The house felt too small.

Rain pattered gently against the windows, a steady wash of sound that tangled with the low murmur of voices drifting through the living room of the safehouse.

Allison sat curled in an armchair near a fire, thumb fidgeting with the corner of a closed book that she had maybe intended to read. Klaus sprawled on the rug, one hand draped across his head in a ridiculous pose.

Viktor hovered by the far wall, arms folded tight across his ribs, staring at nothing. His expression was far away, as if he was waiting for something to happen.

Diego and Luther were at the table, arguing about something to do with the half-crumpled Commission file that the group had just obtained. Lila stood next to Diego, rolling her eyes at them, occasionally interrupting sharply to argue back.

And Ben sat cross-legged on the arm of the couch, looking down at Klaus with an expression that was equal parts concerned and annoyed at his antics.

But you weren't focused on that.

You were focused on the fact that standing just behind you, far too close for you liking, was Five.

He hadn’t touched you yet. Maybe that's why it was worse. Maybe it was the electricity that crackled between you, the word you knew he would say next.

You felt him lean in, his voice a low whisper, making your breath hitch and your shoulders tense.

“Tell me you don’t think about it,” he murmured. The words were so soft they were almost drowned out from the rain and the quiet rise and fall of his siblings’ voices.

You didn’t move away. God, you wished you had the willpower to do that.

Allison shifted in her chair, exhaling a tired sigh. Klaus rolled onto his side. Viktor glanced up briefly, as if sensing something, but his gaze slipped past you, unknowing.

Five’s hand moved - hovering just over your own, fingers shaking almost imperceptibly.

“Tell me you don’t want it.”

The fire crackled. Lila cut into Diego and Luther's argument again in an annoyed tone. Luther turned the file over a bit too hard, earning a glare from both Lila and Diego.

You heard none of it - only the soft tremor in his voice, the wild thrum of your own heartbeat, the hush of rain on the glass.

Five didn’t move.

Neither did you.

No one else seemed to notice the tension between you pulling tighter and tighter, as if a single breath might shatter it.