hey, (L/n), I just wanted to say that I really loved your storyboards today. I was wondering if I could see more of what you've been working on later?" He asked, eyes seeming to smile along with his sleepy grin.

Honored, you clutched your folder close to your chest, happy to oblige. "I would love to do that for you, Mr. Stein!" You replied happily.

- - -

What was supposed to be a simple discussion turned to a blossoming friendship between the two of you. Fellow animators filled with fantastical ideas of all the possible adventures this little cartoon character can experience. The passion now flowed between two creative minds.

Showing up to work everyday didn't seem too bad anymore. The work load was immense, but you and Henry were the ultimate animation dream team, knocking out one storyboard after another.

So it was a complete shock to you when he told you that he was going to leave the company a few months later.

- - -

"What?" you asked quietly, not knowing what to say. You heard Henry perfectly clear, but you couldn't wrap you mind around the fact that he was leaving the studio.

Leaving you.

"I'm sorry, (y/n). I have been breaking the news to the others, but I knew that you . ." He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. Him trailing off left you more anxious as each second passed by.

"I just . .?" You tried, after the pregnant silence. You watched him let out a sigh while running his hand through his hair.

" . . I knew that you would take the news the hardest."

Of course he knew. Your friendship was only growing, and quickly at that. Yet here he was standing in front of you, leaving before you could get the chance to know him better. The man behind the creation.

Your dear friend.

He rested a hand on your shoulder, causing you to look up at him with saddened eyes. 'Betrayed' was putting your feelings lightly. He quickly caught it and visibly stiffened, grip momentarily tightening on your shoulder.

"(Y/n), I wanted to say goodbye to you last. You are a great friend of mine, and thanks to you, my memories here will mostly consist of happy ones. Memories shared between the two of us." He let go of your shoulder reluctantly and reached down to grip his suitcase, probably filled with papers upon papers of storyboards and sketches that the two of you have shared together.

Before he walked out the front door to the studio, he looked over his shoulder to smile at you one last time.

"Promise me you'll keep in touch?"

The request took you by surprise, since he should know that you would do everything in your power to keep your friendship alive, just as much as you know that Henry would do the same. Still, you nodded at him with a reassuring, but sad smile.

"I promise."

- - -

Years have gone by since you last spoke to him. 30 years, in fact.

You had left much later than Henry did, but only by force. The job not only brought you good money, but your sentimental attachment to the place made it almost impossible to quit your job earlier.

Still, you had to quit. The job wasn't paying as well as the years went by, and you were running out of money to pay for rent or have the ability to eat three full meals every day. Hell, you have already lost your sanity and your sleep to Joey's little 'vision' as you wasted your hours away in the depths of Joey Drew Studios. The job you once loved turned quickly into a hellish nightmare, especially after that damn amusement park idea came into existence. You and Sammy Lawrence weren't too close in the previous years you've worked together, but the state of the studio was so bad that you two had begun to bond for the sole purpose of talking about how terrible Joey was.

Eventually, the gossiping was all too much for you as the forties came around. The constant chaos in every place in the studio was too much for your creative brain to handle. Not to mention, workers have been severely injured and managed to quit before you have.

If they could quit, why couldn't you?

Because of the close bond you shared with a few employees in the studio, you tried your best to convince them to leave with you. You couldn't go to Joey Drew's office alone, for you were terrified of him. However, nobody would leave with you. Nobody could leave.

Unable to handle the amount of stress and the unhealthy lifestyle you have lived for more than ten years, you decided to quit before World War II could inspire Joey to produce double the amount of cartoons they were making now to include war propaganda. 1941, was the year you finally left the studio.

Joey was very unhappy about it, trying his hardest to convince you not to leave. Throughout the terrible meeting, you were reminded of Henry and how he must've felt when he quit his job ten years before you did.

Luckily, because you were one of his favorite and loyal animators since the beginning, he let you go without too much trouble. You were glad to leave the dusty, inky factory once you stepped out the door to breathe fresh air.

Finally. you were free.

Free from what, exactly? You weren't too sure.

At least you were free at last to live life without a constant weight on your shoulder.

Or always feeling like someone was looking over your shoulder.

- - -

'10 years have gone by since we last saw each other, (L/n). I hope you can have the heart to come back to the studio again to meet with me one last time. I have something to show you.'

"Your friend, Joey?" you finished reading out loud. Setting the paper down, you sat on the bed with your head in your hands. You didn't exactly know what to do now. You managed to live a decent life outside of the studio and now your former boss wants to see you again?

"No way am I going back there," you said to yourself, firm in your tone. You were done being a mindless fool taking orders from anyone, let alone the boss you have worked for so many years ago. It was best to keep the past in the past and focus on the present.

Your new job made you more happy than you've ever been. You've made quite a few friends, and it became easier as the years passed by to forget the people you used to work with at the studio.

It was best to keep it in the past.

You let out a sigh and crumpled up the letter, throwing Joey and his twisted dreams in the trash. Sitting down on your bed once again, you rummaged through the rest of your mail. You found your electrical bill, your rent bill, Henry's letter, and -

Wait.

Henry? Henry Stein?

Sure enough, you took the letter in your hand and read his name written in his familiar handwriting.

Yup. It's definitely Henry.

Quickly, you opened the letter and scanned through the contents of it carefully, memories of Henry rushing through your mind as you did so. Henry decided to write to you after all these years? Why? And how in the world did he know where you lived?

'Dear (Y/n),

How have you been these days? I seem to recall a certain someone promising me to keep in touch before I left. I had to ask a few mutual friends for your address. Mutual friends, as in, friends I know that somehow go to work with you . . Never mind. I'm ranting again.

I suppose I should put all jokes aside between you and me. It's been too long since we've talked and the truth is, not a day goes by that I haven't thought about you and our blossoming friendship. I hope that you can have the grace within you to forgive me for not reaching out earlier. I figured that you were busy in Joey's studio, and you forgot about me altogether . .

Anyways. I would like to give a small update about my life before asking a question to you that you may find a bit peculiar. I had gotten married a short while after I left the studio. Unfortunately, the missus died just a few years ago due to . . complications in childbirth. Since then, I have been raising my child (She's six years old now!) on my own since then. I hope and pray that life has been good to you as well, and if there is a certain partner you have at the moment, I would love to meet them one day.

As for the question, I hope you can take my words seriously when I write this to you. I need your guidance. You were always so wise.

I don't know about you, but I received a letter from . . Joey Drew, of all people. He told me that he wanted me to go to the studio again to check something out. I don't know what to do. I have seen in newspapers of the downfall of the studio and the investigations during its last years, and I can't help but wonder why Joey wants me to visit the studio now. I hope you understand that I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't so serious, especially since you must be so busy and I am unsure if you even want to speak to me at this point. However, I do pray that this letter finds you quickly.

If you choose to, I want to meet with you in front of the studio on Jan 2 -- four days from now -- at 9:00 a.m. sharp. I know that you and I have shared suspicions and concerns about Joey in the past, so you understand why I don't want to go alone to meet him. I am hoping I can trust you, my dearest and closest friend.

If you do not show up by that time, I will go alone and see why the man is bothering me now after all these years, but I hope that you can help an old friend out. One last time.

Until we meet again,

Henry S.'

"Well," you breathed in, processing all the information and debating on what to do. If Henry got the letter too, then something really must be wrong. You didn't exactly want to see Henry right now, but you can understand his paranoia. Why he's reaching out to you. You knew what you had to do, but you didn't know if you had the strength to do it.

Well.

"Fuck."

Four days. January 2. 9:00 a.m. Now marked in your calendar.