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Five’s thirteen, and its days before he time travels.
Five waves a hand infront of Klaus’ face, Ben watching silently at the side.
After a while, he just picks the earplugs out of Klaus’ ears. Klaus immediately slaps his hands onto his ears, book slamming shut, the precious page he was on now lost. Five feels a twinge of annoyance when he sends him a look, glaring at his book.
“Hello? I’ve been trying to get your attention for five minutes, Four. I don’t have all day, you know?”
“It’s Klaus. Seems like you have all day to kiss good old Reggie’s ass, though.” Five squints his eyes at the flimsy composure of his brother.
“Is something wrong?”
“Why would you care? You ripped my earplugs off,” Klaus points out, reaching for the bright pink plugs in Five’s palm, wincing when his hand leaves his ear. Now Five is concerned.
He takes note of the slightly hysterical look in Klaus’ eyes, the way he looks far away.
“Klaus, you can tell him.” Ben’s voice is softer than Five’s, but it speaks volumes.
Klaus stares at Five, usually an open book, but annoyingly unreadable. Its moments like these, when intense green eyes focus on Five’s, that he wishes his powers were mind reading.
“Fine,” He sighs, flopping back onto the black armchair with shocking pink stitching and pillows.
“Sometimes, I get, ghosts. And they scream.”
“Wait.. what?” Five doesn’t mean for his voice to drip with so much sarcasm, but he’s impatient. Ben sends him a look. Five shrugs, motioning for Klaus to continue.
He closes his eyes. Klaus doesn’t open them.
“They’re always screaming. And they’re worse. During special training.”
“At first, they don’t know I can see them. But they always, always, notice. “ Ben slides over and puts his hand over Klaus’ knee.
Five doesn’t know what to say. He knew to some extent that Ben and Klaus didn’t like their powers, but…
“Does it ever stop?” He barely hears the small ‘no’, before there’s a look on Klaus’ face that Five sees on people before they cry.
“Even if he tries to stop them, he just slips through. Really messes with his reality.” Ben sends him a look that reads, no begs, him to stay, to help Klaus.
Five chooses teleporting way.
As the blue light encapsulates him, he catches the pleading look in Klaus’ eyes, and he averts his eyes.
He doesn’t even know why he went to his room.
Klaus doesn’t talk to him for three days.
Then he does, and he acts the same as he’s always done; loud, outgoing, but this time Five notices the dark circles under his eyes.
They never talk about the ghosts.
-
Five’s twenty…something. Who knows.
He doesn’t say anything when Delores points to the earplugs, bright pink underneath the rubble, somehow full of life as an inanimate object.
‘Pick them up.’ Five knew better than to deny Delores, picking them up with crooked fingers.
They looked out of place, considering the sheer amount of rubble and body parts, dried up blood, and ash that littered the scene. There were bits of books that gave him the impression of a possible bookstore, but was anything sure in the apocalypse?
The plugs looked like the ones Klaus would wear, to block out the ghost’s constant screaming.
One time, Klaus, in a fit of pure frustration, had told Five. About the ghosts. The screaming, the pure devastation when one made eye contact with him, mouth opening.
How nothing stopped them, not that he would try. He would just slip through them. Five hadn’t known what to do. He had teleported away.
He regrets it, now.
Would Klaus even tell him, if Ben hadn’t prodded?
He could almost picture it, the store that would’ve been here. The way Klaus would’ve plugged the earplugs in to block out the screeching, the way his eyes would zone in on the words as he brought the book closer to his face. Maybe he would’ve liked history. Who knew.
‘When you get back, ask him. What type of book he likes.’ Five raises an eyebrow. When? What happened to if? Five chuckles at the exasperation in Delore’s voice, hugging her torso closer.
‘Stop being so negative, Five. You know you’ll be able to get the equation right. Be patient.’ But when? Be patient.
Five plugs the earplugs in.
Maybe it’ll help him block out the voices haunting him, always following him, loud in the otherwise silent apocalypse.
‘If you get back, give them to Klaus. He’ll like it.’ Five shakes his head, but he knows he’ll do it anyways.
-
Five is an old man.
He’s weary, and he’s slower in movement, but quicker in mind, quicker to find food. He passes by the graves he made. The heartpain never lessens.
His eyelashes flutter, caked in ash, and his feet wobble as he stands. He watches, as his surroundings burn, and ash fills his lungs, and the question if he’ll survive this hangs in the air, unspoken.
He knows Delores will, though, with her determination. And when the Handler comes around he leaves her behind. He takes the earplugs. He’ll never leave the earplugs. He made a promise to Delores, that he will give them to Klaus. He waves to her as she leaves, and he thinks he sees a tear on her cheek, but she’s enthralled.
When he gets back and saves his family, he will find Delores. When, not if.
-
Five’s hair is trimmed, he’s cleaned up, and he’s been with the commission for years.
He’s got it, he realizes. He’s got the equation. How anticlimactic, that he’s finally got the answer to a decades long question of survival, of beating brittle, flimsy time into stability, that’ll possibly mess up the timeline, as he’s protecting it.
But he’s not letting his family die. He’s going to save the world, when he gets back.
He stares at the pink earplugs in the palm of his hand, carefully kept clean after all these years, and rips the space around him.
-
Five’s thirteen and fifty-eight and an old man and a child at the same time, and his mind’s muddy with equations and blaring red ‘incoming apocalypse’ signs, but one thing is clear, precise, sharp in his otherwise jumbled mind.
The plugs. The pink earplugs that have been with him through thick and thin.
Voices are chattering. There’s too many. Five zones in on one, and he’ll deal with the rest later.
He picks himself up because everyone’s too busy arguing, and his eyes single in on one figure, hands outstretched, frozen, staring at him.
His palms are cold and clammy, but he manages to slap the bright pink plugs into Klaus’ hands, and the way his face twists with the memory is bittersweet. It’s not a good one, but its one of the few Five remembers with strong clarity, because Klaus chose him.
And he messed it up.
For a moment, clarity fills Klaus’ eyes. Five is jubilant.
Delores was right. Being nice was a chore, but worth it.
Klaus plugs the earplugs in to block out the arguing, and possibly the ghosts that must be haunting him. He bows dramatically, hand out, gesturing grandly to the academy behind him, and Five takes the hand steps in.