THE DREAMWALKER. [five hargreeves]

home is with you [end]

— 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮  𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵  𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼  𝓫𝓮  𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮  𝓽𝓱𝓮  𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽  𝓲𝓼 .

   Life has the funniest ways of working around each person—it builds you up in certain ways, and knocks you to the lowest of the low almost most of the time. But it always makes it worthwhile; the hurt, the love, the happiness and everything inbetween the lines.

Which is why [Name] couldn't find it in herself to be angry at the world; the people, the experiences and the twisted fates that continue to leave her breathless and confused. She gets angry, she gets hurt, she gets disappointed but that's just how life works, right?

It will always break her to her very core. Watch her get tossed around and torn apart like a toy—eager to see her crawling and begging for it all to just go away. 

But it will also kiss her with a blessing of some sort; provide her with something akin to an oasis and encourage her to pick herself back up. And she will. She always will. She'd fight through her storms, cry all the while, but will continue to traverse forward. Because that's what she's taught. That's just how she is. 

And also because of Five.

She finds it funny now, how this one person somewhat put her through hell; albeit got her out of it too. He could be brash, rude, aggressive and cold...but he could be supportive too, understanding and compassionate. He's different—unique, and it always got the wind knocked out of her. Because throughout the storms and tsunami she's had to encounter, Five is the only one that managed to kept her afloat.

"I thought you looked familiar. I just...wasn't exactly sure." 

Angel holds out a worn photograph, the mountains of dusty and torn pictures stacked on the coffee table and down on the floor. There's so many of them, and [Name] couldn't help but sniffle at the familiar features of Rebecca, Eric, Robbie and Ruby. 

[Name] gently takes the old photo, fingers grazing the smooth surface as her eyes land on her, smiling with a six month old Angel on her arms. It's from 1962; one of the few vacations the Lambert family had went on to with the girl. It's by the beach from California, and the [h/c] girl closes her eyes as she lets the memory engulf her mind.

—The smell of the sea, the sun prickling at her skin and the distant sound of crashing waves. It felt like it was just yesterday; the soft giggles of Ruby filing her ears and Robbie's pained groan as his sister crashed unto his back. Rebecca's light scolding and Eric's boisterous laughter as he watches his children play along the sand.

The memory is so vivid. And so heart-wrenching that she couldn't find it in her to utter a single sound. It hurts to speak; of times no longer reachable, and people that no longer lives. But she holds the memory closer to her heart—the photograph just above her chest as she smiles in sadness.

"It's weird, isn't it?" The girl softly murmurs, "Last I left you were no older than two." She smiles to Angel who holds tears in her eyes.

The woman chuckles, "it's very odd, alright. When you left here I knew you as Ruth and you were only nineteen." Angel holds out another photograph. This one, they were all complete, posed just in front of a vintage movie theater. Depsite the somber tone, the two couldn't help but smile at the memories of the 1960s.