Episode Two: Run Boy Run
Part One.
I don't own the Umbrella Academy.
Seeing Five again must've really made her memories and brain go haywire, because Percy found herself dreaming of the day Five had left. There were so many memories she had locked away when it came to Five, but that particular one had hurt the most. And somehow, she had managed to even forget about it, pushing it to the deepest, darkest parts of her mind where she had hoped she would never remember it again. Or perhaps it wasn't forgetting, but more along the lines of... refusing to remember.
Seven rolled over in bed, groaning, as her alarm screeched right into her ear. In her fumbling to turn the awful noise off, she accidentally smacked the device with the back of her hand and sent it flying into the wall, smashing into a million pieces. She sat up, rubbing her eyes tiredly, blinking at the shards of glass and plastic on the floor, trying to figure out what was happening, before she just sighed and decided that was a problem she would have to figure out for another day.
There was the sound of running outside her room—everybody else must've been awake. Of course they were. The children woke up at six—or, at least, they were supposed to (Seven never did, anyway)—just to shower, but what was the point in showering if she never even got a turn? There were only two bathrooms that their dad had let them use in the morning. Seven wasn't sure why that was a rule—the house did have nineteen of them—but the children fought over who got to use the shower everyday. It was then decided that One and Two would use it first. Next would be Three and Four. Then Five and Six. Finally, Seven and Eight. Except by the time Five and Six were done with the restroom... there was barely time for Seven and Eight to just brush their teeth, so they had just resigned to showering at night.
As Seven pulled on her school uniform (they didn't have other clothes), she allowed a small smile to flicker over her lips. It worked out, considering that she could wake up a bit later than the rest of her siblings. Well, Eight woke up at six anyway, but Seven had always been more rebellious than her. Besides, she just didn't see the point in waking up so early. They wouldn't get the bathroom for another hour, at the very least.
As Seven stumbled out of the room, yawning, she nearly bumped into Eight, who looked much more awake than her. Eight only smiled as Seven stumbled along, rubbing her eyes.
"Maybe you should try waking up earlier," Eight suggested, but Seven only waved a hand dismissively.
"That defeats the whole purpose of sleeping in now, doesn't it?"
Eight only shook her head, her lips twitching, and the two girls parted ways when they reached the first bathroom, Eight allowing Seven to use it. Eight had always been the kindest out of all of them. Seven yawned again as she brushed her teeth, her eyes drooping...
The sound of a bell snapped her away, and she realized, with dawning horror, that she had somehow fallen asleep in the bathroom. Standing up. And the bell was Grace ringing it to signal for them to enter the kitchen for breakfast. And their father hated tardiness.
Eight spit out the toothpaste and rushed to rinse out her mouth, getting water all over her uniform, but that was the least of her worries. Still, though, as soon as she looked up at the mirror to see if she looked at least half-presentable, she realized that there were not-so-nice stains all over her clothes—not to mention the fact that her hair looked like a rat's nest. A groan escaped her lips as she rushed out the bathroom, running her fingers through her tangled dark locks, trying to comb it a bit, but she was already a minute late and she was pretty sure that combing her hair was not going to make their father any happier.
"During extreme weather conditions, a climber must possess the wisdom to determine when evacuation is inevitable.A controlled alpine descent begins with the girding of one's loins and the anchoring of the climbing rope to one's enemy, the mountain."
The stupid Herr Carlson speech seemed to be taunting her as she flew down the stairs, nearly tripping at the last one and breaking her jaw. Seven didn't usually have that little grace, but her mind was in a panic and all she could think about was the prison he kept her in if she ever put a single toe out of line, and she couldn't go back. Not again. But it seemed as though even though she told herself that all the time, it never did anything. Seven would always find herself locked in that room, over and over again, and she would never escape it.
Her panic increased tenfold when she saw the disapproval in her father's eyes when she skidded into the dining room, her uniform a mess, her hair somehow worse than before she attempted to fix it, blotchy water stains all over her clothes, and her cheeks a wonderful shade of red from her humiliation. One tried to hide his laugh—he had always hated her, although she wasn't sure why—his muffled chuckles the only sound in the room, but silenced himself when Two glared at him. Seven shuffled awkwardly, suddenly finding the floor incredibly interesting, unable to meet the eyes of anyone in the room.
"Seven!" Grace's cheery voice broke the silence—of course it did. Grace didn't realize what was happening, after all, or at least, she didn't know how to react to it. "How nice of you to finally join us. Come, sit, sit."
And the robot ushered Seven to her usual place next to Five and Eight, somehow still smiling through the tense situation as Herr Carlson droned on, "The Dülfersitz rappel is the preferred method for descent when rope is the only available tool, but must be regarded as a last resort. Begin by looping the rope... A screen anchor must be used if the rope is to be successfully retrieved from the face of the mountain. Tightly knot the ends of the rope."
They weren't allowed to talk during mealtimes, but that didn't stop One from sending her smug looks, although Seven tried to pretend she didn't see. She just took her seat with her head hung low, hands trembling, her face still burning with embarrassment and humiliation. The sound of silverware against plates began to clink again, but Seven didn't make a move to pick up her spoon. She was too scared to. She could already picture the vault that she was surely going to have to spend the night in, if not more.
Suddenly, she felt a hand slip into hers. Forgetting herself for a second, she glanced up in surprise to see Five's hand in hers, and he was smiling reassuringly, although she could detect the hint of worry behind his eyes. He squeezed her hand once, but he didn't let go, instead moving his hands so that their fingers were laced together. Seven looked away, her face still red, although it was for a different reason, a hint of a smile creeping onto her lips. How was it even possible that Five made her feel so safe seconds after she had been so miserable? She didn't catch the knowing look and smile of Eight as Eight noticed their clasped hands.
It took her a few seconds, but Seven finally managed to gather the courage to pick up her fork. She knew she was being ridiculous—she fought gun-wielding robbers and dangerous murderers on a daily!—but she would've taken on a hundred robbers in that moment if it only meant she wouldn't have to go back. She rarely did, anymore. She had learned when to keep her mouth shut, when to protest, when to keep her head down and just obey whatever their father had told her to do. She pushed herself to be the best amongst her siblings—and she spent so much of her time training and studying that she rarely even participated in the sibling-bonding time that the other Hargreeves children always had weekly.
She might've been on good terms with them, but she didn't really see them as a family. Not really. Even though she had lived with them for six years. How could she? To them, in the beginning, in the first year of when their father had invited her to live with them, she had just been a stranger that had stumbled into their lives. She was powerful, sure, with the power to control time itself, but she wasn't a family member to them. Not yet. Because they had had seven years to bond without her, seven years to begin seeing each other as siblings—and although they liked Seven enough, she just wasn't close enough with them to considered real siblings as they did with each other.
That was why she and Eight had become fast friends, anyway. Because Eight had seen how Seven closed herself off from the other children, had seen how Seven had seemed so awkward and anxious to stay away from the others, and they her, and Eight knew exactly how she felt. They had bonded over their shared feelings of rejection, of outcasts, although for very different reasons. And of course, because Five was possibly the only one that actually treated Eight well, Eight had introduced Five to Seven.
But Seven had never seen even Eight and Five as a sister and brother. Not really. Because sisters and brothers... well, they never really treated each other like sisters and brothers. More like best friends, who just so happened to live under the same roof, and have the same last name. And that was how Seven had always seen Eight and Five—her best friends. And the others—Two, Four—they were her friends. But Seven had never felt the familial ties that the others had with each other. She didn't understand why.
Of course, she didn't just think of Five as a best friend anymore. She hadn't for years. Not since the day she realized that she had been in love with him. And although she knew she had never really seen him as a brother in the first place—she didn't see any of the Hargreeves children as family—she still couldn't help but be ashamed at her feelings. Because, sure, she had never thought of Five as a brother, but she should've. Even if she had never seen him as family, she told herself that she shouldn't have loved him. Because, well, they were as good as family, weren't they? They lived under the same roof, they called the same man "Dad." That was what a family was supposed to be, and Five and her were as good as family.
Five was twitching from beside her. Seven glanced at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He was holding her left hand with his right, but in his right, he was twirling around a knife, grimacing, as if he was either thinking about something... interesting, or he was weighing his options. Without even meaning to, Seven glanced, to her right, at Eight, who was also sharing in her look of concern. The two girls exchanged frowns, and right as Seven glanced back at Five, he stabbed the knife into the table with such a ferocity that Seven jumped slightly.
All the other Hargreeves children stopped eating and turned to look at Five in shock as their father said sharply, "Number Five?"
"I have a question," Five said with a forced smile, his fingers tightening on Seven's hand.
"Knowledge is an admirable goal, but you know the rules," their father said easily as the other children went back to eating, albeit warily, and Seven was almost shocked at how casual he sounded. She had been afraid he was going to rip Five a new one. "No talking during mealtimes. You are interrupting Herr Carlson."
In response, Five shoved his plate away from him and said through gritted teeth, "I want to time travel."
"No."
"But I'm ready. I've been practicing my spatial jumps, just like you said." Five pushed himself away from the table, carefully unlatching his hand from Seven's and spatial-jumped right next to their father, who didn't even blink. "See?"
Seven didn't even know how her siblings could still be eating during this argument, but she watched nervously, drumming her fingers, praying that it didn't go too horribly wrong, but she wasn't sure. Their father could be quite unpredictable. Still, he didn't seem too put off by Five's arguing, so Seven just prayed that he would keep his easy-going manner until the end.
"A spatial jump is trivial when compared with the unknowns of time travel," their father said briskly. "One is like sliding along the ice, the other is akin to descending blindly into the depths of the freezing water and reappearing as an acorn."
Five pursed his lips with a look of annoyance, muttering, "Well, I don't get it."
"Hence the reason you're not ready," their father said, placing the goblet back down.
For a moment, Five glanced up at Eight and Seven, as if silently asking for their advice. Of course, Eight and Seven violently shook their heads at him, trying to warn him to stop. He was already pushing his luck, breaking rule after rule in the span of a couple minutes, and Seven wouldn't have been surprised if their father punished him already. If Five kept on pushing even after their father had ended the conversation, she feared what might happen to him. Their father wasn't known for being kind and gentle. Five, the stupid, stubborn person he was, didn't take their advice and looked back at their father.
"I'm not afraid."
"Fear isn't the issue. The effects it might have on your body, even on your mind, are far too unpredictable." Five looked up with clenched teeth, his face full of annoyance as their father threw his cutlery back onto his plate and turned to look at Five, saying sharply, "Now, I forbid you to talk about this anymore."
Five looked downright outraged, but all Seven felt was a wave of relief. Even Five knew when he was beat, and when to put his head back down. He knew the conversation was over. Whatever his punishment for breaking the rules was going to be, it wasn't going to get any worse.
Of course, that didn't happen.
With a look of barely-suppressed rage, Five turned and rushed out of the room, their father shouting after him, "Number Five! You haven't been excused! Come back here!" Seven was half-risen from her chair as soon as Five's jacket had just whipped around the front doors, ready to run after him and call him back when Eight grabbed her arm.
"Don't!" she whispered, eyes darting toward their father.
Seven followed her gaze. He was giving her a hard look, as if reminding her she was already going to face punishment for being late, and advising her to stay where she was if she didn't want her punishment to get any worse. Seven still remained frozen, halfway from getting up, her mind flashing back to the vault. She knew that she might've not have had to return there if she stayed in her seat and listened to her father—staying in her seat was a sign of obedience, after all. If she went after Five, however, all she was doing was sealing her fate.
But there was no choice. Not for her. Because she might've feared their father, yes, but he had miscalculated—because she loved Five more than she feared their father.
She ripped her arm out of Eight's grip, much to the other girl's shock, and tore down the hall with such a speed that her chair overturned, the sound echoing through the stunned-silent house. She heard her father shouting her name from behind her, demanding that she get back there, but Seven paid him no attention. Instead, she burst out of the mansion, the gates already swinging wide open from Five's escape, and glanced down the street desperately, trying to look for him.
She caught sight of dark hair and blue clothes to her right, and she took off, praying that it was Five, and she could get to him in time.
She had been so close.
Her fingers had been a millimeter away from brushing his jacket when he suddenly vanished into mid-air. Seven stumbled forward in surprise, far too shocked to realize what had just happened for the first few seconds. And then the weight of realization hit her—no, it did more than just hit her. It seemed to have smacked her over the head with a train. Because he had just time traveled, hadn't he? When he knew nothing of it?
"Five!" she cried, spinning in a circle, looking around desperately, although a little voice in her head told her that he was gone, and he wasn't coming back. "Five, wait, come back! You don't understand how time works! What if you get stuck? Five! Five! Come back!"
Because out of everybody, out of all the Hargreeves siblings—Seven understood time the best. It was her specialty, after all. And she understood far better than any of them that time wasn't something someone could just read about and grasp the concept of—time was cruel and wicked, and even those well-versed in the rules of time could be tricked by it. It wasn't something that someone could do just by playing around—Five might've been able to time travel, but he was by no means an expert, and she already knew something was going to happen—something bad.
The pedestrians were all giving her strange looks as she continued running desperately amongst the crowds, shouting Five's name, because he couldn't have been gone. He couldn't have been. He had promised her. And he never broke his promises.
It was only until Seven's voice was completely gone and her strength failed her that she finally sank to the ground, the realization of what had just happened settling in, her heart feeling as if it had just been torn out of her chest right in front of her, and her sobs echoing in the ears of all that passed her.
When Percy woke up, the first thing she noticed was that she was crying. How embarrassing. It was the silent type of crying—tears just dripped down her cheeks, but she made no sound. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, and then paused when she realized that she had no idea where she was. She had woken up, swamped in grey covers, still wearing her blood-stained clothes from the fight inside the diner. She tried to think back, and managed a fuzzy memory of Vanya. She was in Vanya's apartment, wasn't she?
MILD TRIGGER WARNING
A horrible feeling suddenly settled into her stomach. She had passed out due to overexerting herself with her powers, which meant she couldn't have driven to Vanya's... which meant Five drove. Five, who had taught himself how to drive during the apocalypse. She was suddenly very glad she was sitting down. It was funny almost, really, that she was suddenly so concerned with living when she had seriously been debating the alternative just a few weeks ago, but she realized now that... well, she was back with her family. And she hadn't realized how much she missed them until she saw them again. Even if they were a dysfunctional family who had immediately begun accusing each other of murder about five minutes into living under the same roof again. Besides, Five needed her help with stopping the end of the world. She couldn't make him do all the work by himself. Because she might've failed Ben all those years ago, but she was determined to not that fate happen to anyone ever again.
MILD TRIGGER WARNING OVER
Percy threw the covers off herself and padded quietly toward the living room just in time to hear Five ask, "You got anything stronger?"
Percy stepped out of the room to see Vanya pouring a cup of... something alcoholic. "Vanya?"
The other woman looked up in surprise, but suddenly, Five was blocking her view of Vanya, having spatial-jumped right in front of her, his eyes filled with worry as he gently pressed his fingers against her cheek, tilting her head slightly, examining her.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asked.
Percy nodded. "I just overexerted myself. Nothing a good rest can't cure."
"Good," he breathed, offering her a tinsy smile, and then took her hand again before leading her back to the living room, where Vanya stood waiting for them, a small smile playing on her lips as she watched the two, a cup of alcohol in her hand.
"Want anything?" Vanya asked Percy, who only shook her head.
Vanya passed the cup to Five and Five took a sip as Percy let her eyes trail over the small apartment. Despite the small size, it looked very homely. Percy was suddenly hit by a wave of guilt—perhaps she should've visited Vanya. She never visited her siblings, only either calling them or staying in touch with them through indirect means, and although she called Vanya much more often than she called the others, she still felt quite guilty. Because shutting herself off from the rest of them was a way to protect herself from the horrible memories, sure, but she hadn't stopped to think about how they would feel.
Especially Luther. She suddenly felt terrible for him, even if she had been angry with him just a few hours ago from the fact that he had been accusing them of murdering their father and that he had broken Ben's statue over his little childhood spat with Diego. Because she couldn't imagine it—four years on the moon? Alone? Luther was possibly the only sibling she hadn't kept some sort of contact with in the last few years—except for Five, perhaps. The sibling she saw the most, face to face, was Diego, and that was because both of them had the same habit of listening to the radio for news of a dead junkie and rushing to the site as soon as they could, often bumping into each other.
Never for long, though. Only for a few minutes at most, and most of the time, Diego never even knew Percy was there, although she always knew when he was there. She always ran, always hid, always too scared to face her problems head on, and she knew Diego wouldn't suspect the young teenager at the crime scene to be the sister he hadn't supposedly seen in years. She suddenly wondered why she had shut herself off from her siblings for so many years. Wondered how she ever could've been so selfish and somehow justify it to herself. Because all of her siblings were hurting, weren't they? They were all hurting, all traumatized... and Percy had never once stopped to wonder if they ever missed their sister, never once stopped to wonder if they needed to be reminded that they were loved.
Because that was something the Hargreeves children had never been told enough in their lives—that they were loved, and Percy Hargreeves loved her siblings, although sometimes, she wondered if they knew it. Because she hadn't started seeing them as her siblings until the year after Five had disappeared, until after she had decided to partake in their sibling-bonding times in order to try and take her mind off of Five, and they had finally accepted her into their family, and she them. And she wondered, distantly, if her life would've been so different if she had just tried harder in the beginning, tried harder to be a part of their family from the start.
But what use was there, in dwelling in the past? What was done was done, and despite all the power Percy had over time, she couldn't change the past. And even if she could, Percy wasn't sure if she wanted to. She didn't want her siblings' fates to change because of her hand—their lives had been built by themselves, by their own choices, and even if Percy could change their fates... that meant she was changing them based on her terms, not theirs. And she knew that even if she meant well... and even if her siblings thought that what she did would benefit them in the long term, in time, they would realize just how wrong they had been to assume that changing their fates had been a good thing.
No, Percy knew that staying away and letting their futures play out for themselves was the best thing she could do—and yet, why did she feel so guilty all the time? Perhaps it was because she knew that if she had maybe acted differently in the past, that if she had maybe treated her siblings differently, their lives wouldn't have played into the disasters they had turned out to be. Maybe if she had noticed Klaus' pain earlier and helped him before he had turned to drugs, he wouldn't be an addict. Maybe if she had realized that Allison relied far too much on her powers to get everything she wanted, and never looked at the long-term consequences, Allison wouldn't have used her powers to build her career and marriage. And maybe if she had been able to see just how miserable Vanya had been, had fought harder to force her siblings to include Vanya more often... maybe Vanya wouldn't have believed that all her siblings hated her.
Because Percy might've told herself that there was no point in dwelling in the past, that there was no point in wondering what could've been, but just because she told herself that didn't mean she could believe it. Because her entire life had been one big "what if?" and telling herself a few pretty words wouldn't change that. And she would forever be haunted by the choices she had made in her past, forever plagued with dreams of what could've been if she had made one, small change. Because controlling time was a terrible power to have, for you could gain everything with it... and yet Percy knew the best thing she could do was stay away from others' fates and let them play out for themselves, even if it was the hardest thing she had ever done.
Vanya was still looking at Five in disbelief, and the latter did not take it well. "You think I'm crazy," he scoffed.
"No," Vanya immediately denied, although she still looked like she was in shock. "It's just... it's a lot to take in."
Five must've been in a bad mood, which Percy could understand, considering he had just been attacked and was now placing the burden of saving the world on his own shoulders, because for the first time in their lives, Five snapped at Vanya. "Exactly what don't you understand?"
"Why didn't you just time travel back?"
Five scoffed humorlessly, and although Percy didn't let it show on her face, she had to agree with him. Time travelling back must've been the first thing that he thought of doing, which surely meant that it hadn't worked. Why, she wasn't sure, but it didn't seem like a good time to ask.
"Gee, wish I'd thought of that," Five said sarcastically. "Time travel is a crapshoot. I went into the ice and never acorn-ed. You think I didn't try everything to get back to my family?"
"If you grew old there, you know, in the apocalypse, how come you still look like a kid?" Vanya's voice was laced with confusion.
Five pursed his lips, smiling darkly, clearly in a foul mood as he realized that Vanya didn't really believe him—Vanya, who had always believed him when they had been children. "I told you already. I must have got the equations wrong."
"I mean, Dad always used to say that time travel could mess up your mind," Vanya offered, clearly trying to find a reasonable explanation for why Five was telling her the world was going to end in eight days. "Well, maybe that's what's happening?"
Five stopped pouring himself another cup of... whatever the alcohol was, and even Percy winced at Vanya's words. Five would not take kindly to someone telling him that he was insane. She wished she hadn't been right.
"This was a mistake," Five ground out. "You're too young, too naive to understand."
He had taken Percy's hand and was just about to open the door when Vanya called desperately, "No, Five... Five, wait." She waited for the two of them to turn around again, and then said, her voice shaky, as if she was holding back tears at the thought of her brother disappearing again. "I haven't seen you in a long time, and I don't want to lose you again. That's all. And you know what, it's getting late, and I have lessons early, and I need to sleep, and I'm sure you do, too." She crossed the room, to the couch, and lay down a blanket for him. "Here. We'll talk in the morning again. Okay? I promise."
She turned to look at Percy, but Percy just held up a hand, trying for a smile. "I'm good, Vanya," she murmured. "I just slept."
Vanya nodded, and said, "Night."
She walked past the two, and Percy and Five replied, "Night."
Percy watched her until the bedroom door closed behind her, and Five sighed, dropping onto the couch, before beginning to unwrap a piece of cloth he was holding. Curious, Percy leaned over his shoulder to look at what he was holding, oblivious to the way he stiffened when he realized just how close she was to him. She frowned when she realized it was just a prosthetic eyeball, and then pulled away, giving a questioning look to Five.
"It belongs to the person who sets off the apocalypse," he explained, already knowing what she was about to ask. "We find them, and we can stop them."
She knit her eyebrows. "That... seems a little too simple."
"Then what would you suggest?"
She just shrugged. "I don't know. It sounds like a good plan, but... from my twenty three years with the Umbrella Academy, I've learned that nothing in our lives is ever really that simple." She glanced at the eye again. "But I mean... are you sure?"
"A hundred percent."
"Then I won't doubt you." And then she frowned at him. "You were really harsh with Vanya, you know. You have to look at it from her perspective. The brother she thought had died had just fallen through a portal, came back looking like his thirteen-year-old self, is suddenly very cranky and snappish—more so than he used to be—and is now trying to tell her the world ends in eight days. I mean..." She trailed off, and then sighed. "I don't wanna take sides, but... maybe you could've been a little nicer to her? I mean, considering that Diego had just told her to her face that he didn't think of her as family and wanted her out of his life just a few hours ago..."
"He said what?"
"Oh, don't worry," Percy said dismissively. "He's just hurt. And angry. But I know Diego. He's not going to be angry forever. He still cares about his family—even if that family is a shitshow. And I'm sure he still cares about Vanya... he's just throwing a tantrum right now. But, you know, it must hurt a lot more, coming from you, because you and I were the only ones who treated Vanya kindly in the past, and now you're getting angry with her when all she's trying to do is put your words into her logic—one of the only people who had treated her with kindness in her life. And you're both frustrated—you, because Vanya won't listen to you, and Vanya, because she can't comprehend your words."
If she had been anyone else, Five would've loaded her into a cannon and shot her off the Earth for her words. Instead, he just gave her one of his infamous scowls. Percy didn't back down, though, meeting his scowl with a cool gaze. Because she would be damned if she let Five continue with his attitude toward Vanya when she knew how devastated the other woman must've been at the fact that one of the only people who had treated her with kindness was now speaking so harshly with her. Still, she knew she didn't have to actually try so hard. She knew that Five must've felt a little guilty at his treatment of Vanya, considering how close the three of them had been when they had been children.
He just sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. "Okay. You're right. I'll apologize tomorrow."
"So we're leaving, then?" Percy's lips twitched when Five gave her a surprised look. "Oh, come on, it was obvious enough. Where are we going?"
Five glanced back down at the eye. "We're going to find where this was manufactured, and then we're going to find out who it was sold to... and then we're gonna kill them."
A soft laugh escaped her lips. "So all in all, just another Sunday?"
He smiled. "Just another Sunday."
He took her hand and the two left the apartment, the door clicking quietly from behind them.
I know that this chapter sounds a bit pro-Luther, so here's my take on his character—his trauma on the moon is valid. Using that trauma to invalidate or minimize others' traumas is not valid. I know that a lot of people either hate him or sympathize with him, but I'm in the middle, but leaning more toward sympathize after the second season, where we get to see him grow as a person. But no, during the first season, he was a complete bitch sometimes, and that's the tea sis.
Also, yes, your eyes are not deceiving you—I did throw in an Avatar: The Last Airbender reference. :)
I tried to explain the whole "family-incest-gross" thing in this chapter. Percy had never thought of Five like a brother, and she had never thought of the rest of her family as family until after Five left, so it wasn't like she saw him as a brother first and then started to like him. The reasons for this will be explained in later chapters, but I thought to just point it out.
Also, yes, this chapter was very gross-and-cliché-and-mushy-and-stuff, but hey. Sometimes all you need is a bit of all that. I will try and keep the romance in future chapters on a lower degree, though, because it's starting to become a little too in-your-face.
Anyway, until next time!