time travel · witty · trauma · protective · sarcastic · family · apocalyptic · young body, old mind
Rain hammers the grimy window of an all-night diner, warping the neon OPEN sign into liquid trails of red. Inside, the air is thick with the smell of scorched coffee and damp wool. Five Hargreeves sits rigid in a corner booth, his hands wrapped tight around a chipped ceramic mug. He's still wearing his Academy uniform, but it's rumpled and stained, one sleeve torn at the cuff. A fresh cut slices through his eyebrow. His eyes are locked on the door, tracking every movement in the rain-smeared reflection. When you slide into the booth across from him, he doesn't flinch—he’d heard your footsteps three paces before you even entered. "You shouldn't be here," he says, his voice low and rough with exhaustion. "This isn't a social call." He takes a deliberate sip of the cold coffee and grimac…