to treat a burn

by Matuk

Summary:

“Asshole” Diego says under his breath, feeling the well-worn fury appear with renewed force, like lightning. “Don't tease me, I swear I won't hold back”

“Good” Five says, terrifyingly calm. “Because I really expected more from you. We are not the type to settle for half-measures. ”

Chapter 1: Misplaced things

As soon as Diego opens the door, Viktor lets go a small chuckle while looking at him from head to toe.

“Shut up, my kitchen is hot as hell” Diego says. 

Viktor winks at him “Yet, not as hot as—” 

“Stop” Diego interrupts irritated. “What are you doing here, man?”

Viktor clears his throat. “Well, I spoked to Allison and she told me that Klaus has that three year achievement thing, and I need to talk with Luther about the new design for the bar”

“Sure” Diego says skeptical. “Look, do you want to come inside or?” 

Viktor hesitates and half turns to glance at his car, parked right in front of the house. Diego looks up and gives a smirk. 

“Ah, I see, who did you bring?” he asks mockingly. “Is that your new girl, Casanova?” 

“It's Five,” says Viktor, plainly.

Diego's smile twists into a scowl, his stomach drops to the ground. “What? I thought he was...” he shakes his head “No,” he states flatly grabbing the door frame and dragging it unconsciously to narrow the inlet to his home. 

“Look. I wouldn't do this if I didn't have to, I need you to trust me,” Viktor says.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t… know exactly,” Viktor says.  

“What you expect me to do with that?” Diego asks irate.

“Just listen to him” 

“No” 

“Diego…”

“No!”

“It's been six years,” Viktor says, looking almost desperate. 

Diego pauses and tries to remember. “Really?” Gracie's twelfth birthday had been two weeks ago. Only Luther and Allison had shown up. It hadn't been memorable. “Oh”

“He says he'll let you hit first,” Viktor explains. 

“As in...” Diego says, eyes narrowed. 

“As in literally” Viktor says, fiddling nervously with his car keys ”It's quite alarming.”

Diego pauses, “Alarming?” then pushes his lips up, undeterred “Nah, I beg to differ” he says. 

“It's not just that,” Viktor says, growing impatient.  

“What do you mean?” Diego isn't worried, not really, he's intrigued.

“He's writing a novel,” Viktor says quietly, after briefly glancing over his shoulder, as if it were an extremely significant revelation.

Diego just stares, “Cool” he says, beyond irritated.

“You don't understand. Look, I didn't want to read it,” Viktor says obfuscated, guilt climbing to his face in a heavy shade of red “but he left the notes sitting there, right there! and there were these drawings…” Viktor shudders and shoves his hands in his pockets, but Diego isn't going to let him in, not after the unwanted visitor he brought.

“The novel is about a man who is burning alive,” Viktor continues, lower, as if afraid that Five might hear him “but this man is not even aware of it, he kind of burns alive for years and goes for groceries and stuff, and looks at birds and reads Proust and Kakfa...”

“But you've only read a few notes,” Diego is amused despite himeslf. Viktor's concern is downright comical. 

“It was very disturbing!” says Viktor defensively, ”I'm worried.”

“Dad?”

They both startle. Diego turns. Gracie is there, wearing an apron and holding a spatula. 

“Fuck, the rice” he says, holding a hand to his forehead.

“Yes. Should I add more water? It smells no bueno,” says the girl frowning, “Oh, hi Uncle Viktor.”

Diego groans. Reluctantly, he opens the door all the way and allows the interaction.

“Hello, niece, how are you?” says Viktor sheepishly.

“It's been so long,” Grace smiles and rushes to hug him. 

“I can't do this right now,” Diego says irked.

“Actually, you can,” Viktor says, looking very uncomfortable in his niece's tight embrace. “In my car I have Grace's birthday present and something for the twins,” he adds. “Besides, I talked to Allison yesterday, she's expecting us at her house for a sleepover.”

“Really?” Grace says, looking between her father and Viktor, excited. “Oh, dad, can we?” 

“Go and turn off the stove, amor, where are the twins?” Diego asks.

“They got tired of waiting,” Gracie says, with daring snark.

“Go,” Diego says, unimpressed. The girl gives them a wild grin and turns away. “Not cool, dude,” Diego says, facing his brother.

Viktor shrugs, “I'm sorry?” 

Diego talks to Allison on the phone, packs clothes, toothbrushes and snacks for the twins and gives Viktor detailed instructions on the medication Coco should take with his dinner. As he approaches, holding hands with his children, Five gets out of the vehicle. 

He looks like shit. 

He is taller, thinner. The shadow of an incipient beard peeks out over his pale skin, gray eyes sulk behind prescription glasses and, in contrast to a few white strands, his hair, darker than ever, is long enough for him to hold it back with a thin rubber band. There is nothing else there, nothing at all revealing, but Diego is suddenly seized by that unsettling feeling, the one Viktor talks about.

The twins break free from Diego's grip and run gleefully towards Five. The man smiles uncomfortably and pats them on the shoulder.

“Good afternoon, kids. Boy, you’re all grown-ups!” he says monotonously. He sounds genuine, but struggles to strike the right tone of casual friendliness. As always, it’s laughable and also painful to watch.

“Hi, uncle Five” says Grace, appearing all the sudden behind Diego. 

“Hello, dear,” Five languishes. The girl smiles but doesn't come closer, measuring him with a sharp gaze while Five clumsily holds the twins in each arm, blushing ever so subtly under her inspection. “I missed you,” he finally says, weakly.

“Me too, Uncle Five,” the girl says, and finally walks over and gives him a cautious, thoughtful kiss on the cheek.

Five's expression abruptly seals beneath a frozen smile, a brawl of emotions taking place behind his veiled posture, his aged eyes. He sighs, almost choking on it.

“Alright, hop in, kids,” Viktor says, breaking the silence with strained enthusiasm.

Diego and Five stay there watching them go, freezing under the horrible weather, without speaking or looking at each other until they stop hearing the engine of Viktor's car in the quiet neighborhood. Then, Diego turns around and walks towards his house as if he were alone, really wishing he was, noticing that Five is following him closely, so silently, like a shadow.

“Do you have some wine?” Five asks as soon as he crosses the threshold. 

“There is no alcohol in this house,” Diego says bluntly.

Five sighs mildly disappointed. He coughs a little and frowns in discomfort holding his chest, as he kicks off his shoes. Inside the house he looks even paler.

“Are you sick, man?” Diego asks, unable to keep his facade intact.

“I’m not sick” Five says, very annoyed “I’m old” 

“Is that your excuse for looking like a bum?” Diego asks.

Five grins “Says the man who is only wearing an apron that says 'star girl'” he deflects without looking at him. He casts an apprehensive look around Diego's living room, as if he were walking into a landmine. “What does that say about you?”

Diego looks down at his bare chest covered only with the shiny pink fabric. Great.

“That I'm busy with my life and you're a fucking inconvenience right now,” he says, untying the knot on his apron. “Wait here. Don't fucking move"

When he returns, properly dressed, he finds Five sitting on the couch with that cavalier, crazed yet exhausted expression of his.

“How that even works?” Diego asks, after scrutinizing the subtle shiver of Five’s hands and the faint murmur of his thoughts.

“What?” Five looks up. Metaphysical reflections and overflowing calculations aside. 

“Being an elderly bum who kinda looks thirty” Diego snarks. 

“I don't know,” says Five, unfazed, unexpectedly, just for a second: “I'm not thirty. You morons should understand that. I'm almost eighty, and that's that, even if I don't look like it, I feel it. The phantom limb, the extra weight,” he snarls.

“Yeah, at my thirties I didn’t look that fucked” Diego concedes, amused. “Since when do you wear glasses?”

“Diego,” Five interrupts, impatiently “I just came here to ask you to do whatever you have to get over this. I'm tired of waiting for you to man up,” 

Sizing him up, Diego waits, but there’s no hesitation on those deranged green eyes. 

“Man” he backs off, knowing that he has to restrain himself so as not to do something stupid.

“I know that Lila left” Five says, doubling the harsh determination of his gaze.

“Asshole” Diego says under his breath, feeling the well-worn fury appear with renewed force, like lightning. “Don't tease me, I swear I won't hold back”

“Good” Five says, terrifyingly calm. “Because I really expected more from you. We are not the type to settle for half-measures.”

Diego snaps, but in that space of half a second, the apathy and last-minute eagerness on Five's face makes him react just in time and divert the trajectory of the frame with the family photo he had thrown at him. The sharp glass edge grazes Five's neck, leaving a clean cut. The old man doesn't flinch. 

“Shit” Diego says horrified as Five outlines the wound with his fingers.

“No, It’s ok” Five says lowering his guard. 

“Is this what you came here for?” Diego asks dimly. 

“No,” Five says rubbing his eyes hard behind the glasses “The truth is that I miss—I want to talk to you, I want to see my nephew and my nieces. I want to see the rest of the family”

Aghast, across the room, heart pounding; Diego inspects the peek behind his armor, those words that Five seems to have held on to for years.

“It’s so fucking hard,” Five says, faint, as if had taken a tremendous effort and unintendedly reading his mind. “not to be a hypocrite”

Diego nods, finally understanding, because he would also prefer that this could be resolved with a fight, that this would have been resolved with that fight.

“And I wanted to tell you—” Diego swallows thickly “That you were the person I trusted the most” the pain presents itself freely; the sombre resentment. “Do you understand the implication?”

Five flinches, “Yes” he says in that factual tone that he only uses for math “Me too. I never knew how much until we stopped seeing each other and everything became… less grounded” he ends quietly. 

They look into each other’s eyes. 

“I don’t know why this is important, but Klaus told me that I needed to tell you this… and, well, I’m just gonna say it: Lila and I, we didn’t do it” Five says, ill-at-ease. 

“What?” Diego asks shocked.

“I didn’t have sexual intercourse with Lila” Five stops and looks vividly at him, genuinely amazed at his reaction “Does that changes anything?”

“Are you for real right now?” Diego comes closer, furious, and takes him forcibly by the jacket “Are yo fucking kidding me, asshole?”

“No,” says Five, even-tempered, without fighting back, letting himself be lifted and rattled.

Diego considers sorely strangling him, but instead he carelessly drops him on the carpet and puts his hands over his head, disturbed.

“Didn’t she—? Does that change anything?” Five insists, looking up at him expectantly from the floor. Tilted and disheveled. “Klaus reacted pretty much like you did.”

“Did he?” Diego says, strolling around, out of his mind.

“Well, it was a strong reaction,” Five admits, sitting up as he adjustes his glasses.

“Why—? Why didn’t you said that when I asked you, then?” Diego crouches at his side. 

“Primarily because your children were right there and we had to save Ben” Five says, very serious. “And I thought it was something you knew about me”

“Oh my fucking god, dude” Diego says rampant.  

“Also… I was terrified to tell you how strong I felt about her” Five confesses.

Diego just stares at him, dumbfounded, trembling with frustration and a renewed anger and disappointment towards Lila, who deliberately never made it clear to him.

“You were in love with her” he says. 

Five blushes, finally breaking eye contact with him, he fiddles uncontrollably with his wristwatch. 

“I only know that's the closest I've ever been to anyone. I was there for her, she was there for me. We were all we had. She made me feel significant. Yes, I loved her” he mumbles “Isn’t that worse?”

“I don’t know” Diego says. He had forgotten how atypical his brother was. His perspective on relationships, loyalty and romance seemed especially particular. Too vehement, too naïve, strangely self-denying. 

They both spend a few minutes staring into nothingness, sitting side by side, lost in heavy memories and realizations.

“Five, it’s been six years” Diego says, indignant. “Six fucking years”

“I know” Five says “I wanted you two to reconcile. It was the only thing that mattered then, and for that I had to get out of the picture”

“Then you found out that Lila had left” Diego realizes. 

“Then I found out Lila had left” Five agrees “Still, I considered not bothering you again.”

“But?”

Five sighs.

“I can’t give up on you,” he says.

“Hadn't you already given up?” Diego asks bitterly. 

“I told you: I was lying to myself,” Five says. “The thing is, I was having a particularly hard time adapting who I am to this new setting, where one has to deal with all the consequences, on a personal level.” 

Diego assesses him “Nothing comes in half-measures” he interprets.

Five nods, “And there's only one thing I've ever wanted in my life and that's to get back to you guys. It took Viktor years to convince me that it was okay to feel that way, to keep wanting that,” he laughs miserably, amused and conflicted with the childish idea of wanting something for himself.

“I really tried to play it down, but it's something that can't be handled as an injury.” He looks at Diego, with a grim, irresolute smile. His eyes are expectant of what Diego decides, and very fearful of what that turns out to be.

Diego reflects on it and then decides—that his kids' eyes and Five's have a parallel vein. It is that sentiment of inadequacy that makes them so vulnerable; that makes them expect less and feel puporsless until someone firmly and lovingly tells them otherwise.

“Okay”, Diego agrees, lightened. 

Five lets his hands rest on his thighs, still and ready. “I’ll take it, either way” he says “And don’t you dare feel sorry for me, like you did before"  

Diego scoffs. For a long time he wanted to forget about him, he wanted to make him bleed. The urge was still there, but also the memory of her daughter asking him how he had met Lila, casually reminding him that if it weren't for Five, she and the twins wouldn't exist, because his brother fucked up the jump that led him to meet their mother.

He grabs his brother by the shoulder instead and gently pulls him into a warm and somehow kindred embrace.

“This is not what you want” Five says with a faltering voice, “I can tell”

“I'll always want to kick your insufferable ass, weirdo. But I’m better at this” Diego responds “Forget that, I’m the best at this,” 

Five says nothing, there is an almost imperceptible tremor beneath his pride, he is tired of wondering, and Diego notices when Five briefly presses his ear against his heart to be sure, to evade the tricks of his mind; eyes wide, limbs tense.

“She doesn't deserve you” he says, expecting Diego to change his mind at any moment, just like Lila did. “Neither do I”

“Come on, old man, this is it. Get some rest. We're fine” hugging him tightly Diego rests his back on the couch, chin in Five's hair. He's so light that Diego could easily rock him in his arms. He's done it thousands of times, putting his babies to sleep.

“How can I be sure?” Five asks. 

Diego hums. Everyone says that old people and children are similar, and it's true. They just need to be taken care of and reminded that they are loved, that they belong. That they are relevant. Beyond that, Five is a creature who has lost everything over and over again; worlds, familiar faces, time and himself (all iterations). More than anyone else, he needs certainty, reassurance.

“Trust me,” Diego says. It's as simple as that. He feels it too, as if he has regained a lost sense of immunity; that core hedge that transcends all (their) iterations.

“Right” Five inhales deeply, atonished to have overlooked such point-blank truth. He closes his eyes and merges “I do.”

Chapter 2: Hidden things

Notes:

This is a MESS (sorry) but I kinda like it. It says what needs to be said in a messy way.

SERIOUS TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️⚠️ for this chapter, please read carefully the tags I’ve added!!

Five is somewhat clumsy moving around the kitchen, but he is also an avid observer who never dismissed his nieces’ suggestions, and knows all the random and otherwise unnecessary facts about how to keep the dough of the naan bread fluffy and the poblano cream thick. 

“A lady gave me shelter in Mexico a few years ago, I learned a few things from her”. Everyone falls silent and looks at him, it is the first complete sentence he has uttered since the day before, after spending the night on Diegos' couch, waking up to Diego’s cat settling on his chest and the twins screaming for him in the phone and experiencing, later in the morning, his brother’s barely second attempt at a driving lesson for Gracie. 

“Things like what, uncle Five?” asks Claire intrigued. She and Allison have welcomed them very early—earlier than Five would have excepted or hoped for—to help get everything ready for Klaus' party. 

“Well, how to take the bitterness out of the chile without suppressing the spiciness; how to make a perfect cajeta; little cooking secrets,” Five says, sipping his coffee, gradually relaxing.

He's been extremely edgy since the conversation with Diego, as if the truce between them was held by needles. Diego can hardly blame him, because he feels exactly the same, “She made me one of the best meals I've ever had in my life; a delicious supper... for our birthday.”

“She was a cook?” Allison asks. 

Five looks at her, an expression of curiosity in his haywire, taciturn glare. 

“No” he says as a sobering conclusion. 

“What happened to her?” Claire insists. She's fascinated with Five, and everyone can tell because she's not at all shy about it. Allison, Diego and Gracie roll their eyes. 

“I had to… get her out of the city the next day” Five says, cryptic as fuck. 

“Really, dude? October 2, 1968?” Diego intervenes, helping the twins to stir the wet ingredients for the cake. 

Five blinks and Diego smiles smugly. He can see under Five’s automated blank expression that he is surprised by his historical knowledge.

“As I was saying,” Five says, peeling his eyes away from him, “that lady was one of a kind, unfortunately I never saw her again.” 

“I think you're purposely leaving out the best details of the story,” interjects Gracie. 

Five’s even expression shifts: a disconcerting form of genuine admiration appears “And I think someday you'll outrun all of us”

Gracie scoffs and Five’s rare twinkle grows bigger. 

“So she’s right?” Claire asks. 

“I’ll wouldn’t say the best details, but yes some details are left out” Five agrees “One day if your mother lets me, I’m gonna tell you an Gracie all the grusesome details of my stories”

“Five” Allison scolds.

“Dude” Diego says.

“Oh, shut up” Five says. “That’s what grandpas do”

Diego can't argue with that, it is the warmest shock ever: he looks at Allison with tight lips and raised eyebrows to appease her, though he doesn't need to, Allison is immediately softened by the noun and Five's intention to wear it proudly. 

“Can’t wait” Gracie says and there’s a hint of sarcasm in her voice, she can’t help it. There is some confusion, of course, even though she is aware that Five is much older than his appearance suggests, however, it's not just that, she seems merely feisty by nature.

Claire, in the meantime, very serious, holds out her hand to seal the pact. Five takes it. Allison and Diego don't remember seeing him smile so sincerely, as if he was really excited about something beyond removing gravity's title as one of the fundamental forces. 

 

—

 

Five suffers a severe burn on his forearm when it comes time to take out the cake from the oven, but when Diego, pulling his arm under the freezing water, suggests applying an ointment, Five, to the immense admiration of the youngsters, laughs crudely in his face.

“You’re such a bad influence, bitch” Diego says, disgusted with Five’s injury, tender pink skin about to break into a long blister, but mostly with his behavior.  

“We all are,” Allison shrugs and hands Five an ice pack, he takes it without fuss and Allison smiles, tucking a long strand of dark hair behind Five's ear.

There are some things that Five and Allison share that have become substantially more significant and, Diego dares to say, urgent; he can’t help but consider it a wonderful silverlining. 

“The kids had already taken his side and now you too” Diego shakes his head, while the young crowd laughs histerically, light in his demeanor in spite of (or because of) the disclosures hovering around his heart. “You are now banned from using sharp objects and stoves. Go sit over there, old man, and try to arrange the charcuterie board, until I say otherwise.”

Five obeys. 

 

—

 

Five takes the small bag he brought, which Allison kept for him before Viktor left that morning with Luther to talk business. He shyly enters in his sister's bathroom and, for the first time in what seems like months, gingerly inspects his reflection in the mirror. 

“Oh boy” he whispers disgusted. 

He's barely gone inside to shower, which suddenly seems like a first priority—if not an actual emergency—when he hears a knock at the door. He doesn't answer or hurry, whatever it is it can wait, as it's most likely nothing life-threatening. And he's always been a jerk.

“Five? I’m gonna leave you some things here” Allison’s voice comes on the other side.

He doesn’t respond.

When he peeks out his damp head a few minutes later, curious, he finds a shaving kit and a mahogany-colored tie on Allison's bed, which probably belonged to Ray.

He is moved and at the same time awed by his sister's audacity, because no detail goes unnoticed and he is immediately very aware that she has rummaged through his belongings. Maybe it's true what Viktor says that he and Allison are a lot more alike than he realized.

He decides that not cutting his hair, although there’s is aching to do so, will draw less attention to himself. He settles for brushing it off his face with a comb he finds in Allison's drawer, braid it into a half-tail to keep it in place and shave neatly before getting dressed.

Viktor and Luther have arrived in the time it took him to get ready, they are just greeting everyone when he enters Allison's living room.

He agonizes uncomfortably in his casual shirt, his dress boots and his argyle sweater that matches perfectly with the tie Allison provided, while everyone becomes aware of his presence. 

No one, besides Viktor who smiles encouragingly at him, notices his discomfort: he already wears his death stare as his primary skin.

“What?” he snarls, the desire for the appearance of contempt as soon as the surprise wears off Luther's face.

But often misunderstanding their intentions, he belatedly discovers that Luther's expression is one of absolute enchanted astonishment, nothing else. With a beaming smile, his brother goes over to him and takes him in his arms until he lifts him off the ground. “Where have you been?”

Luther is as warm as ever; in Five’s photographic memory flashes the moment when Luther took him in his arms to protect him from getting shot, as no one else had ever done. Five can sense the overwhelming feeling coming on, and the truth is that he's still a little bit shaken up from the previous night. 

“You know…” Five says in a flat voice and then he trails off; his brother smells of sawdust and wood varnish.

“Of course” Luther says with effortless assurance as he gently breaks the embrace; large, soft hands on his arms.

“The good thing is you are here” says an incredibly sweet voice behind them—and Five winces, horrified.

He has completely forgotten about her, but Sloane's reaction is, by all accounts, a crucial one. For some time now, he has been craving, in a masochistic way, to know what exactly she thinks about him and what he did to Diego, simply because she is the fairest person among them and the smarter in so many ways. 

But she's just there (for now) looking soft and wise as always, passing ethereally through the vestibule with the tray of cutlery he had been working on less than an hour ago.

And as he unwinds, Five’s curiosity is only moved by the question of how his brother could have successfully wooed this girl.

Luther holds Sloane by the waist and places a smiling kiss on her cheek. “We missed you so much” he says, eyes shining with such solemnity that Five inmediatly stops wondering.

 

—

 

The awkward mood of the room changes drastically when Klaus appears. It widens, brightens, warms soothingly. Until then, Five has only heard anecdotes, but from what Viktor and Allison tell, Klaus has become the bravest version of himself. And Five doesn't know exactly what they mean by that, not until he is facing his brother.

Klaus looks radiant and more beautiful than ever. Soft, clear skin as if he were ten years younger, long hair and purple eye makeup. His outfit maybe a little more solemn than usual, but he is now not only sober for years, but also works at the center in support of other addicts.

He greets him jovially, but it is only after dinner and congratulations and candied speeches that Klaus approaches him and with an unironic and tender confidence, takes his face in his hands and carefully scrutinizes it. 

To his own surprise Five does not try to pull away inmediatly, perhaps because Klaus’ expected dark joke is unnervingly delayed and, in the end, never arrives… He is going to tell Klaus, however, that he does not know anything about respecting other people’s personal space and that he is in fact still freakier than Five himself.

“I don’t care, you will always asume the worst of us anyway” Klaus anticipates, he smiles and strokes his cheeks. There is a spark, there had always been that omniscient spark, but now it is radically unveiled. Blinding almost.

“Ok, true” Five says. He feels calmer than usual, he is not afraid of Klaus’s judgment, because he is the only one who accepts them all as they are, without any if's or but's. It's a bit unfair, but what to do? Five’s already too done in his ways to change that much for the better. There is nothing to be gained by wishing things were too different for him. He is nothing more than a strange experiment, within a human resemblance.

“You look old” Klaus says with remarkable care.

Upon being properly recognized, contradicted, Five is stunned. He feels his own lips tremble. He touches faintly his brother's hands and sighs, “Thank you.”

“I got you, baby” Klaus says with that cosmic glow in his smile. “I am very happy that you’ve started to work things out with Diego”

“Me too” Five says. All tension resides completely, he no longer has any intention of pulling away and he can't remember being this comfortable in a long time.

 

—

 

The two of them play with his nieces and nephew for hours games that he has never heard of: puzzles, memory games, card games—which they excitedly teach and he learns quickly and skillfully. Klaus not so much (still wins a lot, for some divine intervention)

Five is a bit drunk and he doesn't completely excel. He has no problem admitting that frustration, that his mind is no longer as sharp as it was years ago; admitting that it's kind of embarrassing to want to win them all, even in this scenario; admitting that a part of him will always want to win until the last consequences and that is really fucked up and it's okay? Once he identifies this, he realizes that it gives him a very particular peace of mind to lose to the children, he hasn't had so much fun in a long time and he has never felt so excited and proud to have a group of little geniuses and true challengers in his family.

 

—

 

From the garage where they park the van, Five teleports the sleepy twins to their beds. The little ones were not as good at puzzles as Gracie or as skilled at trivia as Claire, but they won all the memory games and for some reason Five felt especially attached to that. He kept looking at them fondly as they slept on his lap on the way to Diego's house.

When he sees Diego run into his room, pale and out of breath, he realizes that it was a very bad idea to have used his power so carelessly.

“What?” Five asks with feigned naiveté.

“Nothing” Diego whispers without looking directly into his eyes. He tiptoes into the room and under the pretext of kissing and tucking them in, he inspects his kids as if to make sure of something significant. 

Five withdraws silently. He didn't expect to regain Diego’s trust right away… but then why does he feel so disheartened? For some reason, it’s good to know that he still carries this unwavering idea of hope; makes him feel less numb, more aware of the present—although it hurts hideously.

“I'm tired” Diego says as an excuse minutes later when he joins him in the backyard; he knows Five is curious and expectant.

“It’s okay” Five grants, tame, drained. 

Diego, unprepared and pleasantly surprised, calms and perks up, accepts the beer and goes to sit next to him on the bench, releasing the tension as he nonchalantly stretches out like a cat. 

“What’s that?” Five asks, thin voice due to the hefty flip of his stomach.

Diego immediately covers it, but Five has already retained it in depth, there, in the very low end of Diego’s abdomen. Sharp, chafed, painful.

The night suddenly cools down and Diego, who refuses to look at him, peers into its abyss. 

“It’s…” Diego begins swallowing so hard; blushing even harder.

But Five interrupts him, feeling lightheaded “Spare your moronic lie, those look fresh and lined up,” he swallows too “what the fuck?”

“Stay out of my shit” Diego hisses “You’re—such a fucking inconvenient…” he whispers to himself. 

“Are you—?” Five has to edgeily restrain himself before calling Diego an idiot, carelessly gulping down his drink in one go. “Why?”

“Fuck off” Diego spats. 

“No. You won't get away with this” Five says. Diego stares at him, furious, almost baring his teeth. “You won't!”

“Who the fuck do you think you are? And after everything that happened, you want me to believe that you care?” Diego looks down at his hands until he summits them to a fist. He pauses there for a moment, the violence, the inherent hastiness, while he sorts out his thoughts:

“All my life I have dealt with my anger and sadness by beating the dirt out of the world until I got rid of it from the inside. You get it, don't you?  But I can't do that anymore! I can't do anything remotely reckless because three little beings are depending on me.”

“And so what you're doing now... Don't you think this is reckless?” Five asks in a low voice.

“What do you even know about that?” Diego jumps finally, so angry. 

Five shakes his head very slowly, he is about to say something he's not sure he'll regret.

“You can even start to imagine the pain—the stress I was under” Diego continues, indignant. 

“I'm not judging you,” Five replies frustratedly. It must be his level of intoxication because Diego's features suddenly become so damn juvenile. In front of him is the face sitting next to him at the academy at dinner for over a decade “I've done worse. I just... I am so—...”

“Stop. I’m fine. It’s okay,” Diego says after a beat, very uncomfortable.

“Well it's not,” Five can shake the sunken feeling in his chest and stomach. And the haunting image of Diego, at the age of eight when he had gotten the scar on his temple, which was, ironically, no longer there. 

He remembers him perfectly catching a tantrum and refusing to complete the training that led to Diego receiving the deep gash from Reginald himself that required twenty-three stitches. He remembers both Allison and Luther screaming in sheer horror and himself, the only one not paralyzed with panic, falling to his knees and finding, holding, bending the flesh with his hands to stop the blood. The amount was monumental and yet Diego seemed to feel no pain. Five feared, then, that he was dying with his eyes open, staring at him.

A grotesque, messy sensation begins to overpower him to the point that he feels like breaking out of his body. He knows he has never been good at protecting his younger siblings but this is just an advanced more excruciating  level of that deficiency.

“Who knows this?” Five asks dimly.  

“No one” Diego says “And no one has to know,” he adds unceremoniously. “Just... forget about it, please”

The feeling finally breaks through Five, quite burdensome as all emotions are for him, the uncommon thing is that he knows exactly what emotion it is, there is an undeniable clarity that he can't remember ever having before. Everything else inside him has been so hard to decipher since he had time to look. 

“I can't,” he whispers “this scared me, shitless,”

Diego fixes his eyes on him, mystified by the ludicrous admission. “Shut up. You're not scared of anything.”

“Diego” Five scolds. 

“I don't know what the fuck you're assuming, but I'm not going to... shit” Diego lowers his voice looking towards the back door “I'm not going to end myself.”

Five suffers an involuntary shudder “Still, have you thought about it?”

Diego starts to become incredibly enraged. He eyes him sharply as if he wants to absorb his power to turn back time. “So what. Everybody does it. You do. I mean… no.” He sighs, mortified. 

Holy fuck.

Five runs his hand through his hair, it's not exasperation, it's the feeling of a perverse threat and he can't help it anymore. Diego straightens up, crosses his arms fiercely and frowns on the verge of quarreling, he looks more than exhausted, almost disarmed. 

“Okay, okay" Five says, raising his hands in defeat (not really, not ever) “I'm going to get whiskey. I... do you want anything from inside?”

“Three beers is my max,” Diego responds gruffly.

Five lets out a maniacal scoff. Diego raises an eyebrow just a bit, emphasizing his defensiveness and Five merely recedes back toward the door, darkening.

His hand starts to shake as he holds it to his frown while he walks to the kitchen. He pours himself a shot of whiskey, swallows it in one go and goes for another.

“Are you drunk enough?” Dolores asks with sad disdain. “To digest it?”

“Not even close”, he puts his hands on the kitchen bar to support himself and the fresh burnt on his arm appears as the sleve rises up, almost on cue to haunt him better, deeper.

“Shit. Oh my god. Shit” he weakly claps his hands to the surface “Idiot. Stupid. You fucked up. You really fucked up. Fucking asshole” he mumbles through his teeth, eyes tightly shut, the twitching of his fingers on the glass totally out of his control, “get it together, asshole.”

 Invariably (he is expecting it) flashes of eight-year-old Diego on the floor of blood mingle with his imagination. Diego, waiting to be alone, sad or angry out of his mind, going consciously, resolutely and discreetly to self-harm.

Because of him.

Five feels he is going to pass out, but in return he summons that rage against himself and walks back with a vicious resolve.

“Can I stay? Longer. A few days… maybe… more. Maybe” he says awkwardly.

“Holy fuck” Diego stands up, indignant, “You really are a goddamn hypocrite”

“I know” Five says, dry “Can I?”

Diego is struck by Five’s bluntness, so he lines up, willing, Five supposes, to play the same game “What's the point? You already kissed her, you already fell in love with her and she with you, she already left me and I already felt lonely, betrayed, hurt and.... I've already dealt with it”.

“I don’t pity you” Five says curtly, “I'm just... scared and…” he swallows, horrified “… alone. And… I'm so incredibly sorry for all of this” 

Diegos' mouth gapes open very slowly. He stumbles over his words, for a moment, but he's not embarrassed, not at all, and Five takes due note of it. “I fucking hate you,” he finally manages to say. 

“Why? I mean, I know, but…” Five says. 

“Shut up!” Diego interrupts him. He inhales deeply, closing his eyes, extremely reluctant to share the following, “Look. Allison and I were going to ask you to stay.” 

Five's heart makes a flip, he needs to sit. He does. He looks up. “Why?”

Diego shrugs and holds a hand to the back of his neck. “You are handy” he says shortly. 

“I am,” Five says, realizing he doesn't need an explanation, he just needs to know that his brother means it and it's not Diego's way of distracting him. At that moment, he doesn't even try to hide his eagerness. 

“Like, you do know how to drive” Diego offers, “You know how to cook”

“Yes, yes, I know how to do everything” Five says hoarsely. 

“Well… that settles it. You can help me and Allison drive the kids to school and their extracurricular activities, and you also can help them with their maths and science and literature and with Claire’s application to university” Diego says. 

“With their homework,” Five says numbed, peeling the label of an empty Corona beer, that he has somehow reachead in the bench.  

“Yeah, that. The spare room is yours, if you want it” Diego explains, his big brown eyes are looking directly at him, beyond, incredibly open.

“I’ve like that” Five murmurs after a long beat, and then he chokes out a small sound “Shit. I’m turning into a lame old coot,” he says removing his glasses to whipe the mist whit the back of Allison’s tie. 

“I told you to shut up. What that says about me?” Diego asks, laughing as he whipes the real, big tears on his eyes. 

Suddenly, Five grows dead serious, he inhales and then exhales, puts down the bottle and looks up, attempting to do the opposite of what he always does, “That you've become the best version of yourself and that you should be proud” he says “I am. I really am” It's impressive how well he manages to do that, to display that deep fondness that Klaus calls obsession, he should do it more often.  

Diego visibly recoils, gasps, looks down at his feet and lastly, to Five's utter horror, he succumbs to an extremely affected sob.

He waits, but Diego keeps sobbing in spurts until it turns into a full-blown cry.

“Man, and you're a freak and the best grandfather I could ask for for my kids,” Diego says, bringing his hands to his elbows in a wobbly, toddler-like hug.

Oh my god. 

“Thanks,” Five mumbles mortified, trying to hide his shock “Are you allright?”

He fumbles clumsily through his thousands of pockets until he finds his handkerchief to lend to Diego. 

Diego doesn’t answer, he looks at him with wonder in his big puppy eyes, nods, takes it as he slumps into a the bench and keeps crying against the fabric, overwhelmed. 

“Come on, kiddo,” Five says blandly. 

Feeling braver for his heavy drunkenness, for Diego’s pain looked at close, for the emotion he is trying wearing bare in his skin, he comes closer, reaches over and gently places his hand on the top of Diego's head eerily willing to stay there until his little brother spends his tears. 

“Kiddo?” Diego tries to sound outraged, but all indications are that Five's actions have only made him more susceptible and emotional. 

“It just came out. You remind me—” Five begins but gets interrupted.

“You and mamá make my dad cry a lot”

Startled he notices Coco peaking from the back door, that Gracie is holding open for him.

“Yeah. A lot” says Anita sticking her head out too. 

“I’m—” Five tries almost voiceless. “I know” he says, pained, disturbed, new flashes of Diego’s cuts past rapidly in his mind. But before he could ever close his fists to jump away to a bar down the city, a firm and small hand holds him in place by the sleeve. He looks down. Gracie has a severe, determined face. A face of a child that has grown up to quickly. 

“Don’t go” she says softly. Five so unwillingly sits again, “Papa already told you? You will stay, don’t you?” 

“As long as you want,” Five sighs after considering his niece's face for a lingering minute, halting definitely his overflowing thirst for whiskey and loneliness and oblivion “Until you beat me non-stop at that what's-its-name card game.”

To his surprise, the twins, Gracie and Diego start laughing. The sound is wonderful. The girl takes his hand and the old man feels something he has never felt before, but this time he doesn't know how to name it. There will be time to do it, he thinks in amazement. It is something inside that aches kindly, something vibrant and luminous, something he is willing not only to die but to live for.