Chapter 1 | We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals | Part 1

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30 Years Later

It had been a cold day, like usual, and it didn't seem like the weather ever went above freezing. Well, what did you expect from a dark, dull place like England?

I had been living in London for nearly 6 years now and had partly become accustomed to the British temperatures. However, the inconsistent flow of rain never failed to shock me as it starts and stops and starts and stops before fully pissing it down. How lovely.

I get home after another exhausting shift in the hospital. Locking the door and not bothering to hang or put anything away in its proper place, I drop my bags and coat onto the floor in the foyer and shake off my shoes before making my way to the living room. With a sigh, I dramatically flopped onto the couch.

For the first time today, I go to pick up my phone, but before I can do so, the house phone rings.

Groaning in annoyance, I debate whether to just ignore the stupid ring of the telephone or to just answer it. I decide on the latter, wondering who it is that would want to phone me. I crawl to the other side of the couch to pick it up from the small table that resides next to it.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Miss Y/n," it was Pogo, "you might want to sit down for this."


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The Next Day

After the rather lovely phone call Pogo had blessed me with last night, I caught the earliest flight I could get back to the horrible place my siblings and I called home: The Umbrella Academy.

It had been a lot later than I would have hoped when my plane landed. My flight had been delayed. Just my luck, eh? Though that didn't stop the excitement running through my veins at the thought of my dear old daddy being dead.

After all the stupid waiting at the airport— waiting for my bags, going through security, and the other irrelevant blah blah blah stuff— I nervously look out of the taxi that had finally stopped outside of The Umbrella Academy.

I was going to see my siblings for the first time, in which had to be at least 12 or 13 years. Very nerve-racking.

I ask the taxi driver how much and give him his desired amount before hopping out. Staring at the entrance, I can't help but feel angry at how it looks exactly the same as it did before I left. I give my arms a shake, let out a forced breath, and decide not to dawdle and just go inside to get it over with.

The doors creaked as I used some strength to push them open. I stand in the opening for a while, picking at my fingers and just taking in all the old memories. Looking to the right, my eyes suddenly land on the elegant painting of Number Five in the other room.

"Miss Y/n," I swivel around to see the one and only Pogo, "Welcome home." He smiled.

I smile back as I bring him into a comforting hug. "Oh, Pogo! It's lovely to see you." I pull away, placing my hand on his shoulder. "How have you been? not too lonely, I hope?"

"I've been alright, Miss Y/n; Master Hargreeves was quite the company." Seriously? dad? being company? Pogo, don't make me laugh. I give him a funny look but quickly place a smile back on my face. I bet Pogo was actually upset that dad was dead. "It's so nice to see you too."

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