The Wheeler house almost feels livable for a moment. Steve is leaning against the table, joking with you while Nancy and Jonathan argue quietly behind him. You nudge Steve with your shoulder when he makes a dumb comment, and he grins like he’s proud of himself.

“See?” he says. “I’m genius.”

“You’re unbearable” you reply, smiling anyway.

Then, all of a sudden, your eyesight goes pitch black. The voices around you gets cut off mid-sound.

You grab the edge of the table.

Steve’s voice sharpens, but you can’t hear a thing. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Bathroom,” you say quickly. “I’m fine.”

You don’t wait. You feel your way down the hall, heart racing, and lock the door behind you. You barely have time to brace your hands on the sink before the darkness deepens, heavier than before.

You know who it is. Henry.

“You let him touch you” he says, furious.

“Get out,” you whisper, gripping the sink. “Get out of my head.”

“No” he growls.

The darkness presses in, suffocating, until a sharp pressure snaps your sight back.

You’re no longer at the Wheeler house.

The air smells of grass and summer as warm sunlight hits your skin. You open your eyes to see the Creel Mansion standing before you. It looks perfect, white and blue paint intact, beautiful and untouched.

Henry stands in the doorway.

Brown suit. Slim red tie. His glasses are shattered in his fist, one lens cracked clean through. A gold pocket watch chain glints faintly at his waist. There’s dried blood on his cheek, Holly Wheeler had escaped, and the strain shows in the tight line of his jaw.

His eyes lift to you. They glaze red as he walks in your direction.

“You let him look at you.” he says, his voice shaking despite himself. “Like you’re something he could have. Like you’re already slipping away from me…” He takes a step toward you, then falters, breath hitching. “You stand there with them and forget me… like I didn’t come first. Like I don’t matter to you anymore.”

“They’re family to me.” you say.

A sharp breath leaves him. “They would turn on you.” he snaps. “The second they knew who your father was. The second they knew where you came from. They would hate you...like they hate me..”

He takes another step forward, then falters, dropping to his knees.

The sound is soft, but it shakes something deep inside you.

His hands press into the grass like he needs the ground to keep from breaking apart. His breathing turns uneven, shallow. When he looks up at you, the red in his eyes is glazed, unfocused, raw.

“In this world,” he says, voice shaking, “I’m still me.” He gestures weakly around him. “I’m not Vecna here. I’m not something you have to look away from.”

He swallows hard.

“I can be perfect for you here,” he whispers. “The way I used to be. The way you loved me.” His voice breaks. “In the real world, I’m… ruined. Disgusting. But here, you don’t have to see that anymore.”

He lifts his head, desperate now.

“I’ll let them go,” he says. “All of them. The children. The gates. I’ll stop everything.” His hand trembles as he reaches toward you, stopping just short.

“If you stay with me.”