You don’t want him.

You’ve heard of the terrible things he’s done, how he’s taken advantage of people— children— during the most vulnerable times in their life. You’ve heard about how he screwed up people’s brains, completely wiped someone’s mind, and implemented another with a deep-set desire for friendship only to take it away with the snap of a finger.

Sure, you’ve thought about him before, taken note of the way he speaks and how he holds himself. You’ve recognized that it’s not undesirable.

But you don’t want him. You aren’t attracted to him. Not after the shit he’s done.

And now you’re in his house.

You don’t even know how you got here; you fell asleep in your own bed and woke up lying on a mysterious green couch. You’re alone, thank God. Spontaneous interdimensional travel to liminal green houses is weird enough. Trying to explain to anyone how you got there would be way too much.

You’re not sure how or why you got yourself into this situation, but you’re sure as hell going to get yourself out.

Now, you’re wandering down a hallway lined with nondescript doors and picture frames. You swear you’ve walked down it at least five times before, yet it all seems new to you. You’re about to run directly into a wall to see if you can noclip through it when something echoes in your ears.

“Ah, hello there.”

Even though the voice sounds like it’s coming from inside your own head, you somehow know exactly which way to turn to see him standing at the end of the hall.

And there he is—everything you predicted he would be in person, except he’s a bit taller than you expected. You’re guessing he would be a good deal taller than you if the two of you were to get closer.

This is obviously the least of your concerns, though, now that you’ve found him. Now that he’s found you.

“I trust you’ve been familiarizing yourself with the manor?” he asks. You can feel his gaze peering into you despite his lack of eyes.