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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐒𝐈𝐗 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴀ sᴛᴏʀʏ ʟᴏsᴛ ɪɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ꒱


❝ I'M SORRY THAT MY LIFE
STORY IS BORING FOR YOU ❞

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"Lola Gimbel? That's your name?" the boy asked.

He was clearly a boy even if she hadn't seen his face. Lola nodded and then pointed further down the page. Even if the brightness made her vision spotty, she knew the opening of her autobiography well enough to know what the layout was.

He read aloud:

I'm getting ahead of myself; I was born in the General Hospital at 9:15 a.m. According to my birth certificate, I weighed five pounds, five ounces. My mother was in labor for almost nine hours and when I finally arrived, she named me Dolores. I hate my name because it sounds so old fashioned and it means sadness. I'd like to think I was a gift to my parents and I know they love me, so instead of telling them that, I call myself Lola, which is better. It's still a derivative of Dolores, after all. As for appearances, I have shoulder-length brown hair with mid-length bangs and blue eyes.

"Your name is Dolores but you call yourself by something else?" he sounded genuinely confused at that, even when she nodded. He didn't ask why since he'd read her explanation.

He hesitated then said: "I'm Five. Yes, as in the number. That's a long story that you don't need to hear. Do you know what happened?" he asked as he gestured around them.

Lola shook her head. Once the brightness had dimmed slightly, the world of ash and rubble had shocked her to her core. The last she'd seen of the known earth had been what everyone knew. What about my parents? she wanted to ask, what about the other survivors?

For some reason, the words wouldn't come. It was as if her voice had been locked away, unreachable though she tried.

"Normally I would say I work better on my own but seeing as you're in no fit state to survive, I'll let you stay on until you can. I fully expect you to keep up with me though. If you fall behind I'm not going to wait up."

His voice was harsh and unforgiving, reminding her slightly of her mother when she gave out chores or corrected something of Lola's behavior that she didn't like. Unable to do anything else, she nodded. The boy— Five, what a strange name— started to walk again, leaving her to turn around and stare at the blurry remains of her house. Her heart twisted. 

Somewhere in there were her parents and uncle.

"Let's go!" he barked from up ahead.

Lola sighed. Her imagined savior had never acted like the boy was now. Stumbling after him, she allowed the boy to continue at his pace, albeit slightly slower than before. Her eyes were going to take a while to adjust not to mention regaining her strength.

✧✧✧

Her vision returned slowly. After so long of nothing but blackness even the dark, ashy world was blindingly bright. Soon, though, her pupils return to their normal size. The rubble with dying fires came into focus and she wasn't sure what was worse: not being able to see anything or what her current landscape was.

Lola's strength returned in increments as well. While she'd paced her basement for who knew how long but that was nothing compared to the treacherous surface of the earth that they traveled over now. Loose rocks would get in their path, solid parts of the road turned out to be not-so-solid and climbing over broken buildings was no easy feat either.

The first time she'd come across a dead body, she had made the motion of screaming and had recoiled in disgust while she tripped away so fast that she fell backward with very, very wide eyes. Still, no sound had come out in her panic even then. After that, she kept to the road and waited for Five to be done with each pile of rubble.

That made two things pop up in her mind. First, her parents. She'd never gotten a chance to properly grieve for them, she'd never seen their bodies or buried them, never said a true goodbye. The boy had just made her up and leave as if they meant nothing to her. He might not care about anyone but she certainly did. During the day, it was easy to be strong, especially when he walked slightly in front of her to remind her of his. . . harshness. At night, though, silent sobs shook her body and her grief and panic came pouring out, finally released from the time she'd kept it bottled up in the basement. There was still no sound that came out of her throat but that didn't stop the tears from streaming down her cheeks. In the morning, she always acted like nothing happened.

The second thing was the boy. If she was strange, he was stranger. His words were never gentle or kind, and whenever he spoke it was usually to bark out orders. He barely even looked her way and he certainly didn't accommodate for her less-than-stellar physical state. She did give him credit for knowing how to survive, though. Even if they went without food for days, he clearly had apocalypse training and could do helpful things like start fires— none of which she contributed to.

Lola could feel his irritation with her growing day by day as she tagged along and burdened him. In brief moments of discussion that were few and far between, the boy had hinted at making an effort to get out of the apocalypse although how, she had no idea. All she knew is that he had family he wanted to get back to.

✧✧✧

After nearly a month of doing nothing but scavenging, Lola was waiting for him to finish up at one of the houses and reading Vanya's book while she sat on a pile of bricks. Her heart nearly stopped when she came across chapter five which was labeled: Number Five. Her eyes darted to the boy who was searching through the rubble before they went back to the page. I'm Five. Yes, as in the number. That's a long story that you don't need to hear.

She skimmed through his chapter and her eyes widened at Vanya's recount of the boy's disappearance from the family. Except, he hadn't disappeared. He'd time traveled. Lola didn't know how that was possible and it seemed almost too shocking to be right, but it was all there in the account. She'd mentioned the day he'd disappeared and that he had argued with their father at dinner about time travel, which lead her to speculate he was successful in doing so.

"We're done here," the boy's voice suddenly cut into her thoughts, cold and sharp, "let's keep moving."

The girl stood and quickly hid her book. She was pretty sure he noticed but he didn't say anything. They resumed their path and silence fell over them again. That was the worst part of this whole thing: the silence. Not the dead bodies, the inability to wash properly, the lack of food and water, the terrible companion she had, the smell or any number of problems they faced. Because apart from the howling wind, the world was still.

After a month, the fires had mostly died out even as burning ash still fell from the sky. The animals were still noticeably absent. There were no birds chirping in the trees (no trees either, really), no sounds of traffic or other human noise, no buzzing of bugs or even the running of water. What little natural water they did find wasn't fit for human consumption so they had to pray that contained water was stored somewhere in the rubble.

As they walked, Lola eyed the boy next to her. He wasn't very tall, nearly the same height as she was. He certainly didn't seem special, just especially crabby. She also had no idea what he looked like since they never removed their coverings. All she could tell was that he had some sort of bright, sharp eye color that was indiscernible in the dirtiness of the goggles.

✧✧✧

The first change in their— well, she wouldn't exactly call it a partnership. In their acquaintanceship? No, even that was too friendly. Still, when they arrived at the old library, things changed.

Five was rooting around the rubble like usual while Lola waited at the edge of the vast expanse of crumbled rock. Now, the boy was looking for informational books (she knew exactly which ones even if he hadn't shared that with her.)

She watched him still suddenly and the urge to ask why rose up so strongly in her that the words were almost on her tongue before she swallowed them back. Instead, she waited until he made his way back, his face turned downward and fixed on the cover of a book he was holding. When he was close enough he surprisingly held it out to her so she could read the cover. 

"My sister wrote this," he explained with a note of unusual pride in his voice. Lola stilled as she recognized the title. He continued obliviously: "I guess you'll get to find out about my family after all— you're not the only strange one here. I bet it'll be a good read."

He sat on a few stacked-up bricks and opened to the first page. The boy glanced up. "Well, aren't you going to sit?"

She gave a jerky little nod and made her way past him, deciding that sitting behind him would be best so he couldn't see that all of the words were already familiar to her. The boy's voice was loud in the stillness of the world and she tuned him out since she already knew the story. The brunette closed her eyes instead and tried to catch up on sleep. This turned out to be a mistake.

✧✧✧

Dolores was a strange girl, Five decided— not that he'd had much experience with girls apart from his sisters (his robotic mother didn't count.) She never spoke a word which he supposed was better than endless chatter. Still, her presence grated on his nerves and he was irritable more often than not, hating her blank, blue eyes as she watched him go about his business, never helping them survive. He'd be glad to leave her in this hell.

Sometimes the silence got to him and he had to fill it with a few words— nothing personal, of course— but even then he didn't get a reply. It was like talking to a damn doll. A mannequin. All she would do was train her blue, blue eyes on him and study his every movement. It was unnerving to say the least.

He did have to give her credit for being able to keep up with him, though. After the first few days she had little trouble staying with his pace. Other than snapping out commands, he hadn't much else to say to her and refused to use her name. Like in his own family, using a name meant creating attachment and creating attachment was best to be avoided since he definitely wasn't going to be bringing her with him when he left this place.

Now, he sat in the ruins of the library reading the book his sister wrote to the strange girl. He'd wondered briefly why she'd chosen to sit behind him instead of next to him or some other location but that was an almost instantly disregarded the notion. He didn't care, it turned out.

Still, when he got to a particularly good section in Number Four's chapter, he turned to explain the actual story since it was one of the ones he'd been there for, only to find the girl with her eyes closed, presumably fast asleep. Irritation prickled in him again, surging forward faster each time. Rooting around in the space by his feet, he found a small rock and tossed it in her direction, causing the girl to startle awake. She looked at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry that my life story is boring for you," Five said sarcastically, allowing his annoyance to spill forth. She gave a little huff and her eyes darted away. "One would think that learning about superheroes with powers actually existing would be more startling."

The girl's head jerked up and her eyes widened comically behind her goggles as her head nodded vigorously. A totally fake reaction. Suspicion joined the frustration.

"Why aren't you more surprised? Did you already know this? What other damn secrets are you hiding?"

She shook her head no this time to deny any one of his questions. He cursed in angrily. He just wished she would speak. He stood, moving so that he towered over her, "well? Aren't you going to answer me? I've had just about enough of your silence."

She was even worse than his sister. At least Seven was smart and was a talented violin player. This girl just sat like a lump on a log: completely, utterly useless. As expected, no sound came out of her mouth when she opened it, although the wideness of her eyes became more realistic.

Five turned and stalked back to the wagon to reach for the small section that held her things. He froze when his hands grasped a copy of the same book he'd just found. Anger replaced any other emotion he felt. She had known. All this time and she'd never said anything, but she'd known. Even when he mentioned his family she hadn't pointed out the book.

His mind flashed to when he'd seen her hide something during one of the many houses he'd searched. She'd tucked it into the back of the wagon, out of sight as he'd come back. He marched back over to her and thrust it into her face, "you knew?" he snarled, "all this time and you've never thought to bring it up?"

Her mouth opened and she pointed to it. Anger flashed in his eyes. "I don't care that you can't speak! You've figured out ways to communicate! The least you could've done is shown me the book!"

He paused and his chest heaved slightly as the grief he'd pushed away threatened to come back. He could've known about his family so much sooner. Even though he acted tough and knew he had to, the apocalypse had not yet taken all of his fifteen years of life away from him.

His eyes flashed again and he leaned in close to her face. "You're completely useless," he spit out, feeling pleased at the hurt look in her eyes. He pushed away the thought that it reminded him of Number Seven. "I'm the one doing all the hard work, the only one who's keeping us alive. What do you do all day? Nothing! When I get out of here, I'll be glad to leave you behind."

The girl gasped quietly as real fear entered her eyes. Five smirked and straightened. "That's right," he said as smugness entered his tone, "I'm leaving," he didn't need to tell her that he had no way out yet, "you haven't spoken for the entire time we've been here," he continued sharply, "there's no reason for me to save you. We've been here for months and you've done nothing—"

"Forty-two days."

He paused and his rant died in his throat at the quiet whisper. "What?"

"We've been here for forty-two days. Not months."

Anger flared briefly before it faded. "Whatever, okay? I didn't even know you could speak."

She stood, clearly steeling herself, "of course I can speak," her voice was a raw and scratchy but easily heard when there was no other sound.

"Then why haven't you?" he demanded irritably.

"Excuse me for being shocked at the sight of waking up to an apocalypse," she answered, her whisper turning chilly.

"I wasn't."

"You also weren't stuck in a basement for two weeks in complete darkness."

He had to concede her point. "Still, why are you suddenly speaking again?"

The girl paused as if considering, "I think it's because I was afraid."

Five scoffed, "afraid? Of what, the dark?"

Her eyes flashed briefly but she didn't confirm the question, "of you leaving," she admitted, "I don't want to be alone."

The girl's honesty threw him for a loop. After being stuck with a manipulative father and— mostly— conniving siblings all struggling to get his approval, honesty was the last thing he was expecting from anyone, especially a near-stranger.

"I'm not staying here," he told her firmly, "now that you know I can time travel, you know I'm going to leave. You belong in this time. I don't," his previous irritation seemed to have abated in the face of this new, unexpected occurrence.

The girl looked down and studied her worn, dusty boots, "how will you get home?"

He rolled his eyes. "Math, obviously."

"What kind of math? Like two plus two equals four?" She was suddenly being very chatty despite her quiet voice.

"The space-time continuum is much more complicated than first-grade math problems," he answered flatly as he turned his back on her to pick up the wagon.

Five was still pissed that she'd withheld his own family's information from him— he wasn't about to let her off the hook that easily. He never had, no matter who he was angry at. The girl made to leap over the loose rocks and land next to him, clearly getting more comfortable on the treacherous terrain.

"So, what, like nine times nine instead?" she asked and he couldn't believe the teasing note that he heard in her voice.

The boy rolled his eyes again. "No, and I don't have time to teach you. Besides, you're the one in the wrong here," he said as his voice returned to his usual harshness, "you hid the book about my family from me."

The girl was silent for a minute before she let out a breath. "I'm sorry, okay?" she said quietly, "that probably doesn't mean anything to you but you had enough to worry about without being freaked out over the fact that I knew who you were and I didn't even put the pieces together until later. Besides, you're not a very warm and fuzzy person so I didn't think you'd, well, want someone knowing your personal information."

"Would you have told me if I had known to ask?"

She paused thoughtfully. "No," came her honest answer, once again surprising him, "I don't think you'd have been too pleased that I knew your backstory."

He scoffed, "pleased wouldn't even begin to describe it."

"Exactly."