Attacca ─ Five Hargreeves

05. Starting Line

Drowsing off in the apocalypse surely never brought harmony, there was always a series of nightmares lingering. Be it the fact that they were the only ones left, the corpses strewn about, or the image of his four dead siblings. Resting was supposed to be about rejuvenating his energy back, but instead, he was more tired than before. Sometimes he thought it would be better if the beat of his heart ceased, that way he could leave this hell, and see his family again. He didn't even understand why he was still surviving until this second when the moment he fluttered his eyes open, he only wished he could close them again.

But today, the nightmare was different.

Five didn't know which was worse.

Fathoming that his old man was the pioneer behind Genevieve entering the state of cryogenic, or finding the spot next to him was empty. There was no trace of the girl in the slightest, seeing that the woods looked dryly charred, it fractionally unveiled that the fire had long been quenched. He couldn't recall the last time he had scrambled to get up, almost tripping over his own feet while looking around the area frantically, his breathing was ragged from the instant fright. His head automatically abridged all kinds of scenes, assumptions, and all the pitfalls that might lurk behind each of these austere surfaces.

No, no, no.

Please, no.

It was his fault, wasn't it? He was a Hargreeves, and he didn't tell her anything about it. Did the name have its own damnation? Why couldn't he get something that lasted? Or in his case, someone. His heart was throbbing rabidly, his whole body ached from the sudden tension, it felt like his internal organs were going to burst out. Their wagon was still sitting in its proper place, seemingly untouched, and it gave out even more apprehension. She was out there without bringing anything, not even a single meal.

Five jogged from one end to the other, calling her name, his voice a hoarse echo. Genevieve couldn't have just left, could she? It wasn't like her. She was a lot of things, and she was everything good, if they discussed who would leave first, she definitely wouldn't be in the top three. But then, why? They were fine, even though they were not completely honest with each other, they could still dive into the prime layout of a union. This could not be the end, he had to find her—his eyes moved to scan the solid ground, afraid that he might pass by the sight of her.

They were a team, she was his team.

The concept of solitude had started to haunt him again, he couldn't return to the beginning he was exiled to in this timeline. His mind had been corrected—it was immaculate, it was finally sane, and he had just managed to put aside the madness that nearly fondled the soul. Five couldn't lose her now, not when he opted that she was the motive—his motive in surviving and working harder to find a way out.

"Five?"

The boy never turned his head so fast, he could practically hear a click in his neck. She stared at him confused, her umber locks tied in a messy ponytail, one hand clutching the journal. Oh, thank God. Five let out a long breath, lowering his head for a moment, he could feel his body trembling as the fog still hovered over his mind, and he walked towards her with hasty steps. When the distance was only a few inches left, the abated hush filled the gap as they locked eyes with each other.

This was by far one of the most terrifying some minutes of his life.

Five noticed a glimmer of worry dancing in her murky pupils, this was the first time they were this close, he could partially catch the particle of dust on her skin and count the freckles on her face. He might look pathetic now, giving the impression of being so lost similar to a dog that had failed to keep sight of their mother. But he didn't care, she was here. She still stayed. His arms nearly rose to take her into an embrace before he came back to his senses and instead let it hang limply at his side, a hint of trifling distress took over him.