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When Max Mayfield pushed Lucas Sinclair away in Stranger Things season four, she wasn't being cruel. She was drowning. Her stepbrother Billy had died saving her life, and the guilt consumed her so completely that she isolated herself from everyone who cared about her. She stopped answering Lucas's calls. She avoided him at school. When he tried to talk to her, she told him she needed space.
Lucas could have walked away. The relationship advice columns would have told him to respect her boundaries, give her space, move on with his life. They'd broken up. She'd made her choice. Why should he keep trying when she clearly didn't want him there?
But Lucas understood something most people learn too late: when someone you love is in their darkest season, they often push away the people they need most. Not because they don't love you. Because they're drowning and they don't want to pull you under with them.
The Stranger Things series finale, which aired December 31, 2025, gave Lucas and Max their happy ending. They got their movie date, watching Ghost in a theater 18 months after Max woke from a nearly two-year coma. They eventually got engaged. But the real story isn't the happy ending. It's the two years Lucas spent sitting by Max's hospital bed when she couldn't even know he was there. It's his refusal to leave when leaving would have been easier, healthier, and what everyone probably advised him to do.
That's what loving someone through their darkest season actually looks like. And most people have no idea how to do it.
Depression affects more than 264 million people worldwide according to the World Health Organization. It's the leading cause of disability globally and a significant risk factor for suicide. Those statistics represent the scale of suffering, but they don't capture what depression actually feels like for the person experiencing it or the people who love them.
Max's depression in season four manifested as withdrawal and isolation. She wrote letters to the people she loved, preparing for her own death, convinced she deserved to die because Billy's death was somehow her fault. Research shows this pattern is common.
One of the hallmarks of depression is a feeling of disconnection. People experiencing depression tend to withdraw from relationships, stop participating in activities they once enjoyed, and isolate themselves emotionally even when physically present.
Lucas recognized something was wrong early. Max wasn't herself. She stopped engaging with their friend group. She wore headphones constantly, using music to create a barrier between herself and everyone else. She broke up with Lucas not because their relationship had problems, but because depression convinced her that she was a burden, that everyone would be better off without her, that she didn't deserve connection or happiness.
This is crucial to understand, when someone pushes you away during their darkest season, they're not making a clear-headed decision about the relationship. They're operating from a place of distorted thinking where depression has convinced them they're worthless, unlovable, and toxic to everyone around them. Research shows depression significantly distorts perceptions. People experiencing depression might mistakenly believe their relationship is the cause of their emotional emptiness rather than recognizing depression as the actual source.
The challenge for partners is recognizing this pattern. When someone tells you they need space, you want to respect that. Boundaries matter. Consent matters. But there's a difference between someone making a healthy choice for themselves and someone self-destructing because depression has hijacked their judgment. Lucas understood that difference, even at 15 years old.
Before we discuss what Lucas did right, let's address what he didn't do. Because the instinct to "fix" someone you love is powerful, and most of those instincts make things worse.
Lucas didn't try to fix Max's depression. He couldn't have even if he wanted to. Depression isn't something you can think your way out of or fix through sheer willpower. Research shows depression is a complex mental health disorder with biological, environmental, and genetic components. It requires professional treatment, not just supportive partners.
He didn't take her withdrawal personally. This is perhaps the hardest skill to develop when loving someone through depression. Max broke up with him. She avoided him. She pushed him away repeatedly. Every instinct screams that this is personal rejection. But Lucas understood that Max's behavior was about her internal state, not about his worth as a partner or her feelings for him. Research emphasizes that it's important not to take changes in energy, motivation, or passion personally or as a reflection of your partner's investment in the relationship.
He didn't make demands or ultimatums. "If you loved me, you'd talk to me. If you cared, you'd try harder. I can't keep doing this." These statements feel reasonable when you're frustrated and hurting. But they place additional pressure on someone who's already barely surviving. Depression makes everything harder, including maintaining relationships. Adding guilt or demands on top of that crushing weight helps nobody.
He didn't abandon her when she said she wanted space. This is the nuanced part. Respecting boundaries doesn't mean disappearing entirely. Lucas gave Max the physical and emotional space she requested, but he made clear through his presence that he was still there when she was ready. He showed up to the places he knew she'd be, not to force interaction, but to demonstrate that her depression hadn't driven him away.
He didn't try to argue her out of her negative thinking. When Max said things that came from her depression, Lucas didn't try to debate her or convince her she was wrong. You can't logic someone out of depression. Instead, he validated her feelings while maintaining that he wasn't going anywhere.
So if all those common instincts don't work, what does? Lucas demonstrated several research-backed approaches to supporting a partner through severe depression and grief.
He stayed present without being intrusive. Research shows that being present with your partner in their struggles is one of the most important forms of support. Lucas didn't force Max to talk when she wasn't ready. He didn't demand access to her emotional state. But he made himself available. He showed up. He sent messages even when she didn't respond. He made clear that whenever she was ready to reach out, he would be there.
Studies show that this consistent presence matters immensely. Depression creates terrible loneliness and isolation. One of the cruelest lies depression tells is that you're alone, that nobody cares, that you're a burden everyone wants to escape. Lucas's steady presence challenged that lie. Even when Max couldn't respond, his continued attempts at connection reminded her that she mattered to someone.
He educated himself about what she was experiencing. We don't see this explicitly in Stranger Things, but Lucas's behavior suggests he understood grief and depression better than most teenagers would naturally. Research emphasizes that learning about depression is crucial for supporting a partner effectively. Understanding that Max's behavior stemmed from a mental health crisis rather than personal rejection allowed Lucas to respond with empathy instead of defensiveness.
He maintained boundaries for his own mental health. This is where many people fail when supporting depressed partners. They pour everything into caretaking and sacrifice their own wellbeing in the process. Lucas continued going to school, playing basketball, maintaining other friendships. Research is clear that supporting a partner with depression can take a toll on your own mental health. Setting clear boundaries to protect your wellbeing isn't selfish. It's necessary for sustainability.
He made Max's recovery about her, not about their relationship. When Max fought Vecna, Lucas held her and told her to fight, but he didn't say "fight for us" or "come back to me." He simply reminded her of all the people who loved her and needed her to survive. The focus was her value as a human being, not her value as his girlfriend. That distinction matters because it removes the pressure of maintaining a relationship from the urgent work of surviving depression.
The most extraordinary part of Lucas and Max's story happens after Vecna's attack. Max ends up comatose with broken bones, no brain activity, and minimal hope for recovery. She exists in a state somewhere between life and death for nearly two years. Lucas sits by her hospital bed that entire time.
They weren't together when she went into the coma. She'd broken up with him months earlier. He had no romantic obligation to her, no expectation that this vigil would result in reconciliation. Medical professionals likely told him and her family that Max probably wouldn't wake up. Two years is a long time to wait for someone who might never come back.
Lucas was finishing high school during this period. His friends were moving forward, making plans, graduating, starting to think about college and adult life. Lucas could have done the same. Nobody would have judged him for accepting Max's likely permanent loss and trying to move on with his life.
But he stayed. Not because he thought she'd wake up and they'd get back together. Not because he was waiting for a reward. He stayed because that's what love means when someone is in their darkest season, even when that season stretches into years. You show up. You maintain presence. You refuse to let them be alone even when they can't know you're there.
Research shows that this kind of sustained commitment during a partner's health crisis is relatively rare. Studies on caregiver burden document how exhausting and emotionally taxing it is to support someone through prolonged illness or injury. Many relationships don't survive this stress. Partners burn out, need to prioritize their own lives, or simply can't sustain the emotional weight of indefinite waiting.
What Lucas demonstrated was extraordinary even by adult standards, let alone for a teenager. The decision to maintain his vigil wasn't made once. It was made every single day for nearly two years. Every day he could have decided it had been long enough, that he'd done enough, that Max was gone and it was time to accept that loss. Every day he chose to stay instead.
I need to be careful here because I'm celebrating Lucas's choice to stay, but staying isn't always the right choice. There's a difference between loving someone through their darkest season and enabling destructive behavior or sacrificing your own wellbeing to the point of self-destruction.
Lucas's situation with Max was unique because she was comatose. She literally could not hurt him further. The relationship existed in a state of suspension where Lucas could maintain his emotional connection without experiencing active rejection or abuse. That's categorically different from staying in a relationship where your partner's mental health crisis manifests as verbal abuse, manipulation, or behavior that damages you psychologically.
Research makes clear that while supporting a partner through depression is admirable, you cannot sacrifice your own mental health in the process. If staying means accepting abuse, if your partner refuses to seek help, if their behavior is actively harming you, leaving isn't failure. It's self-preservation.
The key distinction is whether your partner is fighting their depression or succumbing to it. Max fought. She went to counseling after Billy's death (we see her meeting with the school counselor). She tried to process her grief even though it was overwhelming. When Vecna targeted her through her guilt and trauma, she fought back. She chose to survive, to break free, to return to the people who loved her.
If Max had been alive during those two years and actively pushing Lucas away, refusing help, becoming verbally abusive, or creating a dynamic where Lucas's mental health was deteriorating, the healthy choice would have been for Lucas to set firm boundaries or leave. Love doesn't require martyrdom. It doesn't demand you destroy yourself to save someone else.
But in Lucas's specific situation, his vigil hurt no one and potentially helped tremendously. Research on coma patients suggests that familiar voices and consistent presence may positively impact recovery. Lucas's vigil cost him emotionally but didn't damage him psychologically. That's the threshold that matters.
In episode seven of season five, Max escapes from Vecna's mindscape and wakes up in her hospital bed. The first thing she sees is Lucas's face. He's been there the whole time, sitting by her bedside, waiting. The scene is shot simply: Max opens her eyes, sees Lucas, and they both start crying.
What makes this moment powerful is what isn't said. Lucas doesn't say "I waited for you" or "I knew you'd come back" or "I never gave up." He doesn't need to. His presence says everything. Max immediately understands that he's been there, that he never left, that her darkest season didn't drive him away.
Research on relationships and depression emphasizes the importance of emotional support and consistent presence. When Lucas held Max during her waking moment, he was demonstrating what psychologists call "secure attachment." The message was clear: I'm here. You're safe. You're not alone.
Max's response is equally important. She doesn't immediately apologize for pushing him away in season four or thank him for waiting. She simply cries and lets herself be held. That's the kind of vulnerability that depression makes nearly impossible. The fact that Max could accept comfort from Lucas in her most vulnerable moment shows that something fundamental had shifted in her ability to let people in.
The reunion doesn't immediately repair their relationship. We learn from the finale's 18-month time jump that they took time to rebuild slowly. Max needed to recover physically and emotionally. Lucas needed to process his own trauma from watching Max nearly die and spending two years in painful waiting. Neither rushed into pretending everything was fine.
That patience in rebuilding is just as important as the initial commitment to stay. Research shows that relationships recovering from major crises need time and intentional work. The couples who survive do so by acknowledging the trauma, working through it individually and together, and rebuilding trust and connection gradually.
Max's darkest season lasted years. From Billy's death in season three to her emergence from the coma in season five, she existed in varying states of crisis for most of her adolescence. Lucas loved her through all of it. Not perfectly. Not without his own struggles. But consistently, with a commitment that demonstrated what partnership actually means when one person can't fully participate.
The lessons here apply far beyond supernatural television dramas. Research shows that depression affects relationships significantly, creating communication difficulties, reduced intimacy, emotional distance, and secondary stress on the supporting partner. These challenges are real and difficult. But they're also survivable when approached with the right tools and mindset.
First, understand that your partner's darkest season isn't about you. When Max pushed Lucas away, she was responding to internal pain, not evaluating Lucas's worth. Depression distorts thinking in ways that make people believe they're burdens, that they deserve abandonment, that pushing people away protects those people from contamination. Your partner's withdrawal during depression is a symptom, not a judgment.
Second, presence matters more than solutions. Lucas couldn't fix Max's depression or resurrect Billy or undo her trauma. He couldn't make Vecna leave her alone or prevent her coma. But he could show up. Research consistently shows that simply being present with your partner in their struggles is one of the most valuable forms of support. Not trying to solve anything. Just being there.
Third, boundaries protect both people. Lucas maintained his own life, friendships, and interests even while supporting Max. This wasn't selfish. It was necessary for his own mental health and for the relationship's long-term sustainability. Research emphasizes that taking care of yourself while supporting a depressed partner isn't optional. You can't support someone effectively when you're running on empty.
Fourth, professional help is essential. Max saw the school counselor. Lucas likely had his own support systems. The show doesn't detail this explicitly, but the implication is clear: they both sought help beyond each other. Research shows that encouraging your partner to work with mental health professionals while also getting support yourself creates healthier dynamics than trying to handle everything alone.
Fifth, time isn't the enemy. Max's recovery took years. The rebuilding after she woke took 18 more months. There was no quick fix, no dramatic moment where everything suddenly became okay. Just slow, difficult progress. Research on relationship recovery after crisis shows that realistic timelines and patience are crucial. Expecting immediate healing sets everyone up for frustration and failure.
I've written about relationships and mental health for years, and Lucas and Max's story is one of the most realistic depictions I've seen of what it actually looks like to love someone through severe depression and trauma. Most television shows either romanticize mental illness or treat it as a plot device that gets resolved in an episode or two. Stranger Things let Max's depression span multiple seasons and made Lucas's support realistic rather than heroic.
What moves me most is how the show doesn't frame Lucas's vigil as romantic gesture. There's nothing romantic about sitting by a hospital bed for two years. It's painful, exhausting, and heartbreaking. The show doesn't glamorize it. It simply shows that this is what commitment looks like when someone you love is in their darkest season and you refuse to let them face it alone.
I also appreciate that the show doesn't treat Max's recovery as complete or permanent. When she wakes up, she's physically damaged and emotionally traumatized. The happy ending isn't that everything's fine. It's that she survived, Lucas stayed, and they get a chance to rebuild something together. That's more honest than most portrayals of recovery from severe mental health crises.
What frustrates me is how few people learn these skills before they need them. We teach teenagers about safe sex and drunk driving and academic success. We don't teach them what to do when someone they love is drowning in depression. We don't prepare them for the reality that mental health crises are common, that someone they care about will likely experience one, and that their response in those moments matters immensely.
Lucas figured it out through some combination of intuition, emotional intelligence, and probably conversations we didn't see with adults in his life who guided him. But most people don't figure it out. They take their partner's withdrawal personally, make demands, issue ultimatums, or walk away because nobody taught them that depression makes people push away the people they need most.
The research on supporting depressed partners exists. Mental health professionals know what helps and what hurts. But that knowledge hasn't filtered into mainstream consciousness. Most people facing their first experience with a partner's severe depression are improvising with no preparation and often making it worse through well-intentioned but harmful approaches.
So what are the specific skills Lucas demonstrated that most people need to learn?
Distinguishing between rejection and self-protection. When Max pushed Lucas away, she wasn't rejecting him. She was trying to protect him from what she perceived as her toxicity. Research shows people with depression often withdraw from relationships because they believe they're burdens. Learning to recognize this pattern allows partners to respond with continued presence rather than defensiveness.
Sitting with someone's pain without trying to fix it. Most people, when confronted with a loved one's suffering, immediately try to solve the problem. "Have you tried exercise? Maybe you should think more positively. Other people have it worse." These responses, however well-intentioned, communicate that the person's pain is unacceptable and needs to be eliminated. Research shows that expressing empathy and understanding without trying to fix problems creates safer emotional environments for depressed partners.
Maintaining consistent presence across time. The first week of supporting a depressed partner is easy. Adrenaline and love carry you through. Month two is harder. Month six tests your patience. Two years requires a level of sustained commitment most people haven't developed. Research shows that depression often requires long-term management, and partners who can maintain support across extended periods make the biggest difference.
Recognizing when professional help is necessary. Lucas couldn't have supported Max through her crisis alone. She needed professional counseling. If she'd lived in our world instead of Hawkins, Indiana in the 1980s, she likely would have needed medication as well. Research is clear that encouraging partners to seek professional help is one of the most important support strategies. Mental health professionals have tools and training that loving partners don't possess.
Setting boundaries without abandoning. This is perhaps the hardest balance to strike. Lucas gave Max space when she requested it, but he didn't disappear entirely. He maintained his own life and interests, but he made clear he was available when she was ready. Research shows that this balance between respecting boundaries and maintaining connection is crucial but difficult to calibrate correctly.
Processing your own emotions separately. Lucas had friends. He had his own life. He presumably talked to someone about the pain of watching Max suffer and the frustration of being pushed away. Research emphasizes that supporting partners need their own emotional outlets and support systems. Processing your feelings about your partner's depression with your partner places additional burden on them. Processing elsewhere protects both people.
The Stranger Things finale shows us what happens when dark seasons finally end and recovery becomes possible. Max woke up. She did the work of physical and psychological recovery. Lucas waited, then participated in the rebuilding. They took 18 months to reestablish their relationship on stable ground. Then they got their movie date.
The date itself isn't shown in detail. Mike mentions it during the final Dungeons & Dragons game while narrating each character's future. Lucas and Max watched Ghost, a movie about love transcending death. Then they continued dating. Eventually they got engaged. The show treats their happy ending as matter-of-fact rather than miraculous.
That understated quality feels right. When you've loved someone through years of darkness, the return to normal life isn't explosive or dramatic. It's quiet and precious. Getting to do ordinary things like go to the movies becomes meaningful when you spent years wondering if ordinary would ever be possible again.
Research on relationship recovery shows that couples who survive major crises often emerge with deeper connections than they had before. The shared experience of navigating something terrible together, assuming both people did the work required, creates bonds that superficial relationships never develop. Lucas and Max's relationship was tested by circumstances that would break most couples. Their survival of those tests doesn't make them immune to future problems, but it does prove their foundation can withstand significant stress.
The movie choice is deliberate. Ghost is about a man who refuses to leave his girlfriend even after death separates them. He stays as a ghost, protecting her from danger she doesn't know exists. It's the perfect metaphor for what Lucas did during Max's coma. He stayed when leaving would have been understandable. He maintained presence when she couldn't reciprocate. He protected her by simply being there, even though his presence served no practical purpose.
Watching that movie together after living through their own version of its plot transforms the film from entertainment to reflection. They're seeing their story told through different characters in different circumstances. The recognition that they survived something most couples never face must be both sobering and affirming.
I've spent this entire article discussing how to love someone through their darkest season, but I need to address the question many people facing this situation actually have: should I stay at all?
The answer isn't universal. Every situation contains unique factors that affect whether staying is wise, healthy, or even safe. Lucas's situation with Max contained specific elements that made staying possible: her depression wasn't directed at him as abuse, she was seeking help, her behavior when conscious suggested she still cared for him, and his own mental health could withstand the strain of waiting.
If those elements aren't present in your situation, staying might not be the right choice. If your partner refuses to seek help, if their behavior toward you is abusive, if supporting them requires you to sacrifice your own wellbeing to the point of crisis, if there's no indication they want to get better, leaving isn't failure. It's self-care.
Research is clear that you cannot love someone into mental health. Professional treatment, medication when necessary, and the person's own commitment to recovery are required. Your support matters, but it's supplementary, not sufficient. If your partner isn't doing their part of the work, your staying becomes enabling rather than supporting.
The questions to ask yourself are: Is my partner fighting their depression or surrendering to it? Are they seeking help or refusing it? Is their behavior toward me respectful even when their mental health is poor? Can I maintain my own wellbeing while supporting them? Do I have my own support system? Are there professionals involved in their care?
If the answers suggest that staying is causing more harm than good, or that your partner isn't actually working toward recovery, leaving might be the healthiest choice for both of you. Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is set a firm boundary that your relationship cannot continue unless your partner commits to treatment.
Lucas's choice to stay made sense for his specific situation. Your situation might require different choices. The goal isn't to recreate what Lucas did. It's to understand the principles underlying his approach and adapt them to your circumstances while protecting your own mental health in the process.
When Lucas and Max sit in that theater watching Ghost, they're not just seeing a movie. They're recognizing that what they survived together will define their relationship forever. The two years Lucas spent by Max's bedside will always be part of their story. Max's decision to fight her way back to consciousness will always be part of their bond.
That shared history doesn't guarantee their relationship will last forever. No relationship has guarantees. They're young. They're still figuring out who they are as individuals. Life will present new challenges, different stresses, evolving goals and interests. The fact that they survived Max's darkest season doesn't make them immune to future difficulties.
But it does mean they've built something real. They've proven to each other and themselves that their relationship can withstand extreme stress. When future conflicts arise, when normal relationship problems create tension, they'll have the memory of much harder times they navigated successfully. That's not nothing.
Research shows that couples who face adversity together and survive develop what psychologists call "relationship resilience." The confidence that we survived worse than this creates capacity to handle future challenges without catastrophizing. Lucas and Max know they can weather storms because they already did.
The lesson Stranger Things offers through their story isn't that love conquers all or that staying always works out. It's more nuanced and more honest than that. Sometimes when someone you love is in their darkest season, the most important thing you can do is simply refuse to leave. Not to fix them. Not to save them. Just to stay present, to maintain connection, to make clear that their darkness hasn't driven you away.
Sometimes that staying leads to reunion and recovery, like it did for Lucas and Max. Sometimes it leads to loss despite your best efforts. Sometimes you have to leave to protect yourself. But the willingness to show up in someone's darkness, to sit with them when they can't reciprocate, to maintain hope when they can't find any themselves, that's what love actually looks like when tested by real suffering.
Most people never learn that skill. Lucas Sinclair mastered it at 15 years old. And in doing so, he demonstrated more emotional maturity than most adults ever develop. That's the real happy ending of their story. Not that Max survived, though that matters. Not that they got engaged, though that's sweet. The real ending is that they both learned how to love someone through their worst moments. And that skill will serve them for the rest of their lives, regardless of whether they spend those lives together.
Related Read: Lucas And Max Broke Up Seven Times Before Getting It Right And That's Actually How Real Love Works