Chapter Text
Five was willing to admit that therapy wasn’t as bad as he initially thought it’d be. The first session had been daunting, and he wasn’t sure how it would go or what he’d be asked or expected to share, but he knew it was important to his siblings that he try at least, so he went. Viktor had managed to convince the others to stay home with the reasoning that it might overwhelm Five. He wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t mean Five had to be happy about the fact that he was apparently so easy to read.
He’d been going to therapy once a week for a month now, and while he still struggled and the itch to hurt himself remained, he had learnt some better coping mechanisms that worked often enough that he hadn’t cut himself in a little over a week. Talking to a stranger about his problems helped more than he expected it would.
All in all, Five would say he’d been doing okay lately – though the bar for okay was basically on the floor at this point, so take that with a grain of salt.
To celebrate ‘how well Five had been doing with therapy’ – Viktor’s words – they had decided to reinstate family game night, something they had tried a while back but put an end to when it ended with several game pieces embedded in the walls, a smashed table, cards being used as weapons and a food fight breaking out.
Almost all of his siblings were in the living room, surrounded by various snack foods, blankets and cushions – Klaus and Ben had decided a blanket fort was necessary for ‘the experience’, whatever that meant.
Diego had been absent since breakfast, and Five took it upon himself to go drag him out of his room – and wow, wasn’t that a change from how it’d been recently. Diego had been really withdrawn lately, and Five was worried it had something to do with his depression. He’d said therapy had been really helping him too, but Five knew depression didn’t just go away because you had some good days.
Five got no reply when he knocked, and without hesitation, he shoved the door open and hurried into the room. He’d been worried he’d find Diego dead on the floor or maybe turning to the same ‘coping mechanism’ Five had; instead he found an empty room and a desk covered in papers and photos. It looked like something related to his vigilante work. Weird. Five thought Diego had taken a break from all of that.
Five had this clawing feeling of unease that he couldn’t explain. Something felt off, and a part of him wanted to leave, but curiosity overrode the apprehension, and he slowly approached the mess of a desk.
The moment he saw the guy in one of the photos, he felt violently ill. It was him, the man who attacked him. He recognised him right away. A couple of the other photos were of him too, but one of them was of a house, the address scribbled in messy handwriting on the back. His address. His house.
Amongst the plethora of papers was a record of previous crimes (mostly misdemeanours), his place of work, a copy of his driver’s licence, and a list of friends, family members, and associates. Even the cafes he liked to frequent were documented.
Five could now put a name to the face that had been haunting his dreams for months. He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
Why the fuck did Diego have all of this? More importantly, why didn’t he tell him? How long had he been gathering all this information?
He heard the front door slam and Diego’s voice greeting the others. Before he could even process what he was doing, Five grabbed the photo of the house and folded it up, putting it in his hoodie pocket. He then grabbed the rest of the papers and photos and stormed downstairs, righteous rage driving him.
He could feel himself shaking – whether from anger or anxiety he couldn’t tell – as he entered the living room where all his siblings now were. They were talking, likely asking when Diego had gone out, considering they all thought he’d been in his room the whole day.
Klaus was the first to notice Five’s presence and immediately picked up on the absolutely-not-okay vibes he was sending off. “Five, everything alright?” he asked hesitantly.
The others turned to look his way, and Diego paled upon seeing what Five was holding.
“Why don’t you ask Diego?” Five seethed; he could feel his fuse growing shorter by the second.
He chucked the papers and photos onto the coffee table for his siblings to look at.
“What is this?” Viktor asked, directing the question at Diego but glancing over at Five in barely veiled concern.
Diego opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. He just stood there, like a fish out of water.
This further pissed Five off.
“Not only did he decide to track down the guy who raped me, but he also thought he had the fucking right to decide whether I should know.”
Five’s blood boiled, and he trembled from his barely contained fury. How dare Diego go behind his back like this. Finding out that bastard’s name should have been Five’s choice and no one else’s.
Allison picked up one of the papers and frowned. “What the actual fuck, Diego?”
“And you just kept this from all of us? From Five?” Viktor looked incensed on his behalf. Five heard a couple of windows break in another room but thankfully nothing more than that.
Klaus and Ben looked equally appalled by what Five could only describe as a betrayal, and Klaus glanced his way with a level of understanding that Five wouldn’t wish on any of their siblings. This felt like another violation.
Luther didn’t look as surprised as the others, just guilty. But why would he feel guilty? Unless…
Five felt like the air had been knocked out of him for the second time that day. “You knew.” It wasn’t a question. “You knew what Diego had been doing.”
“Luther?” Allison questioned, turning to him, appearing as pissed as Five felt.
Before Luther could speak, likely to explain himself, Diego said, “I asked him not to say anything.”
This set his siblings off, and they began yelling. Five had already started to back out of the room, instinctively just wanting to escape. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. His therapist had taught him more breathing exercises on top of all the ones Viktor and Ben had shared with him, and right now he couldn’t remember any of them.
“I can’t be here right now.” His voice sounded distant, and he felt entirely disconnected from his words.
He wasn’t about to teleport off to the middle of nowhere even though he really wanted to, but he needed space, even if that just meant locking himself away in his room.
Ben stepped forward, one hand outstretched, reaching for him but never coming close to touching him. “Five–”
Five retreated further, holding up his hands as if getting ready to shove away anyone who came close. “No. Just leave me alone.”
He ran up the stairs and headed dazedly to his room. He slammed the door behind him, his hands trembling as he locked it. He stumbled back to his bed where Mr Pennycrumb lay sleeping – at least until he heard the distressed noise Five made as he collapsed beside him.
Mr Pennycrumb didn’t know what had happened, just that his owner was upset, which was enough to drive him to crawl onto his lap and curl up there, burying his face in the crook of the boy’s arm.
He was confused when his owner didn’t immediately start petting him. This usually worked to cheer him up.
Mr Pennycrumb looked up at the boy and whined a little when he saw the tears on his face.
“I’m okay,” he insisted, persistently scrubbing at the tears on his face.
Mr Pennycrumb didn’t understand why his owner was lying, but he knew he needed to do more to help, so he nuzzled at his hand in an attempt to distract him from whatever was bothering him – and maybe a little because he wanted some pets.
The boy’s hand shook as it started to card through his fur, and Mr Pennycrumb leant into the touch.
Not much time had passed since the boy had shown up in the room, and already Mr Pennycrumb could hear someone approaching and knocking at the door.
“Five?” Mr Pennycrumb recognised the voice right away. His tail started wagging. It was one of his owner’s brothers, the one that often snuck him treats and wore flowy skirts with soft material that he loved to rub his face on. After his owner, he was his favourite person. “Five, buddy, I need to know that you’re alright. I need you to open the door for me. Can you do that?” The brother’s voice was soft and calm, but Mr Pennycrumb could sense the urgency behind his words.
His owner said nothing in response and just curled in on himself, holding Mr Pennycrumb tightly but not uncomfortably.
Mr Pennycrumb’s sensitive ears picked up a sound he didn’t recognise, and this was soon followed by the door opening and the brother stepping inside. He closed the door behind him and slowly approached.
“Five?”
“I’m okay,” the boy repeated, but Mr Pennycrumb could tell that the brother didn’t believe him either. He was a smart human. Mr Pennycrumb knew he’d helped his owner before; maybe he could again.
Mr Pennycrumb whined again and prodded at his owner’s arms.
“You don’t have to be.”
The boy moved to lie down as the brother sat down on the floor beside the bed. “I’ll be okay,” he corrected and hugged Mr Pennycrumb close to his chest. “I’ll be okay.”
Mr Pennycrumb barked softly in response, and the small smile that graced his owner’s face assured him that he would, in fact, be okay. And however long that took, Mr Pennycrumb would stay by his side. He knew that the brother would too and that so would his other siblings.