Work Text:
“I’m staying here.” Lila announces on an otherwise uneventful morning.
Because his days are now like that: uneventful. He takes a sip of his coffee, hoping against hope it will make him feel less dead.
“Why?” Five asks anyway, watching as she produces bag after bag. He’s certain it’s more for the dramatic flair than actually having something of importance in them.
“Diego is driving me crazy,” she says, stalking into the kitchen and opening the cupboards like a woman on a mission. “ ‘No, Lila, that’s too heavy.’ ‘No, don’t eat that.’ ”
He hums, watching as she makes a victorious sound when she finds the bread and immediately goes back to storming the rest of cupboards. Five grimaces at the sound, he’s too hungover to be dealing with this.
“He wants to—oh, this is the nice one.” She says, having found what she was looking for. “He wants to bubble wrap me!”
“So bubble wrap him back and throw him in the traffic.” He advises reasonably and considers pouring some alcohol into his coffee.
“Now that’s an idea.” She mutters as she slices the bread with a ferociousness he would find alarming if he could actually bring himself to care.
Five glances back at the living room, the bags sit innocently on the couch and one falls to the floor. Five narrows his eyes.
“What is even in the bags?” He asks. Lila is not a person that has a lot of stuff. He has seen hers and Diego’s apartment.
“Important shit.”
“Informative.”
She takes a bite of her sandwich in response.
“Hi, Lila.” Viktor says when he enters the kitchen, hair sticking everywhere and yawning. “Is Diego coming too?”
“We’re not siameses.” She answers, mouth full. “I can go to places without him.”
“Okay.” He says, but Five can tell he’s not really processing the interaction. He isn’t a morning person.
It’s alright for him, Five is not a morning person either. But it leads to situations like Lila forcing the lock when nobody answered the door, which now that he thinks about it is not quite true; Five was there, because he didn’t go to sleep in the first place, he just didn’t feel like opening the door.
Viktor drops heavily in one of the chairs, wearing a miserable expression and sighs.
Lila grimaces in sympathy, “work?”
“Today is my day off.” He says, turning up doe-brown eyes at Five “Coffee?”
He rolls his eyes, but goes to retrieve a cup for him. It’s the good one, even; instant doesn’t touch this house. Five got tired of shitty coffee early on and invested in a good coffee maker and grains and Viktor didn’t complain much because, well, it could have been worse.
“I think I’m getting sick.” Viktor says, still that miserable expression on his face. “My throat hurts.”
Five eyes him warily as he places the coffee in front of him. It’s a clear color that defeats the purpose of good grains with how sweet it is; three spoons of sugar and two of those little containers of milk or something milk-adjacent, at least.
“Why don’t you go back to sleep?” He suggests. Viktor doesn’t look sick, per se, but him getting sick means that Five will get sick and that won’t be pretty for anyone involved.
“Sleep doesn’t want me.” Viktor says and takes a sip of his coffee.
“Maybe you snore.” Lila says, taking another bite of her sandwich. “Your throat gets sore from that.”
“I don’t snore.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Five says, sitting on the counter. He can see the front door and the living room perfectly fine from there; he also simply enjoys being on the highest surface.
Viktor scowls at him and then turns to do the same to Lila, but freezes when he sees Lila’s sandwich, then turns to look at the things she left scattered on the table and grimaces at what he finds.
“You only put mustard and ranch on it?”
Lila swallows and shakes a fist. “Condiments are the superior food.”
“Condiments aren’t food.”
Five tunes them out and mentally goes over the things he has to buy today, their groceries are almost over, the shampoo ran out days ago and neither Viktor nor him have bought more. Because that’s what he does these days. It’s actually quite reminiscent of his time in the Apocalypse, so there’s that. Difference is he has to actually pay for the things now.
There’s a knock on the door or rather, there’s a series of knocks on the door. Five hops from the counter, avoids stepping over some of the bags and opens it to Diego’s frowning face.
“Is she here?” He says, like the unmannered beast he is, trying to see behind Five.
“Good morning to you, too, Diego.”
Diego predictably shoves him aside and enters. Five stays there for a moment, looking at the sunny outside world even when it makes him want to gauge his eyes out and crawl into a dark corner. They got into a relatively nice neighborhood, less croackrachy than the first motel they stayed in and it has a nice dinner at the end of the street; Five debates going there to avoid whatever is going on between Diego and Lila, hangover be damned, but he hears raised voices and goes inside, even if only to not let Viktor alone with those two.
“Well, I get home and all your shit is gone!” Diego is yelling when he enters the kitchen and Five notices a flash of guilt in Lila’s face. “What did you want me to think?”
“I admit! It doesn’t look good,” she says, getting up. Sandwich in one hand and mustard in the other “In fact, it looks very, very bad.”
They stare at each other. Diego’s hands are trembling, Lila’s lip wobbles. Viktor pretends nothing is happening in his kitchen, still staring at the mustard in quiet horror.
“That wasn’t smart.” Lila says once he gets a hold on herself and offers Diego her half-eaten sandwich as a peace offering.
“It wasn’t.” He says and accepts the sandwich.
It’s quiet for the few moments they stare lovingly into each other's eyes; Viktor and Five make faces at each other behind their backs.
“But–you’re driving me up the wall.” Lila says, pointing at him with the mustard. “If you want to live long enough to see your kid, we cannot keep living together.” She thinks about that for a second. “For now.”
“And you’re staying with Five?”
He wonders if he should be offended about the tone or the face or the gesture, but concludes it’s too much effort for so early in the morning and rolls his eyes instead, wincing when it only makes his headache worse.
“He knows I’m not made of glass, now piss off.”
“I live here too.” Viktor says from his place at the table, fist on his cheek and a resigned look on his face. Five feels for him, his day off didn’t start well.
“And Viktor is my mate, now piss off.”
Diego, as Lila eloquently puts it, doesn’t piss off and crosses his arms instead; not looking convinced by her logic. Lila crosses hers too, not looking convinced by his unconvinced-ness.
“This is inane.” Five says and drowns his coffee.
They turn to glare at him, but too bad, this is his home and he doesn’t want love quarrels in it. Viktor doesn’t look too enthusiastic about it, either.
Lila shakes her head and turns to Viktor, ignoring them completely.
"C'mon Viktor." Lila says, taking him by the arm. "I'm going to stuff myself with some pastries and you're going to cheer for me."
"Okay." He says, sharing a look with Five and lets himself be hauled out with a tiny wave for them.
Five watches them go and disappear behind the door. Diego is still glaring at him when he turns around.
“Yes?” He drawls.
“You could’ve called me, you know.”
“How was I supposed to know she didn’t let you know, Diego?” he says and is officially too early for this.
“You know how she is.” Diego retorts, leaning on the wall and crossing his arms.
“You should work on your communication skills.”
He raises his eyebrows, “you are in no position to lecture anyone about communication skills.”
“Maybe not, but I’m not the one in a committed relationship with a child on the way, am I?”
Diego claps suddenly and the sound pierces in his brain; Five flinches, resisting the urge to cover his ears.
“You’re hungover.” He says, like he has a right to be disappointed when he has a bruise in his chin and bloodied knuckles.
“Great observational abilities, Diego, it’s a mystery you were kicked out of the Police Academy.” Five says, clutching his cup.
Diego glares some more before deflating. Five’s skin prickles, too tight and too hot and wrong. It’s too early for this.
“I’m not looking for a fight.” Diego says and there’s dark bags under his eyes; whole face pulling down in exhaustion.
There’s an apology trapped in Five’s tongue, but try as he may, it doesn’t come.
"Do you want some coffee?" He asks instead and goes to the kitchen without waiting for an answer. Walking. One excruciating step after the other. Like everyone.
Everything is fucked up; upside down and sideways. The Hargreeves name is everywhere they turn to look at, a damned Imperium; they have to learn to deal with more advanced technology; Sloane doesn’t appear yet, to Luther’s increasing despair; they haven’t attempted to reach out Allison, even when they see her face in billboards, but at least they know she’s safe and there’s no Apocalypses near and that is enough. They can work with that even if they are waiting for the other shoe to drop in Reggitopia.
Five puts the cup of coffee in front of Diego, who sat down when he was preparing it. He sits on the other chair and waits.
And waits and waits.
"I will call you if something happens," Five finally promises, silence wearing him down. "But Diego, Lila's months away from the birth and she knows how to handle herself."
Diego passes a hand over his hair, "I know."
"But you still worry."
"It's just-- it's all new and we're in a place we don't really know and-" He cuts himself, glaring at Five, then at the cup and then back at Five.
They have been here for two months. Five only figured out where Diego and Lila were staying a week ago and it was a coincidence. Viktor figured out Klaus and Luther two weeks ago; they still don’t know anything about Ben and Five’s sure the man prefers it that way.
As for himself it went like this: Five left Viktor; Viktor walked away in the other direction. Then they found each other after a few hours of roaming around watching the changes with increasing bafflement and then they stuck together because, despite a brief lapse in judgment, they are not idiots.
Yes, he’s ignoring the part where he looks like a minor and Viktor may be doing this out of a misplaced sense of responsibility. Sue him.
"I know I fucked up with Stan." Diego says after a few minutes, staring into his cup. "I sent him away and lost him and then he was kugelblitzed."
Ah.
"We were under the threat of an apocalypse, Diego. Not really the ideal environment to discover your patent dad instincts* "
"Still, I can't stop thinking about him." He admits quietly, rubbing his beard. "He was an annoying little asshole and thought that dissolving a body was the correct way to dispose of it and he deserved better than to die like that."
"The universe was reset." Five reminds him, deciding to ignore the bit about body disposing. "It didn't happen."
"I know, I know. " He says, frustrated. "But it still happened to us. I still feel phantom pain in my fingers."
Five resists the urge to look at his arm and moves it to grab his cup instead. Allison would be better for this conversation, he muses as he ignores the complicated tangle of emotions that come every time he thinks about her, she already went through this with her own child.
But Five is the only one here and Diego is looking like a kicked puppy, he hasn’t even drunk the coffee.
"Look," he says, pointing at his brother with his cup. "There's nothing you can do about it, losing yourself in ‘what ifs’ it's pointless, believe me. You can only be there for Lila and your child now, although maybe you could stand to be less overbearing."
Diego glares at him again, it’s getting old.
"That's your grand advice?" He says, looking ready to throw hands. "Stop worrying about it?"
Five shrugs.
"I have no child, Diego." Even if he feels like he's babysitting when he's with his siblings "but I think you did an okay-ish job with Stan and you can only go up from there."
Admittedly, he didn’t see them together a lot, but what he saw wasn't actually that bad and Diego cares, deeply, enough to have books about child development scattered around his house even when he has never been a fan of reading and that’s a start. Five tells him this, too.
"Now stop whining and give Lila a few days so she can detox from your presence." He says and pats him on the shoulder once. There. Emotional support.
He's nailing this older brother thing.
“Good news,” Viktor says once they return. “I’m not sick, my throat is fine. Bad news: Lila may be sick from all the donuts she ate.”
“I’m fine, they all went to the baby.” She says, draping herself on the couch and patting her stomach once.
“You say that now, but in half an hour you will be in agony,” he answers and turns to look at Five “remember that time Klaus threw up at Griddys?”
“I was in the splash area, of course I remember.”
Viktor makes a face, likely having forgotten that part and puts the paper bag he’s been carrying into the table.
“Awful.” He says and gestures towards the bag. “We brought one for you.”
Five goes and frowns at what he finds inside, “what is this?”
“They were out of the double chocolate ones.” He says. “That was the sweetest-looking one we could find.”
“That was your criteria?” He asks, unimpressed. “That it looked sweet.”
Viktor blinks at him, all innocent, but Five knows he’s laughing inside. What an awful sense of humor his brother has.
“You have the sweetest tooth I have ever seen.”
Lila perks up, “Oh? Do tell.”
“I lost count of the times I have found him eating peanut-butter straight from the jar,” he frowns and tilts his head. “Once he was also on top of the fridge for some reason.”
Five ignores him and takes a bite of his heart covered donut. To Viktor’s credit, it does taste good.
.
“You can take my bed.” Viktor offers later that day and Lila freezes from where she is snooping on Five’s books.
“Lila can stay on the couch, she’s the one that arrived unexpectedly.” Five says and Viktor looks at him like he killed a puppy in front of him.
Lila, on the other hand, glances at him with a pleased expression and closes the book. She doesn’t even change the bookmark’s place, not that it mattered even if she did. He dog-eared the page he’s in, too.
“Shouldn’t you be a gentleman, little twerp?”
“Well,” he says, putting his hands on his pockets and smiling at her. It’s not a particularly nice one. “I’ve always been good at subverting expectations.”
She grins and takes another book, “that makes two of us.”
“I want shrimp.”
Five keeps staring at his crossword. “I’m not going to go get you shrimp at three in the morning.”
“Then why are you awake if it’s not to get my every whim?” Lila asks, pointing at him with a pencil, her own crossword abandoned. “Touche.”
Five rolls his eyes and takes a sip of the whiskey he managed to save when Viktor decided to throw away all the alcohol. Four letter word for endearment. Is this made for children?
“The baby is going to be born with a shrimp face.” Lila says, slumping into the chair next to him and taking away the glass. “He’s going to get bullied in school, no one will want to hire him and his poor face, his life will be ruined and when he asks I’m going to have to tell him it’s because Uncle Five didn’t get mom a fucking shrimp.”
“Put him in a zoo.” He says, but he softened at the ‘uncle Five’ part and Lila smelt it like a shark with blood.
“Are you going to visit him? Say that it was uncle’s Five cruelness that put him there?” She asks and points at his crossword. “The word is ‘anus’.”
Jesus Christ. It’s like talking with Klaus. He swallows up a smile because. I’ts. Not. Funny. He just has no standards when he’s tipsy.
“No, it’s not.”
"Cunt, then."
In the end, he stands on his ground for ten more minutes, the alcohol already on his system softening him. At least he got a promise to leave his books alone out of her.
“You’re unbearable.” Five says as he puts on his coat. “The worst thing that ever happened to me and I saw the world end three times.”
“‘love you too!” She yells before the door closes.
Five stumbles into the living room, mind halfway between fire and rubble. Gunshots and red lipstick.
“Ah, shit.” He says, staring at Lila doing one of his sudokus on the couch. “I forgot you were here.”
She raises her head to look at him and frowns. Five ignores her and goes to the kitchen. He drops on a chair.
You don’t forget your first. Your original sin.
He hides his face in his hands and tries to remember how to breathe. It’s Tuesday, he doesn’t drink on a lot of days, but most of all, he doesn’t drink on Tuesdays, he has important shit to do and his mind is important, he can’t have it spinning.
Five needs to go back to his room or if it’s still unbearable he needs to go outside; he cannot stay here, where Lila can see him. But his body refuses to move, his lungs refuse to work properly and he’s left wondering what does it matter anyway.
It’s been two months and four days since they got dropped in the New Timeline. It's the fifth of june. Viktor is sleeping in his room, he will wake up at seven and start to prepare to go to work; Diego is hopefully in his home–no, it’s Tuesday, he works in the night shift as a guard; Klaus and Luther should be in their department, their works start at nine and eight respectively; he doesn’t know anything about Allison beside her latest movie and they haven’t been able to find Ben.
It’s the fifth of June and the last time he spoke to them they were alright and he is–he is–
He’s alive and there’s no tattoo on his chest. He’s alive and his arm is whole. He’s alive and the Umbrella Tattoo is not there anymore, his wrist is bare, his stomach is bare; the shrapnel wound healed, not even a mark, nor the bruises and cuts and scars he got since he arrived at the funeral; scars he got since he was four and he jumped wrong; scars he got since the training began and he didn’t blink fast enough.
It’s fine.
His skin is too tight and too cold and it’s fine. He’s alive and his siblings are alive and there’s no Doomsday on the horizon.
Someone clears their throat and Five peers up from behind his fingers. There’s a cup on the table, in front of him.
He lowers his hands and stares at Lila. She tries to smile, but it looks more like a grimace, so she gives up and gestures towards the cup.
She sits down once Five takes it. “What was it?”
“None of your business.” He answers, exhausted and takes a sip of the coffee only to immediately spit it.
Lila crackles like a goddamn hiena. It’s too loud in the silence and he glares at her; the last thing he wants is for Viktor to wake up.
“What the fuck was on that?” Five asks after she shuts up.
“My special mix.” She says and tilts her head, it makes him want to throw something at her. “Do you feel better?”
“Yes, thank you, Lila. Deadly coffee is just what I needed.”
“I knew it.”
She has her hands in front of her, face a perfect mask of amusement, but she’s playing with her thumb. Five ignores her and rubs his face.
He’s thinking about going out, getting some air, his skin is still too hot when Lila moves her chair, mindful of the sound, so it’s back to back to his own and sits down with a heavy sigh.
“Mine was about Mum,” Lila says, trying too hard to make it sound casual. “We were in the barn and she didn’t shoot me after I asked if she loved me.”
Part of him wants to let her hanging, just because he can. Part of him doesn’t know anymore and he resists the urge to laugh.
He sighs instead. “The Apocalypse. I found the bodies of my siblings and then I couldn’t stop.”
“She didn’t answer and when she opened her mouth, bees came out from it. It was quite the spectacle.”
“They were under the rubble and then in the fire and then in that mission I had in Siberia where I was freezing and management kept delaying my return.”
“Then circus music started playing and John Travolta was there, for some reason, cheering for me.”
They sit in silence for a while. Taking in each other’s presence without having to actually acknowledge it. It’s something close to the area of nice.
Lila turns to look at him, “do you want to see a movie?”
Viktor glances at the tv when he enters the living room.
“Are you guys watching documentaries?”
The narrator is describing the exciting diet habits of the mantis. It’s more interesting than Five would have given it credit for.
“It was infomercials first.” Lila says, manic energy pouring out of her. More than usual, that is. “It’s hypnotizing, Viktor. You should come join us sometime. Very fulfilling.”
“We should have bought that vacuum cleaner.” Five says, mind filled with static and the same infomercial over and over again. “Very efficient.”
“Nah, The Blender could make that vacuum its bitch.”
“Alright.” Viktor drawls, getting the control remote from god-knows-where and turning off the tv. Something in Five’s brain turns off with it. “what if you two get some sleep before thinking about buying something?”
Lila blinks, almost dazed and hugs her pillow, “sleep sounds nice.”
“Sleep sounds fucking wonderful.” Five says and clenches his fists, trying to get to his room.
His face falls when he remembers. Lila stares and throws her pillow at him.
“It’s your turn to cook.” Five says to Lila in the afternoon, after he returns from some important business. It’s actually a minor miracle he found her in the apartment, she leaves at odd hours to work.
“What.”
“Viktor and I take turns.” He explains, going to the kitchen and pulling out a shitty beer from the fridge. “Now you’re here. Pull your weight.”
He can’t see Lila, but he’s sure she’s scowling. “I’m the best cook you will ever meet! Prepare to have your socks knocked off.”
“I can’t wait.” He says as enters the living room and finds Lila stretching.
She glances at him, expression tightening, “you are going to help me.”
Five frowns. “Pass.”
It’s the perfect time to be outside, not too sunny, not too cold. He has plans to spend the rest of the afternoon on the roof.
She puts an arm around his shoulders, physical as always, and starts to walk towards the kitchen. “C’mon. You can’t have me burning down your kitchen, can you?”
“I’m certain you can manage a meal without fires.”
Lila smiles. “Aw, you do have faith in me! You’re getting soft, old man.
“Look at it this way: if you help me, we finish sooner and we don’t have to make an overworked and tired Viktor wait.”
Five sighs and sits down on the table. Lila clasps her hands together.
“You can cut the veggies! Use those knife skills you got.”
.
Viktor slams open the door when he returns. Lila and Five turn to look at each other, then at him.
“Are you alright?” Five asks when he drops heavily in the chair and lowers his face on the table.
There are some unintelligible mutters, Five shoves him a little.
“---were being unreasonable and I might have raised my voice and said some things and they might have filed a complaint.” Viktor continues, voice muffled.
Lila blinks, “you were fired?”
“Yes.”
“Well, they suck.” She says, patting Viktor in the head. “Good for sticking up for yourself.”
“But now I don’t have a job.”
“It’s not like we will starve if you take some time off.” Five says, looking cautiously at Viktor’s crouching form. “I have savings.”
Viktor sighs, whole body moving with it.
Lila frowns at him. “What do you do for money? You look thirteen.”
Five smirks, “I have many talents.”
“Are you a little pickpocketer?”
“No one knows what he does.” Viktor says, perking up and raising his head. “We have a running bet.”
“Oh?”
“And that’s my cue to go.” Five says, rising from his seat and puts a hand on Viktor’s shoulder for four seconds. “Don’t take it too hard on yourself Viktor, you will find something else.”
“What’s going on in that disturbed mind of yours?” Five asks when he finds Lila on his usual spot on the roof, two in the morning and staring at the sky. Legs against her chest and chin resting on her knees. A forgotten cup of coffee beside her.
“Homemade meals, school meetings and a pink fence.” She answers. “A blanket with a rainbow on it and it opens its fangs, swallowing me without bothering to chew.”
“Picturesque.” He says and sits down.
The roof is nice. They can see the neighborhood from here, the odd person outside at his hour, It helps Five remember the world is whole.
“People like us,” she says after a while, turning to stare down at the street. “we don’t get domestic and if we do, we sure as hell don’t get to keep it.”
Five hums and takes a sip of the bottle in his hand, “Hazel managed.”
“Hazel.” She repeats, unimpressed. “That one talked about unions and improvement of working conditions. I don’t think he really lost sight of shit normal people do.”
He did, Five thinks as he recalls their conversation on the original timeline, he just was reminded of it. He doesn’t bother to fight his point, he knows Lila won’t give a fuck, even if he does.
“We are managing,” he says instead.
She glances at him, at the bottle in his hand and his general demeanor. “And how is that working out for you?”
“Awesome, thanks for asking.”
And it is. It’s going fine. There’s no threat of Apocalypses, his siblings are alive and trying to find some semblance of normalcy. He’s trying to do the same.
He wishes he could sleep, though.
She unfolds from her position and sighs, “give me that.”
And snatches the bottle from his hands.
“It's unfair of you to drink when I can’t. If I have to suffer through this conversation sober, then so do you.”
“Since when have we cared about fair?” He says, but doesn’t try to get back the bottle.
Lila snorts and throws the bottle at the street, not bothering to see if there was a poor bastard there. Five watches as it breaks, it wasn’t a good one, it was really awful, there’s not a lot of people willing to sell alcohol to a thirteen year old around here and he wasn’t in the mood to go where he always does to buy the nice ones.
Something builds inside him at the sight of it anyway and turns to glare at her. Her expression is vacant, somewhere far away and he knows exactly how to drag her back.
“You’re hurting him.” Five says, redirecting the fire in his chest. “Your shitty communication skills are hurting him.”
Lila inhales sharply and looks at him, narrowing her eyes. “Your shitty coping mechanism, aka. alcoholism is hurting the brother you live with.”
It builds and builds and spills into his skin, his hands clench and unclench, looking for something to grab.
“And if that continues to be a trend, it will hurt your child, too.” He watches Lila’s hands tremble in an absent kind of way.
“You’re going to drink yourself to an early grave.” She says and Five can hear the strain in her voice.
His skin is too tight and too hot and wrong, wrong, wrong and Five doesn’t even laugh at the insinuation that he’s young.
“I’m pretty sure you two had a conversation about trying to do better after the whole Stan situation,” he retorts and he’s not even being as cutting as he could be. “This is not better.”
“I’m not going to bring you flowers. I will stand in there and say ‘I told you so.’” She says and Five knows she’s not really trying, either. “I will do your post-mortem make-up and you will look stupid, stupider than you do now with your whole grandpa's clothes.”
Too tight and too clean and too smooth and it’s not enough.
“Is tearing Diego down making you feel better with yourself?” Five says, looking her in the eyes. "Lowering him to your level? Knowing he will be a good father, but you can’t even fathom being a good mother?”
Lila growls. “You’re stunting your growth, you will be short forever and you can’t deal with who you had to become to get to this point.”
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
“Are the flashbacks getting too bad?” She continues, leaning towards him and a desperate glint in her eyes. This is her trying. “Do you wake up and don’t know where you are? Who you are? It’s drinking yourself to oblivion helping with the loneliness? With the disappointment? ”
Too tight. Too smooth. Too young.
Five smiles and it feels like breaking glass, “You are getting bored of this whole domestic thing and you haven’t even started yet. Are you really going to stay for the after?”
Lila moves quickly, telegraphing her movement from miles away and slaps him; he throws the cold coffee at her.
“Ugh,” she says, trying to get the coffee out of her eyes with the back of her hand. “This sucks.”
His cheek stings and this, indeed, sucks. But the ugly thing inside him is calm now; funny, how these things go.
Five takes a deep breath, “We are a mess.”
Lila snorts.
“I don’t want to hurt him.” She says, quietly. “But–do the intentions really matter when the result is the same?”
“They do,” Five answers after a few seconds “they mean you keep trying.”
Lila puts her face on her hands and tries to get her breathing under control.
“A deal.” She says after a few minutes, “I propose a deal.”
Five hums to show he’s listening.
“I will talk to Diego better and I will give you the right to nag me about it if you limit your alcohol consumption.
“I’m not even asking for you to throw everything away.” She says when Five keeps silent. “Just limit your bender to the weekend.”
“And why would I benefit from that?”
He’s expecting something like ‘Diego won’t bother you anymore’ or ‘I won’t steal your crosswords’ , so he’s weary when she actually seems to think about her answer.
“Well, for one, your siblings would be sad if you died of alcohol poisoning,” she starts, numbering with her fingers. “For two, you are actually stunting your growth and I’m sure you don’t want to be tiny forever.”
Five snorts. “Why do you even care, Lila?”
“Because you are–we are–” she says and hums. “We are friends? Yeah, that. We’re friends, you little pest.” And she shoves him with her shoulder.
The word sounds weird and awkward and like she hasn’t used it a lot. Dusted.
“Friends.” He repeats and the word sounds the same.
“Sure, it’s like–you know, friends that try to kill each other stay friends or something like that.”
He blinks. Something like affection building in his chest at the sight of her smeared make up and greasy hair.
“Also I’m pretty sure you fucked my Mum or she fucked you, I don’t know, so there’s some kind of connection in–
And it breaks like that.
“Lila,” Five interrupts her, voice strained “if you want this to work, don’t ever say that again.”
“Good idea.” She says, pointing at him. Eyes wide, and shivers. “There’s a blender up there and shit just comes out, like a shitty little present, for me too.”
And shrugs, like a whoopsie. Five resists the urge to shove her from the roof and thinks about her deal.
Delores always hated him drinking and she would be terribly disappointed if she could see him now. But– she’s not here and he’s managing in the only way–
Five drags a breath, it’s not–he wants–
“I only want to sleep,” he admits, blinking fast. “I only want to sleep.”
Lila hums, playing with the abandoned cup.
“Have you ever thought about therapy?”
“Viktor has brought it up once or twice.” He says. “It’s a waste of time, no one will believe me about–anything, actually.”
“That’s a good point.” She shifts, sitting cross legged. “Nothing helps? Diego helps with mine and I can wake him to–”
“Please don’t say anything about your sexual life with my brother.” Five interrupts.
While she snickers and gets a wicked look in her eyes, Five thinks about the times he has managed to fall asleep without being drunk.
He thinks about the hotel room he had to share with his brothers and then with Viktor. Five grimaces, it’s always when there’s someone else in the room, he knows and even that’s not a guarantee.
“I know that face,” Lila says “what is it?”
Five debates not telling her, but they’re already here. He frowns anyway.
“I slept marginally better when my siblings were being annoying in the same room,” he admits, “and no, I’m not going to tell Viktor.”
She nods and puts her chin on her fist, thinking hard.
Lila brightens after a few moments and points aggressively at him, “what about a puppy?!”
“What.”
“You know, puppy, dog, whatever.” She says and gestures something that only makes sense to her. “Those little ones are always demanding, it will give you a distraction and you don’t have to be alone in your room!”
Five is unmoved. “Your solution is to get a dog.”
“That’s right,” she preens, pleased with herself. “Taking care of something else forces you to take care of yourself, or something like that. I read it in a self-help book, so take it as you want.”
Lila thinks about that some more, “maybe you should start with a plant, though. A cactus.
Or an egg. Play pretend until you’re ready for grown-up responsibilities.”
Five sighs and rubs his temples.
“So?” She grins at him.
It’s not unreasonable, he thinks, not really. They are already two drowning people, what else can go wrong?
He rolls his eyes and shakes her hand.
“Little businessman.” She says and that’s it.