Glow Job

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This story is a one-shot, part of the recollections of Rin and Klaus' younger years, both of whom appear in the story "A Bend in Space Time" (taking place over the seasons of The Umbrella Academy - links in my profile).
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Context: Rin is a 21-year-old punk girl born with a strange power that she uses for illegal work: she can teleport, make herself invisible or intangible. Over several nights in police custody, a few years ago, she met a strange cellmate named Klaus... also endowed with an extremely invasive power: that of communicating with the dead.

TW: Reference to drug and alcohol use ; sexual misadventure ; hospital environment.

Soundtrack: Motel Loic - Glow Job

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2012 wasn't a good year for Granny. Her hip, which had already been bothering her for quite a while, finally needed surgery, followed by specialized physiotherapy. The cost was steep. We blew through what little savings we had.

But one person's misfortune clearly turned into someone else's luck.

Klaus unilaterally decided that I couldn't be left to live alone during the seven weeks my grandmother spent in a convalescent home. He moved in that November, right after getting out of rehab. On a Tuesday morning, while I was at the hardware store doing inventory. He barged into our tiny apartment with three bulging Ikea bags full of tacky, filthy clothes, his 'medicine kit', a few flasks of ghost-banishing liquor, and his entire collection of thongs.

By the time I got home, he'd already put his name on the mailbox, hung his fake fur coat in the entryway, reorganized the bathroom shelves according to the exfoliating power of each lotion, and even rotated my bed for 'better feng shui'. It only took him twelve hours to break the TV remote, leaving us stuck with the scrambled adult channel. And after just two days, he somehow knew the full program lineup by heart.

I totally lost it when I caught him using Granny's pill organizers for his own 'supplements'. And I quickly got fed up with his 'lazy days', lounging around naked while I went off to work. But yelling at Klaus is a dangerous game. I strongly advise against it.

First, he'll act like he has no idea what he did wrong, and he'll mean it. Most of what he does is as innocent as it is depraved, and he honestly doesn't see the problem. If you press him, he'll melt on the spot, horrified that he's disappointed you, and might even apologize for existing. And if you still manage to hold your ground, you'll have to face those evil, wet eyelashes of his.

I gave up.
And he only spent one night on the couch.

I thought I could just tough it out and give the place a deep clean the night before Granny came home. That I could handle his crazy daily routine and haunted panic attacks in the middle of the night for a little while.

That was wishful thinking.
I'd conveniently forgotten just how far his 'little hobbies' could go.

I was at work, unpacking an unusually large delivery from our perforated anchor supplier, when the phone rang. Nothing unusual so far: Rodrigo, my boss, always answered it anyway. I only realized something was wrong when he asked the caller to repeat themselves. And then called me over.

I gave my cowboy-boot-wearing boss a puzzled look, wedged the receiver between my ear and shoulder, and kept pulling plastic bags out of the box.

"Hello?" I said, clueless.
And then I heard:
"Rinny, I've made another anatomical mistake. Does Granny still have that pickle tongs thing somewhere?"

I frowned. I looked at Rodrigo, who clearly had been filled in and had suddenly discovered a deep passion for bookkeeping. I slowly - very slowly - set the box down on the floor. And sat on the stool. Just in case.

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