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REWRITTEN

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REWRITTEN.

Violet felt sick.

She was standing in the doorway to the kitchen, half hidden behind the door frame as she gripped it tight like a crutch that was keeping her standing.

Everything felt so surreal that it was difficult to ground herself to reality. Like she was drunk. But she had never properly been drunk, so she didn't know what that felt like, but it had to have been this.

She refused to sit down with the others, sticking to where she was away from the group.

Five couldn't help but watch her sadly. He could see in her eyes that she was so, so different to the girl he had left behind and that made his chest hurt. But then he supposed he had changed a lot too.

"What's the date? The exact date," Five clarified as he pulled out a chopping board.

"The twenty fourth," Vanya responded.

"Of what?"

"March."

He nodded to himself. "Good."

Luther looked around in astonishment. "So are we gonna talk about what just happened?" He stood, cutting off Fives path to the cupboard. "It's been seventeen years."

Sixteen and four months, Violet thought. Sixteen years. And four fucking months.

"It's been a lot longer than that," Five stated. He spatial jumped around Luther and grabbed what he needed from the cupboard then jumped back.

"I haven't missed that," Luther muttered.

She felt sick.

Diego glanced behind him to catch a sight of Violet before speaking and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Where'd you go?"

"The future," Five answered simply. "It's shit, by the way."

His eyes met hers for a second and she felt herself flicker without meaning to.

Her mind went to her room, her books, the mess. She itched to leave but she couldn't. Instead she was watching Five pick out the ingredients to his old favourite, the peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich.

Sugar, protein, carbs - for energy to spacial jump, his voice rang in her head.

"Called it!" Klaus announced in triumph.

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