December 30, 2011
All her life, Guinevere Hughes had been told to stay away from the so-called Umbrella Academy.
She remembered the news the day of the bank robbery. Her parents had clenched their fists and pursed their lips. They thought she hadn't noticed, but she had a keen eye.
That was five years ago. Today, Guinevere, at the young age of 22, was set to star in her final performance of Bonnie and Clyde, about the famous crime duo. The show might have run for longer, but the negative reviews and low ticket sales had caused the show to close after only a month of performances.
As the curtains drew to a close, the sound of a gunshot rang out. Guinevere was instantly on high alert. She'd heard her fair share of gunshots and instantly found a place to hide.
What seemed to be hours later, there was a knock on her dressing room door.
"Police, open up!" a woman's voice called.
Guinevere cautiously opened the door, enough to peek out and asked, "Who are you?"
"I'm Detective Patch. I was wondering if you saw anything regarding the shooting here."
Guinevere shook her head. "No. Um, I was backstage when I heard the shot. Is the person okay?"
"I'm afraid not. I'm sorry to bother you. Thanks for your time." Detective Patch left.
Guinevere was about to close the door when she noticed a man clad in black. She reared back and was about to close her door when the man stopped her.
"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you," the man said. "I just wanted to tell you how great a job you did."
She tilted her head. "Oh, well, thank you. Pardon me, but you don't seem like the type to attend a theatre production."
"What's someone who attends a theatre production supposed to look like?"
"Not clad in black leather for one thing."
"Regardless of my outfit, Miss Hughes, I greatly enjoyed your performance. The way you sang; it was like you were controlling the audience."
"Well, I-" Guinevere stopped herself. This man didn't need to know how right he was. "Might I ask your name?"
"Diego Hargreeves."
"Oh. You're from the Umbrella Academy."
He nodded. "Unfortunately, yes. But I left five years ago. Miss Hughes, c-could I ask you on a date?"
Guinevere nodded slowly. "I think I could take that chance. One more thing."
"Yeah?"
"Call me Gwen."
Diego smiled. "How's tomorrow at eight sound?"
"That's New Year's Eve. You're aware of that, right?"
"I'm aware. If our date goes well, I would be with the prettiest girl at the start of the new year."
Guinevere's cheeks flushed and she glanced down. "Well then, Mr. Hargreeves, seeing as you asked so kindly, I would like to go on a date with you." She wrote her address on his hand. "See you tomorrow at eight."
He left and Guinevere glanced at her watch.
Ten minutes ago, she met the man who just might change her life as she knew it.
She smiled softly. Ten minutes ago.