Five Hargreeves oneshots

V1 The Emotion Switch

*Five's pov*

I teleport into the kitchen, with my new black and white suit on. Everyone stops speaking and stares at me, I get slightly confused, because I thought that I told everyone that I was going to be wearing something new today. "What?" I ask, they shake their heads. "What are you wearing?" Allison asks me, I sigh. "My new suit, I thought I told you I was wearing something new today." Allison rolls her eyes. "Well, apparently you didn't!" She yells, I groan out of frustration. "Okay, hold on! Five, why all black and white? What's that theme for?" Diego asks me, I look away, not knowing how to tell them that I made it myself. "Look, Five. We just want an explanation." Luther explains, Viktor and Klaus nodding, agreeing with Luther. Ben is the only one staying silent, and I'm kinda glad. "It's... practical," I say finally, falling back on my default mode of emotional detachment. It's easier this way, safer. Emotions are messy, unpredictable variables in an already chaotic equation. And after decades spent navigating the apocalypse, I've learned to streamline, to minimize risk, to become a well-oiled, emotionless machine.

Or at least, that's what I tell myself.

"Practical?" Klaus shrieks, his laughter echoing through the kitchen like a flock of startled pigeons. "Darling, you look like a walking, talking chessboard! What's practical about that? Planning to challenge the apocalypse to a game of checkers?"

"It's tactical," I retort, ignoring the amusement dancing in my siblings' eyes. "Black and white offers optimal camouflage in a variety of environments."

"Right," Diego drawls, twirling a knife between his fingers. "Because we encounter so many black and white environments. Like, what? A giant checkerboard factory during the apocalypse?"

"See, this is why I don't share," I mutter, pushing past them towards the coffee machine. The familiar aroma of burnt coffee grounds does little to soothe my frayed nerves. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try us," Viktor says, his voice gentle but firm. He's always been the most perceptive of my siblings, the one most likely to see through my carefully constructed walls.

I hesitate, the weight of their gazes pressing down on me. The truth is, I don't know how to explain it. This suit, this black and white armor, is more than just a tactical choice. It's a reflection of the dichotomy within me, the constant battle between my humanity and the cold, calculating pragmatism I've embraced for survival.

"It's just... easier this way," I say finally, my voice barely a whisper. "With everything that's happened, everything we've been through... it's easier to just shut it all off."

Silence descends upon the room, heavier than a neutron star. My siblings exchange wary glances, their playful banter replaced by a look I recognize all too well - the one that says, *There he goes again, retreating into himself.*

And they're right. I am retreating. Because the truth is, I'm not as emotionally invincible as I pretend to be. The memories of the apocalypse, the years spent alone in a desolate wasteland, the countless times I watched the world burn - they're all still there, buried deep within me, a festering wound that never truly heals.

So I built walls. I erected barriers. I learned to turn my emotions on and off at will, like a switch, a defense mechanism against the overwhelming pain of existence.

But lately, the switch has been flickering.

"Five," Allison says softly, her voice laced with concern. "You don't have to do this alone. We're here for you."

Her words spark a flicker of warmth in my chest, a faint echo of the love I've tried so hard to suppress. But it's quickly extinguished by a wave of cynicism.