Five's pov
Days. It has been days since I last saw y/n. I was surprised to find myself worrying every day even more than the day before. I personally thought that that wasn't possible. I proved myself wrong every day again and again. I searched everywhere. Even in the most unlikely places such as her school. I never even saw a glimpse of her.
What if something happend to her? I'd loathe myself forever. I'd never stop. I'd be crushed.
My feet drag me over the sidewalk. I pass people, but I don't pay any attention to them after I see that they aren't y/n. They're different. No one is even close to looking like y/n. Many glances fall on me. I must look horrible, but I don't really care. I can't even think of the last night I slept well. All my thoughts are blurry and hard to understand. My body is drained. I am absolutely a mess.
But I can't give up on her. I won't give up on her. I will do whatever I can to find her, just like I've been doing this week.
My overworked body forces itself to continue. My legs work, everything works, but my heart does not. When I came to the conclusion that y/n meant more to me than just being part of my mission, I felt whole. I felt happy. And I was going to tell her, but I did not succeed in doing so. My fault, of course. I should've had the guts. Now, ever since y/n left, I felt a hole inside of me. With every action the hole stung. It hurt, and the pain didn't lessen. The opposite, with every time I though of y/n-which was a lot-the stinging pain grew.
At this point it doesn't stop stinging. It keeps hurting. I wish I could say that I got used to it, but I'd lie. It hurts, and every time I feel it, it feels like it's a new pain. But it's the same. It only hurts even more every time that I think of y/n being away.
Buildings pass me. Cars flash by, but I have no clue where I'm going. I'm just walking. I already went everywhere where I though she could be. But she's nowhere. So now I'm just walking through villages, forcing my body to continue.
My eyes never stay long on something. They always flicker to the next car or person after just a few seconds. Because what is it to me if it doesn't have y/n's eyes? What is it to me if it doesn't have her voice? Nothing.
"Argh!" A scream shakes me out of my thoughts. My head isn't blurry anymore, instead I'm focusing on the direction where the sound came from. It wasn't y/n's voice, obviously. But I'm still curious.
That curiosity takes over, and I take off. I start running, happy to finally have a distraction. My feet carry me, and this time I'm going quicker than I though possible with my fatigued body. Wind flies through my messy hair, and for the first time in days the corners of my lips curl up a little. The speed makes me forget my worries. The goal of looking for the owner of the voice makes me feel free after being locked up in a cage made my confusion and worries.
When I turn around the corner, my eyes fall on a store. It isn't a big one, but there do stand several cars and trucks. I can't see anyone just yet, so I continue running in order to find some faces.
I find them, and when I do, I realize that the situation is worse than I would've thought. There's a boy laying on the ground. He can't be more than four years younger than y/n. His legs are spread across the parking lot, and I note that he's very tall. His black curls are laying across his sweaty forehead. But his heavy sweating isn't what makes my lips part. There's a hole in the back of his head. Even though I can't see it well, I can tell that it's very serious by the blood gushing out of the wound.
The boy's eyes flutter open when other boys-his friends, I think-try to put pressure on the wound. They scream at another person, a young man. This one is trying to get the ambulance to come. He's practically screaming the address in the speaker of his phone. His hands are shaking, and I'm surprised that the device hasn't fallen on the ground yet.
"What has happened?" I must ask. This boy can't have just fallen on the ground. No, this was something more than that. Not even a simple fight could have done this. I know because I've got experience.
"His friend did this to. . ." the boy trails of, too busy trying to put pressure on the wound. His face is full of tears. It's as if he knows that the chance is small that his friend will survive.
"Who the hell could do this?" I point at the now unconscious boy. His shirt is stained, and so are the other boys' clothes.
"A psycho girl!" The other friend growls, making me frown.
"What did she look like?" I ask the boys, not losing hope.
A hiss is heard behind us. I realize that it's the young man. I turn my head to him, trying to find out why he reacted like this to my question. His jaw clenches when he angrily puts away his phone in his jacket its pocket.
"None of your business," he raises his voice at me, and I have to stop myself from laughing. The young man surprises me by continuing. "She's not here anymore, and she didn't do this." He breathes in and out, calming himself. "She couldn't" he mumbles.
The second boy takes over and starts to put pressure on his friend's wound. The other one stands up with trembling knees, and looks at me.
"She looked scared in the shop," he starts to explain. "She started crying and fell to her knees." He continues explaining what has happened. Only one word really catches my attention. "She looked traumatised." Traumatised.
I close my eyes for a second or two, trying to make sense of it. It could be. It's very possible even. There isn't any real proof, but I can try. I won't give up on y/n.
"Where did she go?"
"Don't make me repeat myself," the young man cuts in again. "It's none of your fucking business, boy."
I grin, amused. He called me boy. Even a light chuckle sounds.
"Why are you protecting her?" I tilt my head, trying to get the answers I need. Finding y/n is more important than having a decent laugh with this man. Not even my mission is that important, I realized in the time that has passed. I'm doing this for me. It's selfish, really. But I truly need to find her. . . for me. I need her.
"Because she needs protection." The man growls. "She came to me to be safe."
Now my eyes widen. Y/n. It is her. It needs to be her. My lips part a little once again. My vision blurs as I realize that I might've actually found her again.
Because she needs protection.
Now it's me who clenches my jaw. "She had protection," I react to what he said. She had my protection. And she knew.
The young man's eyes widen, and he for the first time he truly looks at me. His mouth opens a little, and he takes a step backwards. It takes me a second to realize that this man is afraid of me. Oh, yes. Now I'm sure. Y/n most certainly has told him about me.
I frown, and a v comes upon my forehead. Would y/n be as scared of me as this man here is?
"You are. . ." he trails of.
"Number Five." I fake a smile. "Nice to meet you."
Soon enough, he finds the ability to speak again. His eyes narrow, making me smile a little. Then-here it comes-he starts to threaten me. Hilarious, really. This man really thinks he has a chance against me. He could be bluffing, of course. Probably that, yes. No one has a chance against me.
"Go back to your freaky family," he starts. "You won't find her. Never."
"Is that a challenge?" I smirk, gladly accepting it if so.
"The way you hurt her, Number Five," he emphasises on my name. "She barely goes outside, and when she does. . . Let's just say, she doesn't dare to. She's scared of every single movement I make!"
I squeeze my eyes shut while I touch my temple with my fingers. Of course, he hit my weak spot: y/n. I never had a weak spot-except for my family.
For the first time I want to believe that he's bluffing, but I'm pretty sure that he is not. Y/n is deadly afraid, and that is because of me. I did that to her.
The combination of the exhaustion and all the things that I'm feeling are the reason that my knees start to tremble. For the first time, I actually feel the fatigue taking over my body. I can't fall to my knees in front of him. I can't show him that he found my weak spot.
The commission tried to make me unbreakable. They almost succeeded. My family will always be the reason I'm going though with all of this. I killed. . .for them. The memories and traumas will never leave. It's me. It's in my blood.
"I'm here to apologize to her," I shrug, looking down at my feet.
"You won't ever lay eyes on her again, you bastard." He throws his arms in the air. "You only want to take her with you again. Say that you won't!"
I stay quiet.
"Good luck with that," he says right before I feel an immense pain in my whole body, but starting in my neck. My eyes widen, but I can't react more than that.
"I promised I'd protect her, and I will," I hear the man tell me before I fall to my knees. My eyes close, and my limbs finally get the rest they so desperately need.
When I open my eyes again, in what feels like hours between, a huge headache forces me to stay on the ground. While my vision sharpens again, I try to look around. I'm laying behind the store. That means I've been dragged away. I groan at that realization. The young man must've done that.
Once I'm on my feet again, I drag myself to the place where the boy was laying. He isn't anymore. I don't see his friends either. They're all gone, including the young man. Only the now dried bloon on the parking lot is still there.
Where do I start now? I don't know, but y/n can't be far away. I'm so close to finding her, and that thought lights up my mood immediately.
Y/n's pov
The door closes with a bang, and I realize that I've thrown it closed too aggresively. My hands aren't shaking anymore-which is good. But my whole body is full of energy now. I'd have excpected myself to be drained from running. After all, I didn't even take a single break to run here. I don't know how I did it. I just needed to get here quickly.
Images of the boy flash in front of my eyes, and I let out a rather deep sigh. How would he be now? Would he be all right? Did I truly do that?
No, that it isn't possible. It sounds impossible. But I've seen impossible things already.
I shake my head dissmisily. It can't be possible. I'm not like them. I can't be like them.
The engine of Mike's truck catches my attention. Okay, maybe I didn't run as fast as I thought. I hear him mumble my name and 'impossible' several times before he actually enters the cottage. When I see him, I notice that he looks extremely white. His eyes fall on me, but they look rather shocked. I can excpect why. Does he, too, think it might've been me?
"Y/n. . ." he whispers quietly, not caring if I hear him or not. I nod, and approach him slowly. He doesn't seem to be afraid.
"No matter what happens," he starts. "Stay inside." My eyes widen when he finishes. Is the police already after me? What have I done? Surely they'll see that throwing humans in the air is impossible. They have to.
"How is the boy?" I ask in a hurry. I need to know.
"I have no idea, y/n," he shrugs, making me frown.
"But you helped the kids?"
"Yes," he nods. "But. . ."
"But what, Mike?"
"Five came." Just now I notice Mike his real state. The blood drained from his face because he saw Five. His forehead is sweating heavily, but he doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are on me and they don't leave.
I stumble a few step backwards, and I continue stepping backwards until my back is pressing against the wall. I think I need that, otherwise I'll fall-I'm sure of it. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to make sense of everything that I'm feeling. I'm most certainly feeling fright, but I'm not sure if I'm afraid for myself. I don't think I am. I'm frightened for Mike. Five might hurt him. Has he already done so?
"Mike, did he hurt you?" I open my eyes again, needing to see Mike again. I don't see any wounds, and if Five got him, then he'd be wounded for sure-if not dead.
"He didn't," he reassures me, using his hand to clarrify.
I sigh, relieved. Mike is all right next to being clearly in shock. I close my eyes again, only to focus on my feelings. Next to feeling afraid, I also feel astonished. Five found me. How? I've got not a single clue, but he did. Am I happy that he found me? I'm not sure. Yes, I suppose.
"Five," I whisper silently. Mike didn't hear me. He couldn't have.
For the first time since he's entered, Mike moves forward while his hand starts to go through his hair. He is completely expressionless as he lets his body fall into the seat.
"Where is he now?" I ask him, and my voice trembles while doing so.
It takes Mike a few seconds to look up at me again. When he does, he shock in his face grows even more. I wait patiently for an answer. He's been so, so, so patient with me. Now I have to do the exact same.
"I gave him a shock," he mumbles quietly, but I hear him well.
My eyes widen, but I attempt to recover myself afterwards. I hope I succeeded in doing so.
"I bought this. . ." He grabs the device out of his jacket's pocket. "For selfdefense." A soft chuckle escapes his lips. "You never know who's going to knock on the door here, in the forest." I understand him, really, but at at the same time I feel worry growing inside of me.
"Is he. . .Five all right?"
Mike frowns at me, but doesn't say anything. He only shrugs.
"I guess he's awake again by now."
"Right," I whisper.
Silence comes. Neither Mike nor I say something. Mike his eyes fall on his feet, but mine stay on Mike. I suppose I have to thank him.
"Thank you, Mike," I say, but he doesn't look up. I don't know if I'm truly thankful, though. It would be normal, but the last few weeks nothing has been normal in my life. The change is immense. I'm afraid that Five is hurt, yes, but I'm also afraid that he'll be angrier at Mike now. Five-a murderer-is angry at Mike. He might want to make him pay.
I turn away my gaze from Mike. I don't want Mike to be hurt, but he's making it really hard for himself. It was a heroitic thing to do, though. He wanted to protect me, but I want to protect him.
"Since when do you care for him?" Mike suddenly speaks up, causing me to flinch away slightly. He's looking at me again, watching my reaction to his question.
"What?"
"You asked if he was all right."
"Oh." I sigh. yes I did. Why couldn't I just keep my lips sealed? "I'm worried that you angered him, Mike. He's. . .frightening when he's angry. I've been there. I know how he is. I'm afraid that he'll want to hurt you now."
Mike continues to watch me carefully, and he nods while doing so. "He won't find us here," he says, but I'm not sure if he believes that himself. Five has come all this way. He knows that I'm close. He won't stop now. Not when he's so close to finding me.
"He will find me," I tell Mike. It's a fact at this point.
"If he finds you, then I will protect you," Mike says, sounding so sure of himself.
"You won't be able to protect me." I shake my head. "I don't want you to."
"What are you saying? Are you just going to go with him, then?"
Yes.
"No, of course not." I roll my eyes, turning my head away from him so he can't read my expression anymore. "But you aren't getting it. Five doesn't stop. If he has a mission, then he will kill everyone who stands in his way. I've seen him murdering, Mike!"
He stays quiet.
"That's why I won't endanger you."
"You sound like the killing was the only thing that made you want to leave," Mike points out, frowning.
"I don't know," I admit. He must think I'm crazy. Well, I'd understand if he does so. Maybe after everything that has happened, I'm finally crazy.
"You didn't mind being locked up in that room."
It gave me a place to think. Plus, het let me out. . .
"You didn't mind the tracker? What actually made you leave?"
I stay quiet, but now I do face him again. His eyes are boring into me. He's furious and very, very confused.
"What aren't you telling me?" He growls, probably done with my silence.
I wish I could explain, but I can't. I don't even know myself. I'm still so confused.