Chapter Text
Thankfully, Vanya seemed much more interested in finishing up with her bandage work than trying to make ‘advances’ as Klaus had eloquently labelled for their tactile tendencies. Eight would not reject an incidental break, horribly aware that he was still reeling from their latest touch.
Making sure that the bandages were sufficiently secured, she nodded to herself while patting Eight as thanks for his silent compliance. Eight was certain that he was being tortured somehow. This was a new way of torture designed specifically to attack his chest and induce a heart attack or break his mind with paranoia, whichever comes first.
To make matters worse, the desire for violence was beginning to rear its unwelcome-at-the-moment head. He pushed it away for the time being because whether he likes it or not, this was too important of a venture to destroy with his propensity for illegal acts. Nevertheless, the desire was there, whispering in the back of his mind and getting louder for every hour he didn’t see blood. It had muted down to a more manageable volume after he had killed Number Two but he seriously doubts that it would last long, especially with how disappointingly quick of a death he had given her.
“Five?” Eight looked up at Vanya and the others who were staring worriedly at him. He scowled, “What?”
“I said, where do you want to sleep?”
Oh, they were saying something. He reprimanded himself for being distracted.
“Anywhere,” he shrugged, refraining from slinking away from Vanya who was still uncomfortably close to him. He glared at her in hopes that she could read that he wanted her away from his personal space. Just because he can’t physically reject them doesn’t mean that he cannot visually and verbally communicate how much he abhors their presence.
Vanya flinched away.
“Don’t worry Vani, that was Five’s misguided attempt at saying thanks.” Klaus joked in the vain hope that it would bring her comfort.
“It’s not,” Eight coldly interrupted while fixing the buttons in his shirt. The rest of them chose to ignore his remark which was frankly irritating.
“We got three bedrooms, who wants to share with Mr. Anywhere over here?” Diego announced.
What? They’re sleeping together? And now I’m supposed to…
“If you don’t want me to sleep, sure,” he hissed before they could even try to reluctantly volunteer themselves. He knew that he can’t reject them, but they weren’t seriously thinking that he would relax sharing the same room as them, were they?
Getting increasingly irritated, Diego fumed. “You were the one who said anywhere!”
Unrepenting, Eight shrugged. “I changed my mind.”
“I should not have given examples. He’s finding holes!!!” Klaus moaned from the nearby sofa, slumping and dramatically resting the back of his hand to his forehead.
Diego aggressively scratched his head, growling and looking at the ceiling like he was praying for patience to rain down on him.
Eight missed being honestly rude like this, it was actually kinda fun. Don’t get him wrong, he could act for as long as he needs to but as much as he enjoys making fools out of the Sparrows, it does get tiring. If nothing else, he was grateful for the break from Reginald’s paranoid, controlling ass.
Trying to calm Diego’s rapidly incoming outburst, Luther tried to placate both sides. “Where do you want to sleep, Five? You can decide.”
He briefly considered stealing their rooms from them, but he’d rather not have a physical place to call his own. At the moment, he cannot accurately ascertain which factors could be a thorn on his side. He would rather be careful about things that could accidentally and unexpectedly make him weaker to these people.
He cursed the possibility that he gets attached to these too-good-to-be-true idiots.
As an answer to Luther’s inquiry, he laid down on the sofa that he was previously sitting on without a word.
“Goodnight,” he simply said. It was more of a dismissal than a pleasantry.
Diego opens his mouth but thought better of it. Without another word, he turned and walked upstairs. He was aware that he was too hot-headed to stay in conversation with Five, especially when the boy was deliberately trying to piss him off.
After a few more seconds of awkward silence, the rest of the family followed, murmuring their own gentler goodnights.
No matter how tempted he was, Eight didn't show them his back but simply closed his eyes, mouth firmly closed. He never returned any of their kind words.
If he were the Diego from before, then he probably would have already exchanged blows with his brother but right now, he knows that creating a hostile environment would be the furthest thing from their goals.
His self-control wasn't enough to stop him from insulting the boy when he was far enough though.
"He's a fucking asshole," he growled to no one in particular.
"Always has been," Luther answered back good-naturedly. The giant finished ascending the stairs while carrying Klaus like a princess. The rest of their family followed.
Diego didn't face them, but he did chuckle at that. "I guess you're right."
Never to Vanya though, went unsaid but he knew that everyone noticed that.
"I'm sorry for losing my cool out there," he finally ground out. He didn't meet their eyes, but he did turn around to face them.
Allison squeezed his shoulders in comfort. She understood where his anger was coming from, after all.
Without much fuss, morning came in the form of sunlight peeking from the curtains and landing on Eight’s face. He rubbed his eyes and kicked off the blanket that somehow managed to find itself on his form. He would have considered where it came from if not for the distracting fact that his head is throbbing in pain.
The morning headaches were becoming more and more of a permanent problem and he gnashed his teeth in silent frustration as he tries to ease the pain by massaging his forehead. He was planning on riding out the pain for a good while but the sound of commotion in the kitchen – the noise making it hurt even more- only tells him that trying to do so will be meaningless.
Somebody ought to remind me to cut off their hands and feet while they sleep.
A panicked scream reverberated from the kitchen and several reprimanding voices combined themselves into a messy cacophony.
He stood up with a loud sigh, ignoring the pain that brought black spots on his vision from the sudden movement. He approached the kitchen with a scowl on his face which actually helped in disguising his sporadic winces of pain.
“Morning, Fivey!” Klaus cackled as he brought up a spatula with some smoking gunk sticking out of it.
“Who are you trying to kill this early in the morning?” He sneered. Oh, don’t get him wrong, he was inwardly aware of the irony in his own words.
Klaus made an exaggerated affronted noise while Allison just slapped her own head, exhausted and at the end of her own ropes. The kitchen genuinely looked like a warzone, if you replace dust with flour and blood with various colors of sauce. Various kitchen paraphernalia was scattered on every available surface and the place reeked of smoke and burning mea-
Eight gagged, hastily taking a step back. The three siblings, Klaus, Allison, and Luther, exchanged looks with each other. All three of them were covered with ash and bleeding and dyin-
Luther worriedly placed his hands on Eight’s shoulder which actually helped in shaking him out of that weird stupor. The boy lets out a grunt as he feels the ice in his brain receding, and when it finally did, he sent a withering look at the man and the hand that was still on his shoulder.
“You’re fucking heavy,” he spat unkindly, and at the same time, he scrunched his nose as if he had smelt something unpleasant. The disgusted reaction was enough for Luther to remove his hand as if Eight had slapped it away himself.
“He was trying to help!” Klaus defended, the humor in his eyes making way for rightful defensiveness.
And who caused it in the first place?
He brushed off the invisible dirt on his shoulder. “So?”
Maybe it was too early for this, but Eight was in a considerably bad mood to actually care about his own timing.
Besides, the early bird gets the worm.
Luther awkwardly apologized and Eight could feel the anger rippling in both Allison and Klaus. Unlike Diego from last night, they didn’t rise to the bait, but the anger and resentment are definitely there and that was all Eight really wanted out of this conversation.
A sadistic part of himself was cackling out of malicious glee.
Perhaps it was a bit unfair, but it was the Umbrellas that didn’t think their decision through. They may have thought that there were only two ways for this game to end: They convince Eight or Eight gets used to them. But there was actually another end, a hidden agenda, that he prefers to achieve out of this.
Whether or not they were lying about harboring affection for him, he refused to care. Whether or not he was capable of ignoring this body’s strange reaction to them won’t matter anymore. Once he gets these people to hate him, it will be them that would willingly fulfill what he wants. He would not need to ignore them or get used to their touches because they would be the ones who would distance themselves away from him.
And Eight knew, better than anyone else, that he was hateful, deserving of it even. And people like the Umbrellas who have so much they care about are the easier targets.
Luther respectfully moved so that he was not in Eight’s personal space, and the boy responded by smiling gratefully at him. Faux as the smile was, it did the trick, and Allison hurriedly blocked Luther from his direct periphery, it was admittedly a pathetic effort due to her small frame but she somehow managed. He could feel the anger emanating from her in powerful waves but her eyes were sharp with comprehension, I know exactly what you’re doing, it seems to say.
“Stop it, Five.” She silently warned, her voice came out hoarse and scratchy, but it held the same amount of strength as her stance.
He grinned provocatively, an unsaid make me travelling between the two of them.
It was laughably easy to rile people up when they have someone to protect. Perhaps they won’t take offense for being directly attacked, but they would definitely get angry for each other, it was an undeniable weakness that Eight would unabashedly use against them.
“Why are you of all people displeased?” Eight tilted his head at her in a mocking questioning look. “You told me once, that you want to know me, that you’ll want me regardless of who I turn out to be. You don’t get to play the victim here.”
Allison recoiled, taking a step back as if having her own words be used as a weapon to hurt her own kin was a physical blow. It was perhaps, Eight’s first victory against this family, but he did not feel anything but slight disappointment and pain.
I knew it.
Something in him cracked in resignation, but he ignored the sensation in favor of dishing out the same amount of pain that their empty words had brought him.
“And stop calling me Five. I have a brother who goes by the same number and he’s not exactly the kind of person I wanted to share a name with.”
“But-”
He cuts off whatever they wanted to say, while his voice did not increase in volume, it still silenced everyone in the room with its sheer amount of animosity. “I will only say this to you once: you could either have Eight or no one, but never Five. I have absolutely no intention of giving him back to you, regardless of whether you are lying or not.”
It was an unsympathetic promise, created for the sole purpose of hurting them in the worst way possible.
Whoever this Five was, he was gone now. The moment Eight decided to block those memories, he had thrown away who he was and in addition, the people that knew his past self.
He was sure that he could glimpse some of the tears that threatened to fall in their hurt faces, but he simply turned his back from them.
He walked away and no one followed.
And if a part of him died with them, then good riddance. It was probably Five anyway.