Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

01. born into noise

You sat on the orange rug of the grand library, your knees pulled to your chest, your tiny hands pressed against your ears. The world had always been a loud place for you for as long as you could remember. The incessant buzzing and rattling of others in your head… it was too much. Emotions that weren’t yours, hunger that wasn’t yours, fear that didn’t belong to you.

The constant presence of others in your mind.

You had cried all the time as a baby. And at the age of five, that was all you had ever known:  feelings and thoughts that weren’t yours, and tears. Grace would often soothe you until your father told her to stop babying you.

Reginald Hargreeves loomed over you, his expression unreadable. “You will learn to control it.”

You sniffed, looking up at him, confused. When your eyes settled on him, you realized that, for the first time in your little life, there was white noise. A coldness you weren’t familiar with. It made you shiver. You wouldn’t remember this moment since you were so young, but it wouldn’t be the first time you realized you couldn’t hear Reginald Hargreeves.

He paced back and forth, thinking, tapping his chin. Then, “You will build walls, child. You need… No, you must separate yourself from the noise, but how…”

Your eyes fell behind him, where the rest of your siblings sat, some playing with blocks. One time, he had asked you to take the ‘feeling’ off one of them, but you had been too young, and it had stressed you out so much that you cried.

His voice droned on as you drifted to a safe place in your head, a little corner where it was quiet…

A small hand tugged yours. You turned to Five, his green eyes serious—cutely so, for a five-year-old. It was a look of comfort, of being there. He knew.

For the first time, the voices dimmed into the back of your head.

“Come on, s-slowpoke!” Diego whispered, grabbing your wrist and pulling you behind the curtains. “Luther's never gonna find us here.”

You bit your lip, giggling, and Diego shushed you as he closed the curtains. Two pairs of eight-year-old feet peeked out beneath the flowing fabric. From around the material, you could see Five ducking behind the couch.

“Ready or not, here I come!” Luther’s voice echoed through the grand halls of the Hargreeves mansion.

Where are they? I can definitely smell Klaus…

“He’s gonna find Klaus in the closet,” you whispered to Diego.

He scrunched his nose. “Cheater,” he said. You gave him a sad look, until you heard his teasing inner voice, and the way his lips twitched with a matching smirk.

“He’s not gonna find us, is-is he?”

“No,” you assured him, tilting your head slightly as if to hear better. “He—”

“Aha!” Luther exclaimed, and Klaus burst into laughter from the closet.

Klaus had been in a phase of not showering recently, and that was all Luther was thinking about—his thoughts layering over each other like stacked paper, frustration pressing down like a paperweight.

I bet you’re listening in on me, cheater, was a strong, thundering thought that struck you, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“What?” Diego whispered, noticing your discomfort.

“He knows,” you murmured back.

Five crawled to the edge from under the couch, peering up at you. “Then stop cheating,” he said, his voice ever so serious, “but do let me know if he’s on the way.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. He smirked.

Luther eventually found you because of your feet.

You tiptoed through the dark hallway, heart pounding. Diego was right behind you, holding his breath as you neared the kitchen. You two had been hanging out a lot recently; he brought out your mischievous side.

“Are you s-sure Mom won’t hear us?” Diego whispered.

You smirked, glancing over your shoulder. “Not unless you stop breathing like that,” you teased.

Diego huffed. “I’m not breathing any-any different.”

“Well, whatever—she’s sleeping anyway, so we’re clear.”

You both reached the fridge, and you pulled the door open with such gentleness that you even surprised yourself. The glow of the light revealed a plate of perfectly arranged little sandwiches, sitting on a green plate right in the middle of the fridge, practically begging to be plucked.

“Bingo.” You reached for one, but Diego grabbed your wrist.

“Wait!” he whispered, eyes wide, lips pressed tight. “If w-we take too many, she’ll…” His lips struggled to form the next word, but you already understood.

You rolled your eyes. Diego wasn’t always careful, but when the possibility of disappointing Mom was on the table, it was a no-go for him. A death sentence.

“She already knows we steal food at night, Diego,” you whispered. “She just pretends not to.”

He scrunched his nose. “Oh,” was all he said. You stared at him as if asking whether you should continue, and you didn’t have to read his mind to know of his hesitance. But then, he nodded.

You both grabbed a sandwich and darted down the hall, giggling under your breaths, triumphant in your sneakiness, when—

“Having fun?”

Five’s voice cut through the darkness.

Diego nearly jumped out of his skin, and your heart stopped. That had been happening a lot lately whenever Five was around. You didn’t know why, but being near him had started to feel… uncomfortable. Still, you had a feeling he was awake. Even though he was on the other side of the house, you could hear his thoughts: distant and dulled, like a ship sailing into the horizon.

“If you tell on us, you get nothing,” you said.

Five considered this, leaning against the doorway of his room, looking entirely at ease and comfortable in his white pajamas. “Half a sandwich, and I say nothing.”

“Bug off,” Diego grumbled, frowning. Five raised his brows expectantly.

You sighed. You could already hear the back-and-forth brewing in Five’s head, the different responses he was piecing together, and you didn’t want to stand here any longer.

You tore your sandwich in half. “Deal.”

Five took it, smirking as he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you and Diego to sneak back to your room, victorious.

04. primadonna

“Sit still!” Allison huffed, holding your face in place.

“I am sitting still!” you protested, though your eyes stung from whatever eye powder Allison had just dusted over them.

Allison, perched on your bed, was armed with a makeup kit she’d ‘borrowed’ from Mom’s vanity. A half-unzipped bag was on her lap, another closed one by her side. Lipsticks and brushes were tossed aside on the bed. She stuck her tongue out as she concentrated on your eyelid.

She then leaned back to admire her work while you blearily blinked your eyes.

“Okay, just one more thing,” she said and leaned forward with a lipstick.

You sighed and puckered your lips.

When she was done painting your lips, you pulled back. “Why not do this with Luther?” you asked. They had been doing everything together as of late.

But you had no idea why you even asked.  You didn’t even need to. The answer was already there, beating loudly within her and within you. 

At the mention of your brother, her dark brown eyes flicked up to meet yours before she quickly looked away, hiding behind her hair, a small blush creeping onto her cheeks.  A soft affection lingered in her mind and it was different from the way you felt about him.  It made your body feel warm when you caught the stray thought, and that same blush on her cheeks were on yours. 

This feeling… it was the same warmth you felt about someone. Was it? It felt like your face was on fire, and butterflies were fluttering in your stomach. 

“You like him,” you said, voice in awe.  

Allison’s eyes widened, her hand hovering over the makeup bag as if she was caught by Mom herself for stealing her makeup. 

“What?” She let out a breathy laugh, and she shook her heard.  “No, I don’t — that’s, that’s ridiculous.”  She didn’t meet your eyes, and she shuffled through the brushes. 

You tilted her head.  Her mind was running frantic, uncertain, full of insecurities:  How does she know? Oh god, I forgot.   No, she’s reading it right now.  Like right this minute. 

“C’mon,” you said with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “You can’t lie to me. And you’re blushing.” 

“No, I’m not.” 

“Uh, yeah you are.” 

“No, I’m not!” 

You gave her a deadpanned look. 

Allison groaned and ran a hand over her face, smudging some powder onto her cheek.  “Fine,” she said, her voice quiet and reluctant.  But there was a softer undertone underneath it all.  “Maybe I do.” 

There was a long pause between you, the weight of her words settling in.  You didn’t know why this conversation was also making you nervous.  Was it because you were feeling it from her mind?  No, that couldn’t be it.  This was opening up something for you about a certain someone, but you squashed that thought like a bug. 

“Does he know?” you asked after a moment, voice softer now. 

She bit her lip, staring at the pile of makeup as if it had all of the answers.  “I don’t know,” she said.  “I don’t think so.” 

You were quiet, fidgeting with a stray tube of mascara.  An anxious thought flickered in her mind, and you shook your head.   “I won’t tell,” you answered for her, and gave her a comforting smile. 

“Good,” she exhaled.  “Promise?” 

“I promise.” 

She brought a pinky up, and you curled yours around hers.  There was a sort of comfortable lull between you that sisters would share, and she shook her head, smiling.  She picked up the lipstick once more and waved it in your face.  “Now sit still.  You messed up my perfect work with all of your mind-reading and talking.” 

You scrunched your nose at her, and she grabbed your chin again so she could do last-minute fixes on your lips.  

After a couple more minutes, Allison leaned back, looking satisfied. “There! You look so pretty!”

You turned to the mirror, blinking. The blush was a little heavy, the bronzer was splotchy, and your lips were definitely not your shade, but—

“Not bad,” you admitted.

“See? You’d be my best client.” Allison beamed at you, admiring her work. She had been talking about owning a makeup parlor.

You smirked. “Let me do your makeup next.”

Allison paused and said hesitantly, “…Fine. But no clown makeup!” She paused in thought and then glared playfully at you. “And don’t make me ugly.”

You grinned and grabbed the brush from Allison’s hand. “No promises.”

Later, after much giggling and taking pictures with a camera, you walked back to your room, careful not to touch your face.  

You were humming to yourself, trying to drown out the voices of your siblings in the house.  It was a chaotic jumble, and as you hummed louder, you bumped into—

“Whoa,” Five said, doing a double take. He was clad in the same uniform as you.

“What?” you said, crossing your arms. For some reason, his heavy stare was making you feel defensive and exposed. The conversation earlier with Allison settled in your gut, and your stomach tightened.  You hated when it does that. 

“Nothing,” he said and blinked at you. He avoided your eyes and then kept walking, right before adding, “You just look… different.”

Pretty. 

You almost missed it. Almost. But it was there, hidden beneath layers of numbers and calculations. And just as quickly as you found it, he was gone.  The warmth lingered in your chest, a knot twisting in your stomach.  It was a feeling you couldn’t quite name. You hated it, but it was always there, whenever he was near, and it was something you refused to acknowledge. 

05.  white noise

Emptiness.

Just… a void.

You noticed it one night during dinnertime. Some days, this was your favorite activity: you could easily eavesdrop on everyone’s minds, and they wouldn’t even know.

You could hear Luther and how he was totally infatuated with Allison and how she had her hair up right now. You could hear Diego’s annoyance at whatever Luther had done in training today; that sucker punch to his stomach had really hurt. You could hear Allison thinking about how she definitely did not like the brussels sprouts on her plate. You could hear the ramblings of Klaus and how he wanted to leave so he could drink.

You could hear the analytical mind of Five and how he was working on an equation, wanting so badly to get back to it. You could hear Ben and how calm he was, eager to get back to his TV show. And Vanya, sweet Vanya, always feeling uncomfortable sitting at the table, as if she didn’t belong.

But when you flicked your eyes over to your father, you tried to pull something. Anything. But you couldn’t pick anything up. It was like static, and the more you tried—eyebrows furrowing in concentration, eyes burning into his skull—the more the static worsened and worsened until—

White noise blaring and screeching.

White flashing in your mind’s eye—!

You winced, a hiss leaving your lips, and bowed your head in pain, fingers tending to your temple.

“Something the matter, Number Eight?” Reginald asked, and though the question sounded like concern, you knew it was because you had disrupted his Beethoven.

All eyes were on you.

You could feel that familiar heat rising from your neck to your cheeks. Your heart was in your ears, and the white noise dimmed as you stared at your plate, the white flashing before you gone. Why couldn’t you hear your father?

You could even hear the neighbor’s thoughts if you really wanted to, if you put the effort in. You could locate him now, searching for him, seeing that he was reading a comic book. You could even see him turn the page—!

“Do not ignore questions when asked, Number Eight.”

“No, sir,” you said quietly. You looked up and stared at your father. You knew mystery surrounded the man, but never to this extent.

He stared back at you, face tight as always, lips thinned. But his eyes, always stoic, held a secret. A sparkle of him knowing something you didn’t.

Why couldn’t you hear him?

“Nothing is wrong, I apologize,” you said evenly, and went back to your meal.

Eyes that were still on you felt heavy, like a touch, and all were curious. But they, too, went back to their meal, and this would never be mentioned again.

This would haunt you for the rest of your days.

06.  training in distress

“Again.”

You gritted your teeth and crossed your arms over your chest. It was a typical training session with your father. He’d pull two of your siblings to help, and neither of them wanted to be there either. He had tasked you with reading Luther’s mind right now.

“I hate this,” you lamented.

Reginald barely looked up from his notes. He continued to write in his journal. “I did not ask for your feelings. Read his mind. Properly this time.”

Diego and Luther sat across from you. Luther looked like he was losing patience with you, since you were disobeying orders. It might also have been the fact that he wanted to please Father. Meanwhile, Diego had his arms crossed over his chest.

Both of their thoughts were filled with annoyance for different reasons, and just from the two of them, the voices overlapped. It was a stream of them rushing in like waves, mixing with the sound of white static from your father’s mind—but you dared not touch his mind again.

You stood still, arms crossed, defiant.

This is pointless, she’s just going to mess up again— I don’t know why she doesn’t just listen to Dad, this will help her— Look at how boring this is, I’d rather be anywhere else— Just listen to Dad, please, so I can hang out with Allison— What if I count in every language and see if she messes up, uno dos tres—

“Just stop,” you said in frustration. You held your head gently, looking to the side. The incessant thoughts from them were beginning to give you a pulsing headache. “Just… stop thinking, please.”

“You must learn how to isolate these thoughts,” Reginald said without looking up from his journal. “You’re reacting as if this power is a burden.”

Diego and Luther sat quietly—they knew the tone of that voice.

“It is a burden,” you snapped, looking at him with narrowed eyes. He wasn’t even looking at you.

“A tool is only as useful as the one wielding it,” he said coolly. “Control it, or it will control you.”

Your head continued to throb. You looked to the side.

It was then you realized your father never truly loved you or your siblings.

07.  ordinary

You sat cross-legged on the floor of Vanya’s room, flipping through the pages of a book that you weren’t actually reading. Vanya was lying on her stomach on her bed, pencil scratching against her notebook.

You liked Vanya. It was always quiet with her. No training drills, no commands, no expectations. Just the sound of turning pages and the occasional sigh. It wasn’t even about that either; she was just quiet.

You were so used to thoughts pressing against your own, loud and messy, demanding to be heard. Luther’s were structured and always about pleasing your father, disciplined, with a hidden insecurity of not being enough. Diego’s were sharp and reactive, always comparing himself to others. Allison’s were confident and mischievous, and sometimes egotistical.  Klaus—well, Klaus was chaotic, impossible to hold on to, like slipping fingers through water. Ben’s were calm, deep, but there was always a layer of restraint, as if he was holding something back.

You didn’t like venturing into Ben’s mind. The deeper you went, the more there was an insatiable hunger, and it noticed you. The sudden exposure made you reel everything back. That was a mistake you had learned.

And Five’s? Five’s thoughts were always fast and analytical, and sometimes you couldn’t keep up with him; it was too exhausting.  But there was a grounded feeling to his if you stayed long enough for him not to notice you, a certain peace to it, as if laying on moss-covered grounds in the woods, looking up at the sky. 

But Vanya? Her thoughts were muted, like she had learned how to silence herself so completely that even in her mind, she barely whispered. The loneliness was heavy, sitting in your chest if you listened and felt too closely. But underneath all of that, you could hear something else. Feel something else. It wasn’t like Ben’s, though. There wasn’t hunger. It was a trembling force, locked away, too tightly wound for you to reach—

I’m useless.

You picked your head up from your book. “No, you’re not.”

Vanya stopped writing. “What?”

“You were thinking loudly,” you said, and in true Hargreeves fashion, looked back at the book.

“I can’t help it,” she said softly.

It was awkward and quiet for a bit, the silence stretching as her words held space. You didn’t know how to comfort someone, but how could you? You had never learned how to. But you wanted to try for Vanya…

“You’re not useless,” you said as you closed your book.

She let out a humorless laugh. “Easy for you to say,” she said a tad bitterly, but you knew she didn’t mean it with a bite. “You have powers. Everyone does. Except for me.”

You hesitated at this. What could you possibly say? You could feel how lonely she was, could feel the isolation from others. And even her mind was a vast hollowness. But she wasn’t like the others. She didn’t look at you as if you were a freak. Your other siblings had started to become a bit nervous with your power. You noticed it in their actions, in the hesitation of thoughts now, in the erasure of them, as if scratching them off with a pen, as if tossing old files to the bin. 

But Vanya? Never.

So you did something you had never done before. You pushed every thought in your head into hers.

For the first time, Vanya felt what it was like in your head—the noise, the weight of a hundred thoughts pressing down on you at all times. You peeled back the layers without meaning to. The doubts, the exhaustion, the frustration of never knowing what was yours and what belonged to everyone else. That same familiar trait of a Hargreeves kid in wanting to please your father, but something deeper than that ran like branches of a tree, something you didn’t even know you had: wanting to please and make Five proud—

—huh—

Just as quickly as you dropped it, you put it back up. Where did that thought come from?

Her breath hitched. “Oh.”

You felt your cheeks warm, and you opened your book again. You hoped she didn’t hear that. “Having powers doesn’t always mean it’s better,” you muttered, turning a page, trying to refocus on the topic. “Sometimes I wish I was normal. Like you.”

But even saying that didn’t feel right, because what was that locked away in her mind, begging to be freed? 

What did normal even mean, anyway?

Vanya blinked, and after a moment, sat up on her bed. “Well,” she said softly, “maybe one day we could trade, just for a little bit.”

You smiled. “Yeah, maybe.”

The days of giggling and playing with your siblings vanished one day, like footprints in sand washed away by the waves. You had once been close with Diego, and Allison, and Luther—and the rest of them, in your own little way. Though there were moments of them being unnerved by you, you had simply told them you weren’t reading their mind, that you would never dare to do such a thing without asking for permission. It’d pass and you all continued to play.

It was a stray thought that you had picked up on, and it almost slipped by. You were sitting on your bed in your room, reading a book just to pass the time since it was Sunday. Reginald at least gave you and your siblings that: one day off.

I hope she doesn’t hear this. Oh crap, she probably can. Ugh I hate this so much.

The thought was heavy and it settled in your head like iron. The next words thought of were spoken aloud, and you knew what was next:

“Don’t you find it weird we can never have privacy even in our own home with her around?”

It was Allison.

Your blood ran cold and your fingers stiffened over the next turning page of your book. You looked over at the empty space of your doorway. Of course no one was even near your room—they were all in the living room, at least Luther and Allison were.

They had been talking about you.

It was a sick curiosity. You didn’t want to listen in, but how could you not? You frowned as you shifted your attention to Luther, whose thoughts were full of hesitance but… acceptance, as if what Allison was saying made sense.

She has a point… I feel like she knows all of my secrets…

You sat on your bed, book forgotten. Did they all think this? You knew these conversations came up since they brought it up to you, but you had thought they felt… safe around you. You helped during missions, and if there were any recon work. You knew how to mediate. You consoled them. You were a sister to them.  

But you never dared use your powers on them, for the sake of this. Maybe only in games, but that was if you really wanted to win. Or if Reginald asked you to use your power on them for training. But you could never turn it ‘off.’  It was always on. 

The ethics of it all were never something you’d ever thought about.  It just came natural to you.  Some thoughts were loud and you couldn’t not hear them.  But you didn’t go digging in heads. You didn’t do this on purpose.  It just… happened. That’s the thing with your power, until you could build a mental shield. 

But did they… not realize the effort you were going through to avoid being evasive?

Did Five think this as well?

The mere mention of his name in your mind almost made you recoil. You looked to the side and stared hard at the bed sheet. No, Five would never… Wait, why did you even care about his opinion?

It was because he was your brother, right? So then, did Diego think of this too? Klaus, Ben, Vanya? No, Vanya was innocent as always, and she knew the loneliness you had felt too. She felt it herself anyway.

They considered you an outsider as well. They always had. It was just that you never caught it.

You didn’t realize your world was blurry with tears until you felt a small one slide down your face.

Dinner that night was quiet, as always, but there was a difference in how you were sitting. You avoided them. Allison and Luther glanced at you; you knew, since their stares were heavy and full of guilt.

But no one brought it up. In pure Hargreeves fashion, this was swept under the rug.

It felt almost fake. They treated you like you were part of their group, and this was what they were all really thinking. Was any of it real?

You looked up and caught the sight of Five already looking at you, curious green eyes always watching. His eyebrows bunched as if wanting to ask something but —

You’re acting weird. Reginald is going to call you out.

In his own way, you thought he was the only one to notice.

10. changes 

The shift had been gradual. There were more quiet hesitations with you, or lingering glances. It wasn’t obvious to you at first, but over time, you started to recognize the small changes in your siblings. How Luther stiffened when you entered the room, how Allison’s smile faltered before settling back in place, how Diego kept cutting conversations short when you walked by.

It wasn’t cruel. It was just… distant.

As kids, it had been different. There had been nothing to hide. But now, as you were all growing older, there were insecurities starting to take root, secrets wanting to be kept, and just the need to control their own thoughts.

You had been pulling away. But Ben, Klaus, and Vanya didn’t seem to mind you. They welcomed you into their own tiny corner of their little world. Ben would read alongside you, Klaus would ramble about whatever nonsense he had that day, and Vanya—sweet, lonely Vanya—never had to say a word for you to understand.

You could breathe around them.

Five, however, was different. There had been a small change taking root between you and him, something you knew was growing, but didn’t want to admit to yourself. And even after all of this, he never hesitated before speaking to you, never filtered his thoughts around you, never acted as if your powers were something to be wary of.

He was the only one whose mind you had never tried to avoid; it was just there. Not because you wanted to pry, but because Five didn’t expect you to. There was a mutual trust, and that was something that had been on your mind recently—

Enough about him. That same familiar tightening in your stomach happened again whenever you thought of him, and you pushed it down as far as you could.

The sound of a plastic bag opening dragged you out of your thoughts. You blinked and looked over. There was something green in there; it looked like… oregano?

“Where’d you even get that?” you asked Klaus. You, Klaus, and Ben were hanging out in your room in the middle of the night since it was the farthest out of everyone’s—aka, easy enough to not get caught. “Did you steal it from Mom?”

Klaus had a mischievous grin on his face, and Ben looked mildly amused as well.

“I have friends in high places, my dear sister,” Klaus said, handing you the bag. You rolled your eyes but gingerly opened it anyway. While looking inside, he said, “Take a whiff. It’s the good shit.”

Something in your gut told you this wasn’t oregano. It was also from the fact that Ben had been looking at you as if you were part of a joke. You suspiciously looked up from the bag to your two brothers and frowned. “This isn’t a seasoning.”

“Obviously,” Ben said, then leaned forward. “It’s weed.”

“Weed?” you said, your voice a little high-pitched.

Klaus and Ben hushed you; Klaus even smacked you against your arm. You winced and gave him a glare, but he shook his head at you. “You trying to get us caught?”

“Sorry,” you apologized and handed the bag back to him. “Where’d you even get that? Isn’t that bad for you?”

“It’s a plant,” Ben responded and smiled at you. “It’s harmless.”

“But we’re kids,” you continued. “Isn’t this a thing for adults—?”

“We’re hardly kids, you know that,” Klaus said, waving you off. He looked over at Ben, hand outstretched. “Papers, Ben.”

Ben reached into his pocket, pulled out a small stack of papers, and handed one to him. You watched in mild fascination as Klaus rolled it out, took a bit of this weed, and placed it on the paper. While he was doing this, he kept talking. “Anyway, we’re teenagers now. Not kids anymore. And what kind of kids go out and deal with bad guys with guns?”

“Point taken,” you mumbled and leaned back on your hands. You watched in almost mild fascination as he licked the paper closed and handed it to you.

“A joint,” Klaus answered your quiet question. “It’s a bit flimsy, but it’ll do.”

“I think we should go outside,” Ben said as you plucked it from Klaus’s fingers.

You were outside with them now, behind the house. It was a bit chilly since it was October, but you weren’t going to complain now.

“Consider this a birthday present to all of us from us,” Klaus said, his lazy grin still in place. “I think the newbie should go first.”

Nerves settled deep into your bones. You looked between them. “Uh, I’d rather watch you guys.”

“Don’t chicken out,” Klaus said.

“It’s okay,” Ben reassured. You looked over at him. He had those kind eyes that always managed to make you feel at ease. “You’ll be fine.”

You looked at the joint in your hands and— “Do I just?”—put it between your lips.

Klaus leaned over and lit it with a lighter. “You inhale,” Ben said, and Klaus finished, “and hold it in.” Klaus leaned back to watch.

You nodded and breathed in.

Your life had always been full of noise. Full of everyone else’s desires, fears, hunger, happiness, sadness, desperation—all of it, in your skull. The only time the voices had dimmed once was when Five touched you when you were little. How he held onto your hand.

This was the second time. When you had coughed it out and Klaus and Ben giggled at your state, when it finally settled, you were at peace.

11.  quiet

It was late. The mansion was quiet in the way it got past midnight, and being a Hargreeves settled in like dust. You sat in the library, book open but unread, staring at the same page and the same line for the past twenty-something minutes.

Your mind was loud. Not with the voices of others, but with your own thoughts that refused to be quiet.

The isolation you had been feeling from the others settled into your bones like lead. It was training day, and no one wanted to be against you for sparring — Reginald had to pick for you today, and you were given reprimand from him as well. They all hated when you dug inside their brain, suggested something to them, and you would eventually win. But it wasn’t even about the winning—it was about you overstaying your welcome.

But never Vanya, though she was never included. Never Ben, he had nothing to hide. Never Klaus, he did not even care to.

Never Five.

A sigh passed your lips as you shut the book, rubbing at your temples. It was pointless. No amount of reading or staring into space could shake the feeling in your chest.

There were footsteps, light and measured. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was; you already heard him the second he turned around the hallway. 

He came in with a notebook and pen and passed you quietly. He sat a few tables from you, and opened his notebook, immediately getting to work.

You felt exposed. Suddenly, you were the elephant in the room.

Minutes passed by. The sound of the clock ticked on.

“You’re acting weird again.”

You huffed and picked up your head since you had bowed it in thought. “Thanks for the insight,” you said.

Five didn’t reply right away. Instead, he stared at you and the book in front of you. “Late-night reading?”

You stared at him with parted lips, then sighed and straightened in your seat. You shrugged, running a hand through your hair. “Uh, Pride and Prejudice.”

“Really?” he asked, his eyebrows scrunching up in distaste and disgust. Then his face relaxed slightly. “I never pegged you for the romance type.”

“I like a good fairy-tale now and again,” you responded coolly. You tried opening the book again, tried to read the same damn page.

“Fairy-tales aren’t real,” Five said. He said this without looking at you, having gone back to writing his equations.

You could see why the others didn’t like hanging out with him. He was smug, arrogant, too full of himself, and always had to think everything in logic.

But you didn’t mind. You could see the ‘other’ in him, the loner. He was like Vanya in a way, but cast out from the others due to his intelligence. He knew his power was cool and flaunted it. He’d always blink near the others without a care in the world.  It annoyed them. 

Your gaze lingered on him, almost looking through him; your eyes relaxed. He wasn’t like the others. His mind was there, open always for you, like stepping into familiar grounds. No resistance, no static, just him. The ever-moving numbers, the pressed irritation with something or someone. But beneath it all, something steady and solid. 

What was that? 

And then, clearer than anything else—

You done digging around, or are you going to pretend you’re not upset at something?

You startled, heart ramming in your chest, pulling your power back sharply. “I-I wasn’t—”

Five smirked. “Yeah, you were.”

Your pulse was a mess. Not from being caught, no, he always knew when you were listening, but from what it meant. That he let you, that he always let you.

Mutual trust.

The thought rattled in your head. You swallowed, glancing down at your book. “You’re annoying,” was the only thing you could spit out.

“You’re avoiding the topic,” he said.

You didn’t reply back, didn’t have anything to say.

Five sighed and then, without a word, pushed up from his chair. The screech of it was loud in the quiet night of the mansion. You didn’t dare look up at him, and then he pulled a chair.

You looked up in surprise, to see him sitting a few chairs from you.

He didn’t push, he didn’t pry, he didn’t say anything. He just… opened up his book and started to write again.

He stayed.

And somehow, that said more than words ever could.

.

.

.

Number Eight

“Mom?” you asked quietly.

“Yes, my dear?” she said, turning around. She had been sitting in her chair, about to charge for the night. She tilted her head curiously.

She was a robot, and that’s all she ever was. But you needed this. You needed a Mom.

You fiddled with your fingers. You couldn’t sleep. Things had changed between you and your siblings since that day months ago, and everything was different now. You were spending quiet moments with Vanya more, and drinking and smoking with Klaus and sometimes Ben — which, strangely enough, did also quiet your powers. It muted everything else.

It made sense why Klaus did it.

And while Five did not seem to mind your presence, he was in his own little world as well.  He had been spending more time in his room, and after meals, he would go back up there to work on more equations.  

“Am I…” you started, and a frown formed on your lips. “Am I weird?”

Grace frowned as well and fully turned to you. “My dear,” she said softly and comfortingly, “you are not weird. Whatever made you think of that?”

She gestured for you to sit on her lap, and so you did, as old as you were. But in this moment, you felt small. She threaded her fingers through your hair, stopping ever so often to look at you.

You had never told anyone this. The closest anyone ever knew of this was when you pushed your thoughts into Vanya's mind and made her listen.

“I feel alone,” you said quietly. Your view blurred, and the hot sting of tears lingered in the corner of your eyes. “No one wants to play with me anymore. Or hang out with me. They’re avoiding me now. They’re afraid of my power.”

Grace listened and shushed you as the passion overtook you and you continued to talk. “I hate this. I don’t want to hear everyone’s thoughts. It feels so evasive, and no one gets it. I get headaches all the time, and people look at me weird, and—”

She said your name softly and kissed you on top of your head. Her mechanical hands, though not human and cold, cradled yours with such gentleness and care. “I’m sorry you’re feeling this way,” she said in a soothing tone and said your name again. “It’s so difficult to carry this burden. But it doesn’t make you weird, my dear. It makes you unique, special. Sometimes, people can be afraid of what they don’t understand, and your siblings, well…” She drifted off and gave you a soft smile. “They’re learning too. They may not know how to handle it, but that doesn’t mean they don’t care about you.”

You nodded and leaned your head against her shoulder.

“Your worth isn’t tied to how others react to you,” she said. “You are important, just as you are.”

You closed your eyes and breathed in the smell of metal and circuits, focused on the humming of electrical wirings.

You wished you believed her.