You give up your futile efforts and end up turning the cold, bitter doorknob with hesitance.

You half expect to see him passed out in bed; for the tired and restless days to catch up to him without remorse. However, you’re not shocked to see that your wishful thinking is completely false.

Jeff sits on the corner of his bed, eyes fixed on something yet nothing at all. They’re glassy, yet sharp and vacant as millions of thoughts swirl through them at once.

Those warm brown eyes you fell so in love with now hold nothing warm at all. They’re simply…

Cold.

“Jeff?”

You call again, and this time, his eyes meet yours. You let out a sigh of relief knowing that he hasn’t completely stopped responding to everything around him.

However, now, the pointless question you initially journeyed upstairs to ask seems like chopped liver.

You step further into the room, slowly, like approaching a wild animal that might bolt or bare its teeth. You don’t know which Jeff you’re walking towards tonight.

The quiet hum of the fan in the corner does nothing to ease the tension winding through your ribs. It only makes the silence louder. Denser.

“I was just… wondering if you wanted something to eat,” you finally say, the words feeling smaller than they did downstairs. Pointless now, like an excuse that never stood a chance.

Jeff blinks. Once. Then again.

You watch the slow drag of his eyes down to your hands, like he’s checking to see if you’re carrying anything dangerous. Or maybe just checking if you’re real.

“I’m not hungry,” he says at last. His voice sounds like it was dragged through sand.

You nod, even though you weren’t expecting a yes.

You think about turning around, backing out and closing the door gently behind you, but your feet don’t move.

“Do you…” you start, then stop. Try again. “Do you want me to stay?”

Jeff doesn’t answer.

But his eyes flicker, just slightly, and in that barest hesitation, you find something that almost resembles what used to be him. Something like the ghost of the boy who used to pull you into bed just to press a kiss behind your ear and laugh when you squirmed.

But it’s gone before you can touch it.

“I can’t sleep,” he mutters. A confession, but not to you. More to the room. To the static in his head.

You walk to the edge of the bed and slowly, carefully, lower yourself beside him. The mattress dips between you. You keep your hands folded in your lap.

“Is it the dreams again?” you ask.

He doesn’t nod. Doesn’t even move to speak.

But he breathes out, shaky and ragged, and you know that’s enough of a yes.

You turn slightly, just enough to see him out of the corner of your eye.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you say quietly. “You don’t owe me that.”

More silence.

Then:

“I see them,” he whispers. “Even when I’m awake. I can’t tell which version is real anymore.”

That cracks something in your chest.

But still, you don’t reach for him. Not yet. Not since the last time, when he flinched like your touch burned.

So instead, you stay still. And you speak like you’re afraid of spooking him:

“I’m real. I’m here. That’s one thing you can be sure of.”

He doesn’t answer. His jaw tightens. But he doesn’t move away.

After a while, the silence settles again, heavy and familiar.

You stay there, shoulder to shoulder, not touching. You stare at the same crack in the wall. Breathe the same still air.

He’s not the same man you fell in love with. Not anymore.

But you’re still here.

And for now, so is he.

Even if he’s fraying at the edges.

“Tobes, I’m tired… We’ve been walking for so long! When are we getting back?” You whined, turning to Toby as he raised his goggles so that they were on his head so that he could throw a glance at you better. Once he saw your exhausted expression, he pulled his mouth guard down, grabbed your arm gently and pecked you on the forehead. Masky and Hoodie, noticing you two lagging behind, stopped and glanced backwards in confusion.

“Everything alright?” Masky’s raspy voice spoke, making you turn around and look at him with a tired expression.

“Are ya tired, sweets?” He asked, trotting towards where you and Toby were. You nodded and rubbed your eyes, sighing heavily.

“I g-guess th-that vi-victim was a t-tough one, h-hmm?” Toby twitched, wrapping his gentle and strong toned arms around your waist as you leaned into his warm chest. Even while you were both covered in blood, he still had that woodsy smell to which comforted you so much. Hoodie was watching this interaction from the sidelines, gradually etching closer to make sure you two were okay.

“We’re almost there, sugar. You wanna hang onto Toby the rest of the way?” Masky asked, pointing at the messy brunette next to him as the aforementioned boy nodded in consent to the idea, putting his orange goggles back on to shield his eyes from the bright moon shining on your group, reminding you all how late it truly was.

You gave an uncharacteristically shy nod, and the twitching male next to you took that as a go ahead. He picked you up with his lean arms and hugged you close to his body protectively. Your legs wrapped around his waist while your arms hung around his neck, your head resting onto his shoulder as he gripped your thighs with his leather gloves. You closed your eyes and let his breathing lull you to sleep.

When you were first "chosen" as one of Slenderman's proxies, it was, undeniably, significantly overwhelming. Not only being introduced to one entity that you would be working for but several others that you were working and living with... yeah... a bit nerve-wracking.

Toby was incredibly welcoming, having been in the same situation as you when he arrived at the mansion for the first time. He undoubtedly found you attractive, but he would never willingly admit it. That was until...

The proxies were all tired and after one of their missions decided to visit the local bar for a quick drink. At this point, you were well acquainted with one another and the boys even felt comfortable taking their masks off around you when going into public spaces.

The dark sky was cloudy and the wind nipped aggressively at your skin as the four of you stepped into a small bar on the outskirts of a town in which you were unaware of the name.

Masky, or rather Tim, as he told you to call him in public, showed the group to a booth sitting in the back corner of the pub. Even through the blaring country music playing on an old jukebox, you could hear Toby grumble a soft complaint about the melodies playing from the machine, causing Hoodie, who told you to call him Brian, to send a glare toward Toby at the insult but ultimately say nothing. Hoodie-- Brian-- wasn't a man of many words, you found.

When you all finally found your seats at the booth that Tim had so gracefully picked out, he ordered a round of beers for all four of you.

Several rounds later, evidently, you and Toby were the only ones not drunk. Toby didn't like drinking-- he mentioned something about his father being an alcoholic-- and you knew you guys would need someone with a proper license and driving knowledge to be able to drive you all back to the cabin you were staying in when the time came to leave.

Tim pulled out a cigarette to smoke despite the 'no smoking' sign hanging near the front entrance of the building, but none of the employees nor the other patrons of the establishment seemed to care or even notice.

"It might be time to move on. It's getting late and we need to get up early tomorrow morning so we can make it back at a decent time," You reasoned, and Toby nodded, staring into your eyes intently as you spoke. Masky grumbled.

"Awww-- you're no fun," He slurred, setting down his half-drunken pint of beer and taking another drag of his cigarette. His eyes met yours, similar to Toby's. "Don't be such a saint. I'm sure you can have fun sometimes."

You caught yourself blushing at Tim's dumb innuendo, but you huffed and crossed your arms, avoiding eye contact.

"So cute when you pout. Wish you'd just be mine."

Everything seemed to pause for a split second when Tim spoke those words. Even Brian's drunken head seemed to move to the side to stare at his best friend when he let those words slip loose. Toby's jaw practically hit the table his elbows were resting on.

Through all of these reactions, Tim looked unbothered. He snuffed his cigarette out on the table and shrugged.

"What? Y'all are looking at me like I just murdered your grandma's dog."

"Do you really mean that, Tim?" You ask, overcome with confusion and desire to know if he was being honest.

"Do I take you as the type to bullshit?"

Everyone at the booth paused, at a loss for words. Tim was right-- he often said what he meant when he felt it-- even at the risk of other's feelings.

"M-Masky--" Toby babbled.

"Tim." He corrected.

"Y-You can't feel th-that way about th-them. Th-they're m-mine," Toby admits, making your mouth open with shock before Brian moves to speak.

"I feel the same way about them."

"Wait-- do you guys all like me-- like that?" You question, at an utter loss for words. All three of the boys nod in unison.

"Well-- who do you choose, angel?" Masky questions, all of the boys on the edge of their seats and eager to hear your most anticipated answer.

"Who says you can't share me?"

“Not m-my fault! Y-You’re the o-one who suggest w-we go this w-way!” Toby remarked, standing there in a defensive position as he lowered his mask to make himself more audible. He then crossed his arms like a pouty child, giving Masky an angry look for always being the one to blame.

It was a constant thing, yet you never seemed to get accustomed to it. You loved your boys, and one of the things you so desperately wanted to see was Toby and Masky getting along. However, that was about as probable as Masky reading a map.

Taking a few small steps, you hid yourself behind the hooded man, grabbing the hem of his sweatshirt to ground yourself, as you felt your eyes gradually increasing with tears as the boys yelled insults at the other, increasing with volume as they did so. Hoodie noticed your cocooning, and he reached a protective arm to guard you from them. His head tilted backward, letting you know that he was present, ready to comfort you more than he was doing already.

You sniffled, grabbing Hoodie’s arm and holding onto it like your life depended on it. You felt slightly more grounded than you had before, taking deep breaths as the tears that fell from your eyes at rapid pace before seemed to slow and were now at the same speed of a faucet slowly dripping.

Hoodie snapped to get the attention of the other two, however you were too focused on the leaves littering the ground to notice.

The bickering pair looked up to see their sweetheart looking down with tears leaving their eyes.

“Fuck…” Masky whispered, rushing over to you cautiously, not wanting at all to scare you. Toby did the same, however placing his hatchet down on the ground where he stood before making his way over to you at the speed of light.

Hoodie’s arm was draped around your shoulder, while his other gloved hand reached up to wipe the tears from your eyes carefully, doing so with a gentleness that stunned even him.

“I’m so sorry, sugar,” Masky said, brushing your hair behind your ear. Tim wasn’t one for showing emotion, so when Masky did so, you were always caught off guard. “I truly am.”

“Me t-too…” Toby said, rubbing his arm guiltily as he stood next to Masky, looking at your face to trace your expression for signs of forgiveness.

“It’s okay, guys, really,” You apologized. “They just fall sometimes.” Your genuine smile made all the boys form one on their faces.

Toby went in for a hug hesitantly, but once your arms opened, accepting his embrace, he held you tightly. One after one, the two other boys joined the hug, and you were left with an overwhelming sensation of comfort.