SPARROWS ✶ FIVE HARGREEVES

3 | Unwanted Visitor

Y/N

_

MAXINE NIGHTINGALE wrote one of the best 70s songs known to the history of man.

At least that's my opinion, so don't try to argue with me. In fact, I was playing that exact song right now, the thin vinyl sounds echoing out of my record player. It was my teenage rebel anthem, and I usually played it after getting yelled at by Dad.

Which was why I was playing it now.

"Ooh, and it's alright and it's coming along," I sang along, collapsing onto my pillow, "We gotta get right back to where we--"

Before I could finish the lyric, a soft WOOSH echoed out of nowhere, and I felt a hand clamp around my mouth. What the hell was going on? My defense mechanisms kicking in, I elbowed the attacker in the stomach, and pushed them away from me.

Scrambling over to the corner of my bed, I finally got a good look at the intruder.

"You!" I exclaimed, sticking out my pointer finger.

It was the teenage boy from earlier. He was still wearing his navy uniform, but his hair definitely wasn't as slicked back as earlier. Maybe it was because I hit him a few seconds earlier (don't get me wrong, it was well deserved).

"Yes, I'm aware it's me," he said sassily, "try to keep your voice down, will ya'?"

"How the hell?" I began, before stopping myself mid-sentence, "right, your lot also has powers."

"Obviously."

My first opinion of him was that he was somewhat interesting, but now I realized he was just a jerk. A room invading, sarcastic, School Of Rock styled jerk. What was he doing in my room anyways, and how did he know which one was mine?

"Just as I suspected," he said, taking a step back from his original position, "you're a Blank?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You're a Blank," he explained, "you don't have powers."

So to add onto the list of things I just called him, he was also a rude assumptionist. I never heard the term 'blank' before, but apparently it was a disappointing thing to be. I was disappointing, sure, but he was still wrong.

"How would you know that?" I frowned.

"When I time-jumped into your room, you didn't fight back with your skills. Just physically."

Smart-Alec. That's what he must have noticed down in the living room. My resistance to join my other siblings probably made it look like I was different from them, therefore giving the hypothesis that I had no powers. It was a reasonable argument, but I just hated them. That's all there was to it.

"Hate to break it to you, but you're wrong," I scoffed, rolling my eyes, "I do have powers."

"What are they?"

"Not telling you," I snapped, "I thought we kicked you out, why are you back?"

"I noticed you watching us, when none of your other pals in the Sparrow Academy apparently thought we deserved so much as a glance," he noted, "you're the only one who seemed interested in us."

"Don't take it personally," I sighed, "I hate everyone, including your academy and mine."

"I wouldn't put it past you, but I need your help."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not supposed to be here," I hissed, picking up my throw pillow and chucking it at him, "and I don't want to waste my time helping people I don't know."

Dodging the flying object, the boy narrowed his eyes in obvious distaste. So what? I just narrowed my eyes back, sticking out my tongue to top it off. Just because I didn't like my Academy, didn't mean I was interested in helping other people. I lived in isolation, so I liked to stay in isolation.

"Fine, then let's get to know each other," he said, sticking out his hand, "I'm Five."

He wasn't going to give up, was he?

"You don't look five," I scowled.

"My name is five."

"Well, your name is stupid," I frowned, "you sound insane."

Five wrinkled his nose in confusion, as if he didn't understand, "what's your number?"

How messy were his priorities? First he tried to attack me, then he wanted to know my powers, then he wanted my help, and now he was trying to hit on me. Ugh, men.

"I don't have a phone," I declined, "and I wouldn't give you my number anyways."

"I meant your name."

Oh, I may have accidentally misinterpreted what he was asking. Heat of the moment, I guess.

"Unlike you, I don't have a number for my name," I corrected, limply sticking out my hand, "but I'm [y/n]."

He took my hand, shaking it roughly and letting go. He clearly wasn't used to proper physical contact, because that handshake was confusingly estranged. He shook it like a robot, and barley even closed his fingers over my palm.

"Why are you my age, [y/n]?" He asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

"What do you mean?"

"You're the youngest out of everyone here, and yet we were all supposed to be born on the same day in the same year."

We? He was also born on the same day? I must have missed something, because the last time I checked, he also had powers. The similarities were strikingly similar...

I never liked to speak about my past, since it did nothing but bring up bad memories, but maybe that was because nobody asked. And here Five was, asking.

"I..." I started, a little hesitant, "when I was three, my dad put me in a cryo-chamber for a month because of something that happened. When he took me out, the effects were pretty bad, and I was in a coma for three years."

"I see," Five said, nodding his head slowly.

"And because of that, my body didn't age for another 3 years," I finished, "and only started to after that."

"So you're fourteen now."

"My body is."

"So am I," he added, "I was stuck in an apocalypse for 30 years, but when I got back, I was stuck in my thirteen year-old body. Well, fourteen now."

I had no clue what apocalypse he was talking about, but honestly, I didn't care. Clearly there wasn't one happening now.

"So will you help?" He asked again, tilting his head in urgency.

Hell no. just because we were the same age, didn't make me want to help him. Besides, he was pretty rude, and pretty annoying attacking me out of the blue. If he knocked on the door politely, maybe I would have considered it.

HAH! No, I still wouldn't.

"Forget it," I said, pointing at the door, "now get out of my room."