𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆. [five hargreeves 𝑥 reader]

𝐯 𝐢 𝐧 𝐠 𝐭 - 𝐞 𝐭 - 𝐮 𝐧.

𝐗𝐗𝐈

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𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕

  As Y/N rushed up the velvet staircase, only three things were on her mind. Getting away from Five, Stan, and her father. She shoved the last two thoughts aside though, as the first seemed like a bigger concern.
  The girl hurried down endless corridors in search of the room she had once shared with Allison and Viktor. It was outside this room that she first met Stan.

  It wasn't too long before she found the room, and quickly hid away inside. She hadn't realized until now that she had began sobbing, perhaps due to the stress of everything.
  Firstly, if and when Five inevitably found her, she knew she would endure endless questioning of her reckless decision.
  Secondly, the decision would be much easier if Stan was here. He would undoubtedly choose the most exciting, and therefore dangerous, option. Plus, she knew the boy would stick by her side after their short-lived, yet strong friendship.
  And finally, none of this would even be a problem if Elliott was still alive. If Five had never showed up that day, none of this would have ever happened. She'd still be living happily with her father, making money off the little bags she dealt.
  Oh, how different life would be if Five had never appeared. That was a thought she couldn't push away.

  The stream of tears soon flowed into a waterfall as more and more memories flooded Y/N's mind.
  Somehow, despite the insignificance of her father tying her shoelaces when she was four, of the pair of them walking to the store together at seven, of him doing her hair when she was ten, she missed it all. All she wanted now was to hear her father's voice rambling about the existence of extraterrestrial beings whilst he combed his fingers through her hair, braiding it for school. How she wished she could be ten again. How she wished he was still-

  "No!"

  Was that...Sloane? Oh, shit.

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𝟏𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕

  With harsh swipes over my eyelids, I brushed away my tears and hurried towards the origin of the scream. Something about the way her voice broke reminded me of my own when I first saw Dad...Shit. Shit, shit shit!
  It couldn't possibly be...No, no way. Surely not...Luther...right?

  When I reached the white buffalo suite, fresh tears pricked at my eyes. Sloane sat crouched over the body of the man I'd grown close enough with to call an older brother. He laid in a pool of crimson blood, a deep gash through his torso.
  Fuck, this can't be happening. First Dad, then Stan, and now Luther?! Fuck!

  I was too caught up in the sound of my own thoughts that I paid no attention to the conversation between the Hargreeves that weren't sobbing. Only when Sir Hargreeves came rushing in did I pay any mind to my surroundings.