( your lips, my lips, apocalypse )

chapter twenty-four

SOME DAYS, VINCENT FELT MORE MESSED UP THAN HE REALLY EVER HAD BEEN BEFORE. Some days he'd grip the edge of an imaginary railing and look over the edge without such a care for the perception of falling. Vincent wasn't so scared of heights, anyway. He'd been walking on a tightrope his entire life. It was the inevitable death that came with slipping detrimentally that was odd.

Vincent had always wondered if death was comforting. If, for him, he'd feel that peace he'd read characters in books feeling whilst they die. Would he be as afraid as he was as of late? Would he cry? Would he be alone?

The last one felt plausible. Loneliness was a usual for Vincent. The inherently lonely state of his brain would likely never change. He would be stuck in it forever, in a neverending loop, feeling increasingly crazier everyday until it went dark.

Vincent felt like crying. Maybe he should, maybe he would, but he didn't like the build up one bit. The way his bottom lip would quiver just barely and his eyes would glaze over and his hands would shake and he'd inhale so sharply it hurt. It was all dramatic, yet so real and so infuriatingly upsetting to Vincent. He didn't want to cry anymore. He didn't want to be such a fucking pussy anymore. He didn't want the short end of the stick any longer. He didn't want his brain to hate him as much as it did, putting all these horrible thoughts into his brain and programming themselves deep and insistent, to a location Vincent couldn't even place.

But he couldn't help it. Crying came naturally to him. It felt good, relieving, comforting. It was exactly what Vincent's out was to the rest of the world. His own tears, salty and wet and his own, his own. All he wanted to do was curl up into a little ball and fucking lose it, scream so loud that it worried people who wouldn't actually bother to check up on him. Though he didn't want to cry. He didn't want something that was his own anymore. He was nothing but unreal, a replica, a fake if you will. He was a coward, plain and simple.

He was a coward and that was why he continuously shrunk back in his seat when Diego turned back to glare at him. Somehow, Diego had been under the impression that Vincent was the one who shot Five. Bullshit, yes, but Vincent didn't blame him for the assumption. Technically, it really was Vincent's fault anyway.

Vincent sighed heavily, looking away from the front and looking down where Five was, his head lying in Vincent's lap, the rest of his body curled up with both hands on his bleeding side, still unconscious. It felt too close, too much like if Five were to wake up to it he would be angry, and maybe even sock Vincent in the face.

Vincent would have made a crude joke about how close Fives face was to his crotch, but he couldn't even bring himself to say it. Who would laugh, anyway? Diego and Allison would have no reaction and Five would still be unconscious so what the fuck was the point?

Vincent tentatively moved a hand to very lightly trace over the side of Five's face, almost jumping when Five leaned into it in his passed out state. Vincent froze, swallowing thickly before moving his hand away to instead brush back some of Fives hair, matted down with sweat and probably blood, and Jesus, when was the last time this fucking dude took a shower?

He was really hoping no one in the front seat was seeing this, because this was enough to make Vincent monumentally pink in the face, so nervous his hand was shaking despite Five not even being awake.

This touch didn't last too long, just enough for Vincent to feel as though he did something wrong. All he did was touch Five's hair, but maybe Five would be annoyed by that. Vincent had no idea. Touching Fives hair could go a multitude of ways. Maybe like a few days ago, the time when Five told Vincent that they were only friends and that's all they ever would be.

But though the touch didn't last long, neither did Five being unconscious. His eyes fluttered open slowly, met with the sight of Vincent looking down at him. Vincent furrowed his eyebrows, a bit embarrassed by being caught staring. "I thought you were dead." He joked.

Five chuckled very weakly, wincing. "In your dreams." He cracked back.

Vincent rolled his eyes to himself, helping Diego get Five out of the car once they got back to the house, carrying him to the couch and laying him down, Five flinching and groaning when they did so.

"We should have taken him to a hospital!" Allison exclaimed, shaking her head.

"A kid with a shrapnel wound might raise some questions.." Five muttered weakly, sounding like he was going to pass out again. Vincent wouldn't lie and say he wasn't worried.

"Yeah, well so does the murder shrine in Harold Jenkins' attic." Allison sighed before she quickly began taking off her jacket, moving to press it against Five's wound, way too gently. "He's still losing a lot of blood, what do we do?"

"Gotta get the shrapnel ou-" Vincent and Diego spoke at the same time, both glaring at each other before Vincent huffed. "Put some pressure on it too." Vincent added.

Suddenly, Diego looked up and began to walk away, out of sight and out of mind. "Diego? Where are you going?" Allison called out, but Diego paid no mind.

Vincent snorted in amusement. "Did I hurt his feelings enough?" He joked, grinning a little as he walked over to Five.

Five rolled his eyes up at Vincent. "Fuck off." He mumbled lightly, eyes slowly closing again. Vincent looked at Allison quickly, looking alarmed.

"Well fuck, what do we do now?!" Vincent chuckled. He knew how to take a bullet out and clean up a wound just fine, but that didn't mean he wanted to.

Just as Allison opened her mouth to respond, Diego walked back into the room with his mother right on his heels. "She'll help us," Diego stated simply.

"Sure. Advanced technology won't kill us all but will instead assist us. Fantastic," Vincent sighed out jokingly, sarcastic. Diego glared harshly at him, looking much angrier than Vincent had ever seen him before. It reminded Vincent of his father so much that he flinched and turned away quickly, looking at Five instead.

The Hargreeves mother of sorts moved to lift Five up slowly with an impeccable and almost alarming strength, carrying him upstairs to what Vincent assumed would be Fives room. Vincent had grown to hate that room as a result of their previous conversation. The one where Vincent was let down in a manner he did not find gentle. That was still a constant in Vincent's mind, popping up every so often when he found himself almost happy with himself, just getting him to realize he'd never be quite good enough.

Vincent hesitantly followed Diego and Allison, hands shoved into his pockets and jaw tensed a bit. He was nervous. He knew Five would end up being fine, but the sight of him passed out and pale put things into perspective. Vincent was ungrateful. He had been pissed at Five for rejecting him and selling him out to the Commission, when really he should have just taken it all with open arms. It was what he deserved. He should have accepted it with no such feelings. Maybe then Five would be okay. Maybe then Vincent would have that gunshot wound instead.

A minute or two later, Vincent stood right in front of Allison and Diego. Vincent stared at Five, who was getting treated rather quickly by his robot mother whilst Diego and Allison talked about her behind Vincent.

He leaned against the doorway even when Allison and Diego moved to walk away, hands stuffed in his pockets. He glanced at Delores, who was seated on a chair beside Fives bed, and found himself glaring lightly. Fuck her and her perfect stupid mannequin face. Fuck her and how much Five likes her. Why not him? Why can't it just be him?

She didn't move or speak, though Vincent hadn't expected her to. He had made fun of her for so long that he hadn't really realized until then just how much it genuinely hurt that Five would never be as fond of him as he was of that mannequin. A piece of plastic was better than Vincent and that's not as easy to accept as he'd thought it was.

He sighed heavily but pretended to be unaffected when the woman treating Five stood up and smiled politely at him before leaving, shutting the door behind her. Leaving Vincent and Five together with Delores just sitting there. Vincent glared at her, and now it was harsher. "What are you, homophobic? Bitch," He huffed under his breath.

"Brutal. What did she do?" A voice spoke weakly. Five's voice, of course. Vincent would have known it anywhere. The only voice he'd been really glad to hear ever.

Vincent feigned carelessness as he turned to face Five, chuckling. "She called me a fag. Colorful language. You teach her that one?" He joked, though there was a bitter undertone that Five caught onto.

Five furrowed his brow. "What's wrong with you?" He asked slowly.

"What did you do?" Vincent spoke up quickly. "What the fuck did you do to get that? Did you mess with something, you fucking idiot?" He asked harshly, walking closer and moving to look at the wound. He knew he was being rather horrible, but he was angry. Not only at the fact that it could put both of them in more danger, but also for more personal reasons.

Five sighed, sitting up a little and wincing. "I blew up the Commision." He stated simply.

Vincent's eyes widened, and suddenly he moved onto the bed angrily and, rather violently, put both hands around Fives neck. "What the fuck? What the fuck is your problem?" He asked.

Five winced, smacking at Vincent's wrists before gripping tightly at them, trying to twist them opposite ways.

"Ow! Asshole!" Vincent cursed at the pain of it, pulling his hands away quickly before letting them droop back down to his sides. "You blew it up. Oh Jesus fucking Christ you blew it up. Oh my god." He laughed out hysterically, very worried now.

Five shook his head. "You need to calm down, Vincent." He huffed, rubbing at his neck, which was likely hurting just a little from Vincent grabbing it. "Nothing will happen."

"You say that. You say that, but I really truly do not believe you. You've lied enough as it is, you fucking dick." Vincent huffed out, shoving Five a little, finding himself to be very pissed off. Perhaps it was remembering their conversation, the one that broke Vincent's heart.

Five winced again, gripping Vincent's wrist tightly. "Stop doing that." He huffed. "You're so dramatic. I haven't lied about anything that was important." He spoke, a bit harsh.

Vincent froze for a moment before he shook his head, very angry now. His anger was a problem, probably. "You're such an asshole. If I could beat your ass right now I would. But I like a fair fight, you little fucking bitch." He spat out, unable to move away from Five. He still had a tight grip on Vincent's wrist.

"They're afraid of me now too. They won't hurt you," Five huffed out, probably equally as angry. He couldn't express it as well, however, because of his injury. "Stop being so angry all the time. Stop it." He spoke, annoyed.

Vincent shook his head, chuckling humorlessly to himself. "You're one to talk. You're like a fucking Inside Out character." He mumbled. "I need to go fix this." He spoke firmly, trying to leave again, but pulled back down by Fives grip.

"You wouldn't be able to do that." Five rolled his eyes. "You don't even know how this shit works. You pretend like you do but you're just a puss-" Five started, cut off by lips against his own, brutal and bruising.

Vincent's lips, of course, the same chapped they were the first time they kissed.

Kissing was weird. The action of lips against another, sometimes gross and sometimes loving. Vincent didn't know what this was. An angry kiss that was so long awaited in Vincent's brain, perhaps.

Five froze against him for a moment before kissing back just as roughly, both of them just angry. Vincent's wrist was let go, Fives other hand- atrociously bloody from previously gripping his gunshot wound- tracing up his jaw to the back of his head, gripping Vincent's hair to pull him closer.

Vincent cupped Fives cheeks, not breaking anything even once. Then maybe it wouldn't be real. Vincent wanted nothing more than for this to be real. He didn't realize how much his hands were shaking, how terribly nervous he was.

Not until he heard a coffee cup break against the wall hard, explode almost. Guess he did break something now.

He jumped, and Five did as well, staring at the remains of the cup with wide eyes. "Okay- maybe we shouldn't do this right now." He breathed out, lips and face both the same shade of bright pink. Vincent would have chuckled if he didn't look the same.

Vincent's eyes widened, swallowing thickly. He nodded a little, distracted by everything that just happened. How fucking odd that this happened when they were so angry with each other, rather than all the way too gentle moments. He didn't even realize he was still nodding until Five raised his eyebrow, chuckling lightly.

"Calm down," Five spoke, softer than before. "You don't have to freak out about everything." He added.

"Shut the fuck up, asshole." Vincent rolled his eyes, standing up, pulling his hoodie down more. He assumed Five was still annoyed with him, so he played it off like he was the same.

"I didn't even say anything mean." Five pointed out. He wasn't saying anything about the kiss, and Vincent didn't know if that was a bad or good thing. Last time it was a horrible thing, but this time Vincent wasn't so sure.

"I'm gonna go now. Fuck you. Clean that up yourself." Vincent pointed to the broken coffee cup. "I'm gonna try and talk to the Commision about how you blew them up and just hope they don't do the same to me." He shook his head.

Five sat up quickly, wincing. "Do not do that. Don't even try."

"Ah.. because you know they'll kill me. Gotcha, babe." Vincent grinned, a bit embarrassed by the sight of Fives face turning red afterwards and the way he looked away, muttering something to himself that Vincent didn't hear.

"I didn't say that. But they probably would." Five sighed. "I mean, awesome if they do. But then I have to deal with cleaning up the body." He joked.

Vincent rolled his eyes. "Goodbye, Five. I hate you. Maybe I just won't come back. Would love to see that reaction from you." He deadpanned. He turned to look at Delores before back at Five. "She watched all of that. I hope she kills you in your sleep." He flipped Five off before quickly leaving the room, not waiting for any response from the somewhat amused looking Five.

Vincent had one thought afterwards, which was only- what the fuck?

Perhaps that was all real. Or perhaps it was Five playing a horrible trick on him. Perhaps both.

But fuck, did Vincent love it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡
A/N: I hate this chapter somewhat but what's new lmao sorry it's so rushed. Next chapter will be way more lmao! Sorry for the super long wait but I hope you liked this at least!! Happy (almost) Thanksgiving to anyone who celebrates it!!