(Number Five x Female OC)
Highest Rankings:
#1 #numbereight
#1 #numberfive
#1 #benhargreeves
#1 #aidangallagher
#1 #allisonhargreeves
After one of her brothers died and one disappeared, Number Eight and the remaining members of the Hargreeves fami...
Number Five and Number Eight had made their way back to the Academy, much to Number Eight's dismay.
"You know, I really hate this place." She groaned, following Number Five through the front door and into the lobby. It was dark and unwelcoming, and it always had been. Reginald wasn't exactly the type of man who enjoyed home comforts.
"You're not on your own there." Number Five agreed with her, reminiscing on their unpleasant childhood that was only made better by one another. The academy wasn't full of many happy or exciting memories.
Number Eight chuckled to herself lightly as she followed Number Five up the stairs. "Do you remember when old man Reggie used to make us do agility training by running up and down the staircases? You constantly cheated by using your powers to blink, but he praised you and called it 'adapting'. You were lucky to be one of his favourites."
"Well, what can I say, Eight? You were an annoying kid." He smirked, though quickly became distracted by some wet, bloody footprints that were scattered along the tiled floor. Number Eight frowned as she heard sighing and pained groaning coming from the room at the end of the corridor. It was Klaus' childhood bedroom. The pair wandering towards the room, finding Klaus half dressed and his face dripping wet.
"Klaus? Are you okay?" Number Eight asked, watching Klaus root across the carpet, trying to find a clean t-shirt. She wasn't completely used to his adult body after being in the coma, but she noticed a tattoo on his abdomen and one on his arm that she hadn't seen before.
Klaus stood upright, slowly, seemingly lacking his usual eccentric energy. He held a plain blue, v-neck t-shirt in his hand, which was significantly more tame than his usual fashion sense. "Hey. Just out of the bath. Yeah, I just... long night."
Number Five chuckled, leaning against the door frame. "More than one, from the looks of it. Don't remember the dog tags." He said, pointing to the silver chains that hung around Klaus' neck. He pulled the t-shirt over his head quickly, it hanging loosely around his narrow shoulders.
Klaus grunted lightly as he struggled to pull some shoes onto his feet. "Yeah, they belonged to a friend." He said vaguely. Number Eight wondered if they belonged to someone he met in rehab. The dog tags jingled as he itched his neck incessantly, before he yawned dramatically, his arms stretching out by his sides.
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"How about that new tattoo?" Number Eight said, pointing to Klaus' arm. It read '173rd Airborne Brigade Sky Soldiers'. She frowned, confused. Though, oppositely, Number Five's mind was ticking with ideas.
"You know, I don't totally remember even getting it. Like I said, it was a long night." Klaus said, sighing.
Number Five's eyes lit up as his expression became eager. "You did it, didn't you?"
Number Eight looked at him, bewildered. "What are you talking about?" She asked, confused as to what he was suggesting. Knowing Klaus, Number Eight simply assumed that he was drunk. Or high.
