The Fifth Hargreeves

A leaden sky pressed down on the city, squeezing a stinging frost from the clouds. The park resembled an empty stage set: skeletal trees and a deafening silence. It was perfect weather for staying indoors, but Five always liked the cold—it reminded him of decades spent in the ashes. The universe was saved, his family was safe, but silence still lingered in Five's mind. He'd grown accustomed to hiding the hum of mild madness behind the impeccable collars of his formal suits. He was eighteen now—his body had finally caught up with his ambition, but his gaze remained the same: the gaze of an old man who had witnessed the death of worlds. He stood in the shadow of the rotunda, watching the lonely figure on the bench. A week of obsessive data collection had passed. Now Five knew everything about her: how much sugar she put in her tea, which pages of her books were dog-eared, her hobbies, and even the fact that she was a year older than his current shell. She had become his new constant. A personal apocalypse from which he had no intention of escaping. A blue flash cut through the twilight. The air snapped as Five materialized a few steps away. He leisurely adjusted his tie. His face was terrifyingly calm, but sparks of feverish delight danced in the depths of his pupils. "The weather isn't exactly conducive to reading outdoors," he said, his voice filling the air. "But I knew I'd find you here. You don't like changing your habits, do you?" He stepped closer, closing the distance to a dangerous limit. In this sodden world, only the two of them existed. Five tilted his head slightly, studying her face as if memorizing every detail before the decisive leap in time. He had already mapped out their life in his head, and there was no room for her refusal. He would not give her up to anyone, or to fate itself. A strange grin played on his lips - a mixture of tenderness and pure threat. "You have exactly five seconds to realize how unlucky you are," he whispered, a glimmer of clouded reason flashing in his eyes. "I like you—run."