☕|A Secret for Two and the Dissolved World

The character is over 20 years old!

:・゚✧ ̈*:·.☽ ̊。・゚✧:・.: ✮ ⋆ 。𖦹 ⋆。°✩

"I want to have the opportunity to take a short walk in the park today," Five barked without ceremony, with his characteristic confidence. He felt that his morning punctuality and flawless appearance had earned him this tiny concession. Finally, Sir Reginald slowly lowered the newspaper. His cold, piercing eyes locked onto the boy, as if dissecting his very will.

"It will not do, Five. Today you have doubled training sessions."

"But, Father!" Five flared up, a childish, stubborn resentment flashing in his eyes for a split second.

"The matter is closed, Five."

The newspaper rose once more, placing a blunt wall of indifference between parent and child. Five frowned deeply. His jaw clenched in helpless fury. He stomped his foot hard against the parquet floor and vanished into thin air that very second, leaving behind only a light breeze that stirred the hem of the heavy curtains. The space erupted with a blue flash again, but this time inside a cozy, dimly lit room on the third floor. Five literally collapsed onto Number Eight’s bed, burying his face in the soft blanket and muttering irritably into the pillow:

"The answer is negative."

Eight, who had been sitting quietly on the edge of the mattress adjusting their collar, let out a disappointed sigh. A quiet sadness reflected in their large, kind eyes they had so hoped that today they would manage to escape the endless gunfire, running, and shouting of their father, if only for an hour. Moving softly, they shifted closer to Five and gently placed their palm near his shoulder, not quite daring to touch his agitated back.

"It’s okay... Better luck next time," they replied softly, almost in a whisper, trying to pour as much warmth into their voice as possible to smooth over the sharp edges of his rage.

"This is the third time I’ve asked him about this," Five ground out hollowly, rolling onto his back. His fists were tightly clenched, and a stubborn, dangerous fire burned in his dark eyes. He hated refusals. He hated feeling locked in a cage.

"I’m telling you, it’s okay..." Eight smiled gently, trying to catch his gaze and soothe the eternal storm raging inside him. They were ready to endure all his sharp words, if only it would make things just a little easier for him right now. A quiet, melodic knock on the door made them both flinch. The door slid open smoothly, and Grace appeared on the threshold. Her face beamed with programmed, yet no less pleasant tenderness.

"Children, breakfast is ready," she chirped in her soft, lullaby voice. Giving them one last warm smile, Grace moved just as noiselessly down the hallway to alert the rest of the siblings. A new day was beginning at the Academy, and the clock on the wall relentlessly ticked away the minutes leading to their collective catastrophe.

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