definitely maybe i will live to love || Five x Reader/OC ||

they say i'm a walking dreamer

The Walker

"Diego?" you softly call next to the door. "Mom made breakfast."

When there's no answer, the snoopy sister side gets the best of you, and you open the door just enough to peek in through the crack. You see two sleeping forms squeezed into Diego's tiny twin bed, one of which has brown hair tumbling around her shoulders.

"Ooh," you whisper. Part of you is tempted to scare them and have Diego scream at you to get out, but Patch has had a rough night, so you close the door again and tip-toe away.

You check your room before you leave to see if Five is still sleeping. He has a habit of dipping out at the worst time in spite of logic and common sense. But, to your relief, you see him still passed out in your bed with Delores sitting vigilant.

Vanya steps out of her room just as you're closing the door to yours. "Good morning," you smile.

"Morning." Vanya's hair is still damp from a shower. She had enough sense to grab spare clothes from the apartment last night. "How—how are you?"

"Better." You lean against the wall and cross your arms. "You?"

"Fine."

You lightly frown. "Vanya, it wasn't your fault. You know that, right?"

She sighs. "I—I shouldn't have let him into my life that easily. It should have been clear what he intended to do."

If anything, you want to say, it's your fault for letting the creep be around Vanya as much as he did, considering you knew what he was up to. Now there's a mess, and Vanya got hurt in all of it.

You want to have the conversation about the apocalypse and her role in it with her before one of the family members spill the truth. Although there will never be a right time for it, you can't bring yourself to do it at the moment.

"No, it wasn't."

"I guess it just shows..." Vanya stops herself and smiles, but it's mirthless. "It just shows how weak I am when somebody is nice to me."

"Hey, hey, stop," you say with a point of your finger. "You shouldn't have to guess a person's motives. I hate that this happened, Vanya, because you are just so kind and caring and—he used it."

You approach her and place both hands on each side of her arms. "You have to tell me you won't blame yourself for this. Please."

"How can I say that?" she asks somewhat breathlessly. "How can I think that?"

"Because it's the truth."

"He hurt you, Eight." Vanya shrugs away from you, and the act makes you flinch. "And honestly? I don't understand why you're acting like everything is normal. It isn't. He—he buried you alive. You almost died. How can you just not want to talk about that?"

"There's not much to talk about."

"That's a lie. Just because you refuse to talk about it doesn't mean it should be ignored."

You freeze.

Vanya's eyes widen a fraction. Guilt flashes across her, but it quickly sinks to resolve.

Ben, who has been watching the entire exchange, says, "Thank you."

She wants to have the conversation about your attempt with you before one of the family members spill the truth. Although there will never be a right time for it, Vanya can't bring herself to do it at the moment.