Well, Will made it all the way to the street the welcome diner is on and he’s counting that as an achievement even if he did completely chicken out at the last minute. The idea of being asked if he’s okay turned his stomach and made his chest hurt enough that instead of walking in and facing the possibility of crying on someone - embarrassing, humiliating even - he had turned on his heel and walked in the direction of the park instead. He has all day, he can rally and try again and if he doesn’t make it at all he’ll just tell them he was sick, it’ll be fine. The most unfair part is that when he lost four months between home and the city he thought maybe that would disrupt his rhythm enough that he’d skip all the uncomfortable anniversary feelings entirely and it categorically has not.

By the time he reaches the paths through the trees the upset has morphed itself into frustration and he’s not sure if it’s with the city or himself. He buries his hands into the pockets of his Halloween party gifted letterman - the only, jacket he owns here and certainly the best thing he has for keeping the November chill out - and kicks at a pile of leaves. Usually when he’s in a mood he at least has family around and four months later he’s still not used to them not being there when he needs them. So when he spots a familiar figure he stops dead in his tracks. Blinks a few times. Frowns. It has to be some kind of trick, some new torment even though the haunted house only disappeared a week ago and surely it isn’t time for some new test to upset everyone. Or maybe he’s just hallucinating.

And if he’s not, then it would probably be best if he were, because the last thing Jonathan needs is to be landed in the hellhole to immediately encounter a younger brother who hasn’t slept properly in weeks, the remnants of a bruise painting his cheek in yellow and green.

He honestly shocks himself when he speaks up, because every instinct is telling him to get the hell out of there in case it’s a trap. “Jonathan?”