Summary: Five and you have been stuck in the subway system for six years, five months, and two days, slowly losing time and hope, isolation takes its toll.
pairing: Five Hargeeves x reader
Cw: Suicide, self-harm, depression, death, grief, guns, mental health crisis, emotional distress, violent struggle (graphic)
Note: This story deals with mental health and suicide-related themes. Please read with care.
⊹₊˚‧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‿︵‿︵‿‧˚₊⊹
It's been five years- wait, no, it's been six years, five months, and two days stuck in this shit hole. Five and I had this great idea to go into the subway system, which led us both to believe, could help save the world bullshit again. So there we went as he teleported both of us, later realizing that we had no way back home. We survived off scraps from each stop, bugs, and whatever crap trash we found. At some point, Five gave up and said it's best to stay at a house at a later stop, which also had a garden. We've been here for six years now, and I'm going insane. Five doesn't seem to mind it, but to be fair, he is used to being all alone. After all, spending fifty-eight years in the apocalypse does some real damage.
"Hey," A voice suddenly hits me. I turn over, looking at Five, where he is sitting on the dining chair.
"Yeah?" I say as I realize that I had gotten into my own thoughts again. It's no big news to Five that I'm going insane; if anything, he's being nice enough to keep trying and find stuff. He goes out about 3 times a week, seeking anything to help us both get out.
"I asked you if you're okay?" He says as he's tying up his shoes.
He doesn't know today will be my last day.
"Listen." He says, getting up, coming to me, kissing me on my forehead. "We're gonna find a way out, I promise you that."
He might not have a way out now, but I do.
"I know, I believe you," I smile as he does back. "Now go."
"Fine, fine." He grabs his bag and comes back to me, giving me a kiss on the lips.
"I'll make sure to find another magazine for you! I love you and try not to miss me too much," he says as you wave, watching him leave.
I stare out the window as I wash the dishes. The water runs too long, too hot, like I’m trying to rinse something deeper than soap. It’s strange how a normal moment can feel like an ending. Every plate, every glass, like they’re keeping count.
I think about Five. About how he kept going when everything else was gone. Fifty-eight years of it. Surviving when there was no reason to believe in anything ahead.
The silence that follows is loud, but it’s real.
I then walk to our bedroom.
Finding my outfit for my last day.
I walk over to the bathroom, closing the door behind me, and step into the shower. The water is already hot, too hot, but I don’t adjust it. I just stand there and let it hit my skin.
It stings at first, sharp and almost punishing.
For a while, I don’t move. I don’t reach for the soap or the shampoo. I just stand there, letting the heat and the sound fill up the space in my head.
It’s the first thing all day that feels simple.
No decisions. No endings. Just water, and breath, and the quiet rhythm of both.
I hop out of the shower and change. The mirror catches me before I’m ready.
For a second, I don’t recognize the person standing there. The tired eyes. The pale skin. The weight of too many nights that never really ended. I search my own face like there’s an answer hidden in it, like if I stare long enough, I’ll find the exact moment everything went wrong.
Just a person. Still here.
I pull my gaze away and finish getting dressed. Then I step out and move to my side of the bed, opening the drawer. Paper. Ink. Something solid. Something that doesn’t argue back.
For a while, I just hold the pen. The silence presses in, but it’s different now, less like an ending, more like a space waiting to be filled.
The trains keep going. They just grind through the dark, doors flickering open onto platforms that don’t exist, announcements stuttering in a language I don't understand. I used to count the stations. I used to think that if I mapped it all, I could find the one that led us back to our family. Now it feels like the map is what’s hunting us. I keep catching different versions of you. Sometimes you’re older, sometimes you’re not. Sometimes you look right at me like you know exactly where I’ve gone wrong. I want to ask you which version of this we will survive. I want you to tell me there is one. I never get the confidence to ask. Maybe it's cause I'm scared of the truth. Maybe I already missed the moment when I could've asked. I’m so tired of being stretched across seconds that don’t belong to me. I loved you in the timelines that burned. I loved you in the ones that folded in on themselves before we could speak. I loved you in the quiet ones, too. Those are the worst to remember. When you read this, it means I stopped trying. Not because I wanted to, but because I couldn’t keep going. Living in a place that exists everywhere at once. I couldn’t keep pretending that this is what was left. What was really left for us? Don’t come looking. Don't open the door after reading this. Leave this place, Five. You need to get back to our family. Save them from the apocalypse. If there’s a version of you that still gets out, take it. Leave this place to collapse without us. Forget me if you have to. I think the universe is already trying to. But if you can’t, if you’re as trapped as I am, then at least know this made sense to me at the end. That loving you was the only thing here that ever did.
Still yours, somewhere between the seconds."
I rip the paper out and set the pen down. For a second, I just stand there. Then, getting up, I walk to the front door and place the letter on the outside, my hand lingering against the wood a little longer than it needs to.
Five shouldn’t be back until around 4:30.
Five had been out looking for food once again. He had the same routine, which was to eat breakfast with me, soon to be fiancée, when he had gotten his confidence to actually ask me. Then head out and get on the subway to try a way out. He always loved me, I don't know how, but he just did. Something a lot of people didn't understand about Five was that, as much as he seemed cold. He truly did care. He was never a big, affectionate guy, and he still isn't. He tries to be, but it's hard. His father was never around, besides sending him and his siblings on missions. Also, the fact that he was stuck in the apocalypse for about 58 years.
Five looked around, scavenging for anything to help us get out of there. Five knew that I was not in the right mindset as we speak now. I had hit depression at its finest. He swore to himself he would find a way out for me. As much as I thought he didn't see how I was. He sees all of it. He worries so much to the point he takes walks tryna figure out what to do.
Five had stopped at a station and looked around, the silence of the place pressing in on him. The tracks stretched out in both directions, disappearing into darkness. He moved closer, stepping carefully down toward the railway line.
A notebook, half-hidden near the edge of the platform. He picked it up. At first, he just skimmed it, quick, distracted lines, numbers, and fragments that didn’t mean much. But the further he read, the more his expression changed. Focus sharpened. Breathing slowed. Then it hit him.
He climbed back up onto the platform, gripping the notebook tighter now, scanning through it with renewed urgency.
“I did it…” he muttered under his breath.
He was going to get us out of there. Back to his family.
It didn’t matter if another apocalypse was waiting on the other side. It didn’t matter how many times the world ended.
As long as he got me out, kept me safe, saw me smiling again, that was enough.
That was the point of all of it.
"Fuck" Five whispered to himself. It had been over more than an hour since he had been on the subway. He can't figure out why it's taking so damn long to get back to you. Minus that, the good part is that he knows the way out is actually a way out.
I sit at the dinner table, staring at the gun in front of me. Five never was a big person on killing, so nor was he a big person on weapons. He didn’t know I had this. Hidden away under folded clothes, tucked into the back of a drawer, as if it could stay a secret forever.
"Fuck" I mouth to myself. I've wanted to do this for the last 4 months, and why can't I now? It's the thought that makes it easy, but doing it? That's another damn level to get through. Two things tend to keep people from committing. The people they leave behind and the pain. I only cared about one thing.
I believe if there were no pain, the world. The world would be better, but committing would be higher than it already is. Why's that? Pain is a big thing that is brought to the attention of those who wanna commit suicide. I mean, most people just wanna end it and do, but those afraid of the pain are typical.
Now the part of missing people? Shit, of course, I'd miss Five, but in the end, I know he will find someone better. I've always loved and cared for him. Maybe it was the fact that we went through so much together, and it seems as if the only person who gets me is Five himself. In some ways.
Fuck had it already been 4:30?
Five had finally found his way back to me, but at what cost? He had seen the note I left on the door. He was quick to put the pieces together. Knowing that his future fiancée wanted to commit. If there was even a future for me. He had come in running, but knowing me, I hadn't committed. He just saw me staring at the gun. It's weird to think I could've shot myself by now. If I had done it a few minutes before, he would've seen my corpse. I grab the gun, holding it up to my head.
“Put it down!” he shouted. “Set it down slowly…please.”
“Why should I?” I snapped, my voice shaking more than I wanted it to. “Five, I love you, but I don’t see the point in any of this anymore.”
His eyes locked on mine. He took a step forward.
“Please,” he said again, quieter now. “Just-just put it down. Don’t do this.”
“Don’t come closer,” I warned, “Don’t start with me, Five. Don't start with your bullshit. You’ll be fine without me. You've always have." I say about to pull the trigger.
"No!" He throws himself at me as I kick him.
“I’m not fine without you,” he said. “And I’m not asking you to be fine right now. I’m asking you to stay with me. Just that. Nothing else.”
"Five, please. I'm tired of running and trying. I wanna die! Can't you understand? We will never get the break we deserve. We all have to die!" I shout as tears start running down my cheeks. "We will never get the break we want!"
"No one has to die! Just give me the gun! Please let's talk this out!" He says as he tries to pin me down.
"Five fuck off!" I yell out
"No, I won't fuck off because I love you! I love you in every timeline! I can't make it without you! There is no world I exist in without you, please!" He says as he throws the gun across the room, holding me down.
"This isn't you! Please just calm down! I know it's hard but-"
“Fine,” I cut in sharply. “I’ll talk.”
For a second, his grip loosened. Not fully gone, just enough for him to believe me.
And then everything stalled.
I punch him in the face as I get up and run.
"Fuck!" He says, holding his face. "Oh no, you don't!" He says as he grabs my leg, and I fall, hitting my face. "Let me help you!"
"You can't fucking help me! No one can help me! Don't you get it, Five! I wanna die, just let me die! Nothing is gonna wanna keep me staying here! You wonder why I wanna do this? Because I just have no hope in life anymore! I'm sorry!" I say as I kick him in the face, and he lets go.
"Can you stop doing that!" He says, standing up.
I grab the gun and run to the room, locking it.
"Shit," I hear him say as he gets up and runs to the door. He turns the doorknob. "Open this door," He says. He then starts banging on the door, "Open the door!" He says, hitting the door again. "Open the door!"
"Leave me alone!" I yell. "What's wrong with you?!" I start sobbing.
"I said open this door," He keeps banging. "I'm not fucking playing! Open this door!"
I look at the gun and let out a sigh.
"I love you, Five," He bangs again.
"Please no! Please!" He bangs louder. "Open the door!!" He moves the knob harder. "Fuck, please! Open the door!" He starts trying to kick it down. "I'm breaking the door!"
I cry. My last tear falls. How a shit place this world is.
Thankfully, time in this timeline wasn't known well, or else Five would have seen that I had died approximately five o'clock PM
Five had managed to break down the door, but once again at what cost? There he saw my lifeless body. The body of his everything. "No.."He took one step. He was one last step away from saving my dumb self. He grabbed my body. "No no no!" He sobbed. "Hey…hey, don’t, don't go quiet on me like this."
"Look at me, please. Open your eyes one more time. You always said I panicked too fast, remember? Tell me I’m overreacting. Tell me I’m being dramatic and you’re fine. I’ll believe you. I swear I will."
I was always cold, right?
I remember he would always steal my hands just to warm them up.
"Here," He took my hands. "See? I’m here. I’m right here. You can’t leave while I’m still talking to you. That’s not how this works. That’s never how it worked.
"I love you." He said and let out a shaky sigh.
"I loved the way you filled up a room without trying. I loved how you never let me get away with pretending I didn’t care. I loved how you looked at me like you already knew every version of me and chose me anyway. And I’m still choosing you. Do you hear me? I’m right here, and I’m still choosing you." He held me close.
"So don’t do this!" He started sobbing harder. Almost angry. "Don’t make this the last moment I get. Don’t leave me holding onto something that won’t hold me back!"
"You can’t be gone. Not when I still have so much left to give you. Not when I finally understand how much of me was yours."
"I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, so just-"
He held me as close as he could.
"Please wake up, please," He holds me. "Come back to me!" He whispers. The breeze from him leaving the entrance door open earlier surrounds us. One step too late. One fucking step.
He felt something in his right side pocket and stops for a second.
It's the note I had left him.
His eyes dropped to the page, and everything in him changed.
Like repetition might change what it said.
I’d never seen Five like that.
He was always the one who kept moving, kept thinking, kept surviving. But now he just stood there, holding the paper like it weighed more than anything else in the world.
And then, completely quietly, he started to cry.
Not loudly. Not dramatically.
Just like something inside him had finally stopped pretending it was fine.
I think that was one of the only times I ever heard Five crying like that. Not just tearing up, really breaking down, the kind of moment that doesn’t fit with anything people expect from him.
Of course, I didn’t see it happen in person.
I was… elsewhere, by then.
“You know I found the way out,” he said, letting out a broken laugh that didn’t sound like relief at all. His hands trembled around the paper.
“I could’ve told you,” he continued, voice cracking as he struggled to breathe through it. “I could’ve-”
"I could've told you, but it didn't pass my mind seeing you about to end your life." He stopped as he dropped the paper, looking out the window.
Five than had realized that if he had told me that he found our way out, he might've just been able to save me in time.
He got up, placing my body down carefully. He walked to his bag and dug out the notebook he had found earlier. He skimmed through it again and came back to me.
“Come on,” he said quietly, voice hollow in a way it had never been before.
He stood there for a moment, like he wasn’t sure what his hands were supposed to do anymore.
"He picked my dead body up. "We're taking you home at least," He said as he took us back.
The thing about Five and me is that neither of us knew we were both going to die that same day.
Different endings. Same date.
He was with his family when it happened. Surrounded. Seen. Maybe even understood, at least a little. I wasn’t there, but I can picture it, the quiet, the weight in the room, the way everyone pretended they still had time even when there wasn't.
The worst part is, I know he was thinking about me.
Mostly about thinking there was no way through.
I didn’t know he was going that day.
He didn’t know I was too.
Five mumbled his last words
“I’m sorry for being one step away"
Thank you for reading. I really hope you enjoyed the fic. First Five fic in forever. I just wanna say that if anything in this story resonated with you, please remember you’re not alone. If you’re feeling overwhelmed or struggling, it’s okay to reach out to someone you trust, or to a professional support person. I also recommend reaching out to a teacher if you feel like you don’t have anyone else. That’s something I’ve done myself, and it helped me find a way to start expressing what I was feeling through writing. Thanks to him, I am doing somewhat better and can publish this as a way to express my feelings. I'm also here if you wanna reach out as well!
P.S. I have a longer version of this where Five gets back to his family. Should I post the full version?
prguitarman
dededos
theartofmadeline
germansingergirl
turnnoffyourmind
pixelskylines
discoholicmusic
kianamaiart
2087
snowghoul
