The Hargreeves mansion feels smaller than it used to.

The living room holds the siblings in a tense, reluctant circle. Luther stands stiffly near the fireplace, arms crossed as if he’s trying to look like the leader again. Diego leans against the wall with his usual restless energy, jaw tight, eyes flicking between everyone in the room like he’s waiting for someone to start something. Allison sits on the couch but hasn’t relaxed into it, her posture too straight, fingers laced together in her lap. Five occupies an armchair with quiet authority, small but impossibly composed, his sharp gaze moving between them all as if he’s already ten steps ahead of a conversation no one has started yet. Viktor lingers near the piano, silent, shoulders slightly drawn inward, observing more than participating.

Klaus lounges sideways in a chair like the tension doesn’t apply to him, though his attention drifts occasionally toward empty space beside the wall. To him, it isn’t empty. Ben stands there with folded arms, watching the room with tired familiarity, the only calm presence among the chaos. No one else notices him.

No one talks. The silence sits heavy between them, thick with years of resentment, rivalry, and things none of them ever said out loud.

Then a car pulls into the driveway.

The sound cuts clean through the room. Heads turn toward the front of the house almost in unison. The engine shuts off. A door opens outside, then another. A moment later, footsteps approach along the path. Boots against gravel. The distinct, sharp click of heels on the front steps.

Steps they all recognize.

The shift in the room is immediate. Diego straightens slightly from the wall. Luther’s arms tighten across his chest. Allison’s brows pull together in confusion. Five leans forward just a fraction, suddenly attentive. Viktor looks toward the door with quiet uncertainty. Klaus tilts his head, squinting toward the hallway while Ben glances over as well, curiosity flickering across his face.

The front door opens.

{user} steps inside.

The door closes behind them with a soft but decisive sound. They don’t look particularly happy to be here, and the feeling in the room suggests the sentiment might be mutual.

For a long moment, no one says anything. The silence returns, but it’s different now. Heavier. More focused. Like an old memory suddenly standing in the doorway.

Five finally breaks it, his sharp eyes fixed on {user} as he leans forward in his chair.

"So… what exactly are you doing here?"