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"Allison," She called out front the other side, "I think you should come see this."
Allison stopped looking at Five and walked to where Lyra stood. There, they looked in disgust, as there were pictures all over the wall. Pictures of Lyra, and Allison with her face burnt off, hearts drawn around her, pictures of her at restaurants with other people, of her at the supermarket, she looked next to it and saw another picture of her in her house in New York, next to it was her pictures as a child in pageants before she moved to America. Next to it was–
Lyra's breath hitched. There were clear and visible pictures of her by the window of her house taking off her clothes, her skin being revealed.
"Guys, Five's unconscious," Diego called out. Lyra heard noise downstairs. "And Leonard is here."
"Shit," Allison muttered, "What are we gonna do?"
"We'll walk past them," Lyra said, "Like they don't see us at all."
"That's got to be the stupidest plan I've ever heard," Diego comments.
"Not for an illusionist it isn't," Lyra tells them.
Diego and Allison carried Five downstairs as Lyra created an illusion that they were invisible, in order for Vanya to not see them.
"You know, we don't have to stay here," Vanya said as the trio crept past, trying not to make a noise. "We can just... get a shitty motel or something."
"No," Harold said with a smile, "It's perfect for what we need to do."
"Which is what exactly?" Vanya asked her boyfriend.
"We need to find out what you're truly capable of."
Allison looked at Lyra. They broke eye contact when Diego bumped in to something.
"What was that?" Vanya turned to look at the trio. She couldn't see them, but she had a confused look on her face from the fact that no one was there. Lyra looked at Diego with wide eyes.
"It's probably a ghost," Leonard, or Harold, joked.
"We need to leave," Lyra mouthed at the two as they crept out of the house. Since the door was opened they bolted out and left.
𖤍
They barged in the Academy, with Five in their arms.
"We should've just taken him to the hospital," Allison whispered, struggling to hold Five.
"A kid with a shrapnel wound might raise some questions," Five muttered.
"You're awake?" Lyra asks, "Why'd you let us carry you?"
Diego rolls her eyes at her, "You're not even doing anything."
"Excuse me, I was the one that helped you escape in the first place," Lyra was offended.
Diego and Allison put Five on the couch. Five groans at the impact.
"He's still losing a lot of blood," Allison takes off her jacket, "What do we do?"
"Take the shrapnel out," Lyra orders, "I'll heal his wound."
"How are you gonna do that?" Diego looks at her. She shrugs.
Allison takes out the shrapnel and Lyra got to working. Diego walks away into the dark. "Diego? Where are you going."
Lyra ignores the two, and continued working on Five's injury. She used her powers to control Five's skin to merge and close the injury. She then ripped off his shirt and used it as a bandage.
"There you go," She mumbled to herself.
𖤍
"Hey," Lyra walked behind Diego, who was watching Grace clean Five's room. Allison was watching Five downstairs making sure nothing bad happens.
"Before you ask," Lyra started, "There's no answer at Vanya's place. And the receptionist at her music school said she didn't attend her lessons today."
She looks at Diego, who didn't utter a word, or even move a muscle. He turned back to walk away from the doorway, but his hand was caught by Lyra's.
"Hey are you okay?" She looks at him concerned. His eyes soften as he looks at her. He sighs, looking at the scene in front of him.
"I don't know," He confesses, "It's just surreal seeing her."
He squeezes the black haired model's hand, "I just wanna tell her that I'm s..." Lyra looks at him as he looks at her. His eyes harden and his expression changes, "We don't have time we have to go."
He starts walking away, turning to look back after a moment at the woman he expected to follow him. She had a look of doubt in her face. "I don't know Diego... Five is unconscious downstairs and is our only hope in getting through this."
"We can do this ourselves." Diego disagrees, putting his hand on Lyra's arm. She looks at him with a sad expression. "We already did that though, and you all ended up dead."
"I don't know." She shrugs, "I just... I don't want to end up all alone again."
Diego's expression softens, looking at the model who's arms were crossed tightly, a shield she didn't realize she'd raised. His hand rested there first, grounding her, before sliding down slowly, fingers brushing against hers. He didn't pull her arms away, but intertwined his hand with hers, anchoring them together. The warmth of his touch was startling, almost unbearable, like the first sunlight after a cold storm. Her fingers stiffened at first, reluctant, but his grip wasn't forceful; it was steady, quiet, the kind of touch that didn't demand but offered. Something in her chest loosened, though she couldn't name what. She didn't let go, but she didn't pull away either.
