Work Text:
After many, many, many insufferable hours of gloomily sulking in the corner, Ben finally downs his last glass of champagne and ditches the wedding festivities.
He spares a glance at Sloane's glowing smile as he exits. Faced with the rare, unwavering joy on his sister's face (his only remaining sister, he thinks bitterly), he hates himself a little more when his heart thuds with jealousy.
What a miserable creature he is.
Stumbling down the steps to the courtyard behind the hotel, Ben discovers that his drunken bleariness apparently results in a total lack of situational awareness. As he collapses onto the cobbled path leading to the yard, he doesn’t even acknowledge the other figure across from him until they awkwardly clear their throat.
"If you're going to throw up, try to aim for the corner so I don't smell it."
Ben scowls at the youngest (oldest?) member of the umbrella academy. "Fuck off, you pre-pubescent prick." He does, however, begrudgingly crawl over to situate himself in the corner of the square sitting area, a stone’s throw away from where Five is tucked against a chair.
Five rolls his eyes and flips him the bird before taking a swig out of the drink in his hand. He doesn't move to leave or respond, however, so Ben resigns himself to suffering through his presence. He mourns what was supposed to be his break from social interaction.
After an uncomfortably long silence, Ben snaps again. "What are you even doing out here? What happened to partying it up with your morse–no–mormon– moronic siblings?" His words slur with the alcohol in his system.
Five ignores him for a beat before sighing, fixing his gaze up at the apocalyptic sky. "I could ask you the same thing."
Ben glares at Five. "Well, asshole, you killed all of them."
"Sloane is literally in there right now."
"Okay fine, you killed almost all of them, dickhead."
Five looks down and squints at Ben. His eyes are slightly unfocused, probably because he's also drunker than he's ever been in his entire life (an impressive feat given his loving, intimate history with vodka and margaritas).
"Well, for what it's worth, I am sorry about that." He looks like he means it, but Ben only gets more irritated by the earnestness.
"Sorry doesn't mean shit. You killed my fucking family. " To his credit, Five actually does look regretful. He also looks like he deeply regrets having this conversation.
"Actually, forget it. It wasn't even you, it was your brother and his creepy pet-grandpa." Ben scoffs and meets Five's eyes. "With your weak-ass blinky powers, you couldn't kill a sparrow if you tried." Ben knows Five can time travel, and also is a former assassin, but he feels like arguing right now.
Unfortunately, Five doesn't rise to the bait. "Yeah, well, you're one to talk about shitty powers." Ben's face contorts with offense, but Five continues before he can respond.
"My brother Ben–our Ben, the one I grew up with–his powers got him killed."
Ok. What .
Ben stares at him with some muted shock. The alcohol in him is uncomfortably warm.
"I mean, I wasn't even there when it happened but, according to my siblings, it was pretty bad." Five smiles ruefully. "The tentacles just …ripped him right apart." He takes another sip of his drink.
Ben recoils. He remembers when he used to struggle against his abilities, but his tentacles had never been volatile enough to actually hurt him. He shudders at the thought, scratching at his chin.
He’s silent for some time, until
"You know, you and your brothers keep bringing up this other Ben you guys knew, and it's pretty pathetic." Okay, he knows it's cruel to say right after Five talked about his brother killing himself, but. Fuck man . What else could he even say to that?
Five closes his eyes and breathes in slowly. “Well, maybe it’s because your dickishness is a constant reminder of how much more pleasant he was to be around.” Rude .
Ben scoffs again. “I can’t imagine anyone that grew up with you turned out to be that nice.”
Ben expects Five to snark back with another cranky quip, but his expression just melts into wistfulness.
“Well, our Ben was special like that.”
Five shakes his head lightly. “We used to be best friends when we were little.”
Bruh. What is with these umbrellas and constantly oversharing.
“He must have had shit taste then.” Again, he knows he’s being mean, but. He wants the interaction to be over at this point.
Five levels him with a glare. “You know, it doesn’t hurt to not be a complete asshat sometimes.”
Ben grits his teeth. “It does if your only company is also a total bastard.”
Five scowls harder.
“Have you ever considered the fact that everyone around you is a bastard because you treat them like bastards?” Five clenches his jaw. “Maybe we wouldn’t be comparing you so much with our Ben if you were even passably tolerable to talk to.”
And Ben… Ben doesn’t know what to say to that. Deep down, he knows that Five is right. He knows that he is the reason for his own isolation. But knowing that, in another universe, he could have been kind, loved and cherished like the umbrella Ben? It pisses him off.
(It also makes him wish that the world wouldn’t end in the next 24 hours, if only so that he’d have more time to actually fix anything before the universe literally ends).
Five takes a final sip of his drink before tossing the glass into the bushes and standing up. “I know what it’s like to be short tempered, or tired, or whatever it is that you are. I know you want to be alone, and you feel like the world is against you, trust me, I know what that’s like. But, if I’ve learned anything in the last 58 years, it’s that people, however stupid or insufferable or bastardly, are all we’ve got.”
He pauses as the laughter from the hotel carries over slightly. “So let your pride go for once and give your sister a goddamn hug.”
As Five turns to walk back inside, he glances back once more to look Ben in the eyes. “It’s okay to let yourself be happy.”
Ben doesn’t say anything to Five’s retreating form. He doesn’t say anything when he, eventually, pulls himself up and heads inside. He doesn’t even say anything when the rest of the room actively avoids him when he reenters.
He does mumble a quiet “congratulations,” however, when he catches Sloane in the last moments of the night and gives her a pat on the shoulder. It feels humiliating, frankly, but the absolute adoration in her eyes makes it worth it.
It makes him wish, again, that the world wasn’t ending.