Under The Influence: A Klaus Hargreeves Fanfic | Umbrella Academy AU |

How It Works {Part 1}

"Come here."

Willow could sense his presence the moment he walked into the studio, tucked away into the bottom layer of the school's basement. Unlike a traditional studio, the one she called home had no windows, only tall white-washed brick walls and two dividers, all scattered with paintings of different styles. Oils, acrylics, watercolors on a table near the corner closest to the door, the room smelled of fresh paint and turpentine.

"How did you..." The man, who called himself Klaus, announced himself cautiously "How did you know it was...me?"

His energy was vibrant, electric, the voltage so high that it radiates as one steady pulse. The chaotic nature of his aura made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, straightening her spine. He made her so uncomfortable, and yet it was like she was greeting an old, forgotten friend.

"I wasn't expecting anyone else." Willow settled on the most obvious answer and gave a small shrug. "Come here."

He obeyed, somehow, weaving his way over to her while avoiding the empty cans like land mines on the dirty, stained floor. "What goodies do you have for me, dear Karen?"

"Karen?" Willow knit her brows together before laughing. "Oh, shit. That's right."

"And you though I was the liar." Klaus scoffed loudly. "Karen. I should have known."

"What's wrong with Karen?" She argued, folding her arms across her chest with a wet paintbrush in her dominant hand.

"Karen is such a blasé name." The man rolled one shoulder along with his eyes. "You're too pretty to be a Karen."

"You're kissing my ass to get what I brought." She called him out instantly. Willow knew she was pretty, she didn't need to hear it from him, though it did sit well with her.

"Does it make the ass-kissing any less true, mon cherie?" Klaus picked his lips and made a kissing noise that Willow shuttered at. The shutter stayed underneath her skin, keeping her alert. He leaned against the steel beam, a few feet away from her, and crossed his own arms. "Show me what you've got."

"Stick out your tongue." She countered, and he obliged immediately, closing his eyes tightly as she rummaged through her pocket to find the little plastic baggie.

"Ah 'ope issa shee' 'o ass-sid." Klaus tried to enunciate with his tongue still stuck out, making Willow giggle.

"You're in luck." Willow unsealed the tiny bag and took out a tiny paper, ripping it in half and placing it slowly on his tongue and then the other half on hers. The tasteless paper sat there while she got up and started grabbing at paints, gathering what she needed to start a project.

To create the paintings that she did, Willow had to be in the right state of mind; she tried to space them out so that sobriety wasn't much of a question. By this time in her life, Willow knew how to stagger her benders as to avoid the overdoses and to appear completely fine in public.

She was an educator, after all. The studio was hers, where she taught others how to paint with technique and repetition. Young adults, even younger than she was. Elderly people, anyone else that wanted to 'learn', or just to have a somewhat quiet space to work. Quiet in a relative sense, because Thursdays were mixer nights and sometimes things got rowdy.

As she lost herself in thought, biding her time while the sheet dissolved, she had everything in place and turned around to have Klaus right there. His lips were tied up into a knowing, seductive smirk as his fingers brushed up against the skin of her flushed cheek. They trailed down her arm to her hand, two fingers grazing her palm as he stood closer, too close, almost on her. His breath was heavy as his face reached hers.