Despise the guilt, Five nods almost imperceptibly. Space-time breaking powers on top of teenager hormones and family issues didn't help the situation back then, that was true. But for the years to com, after the Apocalypse, he couldn't help but wonder how different things could have been if he had listened. He still remembers the alarmed look on Vanya's face when she realized a second before anyone else that he was going to do something rash. She knew him well, back then.
It's strange but relieving to hear Grace disagreeing with his father, with her programming. As if he's finally hearing her real voice, as hard as it must be for her to get the words out. It makes him proud, he hopes she knows it. He would tell her if he could but he doesn't trust himself to speak, his voice might break.
Five has never minded the lack of a steady heartbeat, she's still alive to him in so many other ways that count, it's just a minor detail. And to think he tried to be above it all, to act as if he didn't need any comfort when he was young just to show his father that it wasn't one of his weaknesses. Reginald Hargreeves really was the worst thing that ever happened to them, buying children like cattle and building himself a servant like a slave. Five was going to burn his painting at the first chance he got, today.
Now he leans into Grace's embrace, eyes firmly shut and shoulders shaking. There's a broken sound coming out of his lips after she explains all the ways his family looked and mourned for him, and then his arms wrap around her, holding on for dear life. He can’t remember the last time he has cried or when he left his guard down in such raw way in front of another person. It's exhausting to keep everything locked inside and he's only realizing it because he can't do that anymore.
She smells sweet, sounds like it too, with her soft yet deceptively strong hand running soothingly along his back or petting strands of his hair. Holding him together as if she can somehow put back all the broken pieces into a person that isn't only sharp angles and cracks. Maybe she can, maybe his family really is the way to build himself together anew.
Five can't tell how long they stay clinging to each other, the coffee might have run tepid by now, but he pulls away slowly, rubbing at his wet cheeks with his left hand.
"Thank you. I...I love you too, mom." He's not sure if he ever told her before but he's not about to leave her to wonder now.
no subject
It's strange but relieving to hear Grace disagreeing with his father, with her programming. As if he's finally hearing her real voice, as hard as it must be for her to get the words out. It makes him proud, he hopes she knows it. He would tell her if he could but he doesn't trust himself to speak, his voice might break.
Five has never minded the lack of a steady heartbeat, she's still alive to him in so many other ways that count, it's just a minor detail. And to think he tried to be above it all, to act as if he didn't need any comfort when he was young just to show his father that it wasn't one of his weaknesses. Reginald Hargreeves really was the worst thing that ever happened to them, buying children like cattle and building himself a servant like a slave. Five was going to burn his painting at the first chance he got, today.
Now he leans into Grace's embrace, eyes firmly shut and shoulders shaking. There's a broken sound coming out of his lips after she explains all the ways his family looked and mourned for him, and then his arms wrap around her, holding on for dear life. He can’t remember the last time he has cried or when he left his guard down in such raw way in front of another person. It's exhausting to keep everything locked inside and he's only realizing it because he can't do that anymore.
She smells sweet, sounds like it too, with her soft yet deceptively strong hand running soothingly along his back or petting strands of his hair. Holding him together as if she can somehow put back all the broken pieces into a person that isn't only sharp angles and cracks. Maybe she can, maybe his family really is the way to build himself together anew.
Five can't tell how long they stay clinging to each other, the coffee might have run tepid by now, but he pulls away slowly, rubbing at his wet cheeks with his left hand.
"Thank you. I...I love you too, mom." He's not sure if he ever told her before but he's not about to leave her to wonder now.