amour coriace ( five hargreeves! ) - Chapter 11: Chapter 11

VINCENT COULD NOT BELIEVE HIS BIGGEST COMPETITION WAS A MANNEQUIN. He had never hated Delores before. He hadn't ever glared at her or thought of melting her in a microwave too much. Sure, he occasionally had the urge to imagine the way her plastic skin would droop if faced with such intense heat. Although, that didn't mean he hated her.
In fact, he admired the way she kept Five happy. He admired the fact that even a mannequin could withhold how damaged Five seemed to be. Vincent wished he could take her place at times, but that didn't stop his ongoing admiration towards her.
He'd never spoken to her. Unlike Five, he hadn't gone near crazy in the apocalypse. In fact, he'd found his own ways to keep himself company. He had never spoken to Dolores unless it was setting up for a joke, which would often end in Five smacking him in the side of the head.
With Vincent's newfound feelings towards Five-- the idea itself making Vincent roll his eyes-- he found himself becoming more and more jealous of the presence alone of the mannequin. He'd woken up first that morning after Five had laid close to him, moved his face near enough that Vincent could feel the heat radiating off of his body.
The first thing he'd seen was Five's face, sleeping and peaceful. His eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed in just the slightest way, arms crossed over his chest, where his tie was still loosened. Vincent presumed it was so he wouldn't choke himself while asleep, but it also revealed just the slightest peek of his soft collarbones, blemish free and smooth. Vincent couldn't help but stare longer than he should have before his eyes had moved back up to Five's face.
His lips, his nose, his cheekbones, his jaw. All perfect. Fuck, how could Vincent have never noticed? It was a crime to not notice the dip of his cheeks, curving down to the corners of his lips, which laid smooth and unmoving in a perfect line. It was a crime to have never noticed Five. His jaw was amazing, but everyone knew that. Everything else was just as amazing.
Vincent wished he had the balls to reach his hand up, place his palm on the edge of Five's jaw, rub gentle circles into the soft skin of Five's cheeks affectionately. But he didn't. He'd never do such a thing. Not with the knowledge that Five would never feel the same way for him. It was heart wrenching, the idea of Five hating him even still when he had looked at Five so tenderly the night before.
Vincent was haunted by Five's expression. The look he'd given him that night, a look of concern. Five had looked tired as usual, the familiar bags underneath his eyes, but that hadn't masked the look he gave Vincent. He had looked younger for a moment, filled with worry and a foreign gentleness that he'd never felt for Vincent before.
Vincent knew the chances of ever getting that look again were slim.
The next thing he'd seen in his waking moments was Dolores. Still sitting, half built now, on Five's nightstand, tossed to the side. It almost brought a smile to his face, how she was being given much less attention than Five was originally going to give her. And sure, he was turning into a jealous fuck over someone who would never even be his.
But Five was still very close to him, his hand just barely curling over Vincent's hip. It was almost unnoticeable. Vincent surely hadn't noticed it when he first woke up. He glanced over, Five's other arm crossed over his own chest as the one opposite of it stayed put on Vincent's hip almost protectively.
Vincent couldn't help but smile. He couldn't possibly stop the way the corners of his lips tugged up. He had never been so close to Five before and yet, everyday they got closer and closer. Perhaps it was only Vincent getting a silly crush. He was stuck in a fifteen year old boys body, anyway. It only made sense that he'd get crushes. But it was still an odd feeling.
He had never had a crush on anyone before. Not when he was in France and an actual fifteen year old. He'd look at boys around him during school, admire them a bit. Although, it had never become a full on crush. He had a neighbor once who he thought he may have liked. But he'd only believed that because they'd kissed more than once.
His idea of a crush was not someone who wanted to kiss him. Not necessarily, anyway. His idea of a crush was someone who wanted to hold his hand, touch him tenderly and smile at his presence as no one had done much before. Five did not do any of that, but he knew he did all of that with Five.
Vincent supposed he was whipped. He hated the word, had only just learned it a few months before from a couple of petite teenage girls; but it described his feelings perfectly. Shit, he really was an old man. He was starting to admit he hated modern teenage slang. Although, that would never stop his from using it religiously, if not only to annoy Five.
Vincent swallowed hard, sighing shakily at the idea of having to stare Five in the face when he woke up. Vincent didn't dare to move a muscle anyway, not wanting to wake up the sleeping boy. Five rarely slept, and he would never take the rare occasion away from him. It was only right that he allowed Five to sleep as long as he needed to. Vincent did care about Five in a manner he had never cared for anyone else. He felt himself itching- longing- for Five to just be okay at all times.
Vincent desperately wanted to be Five's source of happiness. His light at the end of the tunnel, he supposed.
But he was not. Despite how undeniably and terribly sad it made him admitting it, he would never be that for Five. He'd only ever be the annoying sidekick of sorts. He was entirely useless, considering his abilities could barely help anyone except himself. He couldn't manipulate peoples' minds or turn invisible or any of that bullshit. All he could do was turn into his poor mommy and a few bimbos and druggies off the street. Boo- fucking- hoo. Sure, his telekinesis was there. But he had never learned how to use it. He had given up on it all those years ago without a care in the world for it.
It made him angry. His uselessness proved to piss Vincent off beyond compare. Whenever anyone needed him most, he couldn't do anything to save them. He could become a busty woman and distract a serial killer, but where would that get him but murdered brutally in some guys man cave?
Sometimes he'd daydream about what it would be like to be powerful. What it would feel like to have even more power rushing though his veins. He could only assume it would be the best feeling in the world. Better than making out with a random boy behind a few of those windmills splayed out in those abandoned fields near his house, filled up with wheat that reached up to his bruised knees.
Vincents' knees were always bruised
And no, not for that reason. As much as he wished it was for that reason, it was something much much lamer. He was simply clumsy. He'd bump his knees into counters and corners of tables. He'd bump his knees into bodies, which would only make him fall yet again and scrape his knees against the pavement.
Not that he could do anything about it. He couldn't heal himself either, because he was merely useless.
Fuck.
Vincent had gotten so lost in his thoughts that he jumped when he turned back to Five. Jumped when he saw eyes staring back at him. Those cloudy green eyes that made Vincent want to jump off a bridge. Vincent raised his eyebrow, watching as Five didn't even flinch, simply raked his eyes over Vincent's face for a quick moment before moving back to his eyes.
And Vincent hated looking people in the eyes. When he spoke to someone, he most often looked at their lips. He couldn't help himself. It wasn't anything remotely romantic. It was merely him unable to focus on one thing in particular. But now he was staring into Five's eyes contently.
He found that he didn't have a problem with focusing on Five like he did with other people. With his mother, for example, he could never look her in the eye. He'd stare at her cheeks when she spoke, the wrinkles and pores of her skin, the excess fat drooping from her jaw. But never her eyes. She had piercing blue ones, he'd remembered. He hated them with a passion and remembered being so glad for most of his life that he didn't have the same blue eyes. That he had inherited his father's hazel ones instead.
He could remember the way she'd snap at him when he was merely seven years old, tell him to look into her eyes when he's being spoken to. She viewed it as disrespectful that he'd sometimes look down at the wooden floorboards when his mother spoke to him rather than her face. She'd sometimes grab his chin in a tight painful grip and force him to look at her while being spoken to, speak with such venom and conviction that Vincent would often feel himself tear up from the cruelty of her gaze.
From then on, he'd made sure to look up at her. Even when she called him a no good freak that ruined her family bloodline, he'd stare up at her face.
But never her eyes. No, he couldn't handle ever staring into his mother's cold eyes. She'd always just looked as though she hated Vincent. And he despised seeing it when he looked at her. He grew to hate looking anyone in the eye. Even his best friend back in France by the name of Augustin Beaulieu, with the most gorgeous eyes Vincent had ever seen, he'd never look him in the eye for longer than a second.
With Five, it was much different.
It seemed that with Five, everything was different. The way he touched, the way he talked, the way he acted as a whole. It seemed that with Five, Vincent didn't have any feeling looking in Fives eyes other than a strong sense of comfort, as embarassing as it was to say.
So Vincent sighed softly. He'd leaned closer to Five without even noticing, until their faces were close enough for their noses to nearly touch. He watched as Five swallowed roughly, his Adam's apple bobbing out of the corner of Vincent's eye. He'd watched as Five also sighed, much heavier, like he was doing so with his entire body. He seemed much less stiff afterwards, his hand still resting on Vincent's hip. Vincent didn't think Five noticed he was doing it.
It was silent. Nothing but the sound of footsteps downstairs that clearly belonged to Fives siblings and the sound of birds chirping from outside of the window. It was peaceful. But also, Vincent could never stay quiet for too long. He had always been a loud person. It had only always been his nature.
"Well, good fucking morning Hargreeves," Vincent snickered, breaking the silence. His voice was soft, tired and slow. Vincent watched as Five chuckled lightly, his shoulders lifting up a bit with the action and a smirk tugging at his lips as he shook his head.
"It was until you spoke," Five countered back with a roll of his eyes. Although, the smile on his lips was still as apparent as ever. It was tiny and barely noticeable, but Vincent seemed to be paying attention to all the details of Fives face at this point.
"Don't lie. As if you weren't thinking of smooching on me until my lips explode. Come on, baby, I can do herpes," Vincent joked with a wide grin, leaning even closer.
Vincent laughed when Five leaned further away from Vincent, shaking his head wildly but still not sitting up as he let out a short laugh, head thrown back just a bit with amusement. "Are you implying that I have herpes?" Five questioned with a quirked eyebrow.
Vincent shrugged his shoulders, smiling widely. "Ah. Of course I am. I think your mannequin gave it to you when you fucked her plastic mouth," He laughed out. "Considering you have never ever kissed anyone else." He spoke with a widening grin.
Five rolled his eyes. "Who says? I've never disclosed that information with you before." He spoke with a scoff, looking away from Vincent. "I've definetly kissed a girl before."
"Oh yeah?" Vincent laughed out with a grin, furrowing his eyebrows. He sat up, crossing his legs and leaning his elbows on his knees, head held up on his fists as he looked down at Five. "And who was the lucky lady?"
"Ah. It was..... a girl. Who was not Dolores." Five spoke, clearing his throat, his cheeks burning red as he refused to make eye contact with Vincent yet again. Somehow, Vincent found he wanted to see Fives eyes again. "She lives somewhere else. You wouldn't know her."
Vincent grinned, laughing. "She seems like a catch. Tongue?" He teased, enjoying the way Fives cheeks grew even redder at the question. It was clear he was lying about the whole thing. Vincent knew Five would have bragged all about it in an attempt to one up Vincent.
"No. That's fucking disgusting," Five replied immediately, shaking his head in disgust. "Who even kisses with tongue?"
"The French! That's why it's called French kissing, you dumbass." Vincent rolled his eyes. He too hated kissing with tongue. But not because it was disgusting. Only because he had never met anyone who was very skilled at using it.
Five chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, I did kiss a girl." He settled on with a small shrug.
Vincent laughed, raising his eyebrow. "I know you're lying, Fivey. Don't give me that bullshit. You've only ever kissed Ms. Large Barbie Doll over there." He grinned, gesturing to Dolores with his hands. "I'm not gonna call you a pussy virgin for it. But also.... you're a pussy virgin." He joked.
"Oh yeah, like you've kissed anyone!" Five laughed out, shaking his head as he sat up slightly.
Vincent smiled. A contradicting action as he leaned forward, closer to Five. "I've kissed lots of people, Five. More than you think. About, what, six maybe?" He chuckled. "I was a boy magnet, darling. Had one guy beg me to kiss him more than once. I don't do commitments, though, so I said no." He shrugged.
When Vincent looked back into Five's eyes, he was surprised to find them slightly narrowed in annoyance. A jealousy that hung in the air miserably radiated off of Five and Vincent hadn't expected it. He heard Five huff and shake his head as he finally sat up, legs crossed as he looked at Vincent, their faces quite close.
"I've never been kissed by anyone. Okay? Only people my own age that I was with for the longest time were my siblings. And I'm not into that." Five spoke, words slow and calculated, clearly thinking them through before spewing them. "I don't need you bragging in my face about how many boys you've contracted sexual diseases from, Leblanc." He shrugged, chuckling.
Vincent raised his eyebrow, grin still ever so present as he leaned even closer to Five, clearly surprising the boy opposite of him. Their noses touched, pressed against one another uncomfortably. Vincent could feel Five's breath on his lips. "No one? Such a shame. You're not that ugly." He chuckled jokingly.
Five was at a loss for words. Sitting there silently, mouth gaping and struggling to find the right words. They were too close. But Five still hadn't made any move to pull away. Neither had Vincent.
Until Vincent brought a hand up, a hand intended to lay on Fives cheek and caress the skin softly. But instead of that, he hit it gently, not hard enough for it to hurt before pulling his hand away with a grin. Vincent leaned close, kissing Fives cheek softly, much much too close to the corner of Fives lips.
And shit. If Five would have turned his head they would have been kissing. But Five didn't turn his head as he felt Vincent press his lips against his cheek. Instead, his cheeks burned a bright red, eyes widening even more as Vincent pulled back, his own cheeks a dimmer pink.
And Vincent didn't know what to say other than a quick, "So what are we doing today?"
Followed up quickly by Fives spluttered of a response, "Uh- eye- find the owner of- uhm- the eye."
So Vincent nodded and jumped out of the bed as fast as he possibly could, ignoring the confused expression on Fives face.
Shit.
Vincent was in so over his head.