The Sparks Between Us | Five Hargreeves x Reader

FIVE

Vanya and I made our way back down the academy's staircase, the quiet creak of the old steps under our feet the only sound between us. As we entered the living room, my gaze immediately fell on Five. He stood by the fireplace, his hands in his pockets, staring up at a painting of himself. The expression on his face was unreadable, though his voice carried a tinge of sarcasm as he spoke.

"Nice to know Dad didn't forget me," he said dryly, his back still turned.

Vanya and I stopped a few steps into the room, and when Five finally glanced over his shoulder, his sharp gaze landed on me.

"Whose clothes are those?" he asked, eyebrows raised slightly.

"Vanya kindly allowed me to borrow some of her old garments," I replied smoothly. "Our less-than-perfect arrival compromised the integrity of my original suit. A temporary adaptation was required."

"Hope that's not a problem?" Vanya added, a hint of nervousness in her tone.

Five shook his head lightly, his attention briefly shifting back to the painting. "No, it's just... unusual," he said, his voice softening slightly. "I've never seen you in anything other than a suit." He turned back to face me fully, his sharp, calculating eyes scanning me with a flicker of something I couldn't quite place. "You look nice."

I tilted my head slightly at his words, processing the unexpected compliment before offering a response. "Thank you, Five. You look remarkably polished yourself. The suit you wear now—it reflects your sharp intellect and precise nature."

He held my gaze for a moment, his expression unreadable as always, before giving a faint nod and turning back toward the painting.

I began to walk toward the far side of the room, my steps light on the worn wooden floors. My gaze drifted across the walls adorned with photographs—images of the Umbrella Academy in their prime. Each one captured a moment frozen in time: the family saving civilians, posing triumphantly after missions, their younger faces splashed across magazine covers.

I stopped in front of one of the shelves, scanning the rows of framed pictures and glossy headlines. The nostalgia embedded in these displays was almost overwhelming, though not for me personally. Instead, I observed it as an outsider, piecing together the fragmented legacy of this dysfunctional but extraordinary family.

One photo, in particular, caught my attention: the seven of them, much younger, standing shoulder to shoulder in matching uniforms. Their expressions varied—some proud, some reluctant, and others entirely indifferent. My eyes lingered on Five, standing at the end of the lineup, his small frame radiating an intensity far beyond his years.

༻THRID PERSON POV༺

Five turn when he spoke, his voice casual but tinged with something close to nostalgia.

"Read your book, by the way. Found it in a library that was still standing."

Vanya glanced up from where she was standing.

Five smirked as he continued to look around the room, his gaze flicking from the bookshelves to the old records. "I thought it was pretty good, all things considered. Yeah, definitely ballsy, giving up the family secrets. Sure that went over well."

"They hate me," she said softly.

"Oh, there are worse things that can happen," Five replied dismissively, as if the weight of her words didn't reach him. He was already moving again, his eyes scanning the room with the practiced coolness of someone who had lived through much worse.

"You mean like what happened to Ben?" Vanya said, the words out before she could stop them.

Five paused, his face momentarily betraying an emotion he didn't care to show. "Was it bad?" he asked, his voice quieter now, the sharp edges of his sarcasm gone.