Chapter Text
There's not much Vanya can say about soulmates, despite the fact that she researched them thoroughly. The only thing that all scientists agree on is that it doesn't really matter if you've known that person for a day or a lifetime, your marks will react only in specific circumstances. No one knows why but most people agree that it's because the timing it's right. She thinks it's quite annoying, the idea that you might encounter your soulmate and don't know because some force above you didn't think it was the right moment doesn't sit right with her. But, then, not everything is right in the world and Vanya is more than familiar with the concept. Still, she'll occasionally look at her black fingertips and wonder who is she supposed to touch and when for them to light up in all the colours of the rainbow.
After it finally happens, she thinks 'the right timing' thing it's just bullshit.
Five is not exactly thrilled by the concept of soulmates. It's no doubt an interesting subject but it has pretty much no scientific explanation and it's something that seems destined to just be, regardless of the how or the why. It's frustrating, for someone as logical as him. He only rarely thinks about who it might be, despite the fact that his gaze drops to his own mark, or marks, often enough that his siblings mistook it for longing. It isn't, not really. It's just interesting to observe the pattern the black patches of skin form and try to guess what kind of touch would leave such marks.
After it happens, he thinks that whatever it is that controls those things should just go fuck itself.
Reginald's funeral is exactly the shit show Vanya had expected it to be, with the only exception being her missing brother falling from the sky. He says he's fifty-eight while making a sandwich and, okay, Vanya feels a little concussed if she's being honest. Happiness is there too, of course, but the usual numbness from her pills keeps it at bay even during their small talk in front of his portrait — One and Two still fight, Three is sadder but as confident as ever, Four is still high, Six won't fall from the sky like Five. Seven still watches from afar and then goes home feeling just as empty as before. Until she opens the door to see her brother waiting for her in complete darkness like the weirdo he used to be (is).
Five being Five doesn't really think twice about going to Vanya's place and waiting for her to come home. Of course, in hindsight, he should have thought of warning her. He doesn't, however, and just follows the scrap of paper with her address that Pogo had quietly slipped in his pocket until he reaches the right building.
He looks up at the open window of the second-floor apartment and sighs, knowing all too well that this body wouldn't be able to jump again.
"Fuck."
Five sits on an armchair after closing the window and trying to lock it without success.
Briefly, he runs a hand through his hair, a desperate way to appear as collected as he can even as he hears the door opening.
It's only then that he turns the lamp on.
"Christ!"
Five inwardly grimances, noticing for the first time how creepy the situation must appear to her but still appreciating the theatricality of it all — God, I really am a smug bastard, aren't I?
"You should have locks on your windows."
Because of course Vanya wouldn't. She had always been careless like that.
"I live on the second floor."
"Rapists can climb."
And since no one noticed a kid climbing through her window he doesn't think passers by would be of any help.
"You're so weird."
Five raises an eyebrow at the exasperated fondness radiating from her words and takes the time to acknowledge who his favourite member of the household had become in his absence.
He doesn't particularly like what he sees.
There are bags under her eyes that clearly indicate many sleepless nights, her clothes are chosen to fit every background and her hair is shorter, tied back in a sloppy bun that's the direct opposite of the long waves he remembers running his fingers through as kids.
She doesn't care about herself enough to have healthy habits and it shows — god, she's so thin, does she eat at all?
Besides that, Vanya is still very much similar to the lovely little thing he left behind.
Size wise too, he thinks, biting back a smirk.
His gaze is, as it had always used to be, drawn to the black fingertips of her hands. Apparently she still hasn't found her soulmate. The smugness that comes with that thought is quickly stored away, too bitter and cruel to be analysed further.
"Is that blood?" asks Vanya, concern shining through the facade of detachment.
"It's nothing." He says quickly, not wanting to face the subject with her.
"Why are you here?"
"I've decided you're the only one I can trust."
I need your support more than anyone else's right now.
"Why me?"
Because you're Vanya.
"Because you're ordinary."
Vanya deflates, obviously hurt and feeling rejected and Five swears in his mind — I really am a goddamn genius, I managed to find the most horrible thing I could say to her and just spit it out without a second thought. How can she understand how important her being ordinary is without even knowing about the apocalypse?
"Because you'll listen." He amends, praying for it to be enough.
"Okay." Vanya says, right before getting up.
He looks at her go and wonders if he's crossed the line, if he fucked this up too and she wants him to go away now. Vanya comes back with medical supplies and he can't help but soften, the image so familiar it causes a pang of intense regret in his chest.
"Let me see..." Vanya whispers, preparing some bandages and hissing sympathetically when he shows her the gash on his arm. It's still bleeding right between his own soulmark, a series of black, dot-like shapes.
Slowly, as if she were approaching a wounded animal Vanya grasps his arm.
And it immediately flares up in a shower of colours, just like her fingertips.
She gasps, letting go of his arm and watching her hands with disbelief.
Five lets his fingers caress the rainbow coloured patches of skin and wonders at the curious feeling blossoming in his chest.
It's awe, he thinks, it must be.
As quickly as it came, though, it leaves, dread springing up in its place.
A soulmate.
Eight days before the apocalypse and he found his soulmate. Vanya, of all people. The sister he left behind ended up being the one person he should've spent a lifetime with. Five feels sick, the irony too much for him to bear.
Vanya is still staring at her hands, brightly coloured fingertips stark against her pale skin, with wonder and something akin to joy in her eyes. She had always wanted to meet her soulmate, he remembers suddenly. The thought of having someone to love and to receive love from had been a lifeline for the loneliest of the Hargreeves siblings. Five can see the exact moment she realizes who her soulmate is in her eyes. Wonder morphs into shock and joy leaves its place to a frustration that screams of missed chances.
Without saying a word, Vanya patches him up, lips pulled into a tight smile, and pointedly ignores the rainbow coloured patches of skin surrounding his wound.
He leaves, what he'd wanted to say completely forgotten in the face of their new predicament.
The door shutting behind him has an air of finality he doesn't dwell on.