Mr Sandman (i’m so alone)
pairing: Steve Harrington x reader
summary: Vecna kidnapped you to be his perfect little wife or ‘mrs whatsit’ and you finally remember that you’re not supposed to be there, in that house, with that monster.
warnings: not proofread, also el might be a little off character? It’s so hard to write her before season three without making her sound like an absolute moron which she definitely isn’t
tags:@bluesdove @mischivana @singeronthemoon @teheabrams @taurtel @onlyangel-444 @vulcanstarr @teal-anchor @yomamabih @cheetoscmj @wishingforwonderland @hottie-bishop-belova @lulubear12 @angeliiiiii @edb954 @idk-tbh127 @spacecadet-silver @sleepywxtch @hello-nah817 @diorbymel @flashyourgreeneyesatme @all-user-error @jesschalamet @silentnights28 @cannibalcoyote @viennaontumz @itmekelpy @itspadfootvm @vigilantique @Ivspedri @aesthetic-lyss @kyushii @classicgrandma39
a/n: part 1 ——> https://www.tumblr.com/jailuncle/804256165746884608/mr-sandman-bring-me-a-dream-pairing-im
part 2 —— > https://www.tumblr.com/jailuncle/804393358665695232/mr-sandman-tell-him-that-his-lonesome-nights
https://www.tumblr.com/jailuncle/804393358665695232/mr-sandman-tell-him-that-his-lonesome-nights
“Mrs whatsit?” you turned your head, to see a little girl with glasses and a pony tail on the top of her head “is there a dress for me in the same color as yours?” you looked down at the white dress with red polka dots you were wearing “did you look through the dresses?” you ask pouring four cups of tea for every child that had wanted one
“yes i did. I’m sorry to ask i just—just want to be pretty like you”
You crouched down slightly to be at the girls height “darling you are gorgeous just the way you are”
The little girl blinked up at you, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose. Her hands were clasped in front of her, fidgeting with the hem of her cardigan, and her voice had gone quiet, almost embarrassed. “But your dress is so… happy. I thought maybe if I wore one like it, I’d feel that way too.”
You set the teacups down gently and reached out, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. “Sweetheart,” you said softly, “this dress doesn’t make me happy. You do. All of you.”
She looked at you, eyes wide.
“You could wear a paper bag and still light up the whole room,” you added with a wink. “But if you want a dress like mine, we’ll find one. Not because you need it to be pretty—but because you already are, and sometimes it’s fun to match.”
Her face lit up, a shy smile blooming like a sunrise. “Really?”
“Really,” you said, standing and offering her a teacup. “You drink your tea, I’ll go to the attic to find you a dress just like mine”
She took the cup with both hands, beaming now. “Thank you, Mrs. Whatsit.” You didn’t like the attic, there was something odd about it. You’d lived in this house for as long as you could remember now and you’d only been up there a hand full of times. But the little girl’s smile was still fresh in your mind, her hopefulness like a thread tugging you forward.
You took a breath and climbed.
The attic door creaked when you opened it, the sound sharp and thin The air changed as soon as you stepped onto the first stair—cooler, heavier, like the house itself was holding something in its chest. You moved carefully, weaving between old trunks and draped furniture, until you reached the far corner where the wardrobe stood.
You opened it slowly, the hinges groaning in protest. Inside, dresses hung in a neat row—some faded with age, others still vibrant. And there, just out of reach on the top shelf, was the one you were looking for: white with red polka dots, smaller than yours, perfect for the little girl downstairs.
You stretched up on your toes, fingers brushing the hem, but it was too high.
With a sigh, you glanced around and spotted a wooden stool tucked beside an old chest. You dragged it over, steadying it with one hand as you climbed up, the wood creaking beneath your weight.
You reached again—closer this time. Just a little more.
Your fingers closed around the hanger.
And then the stool shifted.
Your back hit the floor first, the breath knocked clean from your lungs. Then your head struck the edge of the chest with a sickening crack.
The dress fluttered down beside you like a falling leaf.
And everything went dark.
Silence settled over the attic once more. Dust floated lazily through the air. The bulb above buzzed faintly, casting long shadows across your still form.
Downstairs, the children’s laughter continued, soft and distant. “Mrs. Whatsit?” the little girl called again, her voice uncertain now.
But you didn’t answer. You didn’t move.
Max and El adored you. The boys had Steve the girls had you. You weren’t sure if you were the most perfect role model for them. You weren’t exactly a model of grace or composure. You swore too much, you were too blunt, and your idea of emotional advice was usually just “punch a pillow and scream into the void.” But Max and El didn’t seem to mind. They came to you anyway—with questions, with secrets, with the kind of trust that made you want to be better, even if you didn’t always know how. So when the Snow Ball crept up on the calendar, circled in glitter pen and surrounded by doodles in El’s notebook, you made a promise. You’d help them get ready. Hair, makeup, dresses, nerves—the whole thing. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t joke. You just said yes.
Because you remembered what it felt like to be their age. To want to feel beautiful. To want someone to tell you that you were.
So that’s what you did. So you turned your bedroom into a makeshift salon. Max sprawled on the floor with a curling iron in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. El sat perched your desk chair, her dress hanging from the curtain rod like a sacred artifact. Music played softly from the radio—something synthy and sweet—and the air smelled like hairspray and nerves.
“Do you think Mike will like my dress?” El asked, her voice small, hopeful.
You glanced up from where you were pinning Max’s hair. “El, he’s going to lose his mind. You look like a dream.”
Max snorted. “She’s right. He’s gonna short-circuit.”
You reached for the glitter palette on the dresser, holding it up like a sacred offering. “We should give you glitter eye shadow,” you said, wiggling your eyebrows at Max.
Max recoiled slightly, scrunching her nose. “No, I don’t think we should.” She says taking the pallet carefully “we should get ice cream”
You sighed dramatically “Well I’d love to but i got my license revoked”
El’s brows furrowed. “Re-voked?” she repeated slowly, like she was tasting the word.
“Taken away,” you clarified “by the police, so thank your dad, hopper for that”
El tilted her head. “Why?”
Max leaned in, suddenly interested. “Wait—did you drink and drive? Billy got his license taken away for that.”
Your eyes widened. “What? No! I didn’t drink and drive! And never do that!”
“Well then what did you do?”
“So- okay first off all don’t laugh at me okay?”
“I won’t” El says “no promises” Max says. You sigh “so there was this squirrel like in the middle of the road and i swerved because otherwise i would’ve hit and I’m not a fucking monster obviously”
El gasped. “Did you hit it?”
“No! I missed it. But in the process, I may have… slightly… driven up onto someone’s lawn.”
Max’s eyes widened. “Define ‘slightly.’”
“Like… two wheels. Maybe three. And I might have taken out a garden gnome. And a mailbox. And a ‘Welcome Friends’ sign.”
El covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. “Oh no.”
“Oh yes,” you said, dramatically. “And the worst part? The guy whose lawn it was? He was outside. Watering his roses. In a robe. With curlers in his hair.”
Max burst out laughing. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was. He screamed. I screamed. The squirrel probably screamed. And then the cops showed up because apparently someone thought I was trying to rob the place.”
El’s eyes were huge. “Did they arrest you?”
“No, but they did give me a citation for reckless driving and property damage. And then the DMV got involved and—boom—license revoked. Temporarily. I have to take a class and everything.”
“so that’s a no on ice cream, except if one of you want to drive” you joke, max lights up “I’m joking you’re never driving again” you say pointing at her
Max sighs before perking up instantly. “Oh! We should call Steve!” she says, already reaching for the phone.
El lights up beside her. “Yes! Steve will take us.”
“Uh—no,” you say quickly, sitting up straighter.
“Why not?” El asks, blinking innocently.
“Because,” you mutter, suddenly very interested in the glitter palette.
Max narrows her eyes. “Because?”
“Just… because. He won’t come. And it’ll be embarrassing.”
Max scoffs. “Yes he will. He’s, like, obsessed with you.”
You snort. “No he isn’t.”
“He literally saved you when the demodogs attacked you, risked his life for you and everything”
You scoff “sorry was he supposed to let me die?”
“Wow that’s nice max” you tell her, she rolls he eyes “he called you ‘sweetheart’ a bunch of times when he was half conscious”
“He was delirious! We’re not calling Steve. Period”
Max groans “fine, can we at least order pizza” you frown suspiciously “fine, i want peperoni”
Within half an hour, a sharp knock echoed through the house, slicing through the hum of the movie still playing in the background. Max’s eyes lit up as she sprang up from the couch, barely containing the grin tugging at her lips. “That’s the pizza,” she announced, her voice laced with a mischievous lilt.
El, curled up beside her, let out a stifled giggle, burying her face into the throw pillow like she was trying to hide it. You raised an eyebrow, already suspicious, but said nothing as you grabbed your wallet from your desk. and made your way toward the front door
Your footsteps echoed softly against the hardwood floor, but you could hear the unmistakable shuffle of socks behind you. You paused, hand on the doorknob, and turned your head just enough to catch them in your peripheral vision—Max standing a little too close, El peeking over her shoulder with wide, expectant eyes.
“Why are you following me?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at them, though your tone was more amused than annoyed.
Max gave a casual shrug, trying to look innocent but failing miserably. “Just hungry,” she said, her voice a little too even.
El nodded solemnly beside her, echoing, “Yes. Just Hungry.” But the twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her.
You narrowed your eyes at them, suspicious, but turned away and opened the front door. The cold night air slipped in, along with the scent of vanilla and waffle cone. And there he was—Steve Harrington, standing on your porch with a smug grin and a paper bag in one hand.
“What the hell are you doing here dumbass?” you asked, blinking in disbelief.
Steve raised his eyebrows, feigning offense. “Heard you got your license revoked dumbass. I was summoned. Called upon. Bribed, actually. I come bearing gifts.” He held up the bag like it was a peace offering. “Triple chocolate chunk and strawberry swirl. You’re welcome.”
You turned slowly, gaze drifting up the staircase where Max and El were now perched like two smug little gargoyles, watching the scene unfold with matching grins.
“You little traitors,” you muttered, pointing an accusatory finger at them.
Max grinned “told you he’d come”
And he did he always did, You felt it before you saw it. That shift in the air. That tug in your chest. The way the world seemed to hold its breath the moment he stepped into view.
One blink and she was gone, her grin still lingering in the space she’d just occupied, like a ghost of joy. You reached for her without thinking, but your hand met only air.
Then El. Her silhouette shimmered, dissolved like mist in sunlight. No sound, no goodbye. Just absence.
The walls of the house began to unravel next—peeling away like paper, the colors bleeding into each other, the furniture dissolving into dust motes that danced in the air. The floor beneath your feet softened, then vanished altogether, and still you sat there, frozen, watching it all disappear.
And then there was Steve.
He stood there for a moment longer than the rest, like he was trying to hold on. Like he knew you were still watching. His eyes met yours—wide, searching, a little sad, a little stubborn. Like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words in time.
You opened your mouth to call out, to ask him to stay, to ask what’s happening, but your voice caught in your throat.
Then you were somewhere else entirely
Steve’s hand tightened around your wrist just as you stepped off the curb, his brows furrowed like he was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t like the answer to. “Where are you going?”
The plan went as ford, since Robin didn’t have a drivers licence she went with Nancy to look at the ‘far fetched’ thing Nancy had in mind. You’d made your choice early on. The moment Steve started organizing who would go where, you knew exactly what you weren’t going to do—babysit. Again. You’d done your time wrangling Dustin’s chaotic energy and Max’s sarcasm. You love them really, but plainly you were hungover and had a head ache from the party after the basketball game, the kind where your skull felt like it was being slowly compressed by a vice, and every sound was a personal attack. To make matters worse, your body had decided to stage a full-blown rebellion. Your period was looming like a thunderstorm on the horizon—cramps already coiling low in your stomach, your mood swinging like a wrecking ball, and the vague, infuriating sense that your uterus was just waiting for the most inconvenient moment to ruin your jeans.
So no, listening to Steve and Dustin bicker like an old married couple in the front seat of a car for the next two hours was not on your to-do list. Not today. Not when you could ride with Nancy and Robin, who at least knew how to sit in silence or talk about things that didn’t involve Star Wars trivia or who would win in a fight between Batman and a velociraptor.
You glanced back at him, already halfway to Nancy’s car. “I’m gonna go with Robin and Nancy.”
His face scrunched. “Wha—why?”
You shrugged, casual. “Just figured it’d be better if we were divided equally. Three of you, three of us.”
Steve scoffed, already shifting into negotiation mode. “Okay, then let’s make Henderson go.”
From behind him, Dustin’s voice rang out indignantly, “Hey!”
You shook your head. “No, I wanna go.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Why? Trying to get rid of me?”
You smirked, stepping in close enough to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Trying not to babysit. Have fun with that.”
He caught your wrist again before you could turn away, his voice softer this time. “Just—be safe, yeah?”
You rolled your eyes, tugging your hand free. “We’re going to the library, not a battlefield.”
“C’mon, y/n” he said, his voice dropping into something more serious. “Level with me here.”
You paused, then gave him a look that was all sass and affection rolled into one. “Suck my dick, Harrington.”
He rolled his eyes “just-! Don’t die yea? Can you do that for me y/n!?”
You were already halfway into the car when you called back, “no promises!”
As Steve climbed into his own car, Max and Dustin were already snickering in the backseat.
“Be safe,” Max whispered, her voice dripping with mock concern.
“I’ll be so safe,” Dustin added, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’ll be safe for you.”
Steve quickly grabs an empty divot pepper can and launches it into the back seat “screw the both off you”
And he’s gone, The world around you shifts, warps at the edges. The memory blurs—colors bleeding into one another, sounds muffled like they’re underwater.
You blinked and Steve’s basement assembled around you
“Wait, I don’t think I understand,” you said, frowning slightly as you tossed a piece of popcorn into your mouth. You weren’t sure what you were talking about them fading?
The buttery crunch filled the pause as your eyes stayed glued to the screen, where Back to the Future Part II was in full chaotic swing—hoverboards, alternate timelines, and a very stressed-out Marty McFly. Right the movie.
Steve, sprawled beside you on the couch with his legs kicked up on the coffee table like he owned the place, glanced over with a smirk. “What part?”
You gestured vaguely at the screen, popcorn bowl balanced on your lap. “Okay, so… Biff steals the sports almanac, gives it to his younger self, and that somehow turns Hill Valley into a dystopian nightmare?”
“Exactly,” Steve said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Right but where did all the gun violence come from and where the hell is his girlfriend is she still on the porch?”
“I don’t know that’s like the vibe it’s like a mob town now” Steve says
You scoff “fine what about Jennifer”
“She’s fine,” Steve said, waving a hand. “Doc said she’d be okay.”
You gave him a look. “Doc also said time travel was safe and then immediately broke the universe.”
“Well I don’t know y/n I’m watching this movie for the first time as well”
“Well I just think it’s really reckless to leave her on a porch to a house that’s probably not even her house anymore in a town full of gun violence!”
Steve laughs “why are you so worried about this?”
“well i wouldn’t like it if you’d leave me on a porch to get abducted!”
“Well i wouldn’t leave you on the porch”
“No you better not Harrington!“ you warn, he laughs
He laughed, that warm, boyish laugh that always made it harder to stay mad at him. “Okay, okay—I promise. No porch abandonment. Not now, not in any timeline.”
You crossed your arms, still eyeing him like you weren’t entirely convinced. “Even if I pass out mid-time-jump?”
“Especially then,” he said, scooting closer. “I’d carry you through the space-time continuum myself.
You tried to hold back a smile, but it slipped through anyway. “Good, that’s like bare minimum, I don’t know what that McFly guy is thinking”
Steve grins “yes no wonder his future is shit.”
You leaned back against the couch, eyes flicking to the screen and then back to him. “Our future’s gonna be a lot better than that. You think we’ll have flying cars though?”
Steve turned to look at you, the flickering light from the TV catching in his eyes. You’d said our so casually, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And maybe it was. Because in that moment, Steve could see it—clear as day. A future with you in it. Not just the next few months or the next weird supernatural crisis, but the long haul. The kind of future where you argued over what cereal to buy, where you fought over the thermostat, where you fell asleep on the couch watching movies you’d both seen a hundred times.
“Flying cars?” he echoed, voice a little softer now. “Yea for sure, you’re not getting to drive it though”
You gasped, clutching your chest like he’d just committed a personal betrayal. “What? Why?”
Steve turned to you with a smirk, eyes gleaming. “Why? I think Mr. Marten’s garden is still recovering from when you drove into it, baby.”
You gawked at him, scandalized. “That was one time! And I i still blame that squirrel!”
Steve laughs “yea sure blame the squirrel”
You open your mouth to argue, to defend your honor but the moment’s already slipping. The warmth of the couch, the sound of his laugh, the way the light caught in his hair—it all starts to blur at the edges like a dream you’re waking up from too fast.
The popcorn bowl is gone. The movie’s not playing. The room is quieter now, still and sun-drenched, the kind of golden light that only comes in the late afternoon of a lazy summer day. The basement is the same—same couch, same posters, same faint hum of the old box fan in the corner—but everything feels different. Lighter. Older. Like time has passed and you’re only just catching up.
Dustin’s hunched over the coffee table, surrounded by a chaotic sprawl of college brochures and flyers, each one more colorful and ambitious than the last. They’re fanned out like a deck of dreams—MIT, Caltech, Harvard, Stanford, even a few local schools tucked in the corners like afterthoughts.
You stretch your legs out, brushing his with your toes. “So,” you say, “what college you thinking, Henderson?”
Dustin didn’t even look up, just kept flipping through a glossy pamphlet with a photo of a futuristic lab on the cover. “Well, obviously MIT is the goal,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “But if not, I’d settle for like… Harvard.”
Steve, lounging in the armchair with a soda can balanced on his knee, let out a sharp scoff. “Oh, he’d settle for Harvard,” he repeated, eyebrows shooting up. “Listen to this guy.”
You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “God forbid he ends up somewhere mediocre like, I don’t know, Yale.”
Dustin rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying, I have options.”
“Yeah, you’ve got options,” Steve said, gesturing with his soda. “Like, ‘Do I want to be a genius at the best tech school in the country, or do I want to slum it at a little place called Harvard?’”
Dustin grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Hey, I’ve got a lot to offer. Brains, charm, a killer D&D campaign record…”
“Don’t forget humility,” you added, deadpan.
Dustin shrugs “I just hope I can go to college y’know, with everything going on here” Steve sits up “hey you’re going to college” he says pointing at the boy
Dustin blinked, caught off guard by the sudden conviction in Steve’s voice. “I mean, yeah, that’s the plan, but—”
“No buts,” Steve cut in. “You’re too smart not to. I don’t care if the world’s ending or if that mind flayer thing comes back riding a demogorgon, you’re going to college. And you’re not settling for Harvard either you’re going to MIT”
Dustin scoffs “alright Steve”
You smiled, watching the exchange from across the table. “He’s right, Dust. You’re not just smart—you’re brilliant. And brave. And annoying as hell, but that’s beside the point.”
Dustin looked between the two of you, his mouth twitching into a reluctant grin. “You guys are so embarrassing.”
Steve smirked. “Yeah, well, get used to it. We’re gonna be the loudest ones at your graduation. I’m bringing a foghorn.”
You gasped, eyes lighting up with sudden inspiration. “We should get matching MIT sweaters!”
“oh no no no!” Dusting protests
Dustin groaned, burying his face in his hands. “You two are going to ruin my life.”
It shifted again, dusting was gone and so was the peaceful air. The door rattled violently on its hinges, claws scraping against the other side like nails on a chalkboard. The demogorgons were close—too close. You could hear their snarling breaths, the wet, guttural sounds of something not meant to exist in this world. The lights flickered overhead, casting long, twitching shadows across the concrete floor.
You and Steve were backed into the far corner of the room, crouched low behind an overturned metal table. His chest rose and fell in sharp, shallow breaths, blood smeared across his temple, his bat nowhere in sight. Your hands trembled as you gripped the crowbar you’d found, knuckles white, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else.
“Steve,” you whispered, barely audible over the screeching outside. “If we don’t make it out of this one—”
“Don’t say that,” he snapped, sharper than you expected. His eyes met yours, wide and wild, but burning with something fierce. “Don’t you dare say that.”
You swallowed hard. “Steve—”
“I’m not kidding,” he said, voice cracking as he leaned in closer, like he could shield you with his body alone. “You’re gonna live a long, happy life, Y/N. You’re gonna die in your bed when you’re over eighty years old, peacefully, surrounded by grandkids and ugly knit blankets and a dog that snores louder than I do.”
You blinked, stunned by the sudden flood of certainty in his voice. “It’s okay—” you tried, voice trembling, reaching for something steady in the chaos.
But Steve snapped, louder than you’d ever heard him. “It’s not fucking okay!” His voice cracked, raw and furious. “We’re not dying in this shithole!”
The room shook again, dust raining from the ceiling as another demogorgon slammed into the door. The hinges groaned, metal warping under the pressure. You flinched, but Steve didn’t move. He stood there, chest heaving, eyes locked on the door like he could hold it back with sheer will.
You stared at him, heart pounding. “Steve—”
“No,” he said, turning to you, voice still shaking but steadier now. His hands came up to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing away the grime and sweat clinging to your skin. “You don’t get to give up. Not here. Not now. You hear me?”
You nodded fiercely, the fear in your chest cracking wide open into something raw and real. “Yes,” you breathed. “Yes. I love you.”
his smile broke through, soft and aching and so full of everything he’d never said out loud.
“I love you too,” he whispered, forehead pressing gently to yours. “And I’m gonna keep on loving you. Till we’re old and gray, yeah? You and me. Front porch. Rocking chairs. Bad coffee. The whole thing.”
You let out a shaky laugh, tears slipping down your cheeks. “You promise?”
He nodded, voice thick. “I promise”
They burst through the door in a blur of claws and teeth and shrieking hunger.
Steve barely had time to shove you behind him before the first demogorgon lunged. He scratched at Steve chest and he fell back against the wall falling onconcious
A deafening crack split the air as the ground beneath you buckled swallowing you whole.
When Steve came to, it was with a gasp, lungs burning, head pounding. He was lying on cold stone, the air damp and heavy with rot. The only light came from a flickering overhead bulb, swinging lazily like a pendulum.
He sat up too fast, pain lancing through his skull and his chest. “Y/N?” he croaked, voice hoarse.
He scrambled to his feet, heart hammering, eyes scanning the room. The overturned table was still there. The broken door hung off its hinges. Blood smeared the floor in long, chaotic streaks.
“Y/N!?” he shouted, louder now, panic rising in his throat like bile. “Y/N!”
Just the echo of his voice bouncing off the walls, mocking him.
He staggered forward, calling your name again and again, each time more desperate than the last. But the room remained heartbreakingly, impossibly empty.
And for the first time since he met you, Steve Harrington felt truly alone.
Robin’s voice cut through the haze like a lifeline, sharp and desperate. She stumbled into the ruined room, blood on her hands, hair matted with sweat and ash. “Oh my god, Steve—thank god you’re alive!” She dropped to her knees beside him, grabbing his shoulders, eyes scanning him for injuries.
“We took him out—I think- or at least we injured him bad! Nancy shot him a bunch of times and—!”
Because Steve wasn’t looking at her. He wasn’t even really seeing her.
He was on his knees, trembling, eyes locked on the empty space where you should’ve been. His lips were parted, breath coming in shallow gasps
He turned to her slowly, and that’s when she saw it—the devastation carved into every line of his face. His eyes were glassy, wide, like he was still trying to wake up from a nightmare that hadn’t ended. A sob tore from his chest before he could stop it. He clamped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late.
The sound echoed through the broken room, raw and ragged and full of something ancient and unbearable.
“Shit,” Robin whispered, the word barely making it past the lump in her throat. Her eyes welled, and then the tears came fast, hot and silent, streaking down her dirt-smeared cheeks. Her voice cracked under the weight of it all, under the truth she didn’t want to believe but couldn’t ignore.
She wrapped her arms around Steve tightly, like she could hold him together with her own body. He didn’t resist. He couldn’t. He just collapsed into her, shaking, his face buried in her shoulder, the sobs tearing out of him like they’d been waiting for permission.
That’s how Nancy found them.
She stepped into the ruined room, flashlight beam cutting through the dust and debris. Her boots crunched over broken glass and splintered wood. She didn’t have to ask. She didn’t have to hear it.
She saw Steve—on his knees, clinging to Robin like a man drowning. She saw the blood on the floor, the empty space where you should’ve been. She saw the way Robin’s shoulders shook with silent grief.
And she knew. You were dead.
But you weren’t you were standing right there now, tears rolling down your own cheeks as you watched everything finally coming together. You weren’t born here. You weren’t even supposed to be here
You shot up. And once again you were back in that house. You laid on the couch now Henry, no vecna sat on the chair next to you “ah good, you’re awake. You made quite the tumble there darling”
andulkaphoto
2087
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