Chapter Text
Viktor sneezes for the sixth time in two minutes.
It wasn’t his brightest moment to go out in the snow in nothing more than his pajamas and socks and then staying in there for more than half an hour. But well, it wasn’t an ordinary situation, so he isn’t beating himself up that much for it; there was no way he was going to waste any time searching for a coat and shoes when Five was right there .
It’s a bit unfair that he got sick and the rest didn’t, but then, he’s always been–this. Frail and weak, an inconvenience at the best of times. At least the fever broke down and didn’t return after the first day.
Viktor glances at his drawer, the one that is empty except for a few drawings he was gifted when they were small and those types of activities were still allowed outside of the programmed free time. He hid the Thing in there too, out of view and knowing that Mom won’t clean their rooms until the weekend, at which time he hides them somewhere else, usually the firescape or one of the unused rooms. It’s not a perfect method, but it has worked until now.
So, the Thing is as safe as it can be.
He found it in one of the pockets of his pajamas, after Luther carried an unconscious Five to the infirmary and they were sent back to their rooms. Viktor, finally being able to feel something after the numbing cold (--and the overwhelming, wonderful relief tearing down the fog until his next dose), felt something on his pants and almost had a heart attack when he took out the small sphere and found it staring back at him.
It was a freaking eye. A prosthetic one, but still.
He thought about a prank, at first, and looked around after his embarrassing sound of surprise. No one was there, of course and he went to sleep trying to squish the feeble spark of hope that it was.
But none of his siblings came to gloat about it, or demand its return to subject it to another unsuspecting sibling, so he’s fairly certain it wasn't them. A prosthetic eye is too good of a thing to be left with him.
Which only leaves one person, really.
Viktor sniffs and thinks about the cat that liked to sleep on the firescape in Five’s room, when they were very small; her fur was white with brown in her ears and front paws, like little gloves, she was a very refined lady and a lazy one too, sleeping in patches of sun for so long that it ought to be boring to watch, but they were all bewitched, staring at her from the window like she was the most interesting thing in the world. The gifts started after Allison gave her some food to coax her inside.
That was, unfortunately, how they discovered Klaus' allergy to cats.
But he’s digressing. She left some gifts, much to Five’s initial consternation and not-so-secret delight. It seems like Five caught some of her habits. Viktor snickers.
It’s stupid, Five is not a cat and he’s sure the eye is important to him, somehow, but his head is killing him and his nose keeps running, so he’s allowed to think stupid things to amuse himself.
Still, it’s a little worrying he didn’t notice before, even with all that was going on he should have felt that. But it was cold and Viktor was shivering so badly he didn’t even notice until he was warm again, all his attention on his brother, the one that should be their age, but it’s a decade older, instead.
It doesn’t feel quite real yet, Five being here. Viktor wasn’t allowed in the infirmary, not with him sick and Five weak enough to contract it and worsen his condition, but he heard his siblings talking about it, later, and Ben came to his room at night to fill him on what happened, which was a surprise, considering Ben almost doesn’t talk to him anymore, going as far as to avoid his glances.
It’s—it’s something that not quite hurts, because his anxiety meds help with that, but still makes something inside him witter, like a dying flower.
Viktor grimaces at the drama of the thought and shushes it away, like batting a fly. It doesn’t matter anyway, because Ben came to his room, at the risk of getting sick himself and told him how Five was still a little –a lot— off, disoriented, but, he said with a hesitant smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, getting more Five-esque by the moment.
Ben also said Five asked for him.
Viktor grabs a tissue and blows his nose. It’s nice to be noticed, he thinks as he fights a shiver and pulls the covers tighter around himself. It’s nice to be missed.
It doesn’t feel quite real, but Five is back and, for the first time in almost three years, Viktor didn’t leave the lights on for him. He is on the floor below, at the end of the hallway recovering from whatever it is that happened to him –the end of the world, apparently. Viktor isn’t clear on the details and if he knows something, Ben didn’t share–. And recovering he is, according to what he overheard and what Mom tells him when he asks.
Viktor overheard Diego say that he was his insufferable know-it-all self again, which would be good and nice if he didn’t sound forced, fake. Viktor worries at his lip as he thinks about it; Five has always been good at hiding his feelings, he doesn’t–didn’t cry and he snapped back and fought, but they were times, very few times where Five would blink into his room, red-rimmed eyes, sit on his bed and ask quietly for Viktor to play the violin.
They didn’t talk about it, never did, just as they never talked about the times Viktor lost a temper he didn’t know he had and broke things, something ugly and frightening building inside him. Five waiting until he snapped out of it and grounding him afterwards with his presence.
But it’s been two years and eight months for them and a decade for him. Things are due to change. Viktor’s medication dose increased and those incidents don’t happen anymore, there’s not anger, but there’s not much of anything else, either; Five’s drowning in guilt and with the things that happened to him and it spills, it leaks, drop by drop and then everything at once and they all can see it.
Viktor has only seen him once, when he flinched at sounds and looked at him with a kind of desperation he hadn't seen before, not from him and not from anyone else. Wide, red-rimmed eyes staring at everyone and an apology in the air. Viktor has only seen him once and he knows he’s not the same person anymore.
Viktor sneezes three times in a row and whines. Distraction, he needs a distraction and thinking about Five is making him fidgety. The partitures –Paganini, which is always a challenge and not one he’s usually successful at– he got from Pogo last night rest in his night stand and he stretches to get them. He can’t play when he is like this, but at the very least he can familiarize himself with the notes.
He tries to concentrate on them, on the sound and vibration they describe, but his mind keeps circling back to the eye. It’s not productive; there’s nothing he can do except take care of it until he can talk to Five.
Viktor sighs.
Maybe Five really likes prosthetic eyes?
Something important shifts with Five’s arrival, something besides the obvious and Viktor can’t put his finger on what exactly, but he notices it all the same when he’s allowed to join them again.
Viktor sits down at the end of the table when Dad gives the order and tries to not look at his siblings for long, the last thing he needs is to be called out, but it’s hard not to notice the bruise on Diego’s cheek or the bandages on Allison’s hand. It’s not unusual for them to get injured, but there have been no missions this week and training accidents stopped happening since they got used to Five’s absence.
Klaus shifts, fidgeting with his fork, pushing around his food. Ben doesn’t have a book with him and his eyes are dropping close, food forgotten; he startles and Viktor guesses someone kicked him under the table.
They are exhausted, that much is obvious, but there’s something there that wasn’t before. Luther is sitting straight, eating with single-minded determination when he usually would, at the very least, steal some glances at Allison; Diego is scowling harder than usual, methodically picking his food, like he really doesn’t want to. Everyone is ignoring each other, not out of anger, but something else.
Viktor eats his broccoli absently, mind whirling. They are superheroes, they are tired, but they aren't sick, he’s sure, and they are used to training. He doesn’t know what’s going on and, as usual, no one bothered to tell him.
At least, the empty space between Viktor and Diego doesn’t feel as somber as it did the last three years; the missing piece is not missing anymore.
“Children,” Dad says once breakfast is over. “You cannot visit Number Five anymore, it’s counterproductive to his successful recovery.“
“What?” Klaus looks up from his uneated plate.
Allison frowns. “Why not?”
Viktor thinks Dad is going to snap, but he only spares them a glance before addressing everyone else again.
“His mind and body are recovering, you will only distract him and derail his progress.” He explains. “Enough of questions. Get ready for your lessons of the day.”
Well, that’s not exactly untrue, Viktor thinks as he leaves. They are a lot of things, but quiet is not one of them. They will distract Five, but isn’t that a good thing? For him to not be thinking about what is wrong.
It 's not—it’s not alright. Viktor didn’t even have the chance to see him after that first day and he still has a prosthetic eye he doesn’t know what to do with.
He watches his siblings walking in front of him and talking between themselves. He takes a pill.
The atmosphere at the lessons is tense. Viktor can’t focus on Constantinople–or Istanbul, whatever. All the words are the same to him, blurring into one congregated mess; his notebook is full of makeshift partitures and music notes and the occasional word he manages to catch.
He taps his pencil against the page and as discreetly as he’s able he turns to look at the others; Klaus is scribbling something Viktor’s sure is not what Pogo is explaining in a piece of paper, he folds it with unwarranted concentration and passes it to Diego, who takes it with a scowl that deepens at what he reads; Pogo turns, tries not to frown when he sees them and asks Diego a question. He doesn’t answer, mouth set in an angry line.
Luther raises his hand and taps, taps, taps his pen against the desk, Viktor breathes and resists the urge to cover his ears. His voice covers the room when Pogo nods at him; Klaus keeps folding paper; Diego shuffles, agitated; Ben turns pages, nose deep in a book with a lesson-unrelated book inside it; Luther keeps tapping and tapping and tapping; Allison scoots closer and hisses at him to stop it.
Viktor closes his eyes and tries, tries, tries not to put his hands over his ears. Why are they being so loud today? Klaus taps his foot against the floor in a rhythm Viktor knows to be a song, Pogo’s chalk shrieks .
He opens his eyes, holds his breath and stares at the crack in the wall, the one none of them know what caused it, it’s a diagonal that goes from the ceiling to the end of the board. He stares and stares and counts the seconds in his head.
After the class finishes and his siblings throttle out to change into their workout clothes and start training, Viktor stares at Pogo in a silent question.
“You won’t be needed this afternoon, Mister Viktor.” He says, gently and Viktor wishes he wasn’t. It’s all the same, nothing he wasn’t expecting. “You can rest or work on your new partitures, I’m certain it will be wonderful.”
And tries to smile, but it comes off more as a grimace.
Okay, then.
Once he is back in his room, he takes out the eye and stares at it, thinking. It’s brown and has a serial number at the back; it’s all he can say about it and it’s not like he’s in a mood to play detective, his thoughts keep circling back to Five and what kind of healing requires to be alone. He thinks Five doesn’t want to, not when the silence unsettled him so badly that day.
It doesn’t make sense, unless he’s contagious, somehow? A virus from the future? But then, Dad said nothing about that and they already hugged Five, if he has something then they all do too.
He sighs and tries to play the violin.
The pills are not helping.
His leg is bouncing and Pogo told him not to take more than one in the morning, after breakfast, and another one in the afternoon.
But–the pills are not helping.
Viktor glances at the door, then at his drawer, then at the door again. His siblings should be training for another two hours under Dad’s scrutiny. Mom does laundry today and Pogo should be in his study, doing—Pogo things. It should be clear in the infirmary.
His leg stills, he turns the pill bottle in his hand, considering and drops it on the bed, watching it bounce. Viktor knows what the anxiety is for and he knows what will help. His pulse quickens when he realizes where his thoughts are leading to.
He 's sneaking out. That’s what he’s doing.
He wants to see his brother and Dad’s order makes no sense. He would have listened if it was something else - someone else- but this is Five and he asked for Viktor when he wasn’t there and Viktor made gross sandwiches for him for two years and eight months.
So, he takes the eye, hides it in his pocket and exits his room, shoeless as he always is when he’s out doing something he shouldn’t and starts to walk towards the infirmary. Trying to be as quiet as possible, which is something he’s actually good at.
Being unimportant has its advantages, he thinks grimly and opens the infirmary door.
The middle bed is unmade, there’s a trail of empty dishes and Five is nowhere to be seen.
“Five?” He asks to the empty room, dread creeping into his chest.
Viktor looks around, but before his dread can grow into full panic, he hears a sound behind him. He turns around, pulse quickening; it takes him a moment to place where the clicking sound is coming from, it stops for a moment before resuming, near the wall. He narrows his eyes and sees a hand under the frame of the window, opening it. Viktor’s about to run and get Mom when he hears a very distinct: fuck.
“ Five.” Viktor hisses, running up to the window. “What are you doing ?”
Once the window is fully open, he peers inside and blinks a couple of times before smiling at him, still that unsettling beard in his face. Then he’s gone again and Viktor grabs the edge of the counter under the window to stand on his toes and see what Five’s doing. Naturally, he can’t see anything.
Just as he’s thinking to call him again a leg appears and Viktor jumps to the side to avoid being kicked; Five slowly gets his other leg through the window, then half of his torso and he stays there for a moment, arms still outside. It looks like someone didn’t think this through.
Five stiffles a groan, contorting to get the rest of his body inside. His foot catches on a bandage box and it falls to the ground with a soft thump; he curses creatively when he manages to get into a kneeling position, face twisting in pain and touching his leg for a moment, before letting go to grab the counter. Viktor decides to stop fluttering around uselessly and grabs him by the arm to help him come down; Five twitches, but doesn’t shove him away, so he ignores it for the moment.
“Viktor,” he says, finally grabbing his shoulder to help himself. “What a nice surprise, what brings you here?”
Viktor huffs, “why are you like this?”
Five sits down in the counter, legs dangling and jumps the rest of the way to the floor, which is a bad idea because his leg buckles under him and it takes all of Viktor’s strength to stop them from toppling on the floor.
As Five leans on the counter and tries to catch his breath Viktor takes a moment to observe him. He doesn’t look good; it’s the first thing that comes to mind. He doesn’t look good.
His dirt-free face is too pale, there’s dark bruises below his eyes, his lips are a chapped mess that will draw blood if Five bites them, his cheekbones are too prominent; Mom trimmed his beard so it’s not quite as long or messy and he’s in some jeans and a thin sweater he got from who knows where and are too big on him. His hands are trembling from supporting his weight and it’s taking him far too long to get his breathing under control.
“Where did you go?”
“Places.” He answers unhelpfully and peers at Viktor’s face with a crease between his eyes. “Ben told me you were sick.”
“I was,” he says, hovering nervously beside Five. If he could just sit, instead of grasping the counter to remain up. “You look–better.”
Not physically, not really, but he does look better, more present, he thinks. Sharper. Five hums and keeps staring at his face.
“Five,” Viktor says again, quite used to his stares even after all this time. “Please sit down.”
“I’m fine here.”
Viktor looks at him, hoping to convey with his expression alone that he’s not fine there. Five doesn’t get the hint and proceeds to try and fix his long hair, getting it out of his face. That done, he gets off the counter with a sigh, limps towards the bed and grabs the rumpled academy pajamas Viktor hadn’t noticed before.
He rolls his eyes at it and proceeds to take off his sweater.
“Oh!” Viktor exclaims, turning around and closing his eyes. “You could’ve warned me.”
Five makes an inquiring sound at the back of his throat, then the shuffling stops for a moment. “Oh, right.”
Viktor opens his eyes and stares at the wall in front of him. It has a dent, for some reason. Maybe Luther happened to it, maybe it has always been there.
“You can turn now.”
“Five,” Viktor says, once he’s watching him again. He’s standing up, wearing his pajamas. The other clothes are nowhere to be seen. “Can you sit down?”
His brother rolls his eyes, but complies anyway.
“So,” Viktor smiles once Five’s in bed, pulling out the eye from his pocket. “Someone left this on my pajamas, would you happen to know who it was?”
Five blinks at it, posture relaxing and smirks back.
“You should be more careful,” he says, taking it, Turning it to see the numbers at the back. “I hear there’s some weirdos out there.”
Viktor’s smile widens, “and creeps.”
“Ah, yes. We can’t forget about them.” He says. “I hear one arrived five days ago.”
His voice is still weird, raspy and something else. Enunciating carefully the words, taking his time with them. Viktor frowns when the words register.
“Seven.”
Five’s eyes flicker to him, “what?”
“Seven days ago.” Viktor repeats.
Five’s eyes widen and there’s an almost flinch that Viktor recognizes as–not fear, not really, but doesn’t know how else to name and then he’s back staring at the eye, blank mask returning.
“So,” Viktor clears his throat and waits until Five is looking at him. “So–where did you go?”
“Outside.” He says, and then presses his lips together, looking like he’s debating to tell him something else. Then: “To see a–friend.”
Viktor blinks, taken aback. “A friend?”
Five nods, but Viktor knows he’s not paying attention to him anymore. Eyes roaming around the room, not really seeing it, muttering under his breath and twisting the sheet in his fingers. He exhales, long enough for Viktor to know he’s preparing himself for something else.
So–he waits.
It’s not unusual, these silences between them, waiting for one of them to figure out the words they want to say. Five did it less, his MO was usually blinking into Viktor’s room mid-sentence, having already gone through the figuring out part in solitude.
“Have you thought about leaving, Viktor?” He asks, still holding the eye.
Viktor startles, pulse quickening and remembers long nights whispering, long nights making plans and plans and plans that only a kid thinks would work.
“You know I have,” he answers, quietly, “we’ve talked about it before.”
Five nods like he was expecting it, which Viktor knows he was. He tilts his head and considers Viktor, long hair falling on his face.
“We will leave,” Five says, intense green eyes coming alive, like all those nights. “All of us, no one stays behind and for that I need to figure out some things.”
It’s a lot, like a punch to the stomach, leaving him breathless. It’s not as– it’s not as if Viktor doesn't have plans on his own, he does, as far-fetched as they are, but it’s another matter to have Five– proactive and stubborn Five telling him that they will leave, all of them. Which is, Viktor notes with muted fondness, terribly ambitious and–
And the last time they talked about leaving Five ran away at breakfast.
He breathes deeply, willing that thought to go away, so he focuses on his brother, on the determination in his face, the undercurrent on his voice, what lies behind the resolution and that’s–
“Why? What’s the urgency?”
Five’s eyes flicker away, like a reflex and Viktor knows that look.
“The truth, please.” he asks, before Five can hide behind something.
He doesn’t lie directly, not really, but he’s good at half-truths and misdirections.
“I come from the future, remember? Some bad things are going to happen if we stay.” He says carefully and gesturing around him. “And you deserve better than this, all of you.”
Viktor blinks, heart beating so hard he’s half-afraid it’s going to give out. He makes the executive decision to focus on the first part. He can–he can dissect the other later, when he’s not at the edge of an anxiety attack.
“Is this about the end of the word?”
Five presses his lips together and Viktor knows he’s not going to say anything else. Viktor looks away. It’s his turn to figure out what he wants to say.
The last time they talked about leaving, Five came up with a terribly ambitious plan
“Just promise me you won't go away on your own.” Leave us.
“I need to go out. Prepare some things.” He says, sounding almost apologetic. “But I promise I will always come back.”
Viktor blinks. That’s not enough. And by Five’s grim expression, he knows it too, but it will have to do.
“Okay.” He nods “okay.”
It’s all he manages to say before the knob turns and they both flinch, staring at each other with wide eyes. Five pockets the eye and the door opens before Viktor can think to hide.
“Viktor!” Mom says, “ You cannot be here, dear. Your brother needs to rest.”
“I’m not visiting Five,” he says and winces immediately. He’s an awful liar. “I didn’t feel well and I thought you would be here.”
Mom frowns, thinking about that and then smiles. “Oh! In that case there’s no need to bother your father, is it?” She walks towards him and touches Viktor’s forehead. “What is bothering you?”
He hums, “my head.”
She tuts and walks towards the medicine cabinet, entering the key and getting out two pill bottles.
Mom watches as Viktor swallows the pills and then turns towards Five, a softer smile on her face. Viktor feels warm at that.
“Here, dear.” Mom says, giving Five two pills. “You forgot to take them this morning.”
Five stares at them, a crease between his eyes that smoothes out when he accepts them. Mom watches him carefully, to be certain he’s taking them. They had a habit of spitting out pills when they were younger and Mom hasn’t let them get away with that again.
Mom turns when she’s satisfied and begins to steer Viktor out with a hand on his shoulder. He glances back at Five.
“Now, let’s go back to your room, Viktor.”
Viktor hesitates, hand raised to knock on the door.
It’s far past their bedtimes, he doesn't have his shoes on and knows that Ben is always awake at this hour. Reading, most likely.
He really shouldn’t interrupt him, he was nearly vibrating at breakfast, shrinking into himself, like he does when he comes back home after missions, covered head to toe in blood. But– Ben went to him after he saw Five, it’s only fair he does the same.
He knocks before he loses his courage.
There’s no answer, Viktor deflates, arms around his middle and turns to leave, but hears a soft thump and a muffled curse. Viktor raises his eyebrows, surprised and well aware Ben doesn’t curse often.
His curiosity gets the best of him and he opens the door.
The room is faintly lit by the lamp in Ben's nightstand and Viktor notices him sitting on the edge of his bed, rubbing his leg with one hand and clutching the other one on his covers.
“It’s not a good moment Viktor.” He says, eyes closed. “Sorry.”
Viktor curls into himself, arms returning to his middle, wondering why he came when he’s never welcome. He’s not important enough, but this is not about him.
“It’s about Five.” He murmurs and grimaces at his weak voice. That’s one of the reasons nobody takes him seriously.
“What about him?”
Just as Viktor is preparing himself to tell him that he went to see Five against orders, Ben gives a full-body shiver and presses his hands against his stomach. Viktor automatically takes a step back and swallows up the guilt when Ben shrinks into himself.
“Are you–are you alright?”
Ben glares, “what do you want, Viktor?”
Viktor flinches, this– this was a bad idea, a terrible one, actually. Why is he doing this? Antagonizing the only sibling that will look at him.
Ben’s eyes flicker around the room, never staying in one point more than a second, before he closes them, hugging his stomach harder and lowering his head. The only sound in the room is his harsh breathing.
“I’m sorry,” he gasps, like it hurts to talk. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry, I’m not. ”
Viktor watches him with wide eyes, pulse quickening and he doesn’t understand this sudden desperation, the way Ben is trying so hard to suppress this, trembling against his best efforts. It’s not even that bad, everyone is angry all the time, even if Viktor stopped feeling like that after his dose increased.
“I’m not angry,“ he repeats and this time it sounds like a command, something powerful lurking behind his voice and Viktor is once again reminded that he's not like them.
Ben is not trying to convince him.
He pushes down, down, down whatever feelings want to come out at that and focuses on Ben, on his shiny eyes that seem to reflect in the dark, on his pressed hands against his stomach and he notices that Ben turned enough to not be in front of Viktor, in The Horror’s direct path.
Some of his blood leaves his face, but he feels as detached as ever and sits on the bed, putting a hand on Ben’s shoulder, hoping it won't be pushed away.
“Okay.” He says and regrets it immediately. What a stupid thing to say, but it doesn’t look like Ben heard him anyway.
He heaves a breath and says, like it’s being choked out of him: “you’re afraid.”
Viktor doesn’t even startle this time. He’s at his limit of surprise statements for the day, so he stares at the side of Ben’s face, instead, trying and failing to name the look on his face other than despair.
“What?” He asks anyway.
Ben grimaces, “it’s–you–You smell afraid. Everyone is, I know, sorry.” He curls more into himself, forehead almost touching his knees. “This–this thing is getting angrier and the rest–the rest have been avoiding me, did you notice?”
He didn’t.
“Well,” Viktor says, knowing whatever he says will be terribly inadequate.“I’m still here.”
Ben huffs a laugh that sounds more like a sob and doesn’t say anything else. It feels so insignificant, but Viktor leaves his hand where he is, with the uncomfortable feeling that he should be doing something else, but not knowing what.
Eventually Ben’s breathing stabilizes, his muscles untense behind Viktor’s hand and he uncurls, hesitant and blinking rapidly, like he’s waking up. Viktor gives a last awkward pat and retracts his hand, watching as Ben goes to the middle of the bed and makes himself comfortable there.
“That was a bit melodramatic.” He says, letting his head fall against his headboard. “Klaus is not avoiding me, but he doesn’t have self-preservation instincts, either.”
Viktor huffs, too tired to summon a laugh. He’s always too tired.
Ben glances at him, considering and Viktor feels the beginnings of dread climbing in his chest when he sees the hands still pressed against his stomach tremble. He braces himself.
“Dad wants me to do more special training.”
Viktor doesn’t know what his special training entails, he doesn’t know what any of their special training entails, in fact. No one has ever told him.
He knows, though, that Ben is terrified of his. That he can’t keep himself from crying all night when it’s over, that he looks pale and sick the day after. That he can’t look anyone in the eyes.
Viktor wonders, behind the twisting in his chest, why Ben is confiding this to him when he has never before. Even when he asked. Maybe it has something to do with everyone else –minus Klaus, apparently– avoiding him and Viktor is still here, after all.
“He’s taking at heart Five’s warning.” Ben’s smile is grim. “I cannot–” he falters, face falling. “I can’t do this anymore Viktor.”
Ah. That’s what changed.
It’s something bigger than themselves, is what Dad is always saying. The Academy is the only thing standing between evil and humanity, it’s their duty to surround themselves to the service of justice and for that they need to be stronger and faster and better.
So, training is harsher than usual and Viktor is not allowed to help anymore.
The End of the World is a pretty big thing, with The Umbrella Academy as the only line of defense. His extraordinary siblings with their extraordinary powers will stop it, there’s no doubt of that in Viktor’s mind, but they need this–the training, together and something else joins the dread in Viktor’s chest, constricting it until it’s hard to breathe.
It’s bigger than their own feelings, Diego knows it, swallowing his anger when he has to follow Luther’s orders and Viktor–Viktor would be able to know it, too, if he was given the chance. He would be able to push through this fear, just to be a part of it , of the line connecting everyone with each other and with the rest of the world, instead of sitting alone in his tiny room for hours, wondering if he’s even real and Viktor feels–he feels like a terrible thing, thinking like that when Ben is shivering in front of him, looking terrified of the thing that makes him extraordinary, but the guilt never comes.
He feels worse, for that, and clutches his pill bottle, hidden in his pocket.
He thinks about taking one, about offering, but Ben’s face twists into resignation and Viktor doesn’t know what is happening inside him anymore, so he opens his mouth to offer an empty reassurance.
“He’s planning to get us out.” It’s what comes out instead. “Five told me we are going to leave.”
Ben’s eyes widen and Viktor can feel himself mirroring his expression, quickly morphing into horror at the realization of what he just blurted, giving Five away like that. His breath hitches and his eyes dart around, half-expecting to see Dad in the darkness, but it’s only Ben and him in the room.
“How–How do you know that?” Ben asks, carefully.
Viktor’s looks at him and his eyes seem to shine brighter under the faint light the lava lamp offers, he thinks it was a gift from a fan and the contradicting emotions inside him increase. It’s too much and he feels himself shaking, trembling pathetically in front of a brother that confided in him, giving away the trust of his other brother.
He gives up and takes a pill under Ben’s scrutinizing eyes.
“I went to see him.” He finally says, as the storm inside him stops being so loud.
Ben’s lips twitch upwards, “you disobeyed?”
Viktor mirrors the faint smile, but he doesn’t feel the amusement, muted with everything else. He thinks about his earlier interaction with Five, instead. He didn’t tell Viktor to keep it a secret and he will have to tell everyone, eventually. And Ben is good at keeping secrets.
He still shouldn't have said it.
“All of us?” Ben asks after a moment, voice small. “Where are we even going to stay?”
Ben is good at keeping secrets and maybe–maybe he will stop looking so resigned, it’s scaring Viktor, he recognizes now that he’s not bustling with it, waiting for the implosion.
“He said he’s preparing some things.”
There’s hesitant hope in Ben’s eyes, Viktor thinks. He places his hands on his stomach again, blinking rapidly.
“I–” He falters and breathes deeply. He tries again. “I’ve been thinking about university.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I just needed to wait another three years.” He says, looking around, like he expects to see someone else there, too. “Haven’t you thought about that?”
Viktor hums, “I think we all have. Maybe not university, but–”
“Leaving, yeah.” Ben whispers.
Viktor thinks about it, about the rest of his siblings, if it’s going to be as easy as it is with Ben and himself.
Ben is always afraid and Diego is always angry and Allison is always on top of the world, untouchable. Luther is always confident and Klaus is always–not happy, but giddy, amused at a joke only he knows.
And Five is always an unstoppable force, two steps forward until they lose sight of him.
It’s going to be a disaster.
“Maybe not Luther.” Viktor says and then thinks more about that. “Definitely not him.”
Ben tilts his head, “and Diego, I’m not sure about him.”
They fall in silence and Viktor is pleased to note Ben looks calmer if hesitant, less like he wants to crawl under the bed and never come out. He expected more questions, though.
It’s in the silence he notices the noise, the hiss, like nails against the wall, but Ben’s hands are still around his stomach, curling around his sweater. Viktor decides to ignore it until it sounds again.
He frowns at the door, “did you hear something?”
“No,” Ben says, eyes closed. “Maybe there’s rats.”
“Maybe.” Viktor clears his throat and narrows his eyes. “Don’t tell anyone this.”
Ben stares at him, an expression he doesn’t really know how to decipher, but he’s too exhausted to try.
“Okay.”