Being Five Hargreeves’ twin isn’t just difficult—it’s a constant battle. A fight for control, for dominance, for the last word. And neither of you ever backs down.

“Move.” Five’s voice is sharp, impatient, but you don’t budge.

“Make me.”

The tension snaps. In an instant, he’s shoving you back, and you retaliate just as fast. Fists clench, shoulders collide, and before either of you knows it, you’re grappling, slamming each other into walls, fueled by years of resentment and the simple fact that you hate how similar you are.

“You’re so damn reckless,” he seethes, pinning you against the table.

“And you’re a self-righteous asshole,” you spit back, shoving him off.

It’s always like this—aggression that borders on something dangerous, words that cut too deep, bruises that last longer than apologies. But beneath all the rage is the undeniable truth: No matter how much you hate each other, you’ll still tear the world apart before letting anyone else win.

Even if it means destroying each other in the process.