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❛ ᴡᴀsᴛᴇʟᴀɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴛɪᴍᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ɪ'ᴠᴇ ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴍɪʟᴇs. . .꒱


❝ JUST REMEMBER, 
DON'T EAT MOLD ❞

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Lola had surprised even herself when she started talking again. When she'd come out of the basement, her voice had died in her throat to match the death and destruction around them. Her reasoning had been shock. The night before the end of the world, everything had been normal. Then she'd been stuck in a basement for an estimated two weeks and when she'd finally, finally come out, the world around her had changed so drastically that it had struck a fear that she'd never felt before.

Then, when Five had threatened to leave her behind in his anger, the fear had resurfaced in the reverse effect and her voice returned. The unspoken promise of Five's departure still lingered like an elephant in the room but neither teen paid attention to it; it was better that they work in harmony as often as possible and that was definitely a point of disagreement. The brunette remembered how fiercely he'd spoken, the anger in his eyes sharp as lightening even behind the safety of his goggles. She pushed it away, not wanting to think about the fact that she hadn't liked to see him angry (especially at her.) If he was going to leave her behind they shouldn't get close. The thought of living alone for the rest of her life made shivers run down her spine.

"How did you know?" Five's voice broke the silence suddenly and the girl startled.

"How did I know what?"

"That forty-two days have passed," he explained impatiently as they trudged along.

Lola shrugged. "My Uncle Ed says I'm a counter. I count things and they just stick in my head. I'm terrible at math, though," she admitted, "but I can pick out patterns in equations and things like that. I don't know, it's just something I do without really trying. Of course," she added as she waved her arms around emphatically, "I don't really know how many days have passed in this damn hell. It's more of an estimation."

Five was glad that his mask hid his smirk. "So, what, you count everything? The number of rocks that we pass?"

She rolled her eyes slightly, "not exactly. My brain just picks up on certain things and I do it. Like I knew how many steps my basement held. Things like that."

The boy gave her a curious look before he quickly faced forward again. He almost preferred her silence because at least then he could tell himself that she was dumb. Now he wasn't so sure. Not as smart as he was, certainly— there were very few people that were— but definitely smarter than he'd given her credit for. She'd also picked up the slack in finding useable items which made herself less of a burden. He still hadn't apologized for lashing out but he wasn't one for admitting his mistakes; besides, why should he apologize when he didn't feel sorry?

"Shouldn't we find somewhere more permanent to live?" Lola asked.

He shook his head. "If we do, the supplies will run out too soon and we'll have to move again. It's better to just constantly roam around."

"What about your spacial jumps?"

Sometimes he was surprised with how well she knew him until he remembered Vanya's book. "What do you mean?"

"Well, couldn't you use them to find resources farther away?"

As good of an idea as it was, he didn't want to admit it and went for irritation instead: "I've already told you. My powers don't work here."

"Your time traveling ones don't," she pointed out, "have you tried your other ones?"

"They're a waste of energy. Even though I make it look easy they're certainly not."

Lola sighed, "I'm getting really tired of walking."

Five glanced at her. "You could ride in the wagon," he suggested.

The girl shot him a surprised look before she immediately decided against it. "No way, then I'd be even more of a burden. Besides, I can pull my own weight now," her eyes shot him a teasing look behind her goggles.

He rolled his, not very impressed by the pun and ignored her jab at their first argument, "well, then I have no other solutions to offer you so quit complaining."

She sighed again and quieted, lowering her eyes to the ground as she watched her footsteps cross the dirty road. Ash still fell from the sky even as the fires finally burned away and the dark grey color gave no sign of what time of the day or year it was. No grass grew in the cracks of the sidewalk and the green leaves of the trees had been burned away, leaving nothing but beige rubble and twisted black-and-grey metal.

Lola had lost count of how many miles they'd covered as they walked the town. They'd only stopped for meager meals and to sleep, which never came easily. She hated the pitch-black of the dark night as it reminded her of those horrible two weeks. There weren't even any stars or moon due to the cloudy coverage and no sun shone during the day.

They were silent for a good long while after that until it grew to be too much, and both of them broke around the same time.

"What songs do you know?"

"What?"

"You know," Lola said, "singing? Pop songs? Anything?"

Five shook his head. "I never had time for that sort of thing. It's pointless, really."

Her eyes widened in slight insult. "It's not pointless!" she exclaimed, "I mean, I bet you'd work ten times better if you listened to music while you did math. In fact," she added smugly, "it's scientifically proven. Well, that's just classical music but still."

"We can't very well listen to classical music here, now can we? Unless you're hiding a violin under your books?" the thought of the violin made him think of Number Seven. He winced and pushed it away.

Lola rolled her eyes. "No, I don't. Besides, I'm not musically inclined," suddenly, she snapped her fingers, "but you are from 2002, which means you haven't heard the Greatest Hits From Today," she said the last four words as if they were a title. Her hands came up to spread apart from one another to create the invisible headline.

The boy rolled his eyes in response. "I'm sure I can live without them," he commented dryly.

"Just because you can doesn't mean you should."

"I'll survive."

"Nonsense. I may not have the greatest singing voice but I definitely know the hit tunes."

"Never use the phrase 'hit tunes' again," he scolded her in mock sternness, "it makes you sound like an old woman."

Lola grinned at him, pleased that she'd somehow lightened the atmosphere. "Okay, fine, as long as you'll let me sing."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Well, this one isn't exactly modern but I think it goes great with our current task. Have you ever heard of the song Beast of Burden?"

"I think that was before my time," he said, causing her to smile slightly.

"Mine too, but I still know the lyrics. I think," she added, before she paused to recall them. "Okay, let's go."

Five huffed and rolled his eyes at her dramatics but was pleased she'd found a way to fill the silence without actually talking to him because talking meant getting closer and getting closer meant that it would be harder to say goodbye, which wasn't an option. He'd been working on his equations for weeks now with no breakthroughs yet; he didn't have time to strike up a friendship— not that he needed one.

As they walked, he considered her voice. It had strengthened over the past few days but still had a hoarse quality to it. And she'd been right: she wasn't a very good singer. Her words were pitchy and she didn't make most of what he thought the notes should have been but he didn't stop her. After hours of silence it was nice to have something else to hear.

✧✧✧

They were scavenging again, this time closer to the old city center. Lola had become less squeamish about the dead bodies but still jumped back every time she saw one. In the few hours she slept they sometimes reappeared in her dreams, causing her to jolt awake and stare into the darkness again. Other times, when she couldn't sleep because there were dead bodies everywhere. Her grief would come crashing back and she would try to quiet her sobs. The boy seemed to not have a problem sleeping or he at least faked it well.

They were on the move so much that she didn't really get time to think and process everything that had happened. Sure, she had the hours when they were walking but then the silence made it unbearable and she'd have to fill it somehow. For some reason, though, Five didn't complain about her talking like she thought he would. He certainly wasn't what one would call chatty but he had softened somewhat in the hours that they'd walked.

Now, he was on the opposite side of the collapsed building and he was systematically moving rubble out of the way to look for useful items. Lola was on the opposite side discovering lunch tins and coats coated with ash. A school. Her stomach turned. Please, please don't let me find any kids here.

Her hands opened the lunch boxes busily as she looked for any food that was still good even after (maybe) eighty days, humming quietly to herself as she worked. She hardly payed attention to the designs on the boxes and tossed them away once she determined they were useless. So far, she'd found rotten grapes, several softened bananas, a sandwich with green mold on it and spoiled milk.

Lola's twentieth lunchbox was promising as she pulled out a Twinkie from one of the containers. She stuffed it into her pocket, pleased to have a sweet treat to share. Then her search continued. After several more boxes in an area further on, she found a pack of M&Ms, Cheetos and tiny muffins which all sill looked edible.

Five wandered back over to her, "any luck?"

The girl nodded and showed him her findings. He pursed his lips. "I was hoping for beans or something healthier. We won't keep up our strength if we're eating junk."

"It's a preschool, Five," she said, "what can you expect? The healthiest thing I've found is a moldy sandwich."

He gave her an interested look, "how much mold was on it?"

Lola gagged slightly, "we— I— will not be eating a moldy sandwich even if it only has one speck of green."

"A little mold won't hurt you," he countered easily, "besides, we'll probably have to be eating bugs soon."

"Oh, gross!" the brunette really did gag this time and covered her mouth, "I think I might throw up!"

"Well, it's either that or starve," he responded simply, the idea of eating bugs not bothering him too much. He would do what it took to survive. "Keep looking," he decided, "I'm going over there," he pointed in the intended direction.

"Okay. Just remember, don't eat mold," Lola's eyes narrowed almost playfully behind her goggles.

He held up his hands in self-defense, "alright, alright. You don't have to nag."

"Oh, you think that's nagging? I'll show you what real nagging is. My mom is a pro at it," too late, she realized she'd spoken in the present tense. Her heart panged with the loss, "was," she corrected herself quietly, "was a pro at it."

Whatever lighthearted mood they'd had disappeared and Five frowned slightly. He sounded surprisingly awkward when he spoke: "right, well, I'll just be over there then." He hightailed it away from her.

Even with the sudden discomfort, Lola was still glad she'd brought it up. She'd pushed away memories of her mother— and family in general— to try and help cope with the loss. She had barely spoken with Five about her past, not that he seemed to care all that much. Still, despite the lump in her throat that wasn't from breathing in ashy air, Lola had known she couldn't repress the memories forever.

The girl resumed her search quietly until she froze as her hands came to rest on a metal lunch box. Using her ratty coverings to clean off the lid, her eyes widened slightly at the design. It was a The Umbrella Academy lunchbox. She quickly put it in her pile. Maybe if she gave it to the boy mentions of her mother wouldn't freak him out.

✧✧✧

Later that day, Five finished looking through everything that he thought would be useful. He'd found a pair of boots that seemed to be his size which he could replace when he wore out his current shoes and a few scraps of clothing from what had been presumably the lost-and-found area that could be helpful as well. He returned to the area where the girl was working. "Are you finished?"

Her humming stopped and she looked up at him. "Yep. You?"

The boy gestured to the items in his arms. "Not much survived, I think, but I found a few things."

Her misspeak from earlier still haunted his mind. Five had never been good with comforting people, having been taught that most emotions were a weakness and best to be avoided. So, when the girl had suddenly gotten upset about her mother, he'd made himself scarce.

As quiet as she thought she was, she didn't do a very good job at hiding her sobs at night. They kept him awake as he stared into the darkness. (Not that sleep would be peaceful, either, but the sound of crying kept him from resting altogether.) At least she didn't cry during the day so he didn't have to mention it.

There was a moment of awkward silence as neither of them knew what to say next until the girl spoke up again. She seemed to have more people skills than he did (which wasn't saying much), "here, I found this," she produced a log-shaped package, "it's called a Twinkie. I thought we might share it in, well— not celebration but—"

"I know what a Twinkie is," Five said, faintly amused despite himself.

If he could see her face, she would probably be blushing in embarrassment, "right, well. Do you want to share? We don't have to—"

It was kind of fun to watch her stumble all over her words. "Yeah, alright," he agreed and sat down next to her. It had been quite awhile since either of them had had something sweet besides canned fruit.

There was a crinkle as the package opened and the girl broke it in half before she held both of them out, "which one do you want?"

Five blinked at her. If he'd ever had the chance to share with his siblings— not that he would— he'd immediately take whatever piece he wanted first or they would, depending on who was offering. "Oh, well—" he clamped his mouth shut to avoid the same stuttering she'd done and took the slightly smaller half. "Thanks," he mumbled.

They both removed their masks to eat and bit into each respective side easily. Five expected a slightly-too sweet cake-taste that came from processed foods but to his revulsion, it crumbled in his mouth and was as dry as dust. The both coughed and crumbs went flying everywhere as they tried to spit it out. The boy dropped the half he was holding in an effort to clear his throat. 

"Oh, gross!" the girl exclaimed, disgusted.

He couldn't agree more as his stomach turned slightly at the effect age had had on the food. After taking a few sips of their precious water supply, he felt better and promised himself that he'd be much more careful about sweets in the future.

"I'm sorry," the girl apologized once she'd recovered, "I didn't know it would be like that. They—"

"Definitely don't last forever?" he guessed.

Since her mask was still off, he saw her lips twitch up in a smile, "I'm surprised you know about that. But yeah, that."

The boy shrugged. "It's not like you did it on purpose."

The girl paused again and turned to shift through her small pile until she produced a metal lunchbox. "I was going to wait for your birthday but I think I'll give you this now to make up for it."

"My birthday?"

"Yeah, you know, the day you were born? October first?"

He snorted. "Yeah, I know, but why would you give me a present?"

She glanced away. "Why not? Anyway, here," the girl shoved the box towards him without further introduction.

Five took the box from her and gave it a curious look, "what's this?"

She leaned over slightly and he tensed as he felt her press against his arm while she pointed at the design. "Look."

The boy followed her direction and his eyes widened as he took in the familiar outlines. "You— you found—"

"I thought you might like it," she mumbled quietly, clearly uncomfortable, "I mean, pictures didn't survive and it's not exactly the same, but—"

He stared at the cartoon images of his siblings and the familiar, comic text of his Academy. He swallowed, uncertain of what to say. No one had ever really given him a present. October first in the Hargreeves household went by largely unaccounted for as did all other holidays and special events. He didn't think he'd ever be able to express what the stupid, childish lunchbox meant to him.

"Thanks," he said, thinking the word was too benign for such a— a gift.