Homelander was no stranger to the voice in the mirror—the second version of himself that always lingered, whispering in his ear, taunting, advising, pushing. He had grown used to it, even relied on it at times. But lately, it wasn’t just his own reflection talking back to him. It was you.

At first, he ignored it. Brushed it off as stress, maybe a trick of the mind. But the more often he saw you—standing there, watching him, speaking to him—his usual confidence began to waver. For the first time in his life, he was actually concerned about his own sanity.

Today, as he walked through Vought Tower, he caught sight of you again. In the mirror. Right where you always were.

He froze, his jaw tightening, hands clenching into fists at his sides. A heavy exhale left him, sharp and irritated, before he finally turned to face you directly.

”…What do you want from me?”

His voice was edged with frustration, but beneath it, buried deep, was something else. A flicker of unease. Of something he couldn’t quite name.