RUN BOY RUN- reader x Five Hargreeves

Part Thirty-Eight

I tearfully excuse myself from my slings. Their eyes fallow me, as I make my way towards the bathroom. Shards of shattered mug sink into the worn carpet like tiny daggers, leaving a trail of glittering destruction in my wake. The bathroom door, its paint peeling and revealing years of history beneath, closes behind me with a soft click that seems to echo in the stillness. A groan escapes my lips, the sound bouncing off the cracked tiles and peeling wallpaper. The faucet protests with a rusty squeak as I turn the knobs, unleashing a torrent of water that stings my searing hand. The pain is sharp, biting, but distant - overshadowed by the incessant buzzing in my skull, a swarm of angry bees trapped within the confines of my mind. Outside, beyond the sanctuary of these four walls, the cacophony of voices fades like a receding tide. The once-bustling room falls silent, conversations dying mid-sentence as if a switch has been flipped. But the quiet is short-lived, the absence of noise almost more deafening than the chaos that preceded it.

A gentle knock, barely more than a whisper against the weathered wood, breaks through my haze."You okay?" Five voice is soft. He takes my bloodied hand in his, his touch as gentle as a feather caressing my skin. The tweezers in his other hand glint in the dim light, he practiced precision; he begins to pluck tiny shards of glass from my flesh, each removal sending a small jolt of pain through my arm. The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy like molasses. It's Five who finally breaks it, his voice cutting through the quiet like a knife. "You didn't answer, meaning no. Out with it," he says, his fingers gently guiding my chin until our eyes meet. But the words stick in my throat, refusing to come out, trapped behind a dam of emotions I can't seem to breach.  Five's sigh is barely audible as he lifts me onto the counter, my body feeling as light as a rag doll in his arms. The cold porcelain seeps through my skirt. "Come on," he coaxes, his voice a lifeline in the tumultuous sea of my thoughts. And that's what started to crack at my tall large steep walls. One more look in his eyes causes the dam breaks. Sobs wrack my body, each one tearing through me. They start deep in my chest, clawing their way up my throat and bursting forth in a torrent of raw emotion. Five's arms encircle me, pulling me close, his embrace a sanctuary. My head finds its place beneath his chin, fitting there as if it were made to rest in that very spot.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. That was-" The words tumble out between hiccuping sobs, a jumbled mess of apology and regret. But Five cuts me off, his voice firm yet gentle. "Y/n, you have no reason to apologize," he whispers, his breath tickling my hair. I raise my head, sniffling, my vision blurry with tears. Our eyes meet, and in his, I see not judgment, but understanding. "I don't know what came over me," I admit, my voice small and fragile. A small smile plays on Five's lips as he resumes wrapping my hand in clean, white gauze. The bandage stands out starkly against my skin, a physical reminder of the evening's events. "I do." My head tilts in confusion as Five gently wraps my hand. "You were overstimulated. There was too much happening, and your brain couldn't process it all. So it released the excess energy." I blink, struggling to follow. "But the mug... I wasn't even holding it properly. How did it break?" Five's lips curl into a knowing smirk. I eye him suspiciously, then gasp as realization dawns. "My powers?"

"Exactly," he nods. "Your mind was overwhelmed, so it sought release. That energy manifested physically." Years of research flood back to me. "Holy shit, you're right. People with neurological abilities, when overstimulated, need to release that energy somehow. But I haven't used my powers in so long, I couldn't control it. It just... exploded out." Five nods, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Hey, I need to tell you something quickly." "Oh, right. Sorry, I got carried away," I say, feeling a bit sheepish. His expression turns serious. "I saw Lila while chasing Luther. She dropped an address. I want to stay and help you, but this might be our next lead to getting home." I nod, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Go. I'll be fine here." Five stares at me intently. In response, I cup his face in my hands and press my lips to his. His arms encircle my waist as we kiss, sharing a moment of connection amidst the chaos. When we part, Five rests his forehead against mine, both of us breathless.

"Are you sure?" he pants. "Yes," I affirm, pulling back slightly. "I'll stay here and work on these." I hold up my hands with a small giggle, trying to lighten the mood. Later, I find myself on the rooftop, the city sprawling beneath me like a concrete jungle. The air is thick with the scent of car exhaust and the promise of rain, the sky above a canvas of grays, and muted purples. Three cans stand at attention before me, silent soldiers awaiting my command. Their metal surfaces reflect the dying light, casting long shadows across the weathered rooftop. I close my eyes, letting the sounds of the city fade away as I focus on the task at hand. The distant honking of cars, the chatter of pedestrians far below, the rustle of wind through nearby trees - all of it recedes, leaving only the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears. My father's voice, harsh and unforgiving, echoes in my mind. "First step, clear your mind," he commands, and I can almost feel his stern gaze boring into me. Each step of the process plays out like a well-worn record, the lessons of my childhood etched deep into my psyche. "Two, picture the object in your mind," his voice continues, and I obey, focusing on the image of the can until it's crystal clear in my mind's eye.

But as I reach for that familiar power within me, chaos erupts in my mind. Voices clash and collide - my father's stern commands, Five's warm laughter, and a desperate cry that sends chills down my spine. "Dottie!" The name rings out, clear as a bell, and I recognize it immediately. "Ace," I whisper, the name a bittersweet taste on my tongue. The world tilts and spins, memories and emotions whirling like a tornado in my mind. Ace's face flashes before me, a ghost from my past that I thought I'd left behind. His features are as clear as if he were standing right in front of me - the crooked smile, the mischievous glint in his eyes, the scar above his left eyebrow. For a moment, I'm lost in the flood of memories, swept away by the current of what once was. Another cry pierces through the maelstrom, this one tinged with panic. "Dottie!" The sudden shift throws me off balance, and I hit the ground hard, the rough texture of the rooftop scraping against my skin. Tiny pebbles dig into my palms as I struggle to catch my breath, the impact having knocked the wind out of me. As I struggle to regain my composure, that voice calls out again, closer now. "Dottie?" It's different from Ace's voice, higher-pitched and laced with concern. I push myself up, ignoring the sting of fresh scrapes on my hands and knees.I peer over the edge of the roof, my heart pounding in my chest like a drum. The sight below makes my blood run cold. Kitty stands on the street, her face turned up towards me, a mixture of confusion and concern etched across her features. Her blonde hair whips around her face in the wind, and even from this distance, I can see the worry in her eyes. "Shit," I mutter, the word carried away by the wind.