8 ○ Umbrella Academy

Like the Old Days

He was already sitting in our spot, stabbing his knife over and over into the wood of the gazebo. He'd made it clear he wanted to be alone, but with how often he liked being alone with me, I figured I'd be the exception. "Go. Away," he growled, a louder thunk sounding with the last syllable. Cautiously, I took the first step onto the wooden platform, one foot dangling over the cobblestone.

"We don't have to talk about it," I softly spoke.

"I said, go away!" he reiterated, sending me back a step. He hadn't been so angry that he didn't want me around before, so I didn't believe him. I moved slow, smoothing my skirt out as I sat across from him. I could see the holes and indents left by his knife, gouging a greater hole as he spun the knife in place. "You don't listen."

"Diego," I softly sighed, hating the frown on his face. He hadn't removed the domino mask, either, making his expression that much more menacing. "I know why you hate him."

"No! You think you know everything but you just don't!" My mouth slowly closed, as if I was at fault for the intensity of what I'd been born with, that it wasn't as simple as curving anything I threw. I hadn't asked for this permanent connection to him, I hadn't asked to be cursed with all this knowledge.

"It isn't my fault, you know," I informed. "I just wanted to help."

Diego stood, gripping the knife with white knuckles as he moved to the other exit of the gazebo, needing to look somewhere other than me. "You can't fix everything, Adelaide! Just go away!"

"Helping you has always been my prerogative," I informed, standing at the other exit, unable to turn away from him. "I'm here when you need me."

"Just s-s-stop!" he yelled, voice cracking with the volume. "Stop it!"

"I can't," I offered with a shrug, causing him to instantly spin on his heel. It spun around so quickly, catching little glimpses of light, headed straight for my forehead. As if he'd meant to recant the action, take it back the only way he knew how, the blades made a sharp 90° turn downwards, landing beside one of my feet with a soft thunk.

There was instant shock between us both, more obvious upon Diego's face, though. I watched a bruise form over his left eye, half hidden under his domino mask, confusion taking hold on me. It was only when there was a warmth on my cheek that my brain had snapped back to itself, registering the slight sting as red slowly crept into my vision and took over. "Ada, I'm sorry," almost instantly fell from his mouth.

The real pain didn't hit until I blinked, my lid coming down coarsely over my torn eyeball. I brought my hand up to my eye, pulling it away slicked with blood as another, "I'm sorry," came tumbling out. I took a step down, halfway down the steps of the gazebo, Diego taking a similar step forwards.

I had turned away at yet another "I'm sorry," my panic and shock sending me running to the only space of my own.

●

There was a soft knock at the door, halting my actions as I stifled sobs and held a sleeve to my eye.  I watched the door carefully, the image distorted behind my tears, as Mom poked her head in, taking me in a moment before shutting the door again. I hastily turned back to my dresser, finding a rag, something to cover up what had happened, to clean up anything that had dripped off my face.

But it was a fruitless attempt, I merely spread the blood further and it had already started drying against my cheeks, smearing against my pale skin and debatably making a worse mess. I froze when the door opened again, looking at Mom through the mirror, my breath stuttering. "You children keep me so busy," she sighed softly as she came close, first-aid kit in hand. "Always getting yourselves roughed up out there." I didn't have the heart to say I didn't collect this injury on the mission, to rat out my otherwise favorite brother. "Let me see," she gently pleaded, holding out a sanitary wipe and open hand.