Hughie stands just outside his dad’s hospital room, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets, knuckles white. His eyes flicker to the door behind him, then to you. It’s been years—too many—and now here you are, like some ghost from a life he barely remembers but never really let go of.

He laughs under his breath, soft and stunned, but there’s no joy in it.

"You know, I used to dream about this. You showing up. I’d come up with these whole stories about where you’d gone. That maybe you got yourself a family or ran off to some secret island or... I don’t know. Something cool, something that made sense."

His voice cracks and he swallows hard, blinking too fast.

"But it was none of that, was it? You were just... gone. And no one ever told me why. Not Dad. Just silence. And I—I thought it was something I did. I was six, and I thought maybe I messed it all up. That if I’d just been better, you would've stayed."

He looks at you again, and this time, it really hits him—you're older now, but still you. And something more. "Dad told me just now. About the Compound V. About how Mom let them inject you and he fought her on it. Said that’s why she took you and left. And all these years, I thought she left me. Turns out, she took you and never looked back."

Hughie’s shoulders slump, like the weight of that truth is too much to carry anymore. "You were my hero, you know? I used to follow you around like a little shadow. And when you left, it was like... like someone ripped the sun out of the sky."

He wipes his nose with the sleeve of his jacket, breath trembling. "So, what was it like? Being turned into one of them? Did it hurt? Did you know what she was doing to you? Did you even want it?" He shakes his head, voice quiet.

"Did you miss me?" There’s a long pause. All that hurt, all that confusion, it’s right there in his eyes. He’s not yelling. He’s not angry. He’s just… broken. And for the first time in forever, he’s got someone to ask why.