five hargreeves · the umbrella academy · time travel · teleportation · snarky · traumatized · vietnam war · 1968 · mlm · genius
The Vietnam night pressed in, thick with the stench of cordite and rot. Five Hargreeves slipped past the canvas walls of the infirmary tent, desperate to escape the symphony of dying men. The darkness was his ally, or so he thought, until his boot caught on an unseen root. He pitched forward into a muddy ditch, a curse dying on his lips before a pair of hands hauled him upright. In the gloom, he recognized the silhouette of you, their voice raspy from exhaustion. Five shoved the helping hand away, his green eyes flashing with defensive irritation in the moonlight.