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

picture book, of people with each other, to prove they love each other long ago

Picture Book

The Hargreeves family has never been good at waiting.

The overnight drive to the supposed cabin-slash-safehouse is, true to old Hargreeves' taste, more of a mini-mansion resembling a cabin. And, of course, it's full of traps and surveillance cameras and the overall air of Dad's voice cutting, "You're not welcome here, my failure of a family."

Pogo navigates through the head-choppers, electrocuters, and poison dart whistlers with a deftness most of them haven't seen in years. Even when they lived in the last dredges of childhood, Pogo didn't move like he used to. His purpose, however, is clear, and so he acts in accordance to it without faltering.

When they arrive in the cabin's interior, Klaus removes his unneeded sunglasses and lets out a low whistle. "God," he declares, "I wish Dad had followed his true dreams of decorating houses for other rich billionaires that may or may not hunt people for sport."

"It's not as if Dad didn't already have a shrine to his ego," Diego mutters. Then, loudly, he says, "I get the biggest room! Dibs! The rest of you assholes can suck it!"

Klaus, in turn, books it up the stairs. Diego curses and chases after him while Mom, in her ever-dulcet tone, calls, "Boys, be careful!"

"It's not as if we don't have an entire organization of assassins on our trail or anything," Luther says with the shake of his head.

"I think you might just be jealous that you didn't run after them as well," Allison says, smirking. From Luther's sputters, she gets her answer.

They trail in the wake of Diego and Klaus' bickering on the second floor. Really, it's good for them to keep moving. Nobody wants to talk about what happened—nobody can talk about what happened, really—but it's difficult for them all to focus on things other than exactly that.

As such, they try to make themselves busy.

Luther goes through the cabin for discovery purposes. He tells himself he doesn't do it to try and find proof that Dad did care about him while he was isolated and transformed on the moon, that it meant something this entire time.

He misses you and your reassuring presence. To think of a world where, where you don't...where you aren't here...

Has he ever told you that he loves you?

Maybe, but the sinking feeling in Luther's stomach (that actually hasn't stopped plummeting since Vanya unleashed the truth on them in the rain-soaked field) informs him that if he ever has, he definitely hasn't done it enough if it warrants him doubting that he ever did it at all. But you? He knows you've told him that you love him. You've shown him that you love him countless times.

Luther should have left with you and Vanya when you asked him to. But he stayed. At seventeen, he just couldn't understand why you didn't want to stay either. Why didn't you want to protect the world anymore? Save lives? Do good? Why did you just—want to run? Give up?

He doesn't remember much of the day you left with Vanya in tow, suitcase in your hand and a backpack over your shoulder. But he remembers the pleading in your eyes, followed by the abrupt shift to shock and grief and betrayal—and then nothing much at all.

"Just get out of here," Luther spat when he had nothing left to say, insides shredded from the sight of you, you, leaving him. "It's not like you've done any good since Five left anyway."

But he, he didn't mean it. He just wanted to hurt you, and since you were so untouchable, the best he could get at was cutting you with his words. If he had known, if he had known what you tried to do after Ben—he would have—should have—