˚✧˳ ❝ Bite me. ❞
He didn't respond, but he maintained to stare daggers at me.
A smirk bent its way on his thin lips as the tables turned. Making me the one to back out my neck in defeat as he inched closer again.
❝ Oh, I will bite you. ❞ Five cooed...
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˚✧˳✧˚✧˳✧˚✧ ☂️ ✧˚✧˳✧˚✧˳✧˚
(Y/N) Hargreeves
4 years, 6 months, and 11 hours.
"WHERE ARE YOU FIVE?"
I whispered to myself, the question that up until now was never answered. The disappearance of Five was a mystery that was never resolved. I inspected the painting that my father recently put up on the wall to honor his memory. Dad has a liking regarding Five's powers for some reason. I have to admit that it embellished the wall beautifully. His defined frame portrayed perfectly his chiseled features. I'd say he looks like a painting, but he is the painting.
Five was that best friend that no one ever wanted.
But I would.
He was a sarcastic 13-year-old boy with a menacing character, you just can't help yourself hate this guy, that's why I stayed up late at night to wait for his return practically every single day, how ironic. He was just that boy you can never forget. And I want him back. It's getting boring without him walking around the house in his shorts.
"Ms. (Y/N)? It's almost bedtime. It's a busy day tomorrow." I turned my head to see who calmly spoke from the corner. It was Pogo, a developed chimpanzee in a suit who is also my Father's assistant.
"I know. I'll get going." I said, smiling at him before twisting my heel to head over the stairs.
"You miss him, don't you?" I stopped in my tracks as I swallowed the saliva that was building up inside my mouth.
My relationship with Five was perplexed. We despised one another's guts to the point we would have seemingly tried to peel off each other's faces if he was still here, but at the same time, we're partners in crime. But it was mostly I that showed more appreciation for our bond. We had a complicated but healthy friendship.
Dad would sometimes put us into sanctions for fighting all the time but also applauded us on missions since we always make strategic ways to battle with our enemies.
"We all do, Pogo."
"You know what I mean, Ms. (Y/N). You and Number Five are close friends. I know you're feeling differs from the others because of the special bond that both of you have, the damage it left has greatly affected you... I'm sure he'll be back for you Ms. (Y/N)." He affirms as he took a step forward with the wooden cane, trying to cheer me up. The melancholy in his eyes was present even behind his wrinkly, encouraging, smiling face. Pogo was family. He treats us like us his own children, unlike dad who views us as mere hero laborers.
"Hopefully." I looked at him, trying to hold back a tear that kept crippling in my view, and tried to convince myself it was possibly just dust, but it's not, I'm resentful for feeling this way. Hearing his name was just a stab to my chest, and it gave me more reasons to hate him.
