Darling || Five

03

When Peter was around the age of 21,(they had kept track of ages through a noted marks of each summer since they had arrived. All joining the other notes Five scribbled in Vanya's book. Peter had read the book almost as much as five did) they found an old record player in the back storage of a half ruined museum. It was boxed and dusty and hidden amongst the storage of papers, artefacts and old coins which they had been rifling through for the last four hours. Amusing themselves with the things they found. Five commenting on various historical documents he found interesting while Peter played around with the old technology he found littered around. He was taking apart a broken typewriter to see if there was anything he could add to a toy car that he was trying to fix, when Five unearthed the box from a corner.

"What's that?" He asked, looking up from the skeleton of the typewriter. The little smoke stained toy car beside it half dismantled.

"A lovely piece of machinery", Five had grinned at him as he clicked open the case and pulled out the little wind up record player. It was battered like everything else. The apocalypse didn't leave things untouched. Peter abandoned his project and floated across the room to join him in putting the pieces together.

"Ouch", Peter hissed when the sharp edge of a broken record sliced across the fragile skin of his index finger. Blood welled up and dripped down his hand. It traced its way past other scars, over joints and dirt. He stared at it as a drop left his hand and landed on the dust and ash covered floor.

"Careful", Five muttered as he took the bleeding digit and pressed it into his mouth. Peter stilled and felt his feet touch the floor as he stared into brown eyes. Five's tongue rough on his sensitive finger. Once, twice then he was releasing it and lowering Peter's hand from his mouth. "Don't go getting an infection and dying on me here Peter".

"It's just a tiny cut", Peter huffed, ignoring the way that five was holding his hand. Five rarely used his name (there wasn't much point when there was no one left in the world but the two of you), and it made him feel warm.

"But that's how it starts. A tiny cut gets infected then you become feverish and within two weeks you're dead", Five grinned, obviously taking joy in the horror of the fate. A fate that was painfully easy in their current post apocalyptic world with little supplies or health. Peter just scowled at him and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah yeah. Now do you think we could get this to work?" He turned his attention to the old wind up gramophone.

"Should do. The machinery all looks fine". Five's lithe hands began winding the machine up, the bronze handle turning with some stiffness. Peter watched over the other's shoulder. Five having stoped growing back when he was seventeen while Peter had only recently finished. He was a head taller than the brunette when not hovering in the air. (Not that Five didn't make up for his lack of height by seer rage and spite). He began to thumb through the records in the box they had found the gramophone in.

"Hey they have Queen", he spoke up as the handle turned and squeaked. "And some tunes from the fifties. Abba. Oh-" he broke off at the sight of a record he recognised. The sight of the familiar album cover brought memories of summer Sunday mornings in the little apartment above the Chinese takeaway in London as his mother danced around the kitchen. Her blonde hair golden under the sunlight and smile wide as he held her hands.

"The Cranberries?" Five's voice brought him back to the present. "Do you like that band?"

"Yeah", Peter muttered, throat choked up. Dreams. His mother had loved it ever since it had come out in 1993, Peter had been three, almost four.

"Well, let's see if this works", Five muttered as he snatched the record from Peter's hands and placed it on the wheel. He flicked a switch and lowered the needle. It took a second but soon the slow guitar of the opening track of the album was filling the air. The two men stood and listened to the crooning voice for the entirety of the first song until the one that plagued Peter's childhood memories began.