To his logical mind, Five may have figured an obvious trap out as fast as they did, but he was already miles beyond logic. The world is ending, his family is dead or dying, and it hurts. He's so tired of everything hurting. He jumped into Hell out of desperation, only to find one of his biggest regrets pleading with him to save him this time, to offer one last shot at redemption. Of course he'd take it. Wanted to.
And they were going to kill him again.
No, no no no no, don'tâ
Five pulls inwardly, calculating the seconds rapidly passing by so he can shove time backwards and break it if he has to, back to when he could spare him. But time stubbornly slips through his fingers and he can only stare in horror as the figures â moving faster than a shadow â stab his brother. Ben's plea for help ruptures into a horrible strangled noise as he chokes on his blood, and Five's mind goes blank, frozen in his furry and unbearable grief.
And then Ben isn't Ben.
The shadows start to take shape when the other snaps the demon's neck and Five blinks as he recognizes Wrath, then Emilia. Without warning the present slams into him with a force that leaves him shaking. It wasn't real. The moment he's released from Wrath's hold, he staggers on his feet, and he looks from one to the other and back to the twitching corpse he doesn't recognize. Too late. His heart drums in his ears as his devastation and cursed agony mutate into a force he can't contain. His brows break from confusion to fear as he struggles to keep himself from hyperventilating.
He's losing his fucking mind. White-knuckled fists pull at his hair as he attempts to latch onto something. Focus on the pain; anything to ground him. The walls vibrate and tell him to leave here and it takes too long for him to figure out where the voice originated. He can see it in Wrath's expression that he's failed them. Distantly, Dolores echos his sentiment. Get out. You're no help here.
Unable to speak, he nods and stares instead at his hands. He takes as many breaths as he can manage and screws his eyes shut while he attempts to find himself. Ignore the urge to look down again and risk seeing his brother lying there instead. If he saw it now, there would be no coming back until he'd quieted the urge to give into his worst urges and washed his grief in blood. Finally, he finds a thread to pull and grasps it with both hands.
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And they were going to kill him again.
No, no no no no, don'tâ
Five pulls inwardly, calculating the seconds rapidly passing by so he can shove time backwards and break it if he has to, back to when he could spare him. But time stubbornly slips through his fingers and he can only stare in horror as the figures â moving faster than a shadow â stab his brother. Ben's plea for help ruptures into a horrible strangled noise as he chokes on his blood, and Five's mind goes blank, frozen in his furry and unbearable grief.
And then Ben isn't Ben.
The shadows start to take shape when the other snaps the demon's neck and Five blinks as he recognizes Wrath, then Emilia. Without warning the present slams into him with a force that leaves him shaking. It wasn't real. The moment he's released from Wrath's hold, he staggers on his feet, and he looks from one to the other and back to the twitching corpse he doesn't recognize. Too late. His heart drums in his ears as his devastation and cursed agony mutate into a force he can't contain. His brows break from confusion to fear as he struggles to keep himself from hyperventilating.
He's losing his fucking mind. White-knuckled fists pull at his hair as he attempts to latch onto something. Focus on the pain; anything to ground him. The walls vibrate and tell him to leave here and it takes too long for him to figure out where the voice originated. He can see it in Wrath's expression that he's failed them. Distantly, Dolores echos his sentiment. Get out. You're no help here.
Unable to speak, he nods and stares instead at his hands. He takes as many breaths as he can manage and screws his eyes shut while he attempts to find himself. Ignore the urge to look down again and risk seeing his brother lying there instead. If he saw it now, there would be no coming back until he'd quieted the urge to give into his worst urges and washed his grief in blood. Finally, he finds a thread to pull and grasps it with both hands.
In a flash, he's gone.