Henry watched the shadow disappear down the stairs but didn't stop him. Instead, he simply sat down on the bed and felt like he wanted to cry. Everything was wrong here. And not just the room. The house. The town. Just everything. It made him angry and upset.

Standing up again, he kicked the bed. He kicked it several times, even moving it slightly with the force of his kicks. The boxes on the other side split but Henry didn't care. It wasn't real so why did it matter? He continued kicking a little more then collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily and wishing that, even if he wasn't real, he could create his dad here to just hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay.

But Henry didn't know how to do that. And all he had was a man who looked like his dad but wasn't. And a man saying he was his dad but couldn't be. Even Storybrooke, with all it's faults and it's bad pasts, was better than here.