Promise [Number 5 X Reader]

- Nothing At All -

Five

17 Years Ago (For Those Incapable of Leaping Through Time)

The record the old man always played during meals scratched and squeaked as the seven of us sat down to eat. The droning words spoken in a thick German accent drifted in one ear and exited through the other. Vanya sat to my right, and Diego to my left. Across from me sat an eerily empty chair.

I felt an urge to turn and look at the large, transparent clump of spikes that I knew was sitting a ways away from the end of the table. Instead, I kept my gaze trained on the old man sitting at the other end of the table, mindlessly eating at he listened to the record.

Finally, I grew impatiet and slammed the knife beside my plate into the table. (Y/n) had told me what kind of wood it was a long time ago, but I had forgotten it almost just as long ago.

"Number Five?"

"I've got a question for ya."

"It is always beneficial to search actively for knowledge," he replied, "however, rules are rules: no talking while we are eating. We are listening to Herr Carlson."

I pushed away my plate. "I wanna start learning time travel," I insisted.

"Absolutely not," came his sharp reply.

"I'm ready for it. You've been telling me to practice my spacial jumps - and I have." To demonstrate, I jumped behind him.

"Spatial jumps are nothing compared to travelling through time," Father replied boredly. "One is like sliding along ice. The other is akin to descending into the depths of the freezing water, and reappearing as an acorn."

I felt ignorant as I responded with, "That doesn't make any sense."

Even more so when the old man said, "Proof that you're not as ready as you presume."

Vanya shook her head at me from her seat at the other end of the table. Indignantly, I added, "I'm not scared to try it."

"Fear has nothing to do with it," he replied. "Time travel can have adverse effects on your body and mind - effects you cannot predict." He looked at me in stern exasperation. "We will not speak of this matter again!"

With a huff, I ran out of the building, not bothering to listen to the old man hollering at me.

Walking down the street, the wind blew in my hair, and I jumped forward, caution thrown to the wind. The sun was bright, the trees were a vibrant green, and everyone around me was dressed in summer clothing.

"'Not ready,' my ass!"

I jumped again, this time into a flurry of snow, the streets covered in a sparkling white sheen, and the people surrounding me were bundled up in scarves and earmuffs. I chuckled, looking around. Jumping again, I was ready to see what new environment I'd be transported to, only to stop dead in my tracks.

The first thing to hit my senses was that there were only three colors in sight. First was the muddy brown of churned dirt that seemed to be on absolutely everything: the demolished buildings, the overturned cars - even in the sky, which was covered from horizon to horizon by a giant dust cloud. The second color was black, which matched the soot that fell from the sky like snow, and seemed to be smeared across the terrain almost as much as the dirt. Finally was red, which only plumed from a few places where fires had broken out, generating more putrid, inky smoke.