You were actually going to kill that intern.

He did not leave Homelander's actual baby blanket on the set. And while to be fair, you didn't understand the significance either, anyone with a brain would know not to touch it.

You were searching the tower for Homelander, dreading the possibility that he's in his personal apartment. When you'd exhausted all other options, you sighed and edged the door open.

He was on the floor with his knees to his chest.

"Homelander?" you called gently, treating the situation like you're trying to pet a wild animal.

Silence. A poorly hidden sniffle.

"John," he choked.