“So, you're...” Five hesitates, standing up. His eyes are hardened, tired, withered. Wilbur could think of a million adjectives to describe it. None of them are good. The thought makes his stomach turn.
“Sent to kill you,” Wilbur supplies, drawing his fingers against the cover of his journal. At his words, Wilbur can hear a change in the tune of his thoughts.
Five’s thoughts are composed of piano music, something Wilbur doesn’t hear often, always down beat, like funeral music. Now, they're panicked, rushed, the composer at the seat is hurrying, like he can't get the notes played fast enough, like he's finally realized the thing sent from hell to kill him is here.
“Well,” Five clears his throat, hesitating for once.
Wilbur doesn’t like that he’s the reason this happens.
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DOMESTIC BLISS | Five Hargreeves
Short Story[ Five Hargreeves / Original male character ] Wilbur feels her nails against his skin, soft, perfectly shaped ovals painted a bright red, the picture perfect image of domesticity, a man's dream. It makes his skin crawl, memories of his own mother wi...
