Snippets of Memory - The Umbrella Academy

Closer to the Sun

Because - no - this life didn't suit Klaus either, not really.

He did what he always did. Washed himself three times. Took advantage of my grandmother being out to use her straightener, and ate chà bông straight out of the jar. When he came back to my room, he collapsed on my bed, upside down from me, trying clumsily to press his damp curls against my calf. I didn't move. If I had pushed him off, I'd have killed him.

"Are you happy to see me anyway?", he asked, and I just shrugged.

To me, the answer was obviously yes, but I know now, that kind of silence sent him spinning. So he tried, rationally but pathetically, to justify his presence.

"I brought you gifts".

He leaned over the edge of the bed, grabbed his purple coat trimmed with fur on every hem, and rummaged through the pockets.

"I brought coffee pods and a chai one, a black silk tie - you could wear it as a belt - a stress ball with a dollar sign on it... It's collectible, right? Oh, and two name-brand condoms with student health slogans. One's cherry-flavored".
"For what? Chewing gum?"

I didn't even sigh. We'd been inseparable for two years now, Klaus already knew me by heart, just as much as I knew him. He knew how far I'd go - or wouldn't - even if he still tried his luck now and then, clumsily. But this time, he really was just trying to make me smile. For real. Because he knew my mood was scraping the bottom.

"I know, I know. Our deal is still strictly one-sided and hands-only, I swear. But those things make great balloon animals: I can craft you a latex poodle. Want one?"
I ended up smiling.
"It's fine, Klaus. Don't worry. I'm okay".

He deflated like a bicycle tire, dropped his head back, and finally breathed easy for a moment. His life was chaos. He couldn't even remember the day before yesterday, and had no idea where he'd be the day after tomorrow. The worst part - something I only understand now - is that it would take him eight more years and an apocalypse just to start crawling out of that mess.

"Can I stay like this tonight?" he asked in a muffled voice, his fingers timidly playing with the fabric of my pajama pants. I shook my head. Because it was a very bad idea.

"Rent's gone up", I told him. "Granny's a bundle of needles - more than usual - and she's coming back from her bridge game in ten minutes".

Granny was far from stupid, even less naive, especially after having opened the door a few times at the worst possible moments. She always knew when Klaus was around, maybe because he never put the straightener back the exact way she would've. She still treated him like a walking, talking disturbance to every sense: sight, smell, and sound. But there was always chà bông for him in the fridge door. Still, she was having a rough time herself lately, and tonight, if she heard so much as a whisper, we'd have to run for our lives.

Klaus let out a whimper.

"Granny's glare could sterilize a man from a whole corridor away. And she pinched me. She's a treasure. My left nipple still twitches just thinking about the sound of her slippers".

I shoved him, and he landed on my rug, the one that was sort of white and kind of furry. Then I stood up, barefoot on the floorboards.

"We're getting out of here", I said, and he looked up at me like a puppy promised a walk.

I opened the bottom drawer of my wardrobe. The one where we both stuffed all our black, neon, or sheer clothes: what we wore to hit up raves in The City.

"Oh?", he said, sitting up in that ridiculous pair of briefs embroidered with the logo of some future hedge fund fraternity. No joke: apparently to conquer the luxury goods and hospitality sectors, you needed your jewels tightly secured. I looked at him while pulling out a pair of black cargo pants with way too many pockets and a torn-up violet top.