amour coriace ( five hargreeves! ) - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

VINCENT LEBLANC SHOULD HAVE LISTENED TO HIS MOTHER. Listened to that ghastly woman when she told him that danger was coming towards him full speed, and he himself was the danger. She would tell him he would eventually get himself killed, that he was a horrifying freak that could never live for too long. He should have listened when she told him to worry about it. When she told him his life would unfold in ways he would never ever wish upon anyone else.
She was right.
With every little thing that had happened over the years, he figured that his mother's words had become a harsh reality. A fucked up terrible reality. He had gotten lost in the end of the world, lonely a majority of the time, and he had come back to France to nothing. No bed, no money, no one to talk to. His life had gone more downhill than it started off as. And now Five hated his guts, despised every moment beside him.
It all hurt Vincent more and more. Although, he understood it. He was destined to be alone, brought Five's hatred and icy glare upon himself. He should have been smarter, should have thought about his actions beforehand. That would have saved him a lifetime of flesh eating guilt, gnawing at his insides like a hungry parasite. He supposed he deserved it. Deserved to be eaten alive by the thing, without any remorse or scraps to be left behind. He deserved to feel every inch of skin burn under the surface, itch like nothing he's ever felt before. He deserved to be in pain and suffer his guilt for the rest of his sad sad life.
Vincent knew what he had done was utterly wrong, something that would haunt him forever until he took his dying breath. He supposed he hadn't cared at the time. Hadn't gave it much thought when he decided to abandon Five to a heartless world of loneliness. But now he gave it too much thought. Thought about it nearly every second, a pressing idea that would never go away no matter how hard he willed it gone. It was hard to live with the burden of guilt. So hard to stay breathing with the knowledge that you've hurt someone, broken them down to somewhere vulnerable you may have never seen. He knew he had hurt Five deeply. Knew with every glance Five gave him, with every accidental brush of their shoulders followed by Five's flinch away. It wasn't something Vincent liked to see. Five hurt by his rash actions, that is.
He wished they would go back to normal. Convert back to their old ways in which they'd have short casual conversations about Edgar Allan Poe and things regarding literature. That was what Five had always enjoyed talking about. Vincent would get bored of that topic easily, yawn and change the subject to something he found more interesting. He'd talk about what stupid things he liked to do in France. To play American football and break his nose to feel something. He loved the way the blood would dribble down his skin, cover his lips like a gruesome lipstick and fall down his neck until he wiped it with the back of his hand, dirty his knuckles with the stench of blood. Sure, it was disgusting. But Vincent loved it. He loved feeling things like that. Pain. He supposed he was a masochist, loving to bring pain upon himself.
He didn't do it much anymore, didn't love getting hurt as much as he used to. Perhaps he learned that hurting himself didn't do him any good. It didn't solve his problems, but worsened them. Still, pain was something he supposed he'd definitely enjoy sexually. But alas, he was a virgin. A poor sad 15 year old virgin. That's what he'd always be.
Five was walking beside Vincent, asking him where he had been staying. Vincent had told him about the motel, nodded his head when Five asked him to bring him and guided him there. They had walked. Despite Five's teleportation power, he still didn't leave Vincent's side. Vincent was grateful for that. He did despise being alone, hated the silence that came with it. When they arrived, they both failed to notice the familiar car sitting in front of it, simply walking to Vincent's room.
Vincent had pulled out the key slowly, taken a few struggling seconds to actually unlock the door. He wasn't very great at using a key. In fact, he totally sucked at it. He opened the door, allowing Five to walk in front of him before going inside as well. He closed and locked the door behind him, raising his eyebrow when he turned around to Five sitting on the edge of the bed. "You wanna fuck, Hargreeves? Could have just asked. Didn't need all the foreplay." He joked with a grin, walking over and sitting beside Five.
Five rolled his eyes, moving further away from Vincent. He huffed to himself, a lock of brown hair falling into his eyes as he looked down for a moment. "Do you have a computer?" He questioned after a moment of silence, raising his eyebrow as he looked up at Vincent.
Vincent let out a laugh, shaking his head slowly as he looked around. "Do I have a computer?" He asked dramatically. "Let's see! Do I have a computer in my small as fuck motel room?" He joked with a snort of amusement, standing up and looking around a bit. "The answer is no. Sorry to break it to you, babe. But I'm poor as hell. Dirt poor. Not even gonna pay for my stay here, honestly." He grinned, looking in the drawers.
Five huffed, a puff of air that exuded frustration. He held the bridge of his nose between his pointer and middle finger in utter annoyance, shutting his eyes for a moment. He inhaled before opening his eyes as he exhaled. "Do you have anything that will do me good?" He questioned.
Vincent flashed Five a grin, continuing to look through the drawers. "A vibrator, maybe?" He joked. He gasped when he saw something, to which Five perked up at. He deflated once Vincent turned around, a 1998 Playgirl issue in between his fingers. "My dreams have come true." He grinned wide, placing it gently on the top of the dresser before looking back into it. "We've got... a shitty bible. A book on birds. Another book on... birds?" He chuckled, shaking his head. "And a yellow pages." He shrugged with a small laugh. "So nothing great."
Five rolled his eyes, standing up and grabbing the yellow pages. "This is exactly what I need, you imbecile." Five hissed out in annoyance, sitting back down gently. He flipped through the heavy book, searching for something in particular.
"Ha! You think you're being hilarious but I don't even know what imbecile means!" Vincent grinned, closing the drawer before grabbing the magazine he had found. He lied down, flipping through the photos of naked men shamelessly. Five didn't seem to care anyway. He continued to search through the book, making a small pleased noise when he found just what he was looking for. "What are you doing anyway?" He questioned, wiggling his eyebrows to himself when he flipped upon an extra graphic nude photo of a man.
Five rolled his eyes at Vincent's actions, clenching his jaw lightly before turning around. "Needed to find an address. For the eye." He explained simply. "A prosthetic place a few blocks from here. Walking distance it'll take maybe 10 minutes." He shrugged.
Vincent nodded slowly, not entirely caring about the eye whatsoever. Nor did he care for the end of the world. As long as he wasn't stuck in it again, he would be happy with it. He glanced up at Five. "So what are we gonna do in the meantime? I mean, you don't expect a fucking prosthetic joint to be open this late, do you? Or do you have one brain cell like me?" He snorted in amusement.
Five rolled his eyes. "Of course I don't. I pride myself on having at least one more brain cell than you do, you incel." He huffed before standing up. "There a phone in here? I need to call this number, make sure it's not a totally open." He spoke.
Vincent laughed. "There's a phone but you don't need to call." He spoke. "It's definetly not open." He shrugged, making an "ooh" sound as he turned the page of his magazine.
Five shook his head. "That's exactly what I want. I need it to be closed for a moment." He spoke without an explanation. "I'll be right back." He spoke before teleporting off, gone yet again in an eruption of blue.
Vincent sighed, Five probably would not come back. He stayed sitting there for a good 5 minutes by himself, flipping through the entire magazine and throwing it onto the nightstand when he finished. He laid back, lighting up another cigarette. It was probably a bad idea to do so in a, most likely, highly flammable bed. But he didn't mind.
Vincent jumped with an embarrassing yelp when Five reappeared standing in front of the bed. He was holding a photo in between his fingers, Vincent could not see what it was. Five sat beside Vincent, handing him the photo. He looked it over, furrowing his eyebrows. There was a man, average looking, beside a tall slim blonde woman who was barely smiling. The man's arm was wrapped around the woman's waist, but it looked odd considering he was quite a bit shorter than her. Not that there was anything wrong with that, Vincent just noted it. He raised his eyebrow. "Fuck is this for?" He asked.
Five sighed. "I need you to become that woman tomorrow. If worst comes to worst. We'll need it." He spoke, pointing to the blonde woman in the photo.
Vincent chuckled, shaking his head. "Sorry to break it to you, darling, but I can't just turn into anyone I see. I have to touch them first." He shrugged, not expecting the glare Five gave him.
"I know you can. Just look at her and focus. I'm sure you can do it. You're capable of a lot more than you know, Vincent." Five spoke steadily, pointing at the woman yet again. Vincent furrowed his eyebrows, looking her over.
"Do I have to wear that ugly fucking dress? It's brown." Vincent spoke, nose scrunched up in disgust. Five rolled his eyes, not answering the question. Vincent huffed. "I can't just do this, Five. I already turned into something a few hours ago. I've never done anything like that that close to one another. It'll tear me apart." He chuckled lightly, but it could very well be truthful. The pain that came after transforming into someone was already unbearable, adding on the pain of turning into another person would make it so much worse.
Five sighed, "Fine. We'll scrap the idea. Unless you can end up doing it. But you don't have to do it tonight." He spoke, his voice surprisingly much softer, kinder. He looked at Vincent for the first time that whole day with a sense of softness. Instead of a harsh glare, Vincent was met by gentle brown eyes looking into his own, Five's always serious expression rivaling Vincent's smiley one. Vincent supposed he smiled the most when he was around Five. Which was odd considering Five never really did so around him.
Vincent huffed, breaking the stare by lying his head back, hitting against the headboard. "Fuck.." He cursed at the slight amount of pain from hitting his head too hard, the cigarette still in between his lips as he looked up at the ceiling. "I can try, I guess. But don't expect anything. I'm not powerful. My abilities don't serve much of a purpose." He shrugged a bit.
Five shrugged as well. "Maybe not. But they can. They don't serve purpose because you haven't given them one." He spoke, voice still soft. He was tired. Vincent could tell from his droopy eyelids and the way in which his speech slowed, gotten gentler and how his body lightly, barely even noticeably, swayed a bit closer to Vincent's side. "Give them a purpose and you'll be golden." He chuckled lightly. "Maybe. Or you'll just fuck yourself over. Then you don't have any purpose and you'll die with nothing." He spoke softly.
Vincent laughed a bit, shaking his head. "Always so blunt, Five." He spoke. "Of course I've got no purpose already. Don't even know how to control half the shit I do. I could read your mind if I knew how to." He shrugged. He had done it with his mother once, sat across from her at the dining table and looked at her. She was caught up in reading the newspaper, yelling back half-assed responses to Vincent's father about whether or not they had bought onions from the supermarket. He had stared harshly at her wrinkly rough forehead, like he wanted to burn a hole into it, and before he knew it he knew just what she was thinking. Knew that she hated his father, hated him. Because that's what she thought all the time.
After that, Vincent couldn't really use the power anymore. It was as if it was blocked off from his use. No matter how hard he tried, he could never seem to do it properly anymore. He'd get snippets of words they were thinking, but never a full thought. Five nodded slowly. "Think you've still got a chance. But who knows? You're a bit of a wild card, Vince." He muttered, yawning.
Vincent stiffened at the nickname. Vince. Five hadn't called him that for so long. He hadn't realized just how much he truly missed hearing that fall from Five's lips, just how much it made his heart swell with pride. He knew Five was only being nice to him because he was slowly falling asleep, but Vincent savored whatever moment he had of kindness. "That I am, that I am. But hey, so are you." He chuckled. "Never know where you could have gone when you teleport away. Could teleport to fucking India for all I know." He chuckled.
"Why the hell would I teleport to India?" Five chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "I'm not gonna just leave you. I'm not that big of an asshole." He mumbled with a shrug.
Vincent chuckled. "That can be easily debated, darling. You're a huge asshole. But it's alright." He shrugged, blowing out a bit of smoke out of the corner of his lips. He heard Five laugh softly beside him.
"Goodnight, Vincent." Five spoke softly, eyes shutting as he drifted off into sleep. Vincent wouldn't wake him until the morning, very aware that Five nearly never got a good sleep.
Vincent sighed, smiling softly as he put the cigarette out, to the side. "Goodnight, Five.." He mumbled gently, watching as Five laid his head on Vincent's shoulder absentmindedly, too overtaken by sleep to possibly make the conscious decision not to. Vincent would have stiffened, but it was nice.
He had never been this close to Five before. Close enough to feel his hair tickling at his neck and to hear his soft quiet snores. Five's hands lay in his own lap, but his body was almost entirely leaned against Vincent. Vincent didn't mind whatsoever, but kept his hands to himself.
He knew the morning would be awkward, when Five wakes up to realize he'd been sleeping against the boy he was supposed to hate the entire night. But Vincent didn't want to think that far ahead. He was stuck in the moment, and that was good enough for him.
He supposed this would be the closest Five would get to him in a long time.