Archive of Our Own

He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t fucking breathe, and no one noticed, no one cared, he couldn’t breathe . He looks around, wide eyes, sweating. No one even looked at him. He was dying . They all were. They’d all die again. They’d die again, and again, and he’d likely watch them die each time. No matter what he did, they’d always die. Why was he the only one who cared?

It wasn’t enough. He tried, fuck did he try . He tried so hard, it’s been the only purpose in his life for the last 45 fucking years. It’s all he’s done, all he’s thought about, all he’s had to prepare for. It’s like they didn’t even fucking care . They’re just sitting there, eating, talking, laughing, reminiscing. Making plans like they’ll be there to fulfill those plans-

But they won’t. They can’t be. They’re dying. They’re dying, he’s dying, he’ll watch them die, he’ll watch them die-

Strangled gasp for air, his hands are on his neck. Scratching at his tie, pulling the first button open, his lungs heave and he still can’t breathe. He stares helplessly in front of him, at nothing, at the ash falling, it’s covering him, his sibling bodies. It’s all he can breathe. It’s thick, he can’t breathe through all that ash.

There’s hands on him, but that’s not right, there weren’t any hands here-?

“St op .” His cracked voice calls out, he can’t breathe. He needs them to stop, he needs the ash to stop, he needs to stop dying, he needs them to stop dying.

Hushed voices around him, questioning tones, soothing tones, scared tones. Were they as scared as him? Did they realize they were dying too? Did they finally realize? Would they stop dying now? He couldn’t hear them, couldn’t make out the sounds, the ash was too thick.

It was scary, he was scared . He was dying. He didn’t like dying, why did this keep happening?

His lungs ache for air, his body trembles and tears pour out of his eyes now. His whole body aching for air, aching to survive. Survive this moment, and he can keep saving them. He can keep doing this until they’re safe, he just needs to get past this moment.

It’s always surviving. When does he just get to live?

“Dolores-” He calls out, he’s reaching around, where is she? She doesn’t die, she never dies, she knows what to do, she knows how to survive. She always knows what to say. He can’t find her, he’s blinking tears away, wiping them away, his eyes burn the ash is in his eyes.


Where was Dolores? Where were his siblings- he’s not here, he’s not in the apocalypse anymore, where is everyone, he needs them, they need him, they’re dying, he’s dying.

“I- I’m dying . I’m dying.” His raspy voice, his throat hurt, “ I’m dying, ” He pleads, he needed help, he needed to survive, he couldn’t die, not yet, not without his family.

‘You’re not dying, Five. You’re having an anxiety attack. You need to breathe. ” Who was that, Diego? Diego’s here- He reaches out and grabs onto the cloth in front of him. The shirt of Diego, he found him. He’ll save him. “Slow breathes, deep Five, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He tried. He tried to breathe, it was hard, the ash hurt, he choked around the thick ash in his throat and breathed with Diego. “That’s right, you’re doing so good.”

How does Diego know, he is dying, he keeps dying, he told Diego he watched them all die. He’ll see it again.

He didn’t want to see it again.

“Five, we’re safe , we’re home . We’re not dying.” Viktor? Where was he- there were shapes around him. Was his whole family here? Were they together? He just scoots closer to whoever he was holding onto, he couldn’t grab them all but he could grab- Diego?

“We’re not going anywhere.” A softer voice. Still deep. Klaus? Klaus had the silly softer voice. He choked on a half laugh, half sob. His face is shoved in the shirt he was holding. Diego? Diego was always sappy, Five didn’t mean to tell him he saw them die. Why did Diego let all his emotions show on his face like that? It was unfair, it made everything distracting.

His ragged breaths slowed from his previous hyperventilating state. He hadn’t realized he was breathing like that. It didn’t feel like he was breathing. His lungs ached, but if he was breathing, he didn’t know why they hurt. There wasn’t ash- why did it hurt?

Why did everything hurt if he was home? He tried looking around, holding closely to Diego still. His siblings were there. There was no ash. Why did this keep happening? Why did he lose grip? His breath caught in his throat regardless, harsh sob wracking his body still.

Coming down still hurt, it was scary, he still felt like he was dying, but he could hold onto Diego and look around. He was alive, his siblings were alive, they were home. Safe. It was over.

Shaky arms wrapping around Diego’s chest. They weren’t dying. The apocalypse is over. They evaded death and it was over. He couldn’t figure out how to live instead of survive, but it helped to hold Diego. If it was over, why did it feel like this? How could he feel the past so well instead of the present, or the future. Why did the past hurt.

It was over. He melts into the hug. More arms eventually joined it, and it didn’t hurt so bad.