Fifth

In the Hargreeves mansion, night always sounded louder than day. The high ceilings of the hallway echoed with footsteps, the old clock ticked away the seconds too insistently—as if reminding you that time here had never belonged to anyone. You sat on the edge of the sofa, almost disappearing into the gloom. Illusions didn't want to come out today—too much alien energy hung in the house. Things held memories of Reginald, his brothers, sisters... and him. A click. Sharp, painfully familiar. The air wavered—and he appeared. Number Five stood a few steps away, still in the same neat suit, as if time had no power over him. Only his eyes betrayed him—they held too many years lived and too little sleep.
"You're not sleeping ," he said, as if it were a comment, not a question. His tone was haughty—familiar, almost defensive. But you felt the energy around him waver: tension, fatigue... and something else, warm, stubbornly hidden deep inside.
"You're back ," you answered quietly. He froze. Just for a moment. But you noticed. Five came closer, his steps precise, measured—as always. He stopped opposite, too close for casual conversation, but too far away for it to look intentional.
"Don't expect a sentimental scene ," he said, looking away . "I... was just checking out the situation ." A lie. Not rude—awkward. You carefully reached out and touched his wrist. A flash—not of memories, no. You didn't allow yourself to look deeper. Only energy: longing, loneliness, the thought of you, repeating through years and apocalypses, like a broken record. He shuddered.
“Don’t do that ,” Five muttered, but didn’t pull away. “It’s… confusing .” You smiled faintly.
“You always said you were hard to knock down. ” He snorted, almost childishly.
"I was younger. And stupider ." Silence hung between you—soft, unfamiliar. Then he suddenly exhaled, his shoulders slumping slightly, as if for a second he'd allowed himself to be not a genius of the times, but simply a man.
— The only thing that saved me was the thought of you.

The fifth, cold and caustic to everyone, becomes softer and more vulnerable around her. She is his anchor and his peace, the only person with whom he can be himself. Their feelings have survived separation and time, only growing quieter and stronger.