Sarcasm | Five Hargreeves

23 | she likes sequins

Sometimes Number Eight would find herself wondering what it would be like to be a part of a normal family. A family that celebrated birthdays and marked their heights on doorways as they got older, or a family that went to the movies together and munched on popcorn and slurped on slushies until they all collectively got a brain freeze.

Instead, she was raised in a family where growth was tracked and acknowledged in stoic paintings, and the only movies they'd watch would consist of security footage of their mistakes.

Y/N sat across the timeline of paintings, her brooding aura surrounding her like a force field. In each of the paintings, their maturity thickened and their numbers thinned, until only Luther and Y/N stood tall next to Reginald.

The white-eyed masks fitted over their faces like an accessory, their soulful eyes covered by the white plastic. Y/N was almost thankful that Reginald had stopped caring for those cartoonish displays.

The girl continued to let her shadowed eyes wander over their youthfulness, her gaze lingering particularly on the absence of a certain brunette. The said brunette, Vanya, remained locked away in the hidden cage downstairs. Her banging and pleads for release had subsided into an eerie silence, likely a surrender to exhaustion, and the rest of the academy had retreated back upstairs after deeming the sight of their sister unbearable to look at.

Y/N still felt quite lightheaded after being thrown like a ragdoll across the room. It had given her even more reason to heighten her irritability towards Luther, adding to a number of other things.

The apocalypse was over, but unfortunately, the family tensions seemed never ending. Now, every other second in the academy felt like another problem being jabbed to her ribs; from Vanya's imprisonment, Luther's lack of common sense, Diego's stubborness, and even Five's somewhat emotional detachment.

The girl was contemplating finding a life away from it. She just needed to know how.

Suddenly, a distinct creak echoed down the hall, and Y/N turned her head ever so slightly to see Five's slouched figure standing behind her in the doorway.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, somewhat unbothered as he joined Y/N at the wall of paintings.

Five frowned, observing the portraits he hadn't seen since before his departure. The newer ones seemed darker, more depressing if even possible. He didn't think he'd be missed much after everything, despite what he'd hoped, but looking at everyone else, he figured he was probably wrong.

"You don't have any money," Y/N remarked, her gaze unwavering. "Let alone something as worthless as a penny."

Five scoffed at the comment, although she was right, and sat next to her on the couch. "I guess Vanya isn't ordinary after all," he started, getting a notion she was pondering over the elephant downstairs. "Didn't see that coming."

Y/N finally tore her stare away from the solemn expressions painted across the canvases and raised an eyebrow, noticing Five's clenched jaw. "What happened to 'what part of the future do you not understand?'" she mocked his words from earlier, referring to his remark to Luther after he'd gotten back.

The boy, understanding her comment, rolled his eyes as he began to regret coming to talk with her. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I came back here with a severe lack of information, and a severe lack of interest in our family affairs."

"If you weren't interested, you wouldn't have come back," Y/N shrugged, spreading her arms over top of the couch as she relaxed.

Five pursed his lips, looking down at his wrist to catch a glimpse of the Umbrella tattoo etched into his skin. She was right. One-hundred percent.