#sbs posting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seungminsbaldspot · 2 months ago

Text

Six Years, Five months and Two days | FIVE X READER

pairing: five hargreaves x reader

Word Count: 3805

Genre: angst

General Notes: Lila x Five did happen here folks :/, sexual themes, crude language, this does not correlate with whatever happens during seasons 4 other than Lila and Five jumping into a different timeline together for seven years, Reader is referred to as female and wife

Trigger Warnings: Infidelity and Betrayal: References to an affair and its emotional fallout, Emotional Turmoil: Repeated cycles of using others for support followed by pain, Unwanted Pregnancy: Discussion of a potential pregnancy with uncertain paternity, Conflict and Blame: Arguments and blame related to the affair and its effects,Intense Conversations: Emotional discussions filled with guilt, regret, and frustration, Relationship Breakdown: Decision to take a break from a relationship due to ongoing issues, and Self-Destructive Patterns: Seeking comfort in a way that leads to more distress.

Author’s note: I think if I could give this fic a song, I think it would be 'don't speak - no doubt’

Taglist:(comment if you wanna be added) @fate-posts

Spoiler: All you get is, there will be a part 4

Click here for part four !

Click here for the previous part two!

It's been a few weeks of this cycle: you using Five whenever the loneliness and anger become too much to bear, then pushing him away, crying in the aftermath, and repeating the cycle. Each encounter is a mix of bitterness and need, a desperate attempt to fill the void left by his betrayal while simultaneously punishing him for it.

Every time, you find solace in his presence, yet the relief is fleeting. The passion you once shared has become a battleground, where your emotions clash and your pain is laid bare. Afterward, as you watch him leave, you are left with a profound sense of emptiness, the tears you shed a stark reminder of the unresolved hurt that still lingers.

Even though this cycle is far from ideal for either of you, it has provided a certain measure of relief. Diego and Lila seem to be finding their way back to happiness, and as for you and Five—well, you’re not divorced, but it's hard to say if what you share can still be called a marriage.

It’s more of a fuck-buddy system now, with you being the only one reaching out. You start to wonder if Five ever gets tired of this arrangement. A flicker of sympathy for him crosses your mind, but it quickly fades when you remember the betrayal. He cheated on you—with his brother’s wife.

A knock on your bedroom door reels your out of your thoughts.

You open the bedroom door to find Lila standing there, her expression a mix of concern and resolve. She’s dressed casually, but there’s a seriousness in her posture that catches your attention.

“Hey,” she begins, her voice tentative but steady. “I was wondering if we could talk.” You nod, stepping aside to let her in. She walks into the room, glancing around as if taking in the remnants of your own turmoil. You close the door behind her, feeling a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

Lila takes a seat on the edge of your bed, her eyes meeting yours with a searching look. “I know things have been... complicated between us,” she starts, her voice gentle. “And I know that everything with Diego and Five has been tough on you. But I think it’s time we had an honest conversation.”

You sit down across from her, your mind racing with the possible reasons for her visit. Her sincerity and the weight of her words prompt you to brace yourself for what’s to come.

“First off, I want to say I’m sorry,” Lila begins, her voice trembling slightly. “I’m sorry for allowing what happened to happen.”You throw your hand up, shaking your head in frustration. “It takes two to tango, Lila. It wasn’t just you. It wasn’t just him.”

She nods, her eyes reflecting a mix of guilt and regret. “I know, but still…” She trails off, lost in thought for a moment. After a deep breath, she looks at you with a conflicted expression. “I’m not sure if telling you this is going to be a good idea.”

Your eyebrows furrow, curiosity and concern mingling in your gaze. “What do you mean? If there’s something you need to say, just say it.”

Lila hesitates, her eyes darting away, and then finally meets your gaze again. “I think I’m pregnant.”

The words hang heavy in the air between you, each syllable carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken fears and uncertainties. You stare at her, your mind racing as you try to process what she’s just said. The room feels suddenly smaller, the tension could be cut with a knife .

I—” You start, but no words come out. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Are you sure?” Lila nods, her expression a mix of fear and resignation. “I’ve taken a few tests, and they’ve all been positive. I haven’t told Diego yet. I wasn’t sure how or when to bring it up.”

You run your hand through your hair, sitting in silence and shock. The room feels like it’s closing in around you. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how far along I am. And there may be a slight chance… that… Five could maybe be the father.”

The weight of her words lands heavily on you, the implications sprawling out in every direction. Your mind races through the possibilities, each one more tangled and complicated than the last.

“Five?” you repeat, trying to grasp the full extent of what she’s saying. “You think… there’s a chance this could be Five’s baby?” Lila’s eyes are filled with a mix of regret and uncertainty. “I don’t know for sure, but I dunno, with the timing of everything, It could be his.”

You sit in stunned silence, struggling to process the revelation. “This is... a lot. I mean, Five and I, we’ve been—”

“Using each other,” Lila finishes for you, her voice barely a whisper. You sigh, your shoulders slumping under the weight of the revelation. “This—this is a lot, Lila. I don’t even know what to say,” you admit, feeling utterly defeated.

She nods, her eyes reflecting her own fear and regret. “I know... I’m sorry. I just wanted to be honest. I’m terrified of what this means for Diego and me, and for you and Five.”

You shake your head, trying to wrap your mind around the enormity of what Lila just shared. “I’m not sure why you’re telling me this, Lila.” Your voice is steadier than you feel, masking the chaos that’s erupting inside of you.

Lila takes a deep breath, her hands twisting in her lap. “Because you deserved to know the truth. I thought... maybe if we’re honest with each other, we can figure out what to do next.” Her voice wavers, but there's a glimmer of determination in her eyes.

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound escaping before you can stop it. “And what exactly is there to figure out, Lila? We wait. We wait for this child to grow enough to get a paternity test, and then we deal with whatever the hell happens afterwards.”

Lila flinches at the harshness of your words, her expression a mix of guilt and resolve. “I know it’s not that simple,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But what else can we do? I just wanted to be honest with you, to try and make things right somehow. I don’t want any more secrets between us.”

You shake your head, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you. “You think being honest makes up for any of this? You think it undoes the fact that you two fucked?” Your words come out sharper than you intended, the anger being unable to be contained.

Lila's face crumples, her eyes welling up with tears as she looks down, unable to meet your gaze. “No,” she admits, her voice trembling. “I know it doesn’t make up for it. I know it won’t change what happened. But I can’t keep pretending like it didn’t happen, either. I’m trying to face it, to deal with it... even if it means facing you like this.”

You let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through your hair as you try to keep your emotions in check. “You want to face it? Fine. But I can’t pretend this makes us friends or whatever. You broke something—something that can’t just be fixed with a sorry and some honesty.”

Lila nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I know. I’m not asking for forgiveness... I’m not even sure I deserve it. I just wanted to be truthful, to at least try and do the right thing for once.”

You look at her, seeing the raw emotion in her eyes, the genuine remorse etched across her face. For a moment, your anger softens, replaced by a heavy, painful understanding. She’s just trying to figure everything out too, struggling to navigate the chaos and consequences of her actions, just like you. But it doesn’t erase the fact that she played a big part in all of this, that her choices have led to this mess that now binds all of you together.

Still, there’s a part of you that wants to hold onto the anger, to use it as a shield against the hurt and betrayal. Yet, seeing her like this, vulnerable and regretful, you can’t help but feel a flicker of empathy. Maybe she doesn’t deserve forgiveness, but neither of you deserve this situation either.

You exhale slowly, trying to push away the conflicting emotions that swirl inside you. “Look, Lila,” you say, your voice more steady now, “I get that you’re trying to do the right thing. And I get that you’re scared. Hell, I am too. But I can’t just pretend like everything’s okay because you decided to come clean.”

Lila nods again, swallowing hard. “I know,” she whispers. “I don’t expect things to be okay. I just… I need you to know the truth. I thought it was the least I could do.”

You let out another sigh, feeling the weight of her words settle over you like a heavy blanket. “Yeah…” you murmur, trailing off as the enormity of the situation sinks in. Lila takes a deep breath, her gaze shifting nervously before she speaks again. “Do you think you could... tell Five for me?”

Your eyes widen in disbelief. “Why in the hell would I do that?” you snap, unable to hide your frustration.

Lila bites her lip, her eyes filled with a mix of desperation and vulnerability. “Because I’m scared,” she admits softly. “I don’t know how he’s going to react, and I don’t think I can handle another confrontation right now.”

You stare at her in disbelief, anger simmering just beneath the surface. “You’re scared?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. “Lila, I’m barely holding it together myself. You think I want to be the one to tell him that there’s a chance he might be the father? That’s your issue to deal with.”

She flinches at your words, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “I get it, I do,” she says quietly, her voice trembling. “But I thought... maybe he’d take it better coming from you.”

You shake your head, frustration boiling over. “That’s because I’m his wife, Lila. Or at least, I was before all this happened,” you snap. “But I’m not your messenger, and I’m certainly not going to be the one to clean up your fuck-ups.”

Lila flinches again, your words hitting her like a physical blow. Her eyes brim with fresh tears, but she blinks them back, trying to hold herself together. “I know,” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I know this is my mess. I just… I thought maybe… since you know him better…”

You cut her off with a sharp shake of your head, your frustration reaching its peak. “Don’t you dare put this shit on me,” you snap, your voice cold and unyielding. “I didn’t cause this mess, and I’m not going to be the one to clean it up for you. You made your choices, Lila. Now you have to deal with them.”

Lila’s face crumples, her composure breaking under the weight of your words. “I’m sorry,” she says again, her voice cracking. “I’m so sorry. I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve hurt Diego, and now this… I just don’t know how to fix it.”

You feel a mix of anger and pity as you look at her, sitting there so lost and broken. Part of you wants to scream at her, to make her feel the full weight of the pain she’s caused. But another part of you, a quieter, more compassionate part, recognizes her remorse and the fear in her eyes. She’s struggling, just like you are, caught in a situation that has spiraled out of control.

“Lila,” you say more calmly, though your voice still holds a steely edge, “I’m not the one who can make this right. You need to talk to Diego. You need to talk to Five. You need to deal with this. I can’t do it for you. I won’t.” She nods, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “You’re right,” she says quietly. “I’ll talk to them. I’ll… I’ll figure it out. I just… I’m sorry.”

There’s a long pause, the silence between you heavy and loaded with unspoken emotions. Finally, you sigh, feeling some of the tension leave your body. “Just… be honest with them,” you say softly. “That’s all you can do now.” Lila nods, her expression a mix of determination and fear. “Thank you,” she says, her voice barely more than a whisper. “For listening. For… for everything.”

Without another word, she turns and leaves the room, the door closing softly behind her. You stand there for a moment, staring at the closed door, feeling a whirlwind of emotions—anger, frustration, sadness, and a tiny, flickering ember of hope. Maybe, somehow, things could start to heal. Maybe, with time, you could all find a way forward. But for now, all you can do is take it one step at a time.

A little while later, another knock breaks the silence, pulling you from the depths of your thoughts. You’ve been sitting alone in the quiet room, the weight of everything pressing down on you. You feel drained, the emotional toll of the last conversation still fresh, and the last thing you want is another confrontation.

With a weary sigh, you stand and cross the room to open the door. On the other side, Five stands there, his expression tight with worry. His eyes quickly scan you, taking in your disheveled appearance and the exhaustion etched across your face.

"Hey," he says, his voice unsteady but low. He looks you up and down again, as if searching for some clue to your state of mind. You sigh, “What hell do you want?” He sighs, running his hand through his hair, “Lila told me.”

You stand there, feeling the weight of his words. “She told you?” you echo, trying to keep your voice steady. Five nods, his face a mixture of concern and frustration. “Can I come in?” he asks quietly.

You sigh, stepping aside to let him in. As he crosses the threshold, you can’t help but feel a lingering, complicated affection for him, despite everything that’s happened.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, and you sit down beside him, the space between you feeling both intimate and charged with unresolved tension. Five runs a hand through his hair, his eyes meeting yours with a pained expression. “I have no fucking idea what to do,” he admits, his voice heavy with frustration.

You stifle a laugh, the sound coming out more like a bitter chuckle. “Welcome to the fucking club,” you reply, your tone laced with a mix of sarcasm and resignation. The absurdity of the situation is almost too much to bear, and yet, there’s a part of you that appreciates his honesty and vulnerability.

Five’s expression softens slightly, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. “So what now?” he asks, his voice quieter. You chuckle again, “Who’s ‘we,’ Five? Last time I checked, it only takes two to make a baby,” you reply, your tone reflecting the harsh reality of the situation. The words hang between you.

Five looks down, clearly grappling with the weight of your words. “I know,” he says quietly, his voice heavy. “I just... What if it is mine?”

You shrug, the gesture feeling as heavy as the conversation. “Then you’d be the father,” you reply coldly. Your tone is blunt, a reflection of the emotional exhaustion you’re feeling—tired of crying, tired of being upset.

He groans, “No fucking shit. What the fuck am I supposed to do? What are we going to do?” He gestures between the two of you, his frustration clear.

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your own emotions in check. “Look, Five,” you begin, your voice firm but weary, “The only thing you, Lila, and Diego can do is wait. Wait for the baby to be old enough to take a paternity test.

He sighs but nods, “Sorry for getting angry at you.” You shrug. unsure of what to say. At this point, words seem inadequate. The situation is so far beyond simple apologies and explanations. You just nod, acknowledging his apology without feeling the need to respond.

The silence that follows is heavy, charged with the weight of your shared pain. Five’s eyes linger on your face, his concern cutting through the tension. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, his voice betraying a genuine worry despite the strained circumstances.

You almost laugh, the irony and frustration bubbling to the surface. “Yeah, I’ve been so fucking good,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Since the day I learned my husband cheated on me with his brother’s wife, and now that said wife might be carrying said husband’s baby.” You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head. “Everything’s just perfect.”

Five's face tightens with guilt and sorrow as he processes your words. “I’m really sorry,” he says quietly, his voice filled with regret. “I never wanted any of this to happen. I know that’s not enough, but I’m trying— Fuck, I’m trying so fucking hard to make you forgive me.” He runs a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his movements.

You open your mouth to respond, but he cuts you off, his voice rough and strained. “I’m trying, alright? I’m here, doing whatever fucked-up shit you need me to do. I thought maybe I could help in some way, even if it’s just by being here for you. But it feels like nothing I do is right. I don’t know how to fix this or if I even can. I’m just fucking lost.”

He pauses, his eyes searching yours for any sign of redemption or understanding. The frustration and self-loathing in his voice are palpable. You can see the weight of his guilt and regret hanging heavy on him, his attempts to fix things feeling futile and exhausting.

You look away from his intense gaze, the depth of his pain hitting you hard. “I just really fucking love you, alright?” he says, his voice cracking with raw emotion. He reaches out, gently cupping your cheek and turning your face towards him. The touch is tender, almost desperate, as if he's trying to hold on to the last remnants of what you once shared. His eyes, filled with a mix of hope and anguish, search yours for some sign that his words have made a difference.

You feel the warmth of his hand against your skin, the contact both comforting and excruciatingly painful. The depth of his plea and the sincerity in his touch make your heart ache, caught between the love you still feel and the hurt that's been inflicted. His gaze is unwavering, his desperation to mend what’s broken evident in the way he holds your face, as if afraid that if he lets go, he’ll lose you completely.

You sigh, your eyes closing briefly as you gather your thoughts. Slowly, you grasp his wrist and pull it away, creating a necessary distance between you. “Five,” you begin, your voice weary but resolute, “I can’t keep doing this. This is too fucking painful.”

He looks at you, confusion and hurt mixing in his eyes. “What are you saying?” he asks, his voice trembling slightly.

You take a deep breath, trying to find the right words amidst the storm of emotions. “I think we need to take a break," you say, your voice quiet but firm. "This situation... it's too complicated, too messy. We both need time to figure things out, especially with everything that's happening with Lila." You pause, meeting Five's gaze, "I can't keep letting myself be hurt by you."

His expression shifts, a mix of shock and sadness settling in. “A break?” he repeats, his voice barely audible. You nod, your resolve firm despite the emotional weight of the moment. “Yes, a break.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

He looks at you, confusion and hurt mingling in his eyes. “We’ve never done anything like this before…” he states, his voice trailing off as he searches your face for some hint of a different solution.

You nod, unable to meet his gaze. It hurts, it hurts really fucking bad. You love this man—or loved him? You aren’t too sure anymore. You’ve been through so much together, and the thought of putting distance between you feels like a stab to the heart.

You finally look up, your voice breaking with raw emotion. “I think it’s— it’s for the best.”

You can see the pain in Five's eyes, the way his shoulders slump at your words. He takes a shaky breath, his voice cracking as he struggles to hold back tears. “If that’s what you need...” he begins, but his words trail off, unable to complete the thought. The weight of your decision hangs heavily in the air between you.

You look away, unable to bear the sight of him in such distress—the man you love - broken by your own choices. It’s a painful reminder of the betrayal that brought you to this point, and your heart aches even as you try to stay firm.

Five sighs deeply, gathering himself as he rises from the bed. He walks slowly toward the door, each step heavy with resignation. “I guess I’ll keep you updated on anything that happens with Lila and the baby,” he says, his voice a whisper, almost like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

You nod, the gesture feeling hollow as you wave him off. “Yeah, okay,” you reply, your tone subdued. As he exits, the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet room.

#the umbrella academy season 4 #tua five #tua season 4 #tua s4 #tua #five hargreaves x reader #five hargreeves #five x reader #number five #hargreeves siblings #brisket five #sbs posting #tua fanfic #tua fandom #five x lila #five x y/n #five x you #five hargreaves x you

237 notes · View notes

seungminsbaldspot · 2 months ago

Text

Six Years, Five months and Two days | FIVE X READER

pairing: five hargreaves x reader

Word Count: this is really fucking long, 9201

Genre: angst

Trigger Warnings: Relationship Betrayal: Themes of infidelity and emotional betrayal, Reproductive Issues: Discussions about abortion and related emotional impact, Emotional Distress: Exploration of deep sadness, heartache, and loneliness, Loss and Separation: Themes of losing a family and feeling disconnected, Regret and Self-criticism: Characters expressing regret and self-blame, Conflict and Argument: Scenes involving intense emotional conflict and Feelings of Inadequacy: Characters grappling with their self-worth and personal place in the world.

Taglist: @fate-posts @zukki33 @nightfury @lethergy @wingoodlilboymyway @hxllhxund @stxrg3m @bigbobass @mimirockss

Spoiler: not all things have a good ending

Click here for the previous part, Part Four!

The moment you close your bedroom door, a thought strikes you with clarity: Diego deserves to know about Five’s lingering feelings for Lila. You nod to yourself — deciding to look for him.

As you pass by Diego and Lila’s room, you notice the door is ajar. Peeking inside, you see Lila sprawled across the bed, her legs swinging idly in a manner that seems almost childlike. You shake your head in frustration—Diego is nowhere in sight.

You continue downstairs, Maybe the living room?

You make your way through the house, your footsteps echoing in the quiet. As you approach the living room, you see Diego sitting on the couch, absently polishing his knives, a small smile playing on his lips. For a brief moment, you’re struck by how serene and focused he looks, a stark contrast to the pain swirling in your own heart.

You feel a pang of sympathy for him. After all, you're both caught in the fallout of each other’s spouses choices. It's as if you and Diego are unwitting allies in this mess, both grappling with the consequences of their actions.

Swallowing hard, you approach Diego. “Diego,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady despite the weight of the revelation you’re about to share. He looks up, his expression shifting from calm to concerned as he takes in your serious demeanor.

“What’s going on?” he asks, setting the knife down and straightening his posture.

You take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “I—I know we haven’t talked about what happened with... well, you know who,” you say, glancing around awkwardly.” But I would really like to. Like right now.”

His eyebrow quirks up in confusion, but he nods, rising from the couch. “Is the garden okay for this conversation?” he asks, gesturing toward the door. You nod, leading the way to the garden. The fresh air and tranquil setting seem to offer a brief respite from the storm of emotions you're both experiencing. Diego follows, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

You nod, leading the way to the garden. The fresh air and tranquil setting seem to offer a brief respite from the storm of emotions swirling around you both. Diego follows, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

As you step outside, the evening light casts a soft glow over the garden, the flowers swaying gently in the breeze. You take a seat on a nearby bench, and Diego settles beside you, his posture tense but attentive.

“All right,” Diego says, looking at you with a mixture of anticipation and unease. “What’s on your mind?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Five... he admitted to me that he still has feelings for Lila.” You pause, watching as Diego’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening.

“He said that?” Diego asks, his voice low and controlled, but you can sense the anger simmering beneath the surface.

“Yes,” you reply quietly. “And I... I don’t know what to do. I’m thinking about ending things with him, but I wanted to talk to you first. I thought... maybe it would help someone in this mess. At least one of us.”

Diego’s jaw clenches, and he runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “Unbelievable,” he mutters through gritted teeth. “That little shit.” He takes a deep breath, but it doesn’t seem to calm him much; his fists are still balled at his sides. “I don’t blame you for wanting to end things with him. I can’t believe you’ve put up with him for as long as you have.”

You offer a small shrug, feeling a mix of sadness and understanding. “I guess love makes you kind of stupid.” He goes quiet for a moment, staring off into the distance. “Yeah...”

After a beat, he looks back at you, determination flickering in his eyes. “I’m gonna go talk to Lila,” he says. “See you around?”

You nod, watching him turn and walk away, his movements tense and purposeful. He’s trying to keep his composure, but it’s clear that anger is coursing through him, each step more forceful than the last.

You head back to your room, hoping Five is gone. After everything that’s happened, it would be awkward to find him still there. As you climb the stairs, your mind races. Today has been a whirlwind. You and Five almost fucked again. You found out he still has feelings for Lila, which makes all his apologies feel meaningless. Now, you’re seriously considering ending things with him.

Just as you reach your bedroom floor, you hear shouting echoing down the hallway. Your heart quickens, the knot in your stomach tightening. You strain to listen, trying to make out the voices. It’s unmistakably Diego, his tone sharp with anger. You can’t make out what he’s saying, but it’s clear he’s furious.

And then, another voice cuts through—Lila’s. She’s shouting back, her words a rapid fire of frustration and defense. Your breath catches. Shit. They must be arguing about Five. You creep closer, curiosity and dread warring inside you.

Then you hear another voice — Five’s.

“We thought it would be better to just say it’s yours.”

Your heart skips a beat. What the hell is he talking about? You press yourself against the wall, straining to hear more, a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach.

“You lied about the baby? It’s not mine? What the actual fuck is wrong with you?” Diego yells.

There’s a moment of stunned silence, broken only by Lila’s frustrated sigh. “I didn’t lie,” she snaps back, her voice wavering between anger and defensiveness. “I just—”

“You just what?” Diego cuts her off, his tone dripping with betrayal. “You thought you’d trap me with a baby that wasn’t even mine?” Five’s voice comes through, low and controlled. “It wasn’t like that, Diego. We thought—”

But Diego’s anger flares hotter, his tone rising with each word. “I don’t give a shit what you thought!” he snaps. “This isn’t just my life you’re fucking with here —there’s a baby involved, and your wife’s life is on the line, too. Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

The room falls into a tense silence, the weight of Diego's words hanging heavy in the air. “Diego—please don’t tell her,” Five says, obviously referring to you. You slap your hand over your mouth, feeling a mix of anger and disbelief. Does he really think you’re that naive?

Diego groans in frustration. “I’m not a shady bitch,” he snaps. “You two are both fucking cheaters. You really are perfect for each other.” He turns to leave and, in doing so, catches sight of you. Your eyes widen in shock as you meet his gaze.

Diego chuckles darkly, shaking his head. “Looks like nobody’s gonna need to tell her,” he says, pointing toward you. Five’s eyes slowly meet yours, his expression shifting from shock to a pained resignation. “Fuck...” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

Diego walks past you, giving your shoulder a pat before continuing down the hallway. You gulp, watching him go. As you turn to face Five and Lila, the reality of the situation hits hard. Lila is partially undressed—her shirt off but her bra and shorts still on. It’s clear what they were up to before Diego’s interruption. The sight confirms what you’ve feared and felt all along.

Five steps toward you, his face a mask of anguish. “Listen, I—”

You cut him off, shaking your head in disbelief. “Don’t fucking speak.” Your gaze locks onto Five, then shifts to Lila, your eyes narrowing with anger. You’re furious with them both. They were both married—how fucked up do they have to be in order to what to do this?

How fucked up are they in their heads, genuinely?

It’s been a few days since the confrontation, and the tension in the house has been palpable. Everything feels strained and fragile. You’ve spent this time preparing for the next steps, including arranging the divorce paperwork. Now, with the documents in hand, you’re feeling a mix of anxiety and resolve.

You take a deep breath and head to where Five is. He’s sitting alone, looking lost and distant. His posture is slumped, and he seems consumed by his thoughts.

“Five,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly. He looks up, his expression a mix of apprehension and sorrow.

“I’ve arranged everything for the divorce,” you continue, holding out the papers. “I need you to sign these.”

Five’s eyes move to the papers, and you can see the conflict swirling within him. He takes a deep breath, clearly struggling with his emotions. “I—I can’t sign these,” he says, his voice strained. “Not like this.”

You stare at him, frustration and hurt swirling inside you. “What do you mean you can’t sign them?” you ask, your voice tight. He sighs deeply, his gaze falling to the floor. “I’m not ready to lose you,” he says, his voice cracking with emotion.

You let out a bitter laugh. “I think you lost me the moment you decided to fuck Lila—and to top it off, get her knocked up.”

He sighs, his face a portrait of anguish. “I know I messed up. But can’t we at least try to talk this out?”

You shake your head, your voice trembling. “I think we’re past talking, Five. You lied to me about the baby being Diego’s and gave me nothing but empty apologies.” Your tears start to spill over. “How could I ever trust you again?”

He reaches out to grab you, but you jerk away, your voice sharp and resolute. “I don’t want your filthy hands on me ever a-fucking-gain.” Taking a deep breath, you hold up the papers. “You can either sign them or not. It doesn’t matter. Only one of us has to want to end the marriage. It’s not like we have assets or anything.”

Five’s shoulders slump, the weight of your words visibly crushing him. He looks down at the papers, his expression a mixture of regret and resignation. “I see. So this is really happening,” he says quietly, more to himself than to you.

You stand firm, though your heart aches with the finality of the moment. “Yes, it is,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

He remains silent for a moment, then nods slowly. “Alright. I’ll sign them,” he says, his voice low and broken. He reaches for a pen and begins to sign, each stroke a painful reminder of what was lost. You watch him in silence, your emotions a tangled mess of anger, sadness, and relief. When he finishes, he slides the papers back to you, his gaze avoiding yours. You take them, feeling the finality of the act settle over you. “Thank you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll take these to the lawyer.”

Five nods, not trusting himself to speak. As you turn to leave, you glance back one last time, your heart heavy with a mix of disbelief and sorrow. It's hard to think that the person standing before you was once the man you once loved so deeply. The reality that you had once been so intertwined with this person, now feels surreal.

As you're making your way back to your bedroom, you bump into Diego. He glances at the papers in your hands and raises an eyebrow. “You made it official, huh?” he asks, his tone a mix of curiosity and empathy.

You nod, trying to keep your composure. “Yeah, Just gotta take them to the lawyer.” Diego pauses, then asks, “Who’s the lawyer you’re going to?”

You look at him curiously but provide the name. Diego nods thoughtfully. “Is he any good? I mean,” he says, running a hand through his hair, “I’m, you know, looking for someone so Lila and I can separate.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, yeah, he’s good. Really professional and straightforward.” Diego gives a relieved nod. “Yeah, guess I’ll pay him a visit soon. Thanks for the info.” He pats your shoulder lightly before heading off toward his room.

As Diego walks away, you head back to your own room, feeling the weight of the day pressing heavily on your shoulders. The prospect of ending things with Five and the thought of Diego’s own separation weigh on your mind.

You settle into your room, seeking a moment of solitude. The silence around you is both soothing and suffocating, a stark contrast to the chaos of the past few days. As you start packing your things, the task feels oddly cathartic, each item folded and placed into boxes representing a step toward closing this painful chapter of your life.

The process is slow and deliberate. You pick up a framed photograph from the nightstand, a snapshot of a happier time. The image of Five, with his easy smile and bright eyes, feels like a cruel reminder of what was once real. Is this really what’s best? you wonder, your heart aching as memories flood back. You question whether you’re making the right choice, feeling a pang of doubt.

You carefully fold a sweater, the fabric soft against your fingers. Maybe there’s a chance to fix this? You let the thought linger before shaking it away. The reality of Five’s betrayal, his affair with Lila, and the lies about the baby weigh heavily on you. How could you ever trust him again? The thought echoes through your mind, a painful but necessary reminder of why you’re doing this.

As you continue packing, you come across a small box of keepsakes—letters, trinkets from trips, and tokens of affection that once held so much meaning. Each item now feels like a relic of a past that no longer fits with your present reality. The sight of these mementos makes your chest tighten. Isn’t it sad how something that once meant so much can become a symbol of heartache? you think.

You pause to take a deep breath, your emotions a tumultuous mix of anger, sadness, and resignation. Five used to be someone you believed in, you remind yourself. He was full of promise, of dreams and plans. But those promises mean nothing now, shattered by his deceit and betrayal. The framed picture of him, still smiling, feels like a lie, a facade that crumbled the moment he chose to be with someone else.

No, you tell yourself firmly. Five is a liar and a cheater. He betrayed you in the worst possible way, and his apologies were nothing but empty words. You cannot ignore the evidence of his deceit, nor can you overlook the fact that he has continued to deceive, even in the aftermath of everything that’s happened.

The weight of the decision presses down on you. You think about the life you’ve built together, the dreams you shared, and how those dreams have been tarnished. This is the right decision, you insist to yourself. It may be painful, but staying in this house, in this relationship, would only prolong the suffering. You deserve better than to be someone’s second choice, a pawn in their misguided plans.

You take one last look around the room, the space that once felt like a sanctuary now stripped of its comfort. With a final sigh, you continue packing.

It’s been a few days since Five signed the divorce papers. The act itself felt monumental at the time, like a heavy door slamming shut on a chapter of your life. Yet, in the days that followed, you’ve felt more like you’re in limbo than moving forward. You’ve spent hours packing up your belongings, folding memories into cardboard boxes, trying to make sense of what’s worth keeping and what needs to be left behind.

You aren’t sure if Five is aware that you’re planning to leave the Hargreeves residence for good. He’s been keeping his distance since that final conversation, but whether it’s out of respect or a desire to avoid confrontation, you can’t tell. Part of you wonders if he even notices your absence from shared spaces or if he’s too wrapped up in his own guilt and shame to care. The uncertainty gnaws at you, and you hate it. You hate that after everything, you still find yourself thinking about him—about what he’s thinking, feeling, and doing.

It’s a cruel irony, you think, as you pull another sweater from the closet and fold it neatly. Despite all the betrayal and heartache, you’re still haunted by thoughts of him. You catch yourself wondering if he’s regretting his choices, if he’s truly sorry, or if he’s already moved on. You try to push these thoughts away, focusing instead on the task at hand, but it’s difficult. They keep creeping back in, uninvited and unwanted, like a song stuck in your head that you can’t seem to shake.

You glance around the room, now half-empty, and feel a pang of sadness. This space, once filled with warmth and the echoes of shared laughter, now feels hollow. It’s strange how quickly things can change—how a place that felt like home can become just a room, stripped of its meaning and significance. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Focus on what’s next, you remind yourself. Not on what’s been lost.

Still, as you move through the house, collecting the last of your things, you can’t help but feel a mix of emotions. Anger, sadness, frustration—all of them swirl inside you, a tempest that you’re struggling to keep contained. The thought of Five lingers at the back of your mind, a constant, nagging presence. Even now, after everything he’s done, you still find yourself wondering about him. It infuriates you.

Why do you still care what he thinks? Why does it still matter?

You want to be done with him, to close this chapter and move on with your life. But it’s not that simple. Love, even when tainted by betrayal, doesn’t just disappear overnight. It clings to you, lingers in the quiet moments, and makes itself known when you least expect it. You suppose that’s the hardest part—learning to let go, not just of the person, but of all the hopes and dreams that came with them.

As you fold the last of your clothes, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You look tired, worn out. This whole ordeal has taken a toll on you, both physically and emotionally. You brush a stray hair from your face and take a deep breath. Your’e doing the right thing, You deserve better.

You finish packing the box and tape it shut with a resolute sigh. You step back, surveying the room one last time. It feels surreal to think that this is it—that after everything, you’re really leaving. You try to focus on the future, on the fresh start that awaits you, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Five.

What will he do when he sees you’re gone? Will he even care? The questions twist in your mind, and you feel a fresh wave of frustration wash over you. Why does it still matter? But deep down, you already know the answer.

Because you loved him. Because, despite everything, a part of you still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You can’t dwell on that now. You have to move forward, to think about what’s best for you. And staying here, in this house filled with ghosts, isn’t it.

Grabbing the last of your things, you head toward the door. As you step into the hallway, you pause, half-expecting to see Five coming around the corner, to hear his voice calling after you. But there’s nothing—just silence. And for the first time in days, you feel a small, fragile sense of relief. Maybe this is the beginning of the end. Maybe it’s the start of something new.

With a deep breath, you make your way down the stairs, each step feeling like a step toward a new chapter. You don’t know what the future holds, but one thing is certain: it’s time to leave the past behind.

You make your way to the front door, a heavy box in your hands. Each step feels more final than the last, the weight of the moment sinking in. You’ve rented a moving van that’s parked out front, its back door open and ready to receive the remnants of a life you’re leaving behind. You’ve found a small, cheap, but nice apartment across town—a place to start over. It’s not much, but it’s perfect for what you need — an escape.

As you reach the door, you see Diego standing nearby. He catches sight of you struggling with the box and quickly steps forward, pulling the door open for you. “Thanks,” you mutter, trying to keep your voice steady, though it’s clear he can see the exhaustion and sadness etched on your face.

He nods, his expression softening with understanding. “You got any other boxes?” he asks, his voice low, but there’s a warmth in it—a kindness that you’ve come to appreciate over the past few days.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod. “Yeah, a few more in the living room,” you reply, shifting the box in your arms slightly. “I’ve been packing them up. This is the last of the stuff from upstairs.”

Diego takes the box from you effortlessly, holding it with ease. “I’ll help you carry them out,” he offers. “No sense in doing this alone.”

You give him a small, appreciative smile. “Thanks, Diego,” you say, feeling a bit of the weight on your shoulders lift—not just from the box, but from the gesture itself. He’s been a surprising source of comfort through all of this. Despite his own heartbreak, he’s been there for you, offering support without asking for anything in return.

Together, you walk back into the living room, where a few more boxes are stacked against the wall. Diego sets the box he’s carrying down and looks around. “You’re really leaving, huh?” he says, more as an observation than a question.

“Yeah,” you answer, a hint of sadness in your voice. “I think it’s for the best. Staying here… it’s just too hard.” Diego nods, understanding. “I get it,” he says softly. “Sometimes, you just need to get away from the place that hurt you, start fresh somewhere new.”

You glance at him, seeing the shared pain in his eyes. He’s been going through his own struggles, dealing with Lila’s betrayal and the fallout from it. You feel a strange sense of camaraderie with him—like you’re both navigating the same storm, even if in different boats.

He grabs another box, hefting it easily. “You know,” he begins, his tone thoughtful, “if you ever need anything… if you ever want to talk or, I don’t know, just get away from all this for a bit… I’m here.”

His words are sincere, and you feel a warmth in your chest. “Thank you, Diego,” you say again, your voice softer this time. “I really appreciate that.” He nods, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “No problem. We’ve got to stick together, right?”

You nod back, a faint smile tugging at your lips. It’s a small comfort, knowing that even in the midst of all this chaos, there’s someone who understands—someone who’s willing to help you through it.

Together, you and Diego carry the rest of the boxes out to the van. The sun is starting to set, casting a warm, golden light over everything. It almost feels like the world is giving you a gentle nudge forward, encouraging you to keep going.

As you load the last box into the van, you turn to Diego. “I guess this is it,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, though there’s a hint of emotion in it.

Diego nods, looking at you with a mixture of empathy and encouragement. “Yeah, I guess it is,” he replies. “But remember, it’s not the end. It’s just… a new beginning.”

You take a deep breath, letting his words sink in. “A new beginning,” you repeat softly, nodding. “Yeah, I guess it is.”

He gives you a reassuring nod, then steps back, allowing you to close the van’s door. As you turn to leave, he raises a hand in a casual salute. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

You nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and sadness. “You too, Diego,” you say. “You too.”

With that, you climb into the driver’s seat of the van. You take one last look at the Hargreeves residence—the place that has been your home, your prison, your battlefield. Then, with a deep breath, you start the engine and drive away, leaving the past behind as you head toward whatever comes next.

You've settled nicely into your new apartment. The place is small but cozy, with just enough room for the few belongings you took with you. It’s quiet, too—so much quieter than you’re used to. The silence, however, kills you.

At the Hargreeves residence, there was always noise, always something happening to keep your mind from wandering. Whether it was Klaus losing his mind over something as simple as misplacing a bottle of booze, or Allison laughing with Luther over some inside joke. There was Viktor playing the violin in the early mornings, his melodies filling the house with a kind of soft serenity. Even Diego and Lila’s constant bickering had its own comforting rhythm—a mix of arguing and laughing that made the place feel alive. But now, in your new place, there’s none of that. Just silence. Heavy, all-encompassing silence.

And then, of course, there’s Five.

God, you miss him.

It hits you like a punch to the gut every time you think about it. You miss the way he would storm into a room, all sharp edges and quick wit, filling the space with his presence. The way his brow would furrow in concentration when he was deep in thought or working on one of his plans. The way his eyes would soften when he looked at you in those rare, unguarded moments when he allowed himself to be vulnerable.

You miss the sound of his voice, that low, smooth timbre that could shift from calm calculation to biting sarcasm in an instant. You miss the warmth of his touch, the way his hand would linger on your back, reassuring and steadying you. Even now, you can still feel the ghost of his touch, the way it sent shivers down your spine.

You hate how much you miss him. How, despite everything he’s done, every lie he’s told, every betrayal you’ve suffered, you still find yourself longing for him. You hate the way your heart aches whenever you think of him, a dull, persistent throb that refuses to go away.

It’s like there’s a part of you that can’t let go, no matter how hard you try. A part of you that still clings to the hope that maybe, just maybe, things could have been different. That maybe he could have chosen you, could have been honest with you, could have loved you the way you loved him.

But he didn’t.

And now, here you are, alone in this quiet apartment, with nothing but your thoughts and memories to keep you company.

You try to distract yourself, to fill the silence with noise. You turn on the TV, but it feels hollow and meaningless. You play some music, but it only reminds you of the songs you used to listen to with Five, the ones you danced to in the kitchen late at night, laughing and spinning around like you didn’t have a care in the world.

You try reading, but your mind keeps wandering back to him, to the way things used to be. To the life you thought you were building together.

Eventually, you give up and let the silence wash over you. You let yourself feel the weight of it, the emptiness that stretches out around you. You let yourself feel the pain, the loneliness, the heartache.

Because maybe that’s the only way you’ll ever be able to move on.

Maybe you just have to let yourself feel it all, let yourself grieve for what was and what could have been. Let yourself mourn the loss of a love that wasn’t meant to be.

And maybe, one day, the silence won’t feel so heavy. Maybe one day, it won’t hurt so much.

But for now, you just sit there, alone in your quiet apartment, and let yourself miss him.

God, you miss him.

You think about what could have been if Five hadn’t cheated.

It’s a thought that creeps up on you more often than you’d like to admit, slipping into your mind in the quiet moments when you’re alone with your thoughts. What if he hadn’t betrayed you? What if he hadn’t gone back to Lila, hadn’t lied to you about it, hadn’t gotten her pregnant?

You close your eyes and let yourself imagine it for a moment—a different reality, one where things didn’t fall apart. Where you and Five are still together, still living in the Hargreeves mansion with all its chaos and noise. You imagine waking up next to him, his arm draped lazily over you, his face soft and peaceful in sleep. You’d watch him for a few moments, taking in the sight of him before he stirs awake, his eyes blinking open to meet yours.

In this imagined reality, there’s no tension, no betrayal hanging between you. There’s only the love you felt for each other, warm and comforting like a blanket. You’d start your days together, sharing quiet mornings with cups of coffee and stolen kisses. Maybe you’d argue about something silly—Five always did have a way of getting under your skin with his stubbornness—but it would be the kind of argument that ends in laughter, in making up and teasing touches.

You’d work together on whatever problems or missions came up, a seamless team. Five would still be his intense, driven self, always planning, always strategizing, but there would be moments of softness, too. Moments where he’d let his guard down just for you, where he’d let you see the parts of himself he kept hidden from everyone else.

Maybe you’d go out sometimes, just the two of you. You’d walk through the city, hand in hand, sharing stories and secrets, feeling like the only two people in the world. And at night, you’d come home to the mansion, to the noise and the chaos, but it wouldn’t matter. Because you’d have each other.

You’d have a future together—a real future. One where you could imagine growing old with him, seeing the lines of age etch into his face, his hair going a little grayer, his body maybe slowing down a bit. But through it all, you’d still be by his side. Still his partner, his confidante, his love.

And maybe, just maybe, there would be a family. Not like the Hargreeves siblings—a real family, a small one, made up of just the two of you and maybe a child or two. You can almost see it: a little boy with Five’s intense eyes or a girl with your smile, running through the halls of the mansion, bringing a different kind of noise to the place. You and Five would watch them grow, teach them, protect them, love them with everything you had.

But then reality crashes back in, shattering the fragile dream.

Because that’s all it is—a dream. A fantasy of what could have been, what might have been if Five had made different choices. If he hadn’t cheated, hadn’t lied, hadn’t chosen Lila over you.

Your heart aches with the loss of it, with the realization that the life you’re imagining was never real and never could be. You think about the way Five used to look at you, the way he held you like you were his whole world. You remember the promises he made, the plans you made together.

And then you remember the betrayal. The lies. The nights you spent alone, wondering where he was, what he was doing. The sick feeling in your stomach when you found out about Lila, the way your world crumbled around you when you realized he’d been lying to you all along.

The dream fades, replaced by the stark reality of your new life. Alone in your quiet apartment, far away from the noise and the chaos of the Hargreeves mansion, far away from Five and all the pain he caused.

Maybe it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Better to be alone than to be with someone who could hurt you so deeply, who could betray you so completely.

But still, you can’t help but wonder. What if?

What if he hadn’t cheated?

What if he’d chosen you?

What if things could have been different?

You know you can’t change the past. You can’t go back and rewrite history, no matter how much you wish you could. But the thought lingers, a quiet whisper in the back of your mind, a reminder of what might have been.

And as much as you hate it, as much as you want to move on and leave it all behind, you know it’s going to take time. Time to heal, time to forget, time to let go of the what-ifs and the could-have-beens.

You sigh, feeling the weight of it all settle over you once more. You turn on the TV again, hoping for a distraction, but your mind keeps drifting back to him, to what you had, to what you’ve lost.

Maybe one day, you’ll be able to let go of the past and move on. Maybe one day, you’ll stop wondering what if.

But today isn’t that day.

Today, you still think about him. About what could have been. About the life you could have had together.

And you can’t help but miss him.

God, you miss him.

You sigh, the sound echoing softly in the silence of your new apartment. You glance around, taking in the sparse, unfamiliar surroundings. It’s not much, but it’s yours. The walls are bare, the furniture minimal—just the essentials. It still smells faintly of fresh paint and new beginnings, but there’s an emptiness to it that you can’t quite shake. The quiet is suffocating, a stark contrast to the constant noise and chaos of the Hargreeves mansion.

You lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. What’s he up to now? The thought slips into your mind before you can stop it. You hate that you’re still thinking about him, still wondering about him. But the truth is, you can’t help it. Five has been a part of your life for so long that it feels strange not to know where he is, what he’s doing. The absence of his presence is a void that you can’t seem to fill.

You imagine him back at the mansion, surrounded by the remnants of a life you once shared. Is he in his room, sitting in that old leather chair, sipping on whiskey and poring over some ancient book? Is he pacing the halls, his mind racing with plans and calculations, always thinking, always moving? Or is he in the kitchen, making himself a cup of coffee, his expression pensive as he stares out the window, lost in thought?

Maybe he’s with Lila. The thought makes your stomach twist. You can almost picture it: the two of them together, their heads close as they whisper and scheme. Maybe they’re arguing, as they often did, their voices raised, filled with that strange blend of love and hate that seemed to define their relationship. Or maybe they’re...you can’t even bring yourself to think about it. The idea is too painful, too raw.

You shake your head, trying to push the thoughts away. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing, you tell yourself firmly. He’s not your concern anymore. He made his choice. And you made yours. You chose to leave, to start over, to try and build a new life without him. But even as you tell yourself this, you can’t help but feel the ache of longing, the pull of what once was.

You wonder if he’s thinking about you too. If he regrets what happened. If he misses you. A part of you hopes he does—that he’s feeling even a fraction of the pain you’re feeling. But another part of you knows that it doesn’t change anything. Regret won’t undo the betrayal. Missing you won’t mend the trust that’s been broken.

You rise from the couch and move to the window, looking out over the city. It’s a gray day, the sky heavy with clouds. The world outside feels distant, almost dreamlike, as if it’s moving on without you. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to ward off the chill that’s settled deep in your bones.

What is he doing right now? The question hangs in the air, unanswered. You imagine picking up the phone, dialing his number, hearing his voice on the other end. But you know that’s not an option. Not anymore. You’ve made your choice, and he’s made his. There’s no going back.

Still, the curiosity nags at you, the wondering. It’s a hard habit to break, the urge to know, to be connected. For so long, your life was intertwined with his, your days and nights filled with him. It’s strange to think of a future without that, without him.

You turn away from the window, forcing yourself to move, to do something. Anything to distract yourself from the thoughts swirling in your mind. You start unpacking a box, pulling out books and setting them on the shelf, trying to focus on the mundane task in front of you. But your mind keeps drifting back to him, to the life you had, to the life you could have had.

Is he thinking about me? you wonder again. Does he miss me? You shake your head, trying to clear the thoughts away. You know you need to let go, to stop wondering, to stop caring. But it’s easier said than done.

You pause, holding a book in your hands, staring at it without really seeing it. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. It’s time to move on, you remind yourself. Time to focus on your own life, on your own future.

You haven’t heard from any of the Hargreeves since you left. The silence is heavy, a constant reminder of the void that has opened up in your life. They were the closest thing to a family you had, a group of misfits who somehow fit together. Now, without them, you feel unmoored, drifting in a sea of uncertainty.

Your thoughts turn to the commission—your former employer, and in some twisted way, another kind of family. That was a lifetime ago. You left that world behind, hoping for something better, something more. But now, standing alone in your small, empty apartment, you wonder if you made the right choice.

The reality of your situation sinks in. You don’t have a family outside of the Hargreeves. You were pulled into their orbit by Five, drawn into their chaotic world, and in a way, you found a place there. But now, you’re adrift again, and the loneliness is almost suffocating.

Your actual family, the one you were born into, is most likely not even in this timeline. The thought makes your chest tighten with a mix of frustration and sadness. You don’t even know where they are or if they’re alive. Time travel has its costs, and the disconnection from your roots is one of them. Even if you wanted to find them, there’s no way to do it without the commission’s help. And after everything that’s happened, going back there is the last thing you want.

You rub your temples, feeling a headache starting to form. The isolation is starting to wear on you. You’ve tried to fill your days with work, with unpacking, with anything that might distract you from the gnawing emptiness. But no matter what you do, the thoughts creep back in.

What would it be like to switch timelines? you wonder. To find a world where things turned out differently, where you and Five never crossed paths, or where he never cheated, and you lived out the life you once imagined together. But those thoughts are just fantasies, just as unreachable as the timeline they belong to. Without the commission’s technology, there’s no way to hop between realities.

Even if there was, you know it wouldn’t be as simple as that. Time and space are fragile, and messing with them comes with consequences. You’ve seen firsthand the damage that can be done by playing with the fabric of reality. And besides, running away to another timeline wouldn’t change what happened here. It wouldn’t heal the hurt or mend the trust that’s been broken.

You sit down on the edge of your bed, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. You feel more alone than you ever have, even more than when you first joined the commission, or when you first found yourself thrust into the chaos of the Hargreeves’ world. At least then, you had something to hold onto. Now, you feel like you’re grasping at air.

You sigh, “I need some air.”

You stand up, the heaviness in your chest making it difficult to breathe. The walls of your apartment feel like they’re closing in on you, the silence suffocating. The emptiness is overwhelming. You need to get out, to clear your head, to find some way to make sense of the mess your life has become.

Grabbing your coat from the hook by the door, you slip it on and head outside. The afternoon sun is high in the sky, casting warm rays that offer a sharp contrast to the cold, stagnant atmosphere of your apartment. The city streets are alive with activity—people bustling about, cars honking, vendors calling out to passersby. The noise feels overwhelming, but also oddly comforting. It reminds you that life goes on, even when yours feels like it’s standing still.

You start walking, not really sure where you’re going, just needing to move, to escape the thoughts that have been plaguing you. Your footsteps blend into the hum of the city, lost among the chatter and footsteps of others. You walk past busy storefronts and colorful cafes, the scent of freshly baked bread and brewing coffee filling the air. You pull your coat tighter around you, though the air is mild. The weight of your thoughts is what brings the chill.

What am I doing? you think to yourself. You feel a surge of frustration bubbling up inside you. How did I end up here?

As you wander, you find yourself heading towards a familiar place—the park where you used to go with Five. It was a favorite spot, a place where you’d both sit and talk for hours, sharing dreams and plans, back when the future felt certain. The memories are bittersweet now, but some part of you feels drawn to it, as if it holds some answers you can’t quite reach.

You reach the park and make your way to a bench near the fountain, one you remember sitting on many times before. The sound of the water trickling into the basin is calming, a soft, soothing melody amidst the noise of the city. You sit down, staring out at the small pond, watching the ducks glide across the surface, the sunlight glinting off the water.

The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the ground, and the park is filled with people—joggers, families, couples walking hand in hand. You watch them, feeling a strange mix of envy and detachment. They all seem so carefree, so unaware of the weight that you carry.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to ground yourself in the moment. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of something—someone—that makes your heart skip a beat. You turn your head slightly, your breath catching in your throat.

It’s Five.

He’s across the park, sitting at a small outdoor café, a cup of coffee in front of him. His head is down, focused on a book in his hands, his expression calm and absorbed. He looks different out here, in the daylight, without the familiar surroundings of the Hargreeves mansion. More relaxed, almost like the man you fell in love with. You feel a pang in your chest as you watch him, a mix of longing and hurt.

What is he doing here? Does he come here often?

You hesitate, torn between the urge to approach him and the instinct to turn and walk away. You know that seeing him will only reopen old wounds, but some part of you can’t help but be drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, to calm the racing of your heart.

He looks up from his book suddenly, as if sensing your presence, and his eyes meet yours across the park. For a moment, time seems to stand still. You can see the surprise in his eyes, the flicker of recognition, followed by something else—something softer, almost wistful.

You’re not sure what to do, whether to stay or go, whether to speak or remain silent. Your feet feel rooted to the ground, unable to move in either direction. Five raises his hand in a small, hesitant wave, his expression cautious, almost hopeful.

You swallow hard, your emotions a tangled mess. You don’t know what to say, what to do. You’ve imagined this moment so many times, and yet now that it’s here, you’re at a loss. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breath coming in shallow bursts.

Finally, you take a step forward, then another, your movements slow and uncertain. Five’s eyes remain on you, watching your approach with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. You stop a few feet away from him, close enough to see the small details of his face—the faint lines of worry, the sadness in his eyes.

“Hey,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey,” you reply, your own voice trembling with emotion.

There’s a long pause, a silence that stretches out between you, filled with all the things you want to say but don’t know how. You can see the regret in his eyes, the apology he’s trying to convey without words.

“Do you…want to sit?” he asks, gesturing to the chair across from him.

You hesitate for a moment, then nod slowly, pulling out the chair and sitting down. The distance between you feels both vast and intimate, a strange mix of familiarity and distance.

Five looks down at his hands, then back up at you, his expression pained. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he admits. “I’ve been coming here a lot lately…thinking.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. You don’t know what to say, what to feel. Part of you wants to lash out, to demand answers, to make him feel the hurt you’ve been carrying. But another part of you just wants to understand, to find some kind of closure.

“I miss you,” he says suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. “Every day. I think about you, about us. About everything I’ve ruined.”

Your heart clenches at his words, his voice full of that quiet sincerity that used to melt your resolve. But now, all it does is stir the anger that’s been simmering beneath the surface since the day you found out. You want to believe him, but the wounds are still too fresh, the betrayal still too raw.

“Miss me?” you scoff, your voice rising, unable to keep the bitterness out of your tone. “You don’t get to miss me, Five. You lost that right when you decided to screw around with Lila. And what about your baby? You want to talk about what you’ve ruined? Look around. You did this. You chose this.”

Five's face contorts with pain, but he pushes through, his voice trembling. “Lila… she lied about the baby.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, leaving you momentarily stunned. The sharp edge of your anger is blunted by shock.

You shake your head in disbelief. “So the baby never existed? She lied?”

Five nods slowly, his eyes filled with deep sorrow. “Yes. There was no baby. She told me it was a lie to manipulate me, to keep me from leaving.”

He looks down, his face falling further. He takes a sip of his coffee, making a face at the taste. He was always very particular about his coffee, and clearly, this one didn't meet his standards.

You feel overwhelmed, the weight of his confession settling heavily on your shoulders. “I—I don’t know what to say, Five.”

He shakes his head, a mixture of resignation and frustration in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter,” he says softly. You sigh, your mind rushing, Should you even say this?

“If I’m being honest, I guess that I’ve missed you too.”

Five’s expression shifts, a flicker of hope and disbelief in his eyes. He seems to struggle with his emotions, clearly taken aback by your admission. For a moment, the tension between you both eases slightly, though the weight of everything that’s happened still lingers heavily.

“You’ve missed me?” Five asks, his voice barely audible. There’s a vulnerability in his tone that makes your heart ache even more.

You shake your head, “Don’t let that get to your head. We were together for years. Of fucking course I missed your dumbass.”

Five’s face falls slightly, his vulnerability giving way to a trace of hurt. He opens his mouth to respond but seems to reconsider, his words catching in his throat. He simply nods, a resigned look settling over him.

You continue, trying to keep your tone steady despite the flood of emotions. “Don’t take that the wrong way. It’s not about wanting to fix things or go back to how we were. It’s just… hard to completely erase what we had.”

Five’s eyes are focused on the swirling coffee in his cup, his fingers drumming on the mug. “I understand,” he says quietly, as if trying to make sense of everything himself. A heavy silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken words and lingering emotions.

You shift uncomfortably, your mind racing. Was coming over here a mistake? you wonder. The weight of the conversation feels overwhelming, and you start to question whether reopening this wound was the right choice.

Breaking the silence, Five sighs heavily. “She was kicked out of the house,” he says, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and sadness.

You look up, startled. “Lila was kicked out?” The shock is evident in your voice. You had imagined many possible scenarios, but this wasn’t one of them.

Five nods, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. After everything that happened… Diego couldn’t take it anymore. He asked her to leave.”

You pause, your mind racing. After a moment, you ask, “Do you not have feelings for her anymore?”

Five turns his gaze to the side, his face a mixture of frustration and regret. “I… I’m not sure. I fucked up, really fucking bad. I don’t think I deserve to feel any way about anything at this point.”

The honesty in his voice stings. You want to believe him, and you almost think you can see the sincerity in his eyes. But he’s lied to you before, What does this matter?

You sigh, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m glad you’re finally starting to become self-aware. It’s a start, at least.” You look at him, trying to gauge if there's any real change in him or if this is just another layer of his guilt.

Five shifts uncomfortably, his eyes avoiding yours. “I wish things could be different.”

“I do too,” you say, your voice soft as you look away.

The silence stretches out, filled with the weight of unspoken regrets and shattered dreams. You take a deep breath, fighting back the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "I should go," you finally say, turning to leave.

Five nods, his face a mix of sorrow and resignation. As you walk away, you feel the sting of finality in every step. The distance between you grows, and with it, the painful realization that some wounds may never fully heal.

It really fucking sucks what Six Years, Five Months and Two days can do to a person.

Final Author's Notes: Starting off, I want to thank everyone for loving this fic. This fic was the first time I've really wrote angst -- and I had no idea that I would love writing it so much.

I had come up with the idea for this literally the day I posted part one -- but the ending was completely different. Reader was supposed to stay with Five and work things out, but after seeing how people reacted -- I decided to adapt and change some things. I really like how this ended, (UNLIKE THE SHOW)

and given that I will be writing a happy Five Fic / oneshot coming within the next few days bc season 4 was fucked up :P

#sbs posting #five hargreaves x you #five hargreeves #five x lila #five x reader #tua five #tua s4 #tua season 4 #five hargreaves x reader #five x y/n #angst #hargreeves siblings #tua fandom #tua fanfic #tua #the umbrella academy season 4 #tua s4 spoilers #umbrella acedmy #the umbrella academy spoilers

304 notes · View notes