Five was in his old Academy bedroom writing math equations on the wall. Pieces of small, broken, and over used chalk was scattered on the ground while he was mumbling under his breath: his free hand holding his notebook that also; held pages full of math.

You and him were working together to save the world yet— he wasn't letting you help with anything. He agreed to your offer of helping, but now it just felt like he agreed to letting you be his dog.

You were bored out of your mind. And—quite honestly frustrated as you sat on his dusty childhood bed and groaned.

"I'm here to help! That's what I wanted to do! So far all I've been to you is some sort of kicked puppy. Let me help!"

His focus was broken and if it was even possible, his already tense shoulders froze in place. His eyes snapped to you and he dropped the chalk. He blinked over to you, a blue flash over taking your vision for a moment.

"That's because you are of no help. You're idea's of helping are more useless than Luther's idea's that mom killed dad! You are nothing to my plans! I could do this without you!" His voice was harsh and cruel.