Summary:
Every pivotal moment in Vanya's life there was always this one constant—a teenage boy in a boarding school uniform.
Author's Note: Hi. Welcome to my head cannon that has been bothering me ever since I watched the first season of TUA. And before you burn me at the stake, need I remind you that there was something there between young!Vanya and young!Five, you can't tell me otherwise. Also, I don't even know if this is worth publishing but, eh.
Anyways, on with the story!
Disclaimer: I don't own TUA and the concepts tackled here. I only own the plot of this brain barf.
Vanya was told not to talk to strangers. At the age of six, she was already deemed "mature" for her age. She listened to her mommy and daddy, never threw a tantrum, put her toys away after she's done playing with them and ate all her vegetables, even if she doesn't like their taste—the perfect little girl.
So when she awoke in the middle of the night from a nightmare, she never screamed—lest she wakes her mommy and daddy from their sleep. They needed sleep.
So little Vanya curled up into a ball tightening her fists over her blankets—pulling the unassuming sheet closer to her little frame. Her fists trembled at the smallest sounds, the nightmare fresh from her memory. Every shadow was perceived as a monster, every sound was interpreted as an intruder.
When a shadow appeared at the edge of her bed, she tightened her hold on the sheets willing whatever monster that have come get her be repelled by the power of her blanket. She can feel it coming closer. Tears were now threatening to fall from her squeezed-shut eyes.
"Seven."
She covered her ears with both hands—although it didn't do much—willing herself not to listen to whatever spell this monster is casting.
"Seven, it's alright." No it wasn't. The monster is now closer than ever.
"Seven." Her hands was suddenly enveloped by a much larger hand. She can't feel anything weird about these hands other than they feel human. Same hands as her mommy and daddy. So steeling her resolve, she slowly turned away from the wall and looked behind her—her tiny hand still enveloped in the warmth the other hand has given her shivering ones.
Vanya was told not to talk to strangers. But when she saw who it was crouching in front of her, she couldn't hold back her tears of relief. She doesn't know why nor does she know this guy in front of her but she just felt relief wash all over her body and she knows that she's safe.
Her blanket was thrown away from her body as she jumped up and threw her hands over his much bigger shoulders—her hands couldn't even reach each other. She was crying now, sobbing into the crook of his neck, her red flags was thrown out the window. The nightmare had shaken her up so badly that even though she doesn't really know this guy, she was seeking assurance in him.
His constant whispers of 'you're okay' and 'I got you' lulled herself back to sleep.
She never had any more nightmares that night.
When she told mommy and daddy what had happened the night prior, they placed it as a child's overactive imagination—an imaginary friend. So Vanya being Vanya, she accepted her mommy and daddy's logic because it was more realistic than a guy entering her bedroom at night.
So every night, she wakes from a nightmare and every night she's lulled to sleep by green eyes and a smile.
Vanya was thirteen when she started picking up the violin. She heard some pieces from school and immediately fell in love. After school, she asked her mom and dad to buy her one and the next day, she started learning from their music teacher, Ms. Grace.
Her first lesson was really hard, she had to learn placing her fingers on exact positions to hold the notes. Her bow hold was also stiff. When she had learned to decently play single notes, Ms. Grace had dismissed her. She asked to be left in the music room longer to do some self-study to which the older woman had okay-ed.
She was on A when a voice nearly made her drop her violin in shock.
"You still love violins." She slowly turned around to face the direction of the door. It was standing ajar and a boy—a little older than her—was leaning on the doorframe, his hands crossed on his chest. Something about him screams familiarity but she can't quite put her finger on it. Instead of standing there looking like a deer caught in headlights, she held her violin to against her chest.
"Excuse me?" her voice was small but confused at his statement. He just shrugged and walked towards the grand piano. "It was off-key. Your G." He said as he opened the wooden cover and ran his hands over the black and white keys. He pressed a white key and looked at her.
They stared at each other for seconds before he pressed again. Her brown eyes met his and she can't seem to look away. Something about this boy was familiar. Something about this boy feels like home. She blinked at the third press of the key—the single note wafting throughout the room enveloping the two teenagers in a wistful melody.
It took Vanya to notice that it was a G note. He tilted his head and urged her to reproduce the same note on her violin. She tried, but hearing the piano and violin together made it clear that she was off-key—albeit just slightly. So she adjusted the position of her finger on the fingerboard and did it again. This time, both the piano and the violin giving off similar tones. Vanya looked up and smiled at the strange boy—he wasn't even wearing their school uniform. He gave her a smirk before pressing the next key up.
They continued until she had done the whole octave. "I knew you could do it." He said closing the piano cover and placing both his hands on his pocket. He's wearing school shorts? Vanya thought but never voiced it out. She just thanked him politely and noticed it had gone much too late, the sun had already dipped below the horizon leaving the sky in hues of pinks and reds and oranges. He must've noticed her concern and gazed outside the window. "I love sunsets." He said almost sadly before turning back to look at her.
Despite the million red flags pinging in Vanya's head right now, she still didn't move. It was something about him that just made her feel safe. Like she knew he would never hurt her. "I like sunrises more." She blurted out which made his eyes almost look like its glowing. His figure silhouetted by the burnt sky but his eyes stayed on her. "I know." he whispered never taking his eyes of her brown ones. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before he strode towards her and walked past leaving her to follow him with her gaze.
"What's your name?" She asked as he was near the door. She was filled with embarrassment when he didn't answer her for almost a minute—the silence making her feel awkward and jittery. "Five."
And with that he opened the door and went out, never once casting her a backwards glance. Vanya felt something inside her tug at the mention of the rather strange name. His voice was sad and filled with something Vanya can liken to nostalgia and regret. She tested the name on her tongue finding that she liked how it feels—and maybe the number.
It didn't even register until she got home that he didn't ask for hers.
Vanya hadn't known the pain of a broken heart. If she had, she wouldn't have entered a relationship in the first place. She wasn't even that invested in the relationship so why had it hurt her this much? She hugged her pillow tighter as big tears fell from her brown eyes. Her mom and dad were worried when she got home and skipped dinner but she thanked them for letting her cry out and left her to her room before they asked questions.
It had been three years since she met that strange boy—and it had been three years since she last saw him. After that fateful encounter in the music room, Vanya thought he was a figment of her imagination—because no matter how hard she looked for him no one knew about a boy with a number for a name. Sometimes, when she practices the violin, she deliberately misplaces her fingers and produces a wrong note in a piece to somehow lure the boy out—they had meet when she had the G note wrong so it made sense.
But as the days gone by, turning into months, turning into years, Vanya decided it was time to stop looking for someone that doesn't want to be found.
So she had fallen into the trap that was laid by some petty boys at school—she had bitten into the lure of the words "I love you" and look where it got her. A crying mess.
She was so naïve, thinking she was special just because some boy told her he loves her when in fact they were just betting on "how they would make little miss Vanya cry today". She screamed at her pillow—muffling the sound lest she alert her parents into what was going on behind the closed doors of her room. She wasn't that invested—really—so why is she so hurt?
It was because Vanya always saw the good in everything. She's naïve and innocent with the lies and the harsh truth this world can offer and she always sees the good in everything. Of course, Vanya didn't know that so she was still crying and trying to justify why she is hurting so.
"Vanya?"
A silent voice asked causing the crying girl to look up in a rush. She cried harder when she saw who the voice was from. Standing there beside her bed—hands outstretched as if to hold her—was no other than the subject of her search for three years. His hair still arranged in the same way as it had been in that sun-kissed room. His uniform not familiar but nostalgic. His eyes, Vanya thought, so deep that it looks like it held all the answers to all the questions in the world—it probably does.
"Five…" It wasn't really a question, it was a finish line, a statement. Her voice was hoarse from silent sobbing but there was softness in it, softness she didn't know she can utter. After all this time of looking for him, here he was, standing not five feet away from her. He looked the same. Nothing's changed.
The way his eyes turned into something else when she said his name made Vanya self-consciously shuffle in her striped two-piece pajamas. He hesitated for a bit before reaching out and wiping tears away from her face. The touch was something Vanya wasn't expecting. She had thought her touch would pass through him in the cases that she had found him years prior, so when his warmth glided across her cheek, she closed her eyes and leaned in. Fresh tears dropped from her eyes but she doesn't know what it was of. Her heartbreak was pushed aside from the relief that he's really here.
Vanya couldn't pinpoint what the reason is for the relief she feels, and happiness, but she shook the thought away as he pulled his fingers back to himself.
Vanya slowly opened her eyes and her shiny brown orbs met his bright green ones. "Five." She said again, so silent, afraid that if she said something out loud he would be gone. His eyes softened and his smirk turned into a smile. "Hi."
So they talked, Five didn't ask about why she was crying, he already seem to know. But when it was Vanya's turn to ask questions, Five either gave a very vague answer or swerved the conversation away from the question.
"Where were you the last three years?" Vanya asked, hugging her knees closer to her chest. Five was leaning on her study table directly in front of her. "It doesn't matter." He just shrugged and asked her about her violin progress. Vanya immediately lit up. The violin had always made her feel happy. So she talked about the new pieces she was learning. They stayed chatting until it was almost past three in the morning. Vanya yawned a third time that night and Five seemed reluctant to let her sleep. But she needs to sleep, she has school tomorrow. So with a touch lingering a little bit longer, Five guided Vanya's sleepy body to the bed.
As soon as her head hit the softness of her pillow, she immediately yawned. Her eyes drooped close and her body fell limp. "Don't go?" Vanya asked in her sleepy voice—which Five liked very much. But her question struck him rigid. He doesn't want to lie to her and he doesn't want to tell her who he is. So he didn't answer and just tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He also touched her bangs which was now a little longer than three years ago. The action seemed to please her as she sighed and leaned in more to his touch and in seconds she was breathing deeply—a telltale sign that she was already asleep.
In an outsider's perspective, the scene could've painted a different picture. An unknown guy inside a sleeping girl's room, this wasn't good. This was the primary reason Five stopped reaching out to her, he was afraid that she would think him a creep for showing up unannounced in her room even though they barely knew each other. Also, he needed to not get attached. She is not the Vanya he knows. But Five couldn't resist seeing her hurt. Seeing her cry a ton because of some stupid asshole decided to play with her—and they had played the one thing Five treasured.
He was going to make him pay, he had acquired a set of skills that can make a grown man cry. But seeing the peaceful look on Vanya's face—he hesitated. So he did what he do best, he ran away.
Vanya was eighteen when she finally moved to a place of her own. She was still distraught that all those nights ago, Five wasn't there when she woke up. Like, what had she expected? That he spend the night with him? Absurd! If her parents had known or someone had seen him in the day climb out her window that would've been the talk of the whole town.
'Little Miss Vanya sneaking a guy in her bedroom at night.'
But it wasn't her fault. Five was the one who showed up unannounced, Five was the one who decided to not show up for the past two years—again. Five was the one who made her feel things she shouldn't feel about strangers because that's just dangerous.
No matter how hard she tried to blame him, she didn't really resent him. The only thing that had told her she hadn't dreamed it all up was the faint smell of his presence and the warmth in her cheeks. She slapped her cheeks in annoyance, she needed to focus on the task at hand. She had to settle in before tomorrow or she will have to dance around unpacked boxes and risk getting her toe stubbed.
But she had known it all along. Ever since they had met on that fateful day—where he played the notes on the piano and accompanied her until she got the notes right—she had been crushing on him. A boy she barely even knows, been to her room uninvited, and somehow knew her name even if she don't remember telling him. Something at the back of her mind tugged that the music room encounter wasn't their first meeting but Vanya couldn't seem to find something else.
She just shrugged and unpacked her metal stand in front of the window. Tomorrow, she starts her study in music. She sighed and turned around only to be surprised. There on her worn-out couch sat the one person occupying her mind a few minutes prior.
Her mouth hung open in shock and bewilderment—and if she's being honest, happiness—at the sight of the same boy that comforted her through her heartbreak in the glow of the pale moonlight.
The same boy. Vanya's mind started short circuiting when she took in the sight of him. He was still the same. Hairstyle, eyes, cheekbones, jawline—for goodness' sake even the boarding school uniform is the same! How? How had he stayed immaculately like his past self—past five years self—that it looked like someone cut him out off the fabric of time and space and just pasted him there?
"You should really lock the windows." He said, a matter of fact. As if Vanya's mind wasn't reeling enough about his appearance, he decides to lecture her on her safety. She hasn't even started living here yet! "I live on the second floor." She said off-handedly, he has a habit of getting into her living space without her knowing and he still looks the same. He dusted off imaginary dirt from the shoulders of his uniform before he regarded her with a steely gaze. "Rapists can climb."
The incredulous look on her face was enough to make him smirk. Deep down he was scared. What she might think, but when she sighed and her shoulders relaxed, he let the tiny relief bubble up inside of him. "Why?" He question was open ended—and suitable for their situation. Why had you shown up that day on the music room? Why had you left? Why had you comforted me when I was heartbroken? Why had you left a second time? Why me?
Vanya couldn't find the courage to voice all those questions—couldn't risk him running away again. Despite the few instances that they've been together, it felt like she had known him all her life. She felt attached, in a weird way you clutch into a blanket because it kept you safe from monsters when you were a kid.
At the silence, Vanya realized something. Something she was missing all those years. This boy—this annoyingly handsome devil—was her imaginary friend from way back. Her breaths came in short gasps as she placed two and two together. A crack running throughout her body as a fissure deep enough to not be filled made its way into her core. He had known her all this time. Had known her since she was six. Had been there for her when monsters scared her from her nightmares—and left her when she was starting to get used to his presence—making her, and her parents, think that he really was just an imaginary friend.
She was hyperventilating, she notices, the sounds were much louder—everything was too bright. He had played her all along. Had made her believe that he was just a normal schoolboy when they met all those years prior—at the golden hue of the sunset. Her world was turning upside down, and then sideways, and everything was spinning.
Then, she was grounded by a hand on hers. She gripped the metal stand trying to regain her balance and his hand was there on top of her pale ones. Still too little, still not enough. He towers over her hunched frame and she noticed that he had been too tall for her—or she hadn't grown the past couple years. He didn't say anything, didn't do anything except for squeezing her hands in a gesture that says "I'm here". He placed her head between his palms and lowered his face near hers. Smiling so softly Vanya could feel everything all at once. He whispers, "I'm here." Grounding her so she won't float away. Making her see stars and galaxies. Vanya wondered if he was really there.
The warmth of his hands on her cheeks was an indication that he was—but also an indication of what couldn't. So she steels her resolve, swallowing her emotions down and tried to forget how—for so long—she had wanted to feel his smile on her lips.
Five notices right away that Vanya was now free from breaking into an attack but he also notices the slight stiffness of her movement. He always notices. He guides her into the couch he was just sitting on and made her sit beside him. If she had noticed how Five left so little—close to none—space they have between them, she didn't let on.
Instead she recounts her first memory of him. Five had wished she had forgotten those nights. That she'd chuck it up into some imaginary dreamland where he was the lead role and still looked the same as he did now. Five grimaces at the thought that how creepy and unnerving it must've felt for her. That she knows someone who doesn't age—well, physically.
Instead, Vanya being Vanya, she thanked him. For always helping her out. For being with her through the nightmares. For correcting her when she had made mistakes on the violin. For consoling her when she underwent that oh so agonizing heartbreak. And for being here.
Five couldn't speak, afraid that if he opened his mouth, he'd spill everything to her. He'd tell her everything about him and her and everyone else. But he's afraid—he is always afraid. So he keeps his mouth shut making the silence around them palpable. It wasn't awkward nor was it comfortable—it was just that.
For Five being ever so perceptive when it comes to Vanya, he didn't notice the way she straightened her body in preparation for forgetting every fantasy she's had of being with him. For she couldn't take it in herself to indulge in such fantasies teenagers in boarding school uniforms—who happen to never grow old—laid on the table.
So she stood up, plastered on her sweet smile she practiced a thousand times in front of the mirror and offered him coffee.
Every day, Five found himself crashing on Vanya's couch. She didn't mind—thank goodness—and was caring for him like a little brother. Five hasn't decided if he likes the attention or not. This time, Vanya grew out her fringe and let it hung at the side of her face—framing it in a way that catches Five's sentences midair. It had almost been a year since Vanya move out of her parents' house. Five wasn't that bad of a roommate—if you can call him that. He leaves groceries on the fridge—where he got the money, she doesn't know. Also, keeps his corner tidy. Cleaned after himself. Used a different shampoo than her. Kept his basic hygiene stuff in the side of the sink. But Vanya never seems to see him at daytime. The rare hours that she doesn't have class, Five's couch was already made. Blankets folded neatly above his pillow. Vanya was glad she let her mom pick a bigger than usual couch.
Five comes home either too tired or too hyper but always eager to eat her cooking. The younger Vanya would've been ecstatic at this situation but the present Vanya was aloof—not really caring about the whole thing except making herself think that Five aged normally like she did. The cracks that was left that night—when she first moved in—ever present in her core making her feel like she wasn't tethered to reality too much that if she slips she would float away. So she kept her younger self from feeling giddy every time she sees his shampoo bottle beside hers.
Of course this doesn't subdue the rumors. Despite being "un-aging", Five still looks like he could pass the same age as Vanya. If Vanya didn't know any better, she would've thought he was eighteen or nineteen. But the fact that she had been six while he still looked the same cemented that this boy is nothing like her. Still, he was taller than her so there's that. Vanya seemed to stop growing at the age of thirteen.
He was talking about buying some new books when her phone rang making him clamp his mouth shut. Vanya looked at him and smiled apologetically, he wiped his mouth on a napkin and gestured for her to go ahead. She excused herself and walked towards the window where he can't see her from his current position. Five was worried but thought nothing of it as he stood up to pour himself a glass of coffee. She just knows him too well.
He should've been more worried.
Vanya was coming home later now. Her usual 6PM violin practice was pushed back to eight and then nine and then turned into occasionally. Five was getting antsy. This behavior started a week after that phone call all those nights ago. Looking back, Five already missed having dinner with Vanya.
Because she comes home late, he usually resorts to take outs or sometimes not eating at all—stubbornly waiting for her on the seat in front of the television only for her to not notice his presence humming a jaunty tune to herself. That's the most worrying—the humming or sometimes the occasional whistling. Well, his Vanya does hum but she does not whistle. Vanya never does. So red flags were one-by-one going off on his intelligent head that one day, he decided to tail her. Years upon years of practice at the Academy and the Temp Commission—also all those other times—made him practically invisible to the unassuming gaze.
So when it was time for Vanya to supposedly go home—he had memorized her schedule—he waited at the gates of the university. Five still wears the Academy uniform, the familiarity—and dare he admit, the sentimental value—it gave him eases his nerves. Of course he chose to not don the shorts and opted for dress pants instead—that matches the uniform—making him look like a high school, or university—he can pass as both—student that study in an elite school.
Of course there were stares, mostly from the female population of the university, but thinking about how young they are make his stomach drop and churn. Of course, Vanya was also too young but she was Vanya, she's always an exception.
When she had come into view he willed himself closer to the wall, leaning too much that his back had protested from the strain but it seems that he didn't need to hide his presence from her for she was so focused on the person beside her that she failed to notice Five's burning gaze on her figure. He almost growled at the smile Vanya was wearing not directed at him. He clenched his hands into fists—too tight that his hands started turning white. He counted to ten and peeled himself away from the wall, ignoring that young lady shyly starting for his direction all because she was not her.
She followed them in the shadows. In an inconspicuous spot behind the two where he can surveil them but not be spotted. He should've asked her sooner what she was doing going home so late. But Five couldn't do that. She gave him his privacy, never pried too much. Never asked what he was doing in the morning or where he got the money from. So he gave her space.
And he regretted that decision even more as a red blush bloomed in Vanya already rosy cheeks. Did he somehow came up in their—he supposed—many conversations? Does this guy know she was living with him? Does he even know he existed? Many question flooded on Five's mind that he craved to jump in front of them and introduce himself. But that would only make Vanya dislike him. He needs a subtler approach.
But when Vanya's laugh—her pure, unadulterated laugh—wafted and danced on his ears, resonating in his heart—he backs away. Because even his Vanya did not laugh like that. He turned around and squeezed his eye shut making him see her smile in the darkness behind his eyelids. The last thing he wants is to yank her away from her happiness even though he wanted it to be him by her side.
That he'd do anything for Vanya, his Vanya, and what had this fellow—who strongly resembles Harold Jenkins—done for Vanya other than chat her up and made her believe all his lies. But no matter what he does, he can't find any malicious intent behind this man—who looked like the person Five wanted to strangle the most—except pure fascination and interest. Oh, he knows that look. Because that's what he sees in the mirror whenever Vanya's around.
Five was selfish. His isolation in the godforsaken apocalypse made him selfish. He needed to survive, to live—and to do that he needs Vanya. So for the longest time, he waited. And waited. And waited. But Vanya and Leonard—great same name—was so happy with each other. They had been introduced but the outcome wasn't what Five had hoped. He had thought that as soon as Vanya tells this Leonard about him, he would back off. But he didn't. They continued with their relationship like it was a match made in heaven—it isn't, Five stubbornly thought.
He had been there for Vanya ever since she was little—every time. Five was torn between seeing her happy in another's arms and him surviving this wretched world he lives in and Five doesn't want to die. So no matter how hard he'd kept all these emotions bottled up, one slip up, one mistake would always make him come undone—unravelling all the horrors he's seen, all the horrors he's gone through.
That mistake was the alcohol. Distant years ago, Five had struggled with the addiction and he'd done so well staying sober for as long as he did but the pain of seeing the one thing he'd die for in another's arms was too much. So he turned to something he knew would surely numb the pain.
The job he took on that day was intended to be the hardest. He almost got shot on the head by a gang of Japanese yakuza and almost got sliced in half by a Chinese mafia. But Five was in his element—this time much more than the other times—and he seeks the thrill. The numbing of the adrenaline so he could wipe her off from his mind for a short while.
Vanya came home to his disheveled figure, he didn't even bother cleaning up. Dirt and grime caked his plaid vest, his blazer haphazardly thrown on the chair's backrest. There was some red on his collar—Vanya didn't want to know where it had come from—and in his right hand was a bottle of whiskey.
Vanya hurriedly took off her shoes and placed her coat on the coat hanger by the entrance. She hurriedly snatched the whiskey away from his hands—tried to at least, as she found his grip on the neck of the bottle too tight. She was afraid that any more pressure and he would shatter the glass, cutting himself in the process. Also, wasn't he supposed to be young? Younger than her? A minor? So why was he drinking?
"Five?" The familiar tug at her being worsened at the sight of him. At the dejected look he seemed to carry on his shoulders all the time. He grunted his response taking a sip directly into the glass bottle. His hands were shaky causing him to spill some of the brownish liquid on his shirt. She winced. "Five?" She shook his shoulders at an attempt to bring him back to Earth—to her.
When his eyes fluttered open, it looked glassy. Seeing what's in front of him but not seeing at all. There was always something behind his eyes but now it looked ghostly, more transparent, like Vanya had the chance to watch multiple galaxies under one sky. "You're just a figment of my imagination." He said almost sadly before taking another sip at the whiskey. She was crouching in front of him and the smell of his breath, mixed mouthwash and whiskey, was enough indication that he was drinking even before she found him like this.
Being called a figment of an imagination by Five made Vanya feel sad. All this time, she was the one who thought Five was a figment of her imagination. A manifestation of her idealized hero showing up to save her day. But he was real, Leonard can see him. Is this how Five feels? This empty, overwhelming feeling?
"Five, c'mon. Get up." She tried to tug the bottle away from him again. To no avail, his grip was much tighter and his face scrunched up as if her touch gave him pain. "You're not real." He repeated—mostly for himself. His voice almost manic in tone. He shook his head and repeated the word to himself each one increasing in intensity. His eyes were wide open now—pleading that she was not real. Vanya could see the hurt and the pain behind his eyes. So Vanya did what he did when she had panic attacks.
This is different from panic attacks though, she just wanted to bring Five back to her. So carefully placing his head in between her hands—she noticed how her hands can't even reach the whole of his face—she called out to him one more time. It was hard, Five's head fought her with the pull of gravity—lolling to slip out of her grasp. She willed her hands to stay and held him as she whispered his name. "Five." Come back to me.
Five eyes cleared and the fog lifted as for the first time that night, he saw her. She was here in front of him. But his whiskey-addled brain cannot comprehend what is happening right now, that this is just a dream. That she was in his dreams—again. So, like any other dreams he had, he leaned in closer and said her name. "Vanya…" with much longing and passion he can muster. He was a mess. All those times that he'd lost her and he was going to lose her again. But she always stays in his dreams. And right now, he thinks this is one of them.
Vanya was shell-shocked. The way Five said her name made her remember the world burning, bullets whizzing by her ears, a song, a name, a group of people, but it wasn't clear. Like a sand trickling away from her spread hands. Five said her name that made her feel something more ancient. Calling to her like a siren—luring her into false safety only to be tossed to the rough waves. What had he seen? What had he witnessed? What is happe—
Before she could finish her thoughts, his lips brushed hers ever so softly. Just a fraction of a second before his head hung limply onto her shoulders. Vanya's hands stayed midair, too shocked to process what had happened.
When she was young, just shy of fourteen, she had wondered how his lips would feel like. She would think about a song going off in her head, fireworks, and she would wrap her arms around him and he would smile at her because it was meant to be. But nothing of sorts happened. When his lips brushed hers—it was just that, a contact of skin. No background music, no fireworks, no smiles.
The dried blood from his lips tasted coppery, he tasted like coffee with a hint of whiskey. He tasted like something itching at the back of Vanya's head. Something in her solidified—something she hadn't known. And for a moment, she saw herself standing in front of a mirror. She was a lot younger, a lot skinnier but it was not her. This image of a younger Vanya wore the same uniform as Five did. Wore a much softer smile and an inquisitive twinkle in her eye. And with a blink, the scene vanished.
Vanya was back on her apartment with Five's head situated at the crook of her neck. A single tear fell down her eyes. It was all nostalgic, he is nostalgic. Like coming home after a very long vacation.
So Vanya silently cried and hugged him tighter—before letting him go.
Contrary to popular belief, alcohol doesn't make you forget the events of last night. Yes it might come at a much later time but it doesn't make you forget. So when Five awoke with a very bad headache and a very sore body—he was disoriented at first—then realization slowly crept in his mind.
He had kissed Vanya.
He had kissed Vanya because he thought it was a dream!
Oh God.
He groaned and ran his hand down his face. She was just so close. He sighed again and actioned to stand up when he was restricted by a pair of hands. He slowly looked down and there she was. Sitting on the floor, with her head on the edge of the couch—her right hand draped on his thighs and the other hung limply on her side. Heat rushed to Five's neck as he noticed how dangerously close she was to something.
But she stayed. After what he had done, she stayed.
Five could do the same, maybe she feels the same way because why would she stay, right? Yeah, that's what it must've been. She feels the same. The happiness that started to bubble inside him was cut short when her phone rang. His face fell.
Of course why would she feel the same? She has somebody in her life now. And he's making her happy even more than he could. She cared because he was her roommate. Because that's what roommates do. So before Vanya's chocolate eyes opened, Five had jumped away from her.
Away from the hurt and pain and her. Because that's what he's good at. Because he was Five and she was Seven. They were never meant to be. So he ran. And ran. And ran. Until his lungs gave out. Until his legs felt like lead. Until he feels so fucking tired that he can't jump. Until he can no longer feel. Until he can forget.
But who is he kidding? There's no way in hell he can forget her.
Vanya was twenty-nine when she sees him again. There he was standing on her bedroom's window, looking outside illuminated by the glow of a streetlight and the occasional headlights of cars. Five, she mouths unsure if it was really him. Her whole being ached at the thought that it was really him and she can run and hug him because she missed him so much. But her current reality stopped the longing that formed at the base of her skull.
"I'm sorry I left." Five said and Vanya didn't know how to form words. He was still the same. The same Five that helped her sleep. The same Five at that music room. The same Five in her room keeping her tethered to the ground. The same Five that kissed her.
And when he turned around and finally let her see him, it made her heart ache. It made everything feel like she's drowning and she needs air. Once upon a time, she would've loved this. She would've ran into his arms and felt his embrace. But she can't do that. So she just imagines.
He still looked the same, "I reckon you needed an explanation about everything." He walked towards her and lingered for a moment near her before walking to the chair in front of her vanity mirror and sitting down. The almost contact made Vanya's heart race. So she sat down on her bed and he waited. He always waits.
When Vanya has calmed down, when she was not overwhelmed with the need to jump on him and cry, he started his story.
He was not from this world. Vanya figured out when he hasn't aged and said so which earned her a warm smile from him but he shook his head. "I'm not from this world." She must've looked so confused that he slightly chuckled and explained more.
In specific terms, he was not from this dimension. That there are infinite possibilities of different scenarios occurring parallel to each other. That this isn't the only "Earth". He was from a different timeline, different string that has been long severed. "Parallel worlds." She whispered—not entirely believing that somewhere out there exists another Vanya. He nodded. "The space-time is flat. And the possible particle configurations could repeat many times over—infinitely."
Vanya still couldn't get it. So he simplifies it, overly simplifies it. "See this bed," Vanya nodded, "in another world, this bed could be the color green, or red, or any other combinations thereof." The simplification turns Vanya's face in recognition. "Like that cat?" She asks. He had the urge to laugh. "Schrodinger's cat. That's another thing entirely. It explains the superposition state of radioactive matter." Silence envelops the both of them as Vanya settles the information. "So, another me exists somewhere out there?" The question was innocent, almost wistful but Five's face turn placid, hiding his emotions deep within him that nothing shows on his face. "Yes." Vanya never missed the way his throat bobbed—he chokes on something raw that it made her feel uncomfortable.
"I can jump between space, between time, and between worlds." Five said after a long while of silence. Vanya guessed as much. "I'm the only one in the multiverse that's me though." Five said, adjusting his position on the chair. "I had a family…" He inhaled thickly, "…but I can't help them." I tried helping you.
So he spills everything, about the Academy, about his Vanya, about the Commission. About the time they went back in time to try and help her in his world to control her powers. About how they couldn't. "Just like Ben, she was consumed by her powers. Far too great for her own." And I couldn't help her. Vanya stayed silent. "So I tried to travel back in time to try and—" He didn't continue and Vanya can fill in the lines. To try and get her back. Her voice was soft when she asked, "What happened?"
"It was a different world." He said directly staring at her. He recounts how he'd met her again and lost her—again. So he tried, and tried, and tried. And they've met several times but every fucking time he'd lose her. Vanya was openly crying by the sixth time he recounted how he'd lost the Vanya in that world to drowning.
"Every fucking time I lose you. And every fucking time I find you again." The poison in his voice was present but there was tiredness laced in it too. How long had he been trying to save her? "For how long?" She asked, her voice small and quivering that it made the bed shake. "For almost a million years." There were no indications that he was joking. There were no slight crinkle of his eyes or upward turn of his lips. There was just him—haunted by the fact that he had lived almost a million years just to try and keep her. "My body could not cope up with everything that I'm permanently trapped in my fifteen year old self." He sighed and stared at his hands, too smooth, too tiny, and too young for his real age.
"And you're the last one." He said, tears now starting to form in his eyes. I'm the last one and he's also going to lose me.
"And I tried hard to keep away from you this time. I didn't tell you everything the first time we met, I didn't show myself to you because I thought I was content at looking at you from far away." He said looking down. "But I wasn't. Every time you had troubles I go into auto pilot wanting to help you." He chuckled, albeit bitterly. "I shouldn't have introduced myself to you."
"I've lost count on how many times your hands turned cold in mine. I've lost how many times I've seen you go—seen the life leave your body. I—I can't—I can't lose you, Vanya." He was crying now, matching Vanya's tears. "But I fucked everything up all those years ago and I did something I shouldn't have, I acted on impulse I—" he takes in a deep breath before finding her eyes again. The only light source—the world outside—shining through her window—listening in to their conversation with fervor. "I kissed you." He finished and her hand flung to her lips. She'd dreamt about that kiss, about him, for many years now and the word his saying right now is a testament that that did happen—and Vanya's heart broke.
"I was selfish and greedy that I want you all to myself. That I want Vanya to myself." He almost had this manic look in his eyes that she witnessed all those nights before—but this time, there was so much emotion dancing through his eyes. "All those years, I spent contemplating in where I may have gone wrong, on why the universe always rips you away from me. And there was always one constant." He smiles sadly. Vanya's tears were falling much harder now. "Me." He said and walked towards her, wiping her tears like he had done all those year prior and probably on other versions of her too. "I was the reason why I'd always lose you." His words stung. His fingers on her cheeks was warm, too warm and Vanya cried harder.
For a million years he's jump to every possible timeline, reducing his physical body to a fifteen year old boy, to bring her back, to not lose her. How many deaths had he witnessed? How many nights had he lied restless? How many tears had he shed? How many sacrifices had he made? Vanya doesn't even want to know, the more she does, the more she hated herself. It was her existence that drove him to madness. So she did what she could do at that very moment—she hugged him. He shifted on her hold to accommodate the space in between them. She hugged him and cried. Her hands desperate on his back. If she had kept her love for him, if she had not suppressed her feelings for him, if she was not her, they could've been happy. He could've rest easy that she was not going anywhere and he could've stayed.
So she hugged him and felt the regret and longing wash over her body, in waves rocking her core, and for a while they indulged on the what-could've-beens as both Five and Vanya sat on her bed, arms around each other. But this couldn't be, so he slowly let her go—for the last time—and smiled at her. "You wanna know something, Vanya?" His voice was hoarse, but full of assurance and softness that Vanya could've grown fond of. Vanya waited for him to finish his sentence but he never did. Instead, he stood up—guiding her with him, he's still taller than her—and kissed the top of her head.
Five inhaled the scent of her before he's going to lose her—for the last time. I'd always love you, he thought—tears prickling the side of his eyes. And before they could spend another heartfelt moment, Five glances down between them, at the baby bump that was now a couple months old. At the life Vanya is harboring inside her and he smiles sadly.
He lets her go and offered her a small smile before disappearing into a field of blue. He'd always love her. This time he doesn't have any destination in mind, so he lets space-time dictate where he would land, or if they chose to tear his body to pieces he's fine with it also. As long as Vanya is happy, I'd try my fucking best to be too.
Vanya was twenty-nine when she cried herself hoarse. Five have endured many—too fucking many—years trying to keep her, trying to bring her back. The distant rumble of a car pulling over at the driveway was an indication that her husband is back.
She willed her tears to stop but she couldn't, how could she? This is the last thing she could offer him—her tears. Vanya's heart was being squeezed at the emotions flooding through her, was it possible that she could feel all those hers' emotions too? She doesn't know. All she knows is that her heart is breaking and everything is falling apart and it could hurt the baby.
The baby!
Vanya tried to stand up from the floor—she hadn't realized she had fallen on it—and failed miserably. The baby would get hurt, so Vanya tried to stop—but she can't. She can't! She can't forget his face, his scent, his lips—everything about him. She just can't. So she screams in frustration and heartbreak and everything that she's currently feeling. She can hear Leonard's hurried steps up the stairs to ask her what was wrong.
Vanya was six when she first saw him in this timeline. Vanya was thirteen when she loved him. Vanya was sixteen when she was soothed by his voice. Vanya was eighteen when she found out he doesn't age and that she cut off any progress with him. Vanya was nineteen when he kissed her. Vanya was twenty-nine when she got her heartbroken that her whole body trembled.
Vanya was twenty-nine when they broke the string that attached them to one another.
Vanya was twenty-nine when she lost him.
Every pivotal moment in Vanya's life there was always this one constant—a teenage boy in a boarding school uniform.
Another Author's Note: Congrats on sitting through and finishing this! I couldn't even comprehend how you can sit through this trash and continue. Also, thank you for giving this fic a chance! Feel free to leave any comments or suggestions in the form of reviews. Thanks!
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