#LIKE THE WHIPLASH BETWEEN SERIOUS N SILLY ALMOST PISSED YOU OFF? WHAT IF I FOUND A WAY TO MAKE YOU SAD ABOUT IT

[luck-of-the-drawings]

"I think this is the most inhuman; and human, that I've ever felt.." MUCH CAN HAPPEN IN A YEAR. IN FIVE YEARS. A DECADE. imagine how much can happen in a century. just ONE (1). How will you grow? what phases do you find? even in 5 years, you will find patterns.

[astarryon]

Better Off Chapter Two

Pairing: Klaus Hargreeves x Reader

Warnings: language, mention of addiction, gunfire

Word count: 6k

A/N: This one feels sooo long lmfao. A lot of stuff goes down in this one, and you get to see what Diego thinks of all this! Thanks for all the love, and I hope you enjoy! If you have any questions or comments, feel free to send them my way!

Chapter One

It wasn’t something he’d been prepared for.

Seeing you again... it came with a lot of complicated feelings. Anger was first, as well as most prominent, but that could only be expected, all things considered. It would probably be more concerning if he wasn’t at least a little bit pissed. Probably the most fucked up thing was that he felt hurt more than anything else. He didn’t much care that you had done what you had, it just bothered him that he hadn’t been enough of what you wanted for you to not.

Was that pathetic? Maybe. And it certainly didn’t change anything, either.

But then there was the other part of him — bigger than he thought it should be and surprisingly eager given the circumstances — absolutely buzzing with delight at the sight of you, if only because he could see it all. In your eyes, he found the warmth and kindness you used to wrap around him like a blanket. In your smile, there was that mischievous little quirk to your mouth as you told him not to worry so much about things he couldn’t control as he expressed concern over whether his father would catch the two of you together. In the way your hips unintentionally swayed as you walked toward him, he could see the first time you’d ever allowed him to run his hands over your bare skin, sweet and clumsy and shy.

As much as Klaus had tried to forget, it had been in vain. The sheepish beginning, the heartbreaking end, all of it was just... there.

That was why it hurt so bad, he was pretty sure. You’d been his first taste of desire — or, rather, wanting to be desired. Klaus had never known what it was to be wanted before you came along and insisted he allow you to be his best friend. He meant little to his siblings, even less to his father, and he had few delusions about those facts. And then you just appeared one day, far too happy to spend your nights in a mausoleum or use your power to walk up to his bedroom window if it meant you got to claim him. Why you had wanted a silly thing like that, Klaus was never sure, but he’d gotten used to it all too quickly.

“You’re staring.”

The words snapped him out of his reverie, and Klaus blinked hard. As his focus cleared and his sight came back, memories rushing away like some awful breeze, he found that his gaze had been trained on the bare patch of skin at the center of your collarbone. That had certainly thrown him for a loop back at the nightclub; years might have passed, but your image was still so clearly ingrained in his mind. The absence of that familiar silver shimmer had left an odd sort of ache in his chest.

But then, that ache had nothing on what it felt like to finally be able to touch you again.

“You look different,” he muttered by way of explanation. The last word came out wrong — like it was some kind of insult to be thrown at you. Klaus hadn’t meant it that way, but between the adrenaline from seeing you and his ecstasy high beginning to fade, he could hardly be held responsible. “I don’t... I don’t know. You just changed.”

He had to physically stop himself from adding without me to the end of that one. Between making you think he was hallucinating you and tricking you into that kiss, Klaus was pretty sure he’d used up his allotted guilt trips for the evening. Or, morning. Hard to keep track with his head spinning like it was.

Your eyes flicked over to his, momentarily holding his gaze before flashing back to the road. That distraction wouldn’t last long; there were only a few streets left until the two of you hit Diego’s.

“I didn’t change, Klaus,” you sighed. He liked the shape your mouth gave to his name, the slight annoyance overshadowed by hesitant fondness. That, at least, was the same as when you were children — one of the few things he could take comfort in. “I’m still the same, I just... I just grew up.”

And this time, against his better judgement, he didn’t bother to put himself in check.

“Yes, you most certainly did, bird.” Klaus reached over to run the pad of his index finger along the bare strip of your wrist; he didn’t miss the shiver you gave in response, or the little hitch in your breath at his touch. “You grew up and lived your life and you did it all without me. Just like you wanted, right?”

The GPS chimed to alert that the two of you had made it to your destination, but with as much tension as was filling the car, it may as well have stayed silent.

Klaus watched you open your mouth, then close it again. Words were at the tip of your tongue, just begging to tumble out of you like he remembered them doing before you’d gotten so careful, but after a moment you seemed to swallow them and move on. In spite of all that, Klaus noticed the whitening of your knuckles as you gripped the steering wheel tighter. Was it terrible that he could find delight in the fact you still had your temper.

Klaus watched you swing a hard left, neatly parking the car just off the curb. There was something there, in the set of your jaw, something that told him he was lucky you had been driving when he’d chosen to pick this fight. The initial shock of your reunion had gotten him out of the consequences for lying about the hallucination, and it was probably guilt that won him leniency with that earlier kiss. Distantly, he wondered how much more it would take to get you to slap him.

You leaned closer to him, jaw clenched and anger just barely contained. A shadow of your former self — volatile, defensive, and all too certain — was suddenly making an appearance. “Let’s get one thing straight,” you snapped, unflinchingly looking him in the eye. “You know fuck all about what I want.”

And then you were out of the car, slamming the door shut behind you as you stomped your way toward the entrance to the gym, not even giving Klaus so much as a chance to respond before you were gone.

Funny how some things never seemed to change.

—

It took you three tries to pick the lock before you successfully gained access to the boxing gym. Normally you wouldn’t hesitate to own up to that — it wasn’t your best skill, and never had been, but tonight? Oh, no. Tonight you had about as good an excuse as you ever came across.

Christ, Klaus was aggravating. More than, actually; that didn’t quite do it justice. The guy was mind numbingly infuriating. Did you feel bad for what had happened in the past? Obviously. Would you do anything you could to make that up to him? Of course. Did that mean you were willing to just lie down and freely take his abuse?

Fuck. No.

Klaus leaned down, chin just a few centimeters shy of resting on your shoulder. Part of you jumped at the sudden proximity, yearning for the familiar warmth of his skin. The other part was resisting the urge to elbow him in the stomach to get him to back off. Touch was fine, something he had needed since he was young, but he’d been abusing it tonight and had lost his privileges with you. “Want me to do that?” he slurred, hot breath fanning over your ear.

You grit your teeth, working the lock pick harder. “I want you to back up,” you muttered, trying to lean away. It was no use; your options were to press up against the door or lean back into Klaus. Son of a bitch had you trapped. “Do you mind?”

“You’re angling that wrong. It’s never gonna work that way.”

“Klaus,” you warned.

“Well, I’m just saying—“

The lock sprung, and you were on your feet and moving in, not bothering to wait for Klaus as he trailed in behind you. Tears of frustration were threatening to spring to your eyes, but you forced yourself to push them down. There wasn’t any time for weakness, especially not if you were about to throw yourself in front of Diego Hargreeves and simultaneously beg for mercy and assistance.

Besides... did you really have a right to be upset with Klaus? He was only speaking the truth, horrible as it was to hear. 

“Where’s your necklace?”

You kept walking, falling back to let Klaus guide you in the right direction; you could see a lot of well used equipment and a boxing ring, but no sign of the knife wielding terror you were meant to seek out. Briefly, you wondered if Klaus was lying about his brother staying here, but you put that out of your mind quickly. This was Klaus, your Klaus. Even pissed out of his mind and bitter beyond belief, he would never steer you wrong.

“I don’t think now’s the time,” you mumbled, crossing your arms to fight your impulse. All you really wanted to do was hold his face in your hands and cry, but his behavior told you that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Not that you blamed him. “Why don’t we talk about that later?”

“No offense,” he drawled, pausing to whirl around to you. The sheer weight of his gaze was crushing, and you found yourself unable to step away. “But how can I be sure there’s even going to be a later?”

Fair enough.

“Klaus,” you sighed, staring up at him. It was all you could do not to reach out and grab his face, just to really drive home how serious you were. You would probably get away with it — Klaus himself had done much more than cradle your cheeks in the last hour. But, then, it was better not to tempt yourself. Wouldn’t have been fair to either of you anyway. “I’m not... you’ve gotta know I’m not abandoning you again, right?”

But he was already turning away, averting his gaze and closing himself off again. Jesus; with how quickly Klaus switched between hot and cold, whiplash seemed almost inevitable. “Well, you know what they say,” he called back to you, disappearing down a narrow hallway. “Fool me once and all of that.”

You followed in his direction, clenching your fists down at your sides. Was it wrong of you to be angry right now? It was hard to blame him for being skeptic; you knew that you were being sincere, but Klaus had no reason to think so. What was it, five years of good will that you’d thrown down the drain? Four years of friendship, one of love, and all for what? Because his father—?

A loud banging startled you clear out of your train of thought, causing you to jump three feet in the air; you thrust your arms out in front of you reflexively, choking on the swear caught in your throat. By the time you realized your power had been triggered, Klaus was held down by the force of it, slammed against the door he’d just been knocking on with his arms pinned above his head.

The expression he wore was downright miffed. “Alright, this shit was cool back in the day when we were kinky little shits, but I’m mad at you right now. Let me go.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, flipping the mental switch and releasing him. “You scared the shit out of me, okay, I just— just, sorry.” You paused a moment, just now registering what he’d said to you, and retorted, “For the record, you were the kinky one.”

“Oh, please,” Klaus shot back, absentmindedly eyeing you up and down. “I seem to remember someone getting a little too excited about the idea of fooling around in a cemetery.”

Jesus, you could not believe what you were hearing right now. “Okay, first of all, I was sixteen! I’d say that’s some pretty standard shit, wouldn’t you?”

“Uh, not when you can see all the ghosts watching you and your girlfriend try to—“

The end of his sentence was cut off by the sudden twisting of the doorknob. That was probably for the better; you definitely didn’t need a reminder of the stupid shit you and Klaus had gotten up to as teenagers, and especially not when you’d used those memories to torment yourself every night since you’d left. But, now? Now you had a whole other issue from when you were teenagers to deal with.

The wooden door opened, prompting you and Klaus to fall silent. Out popped Diego Hargreeves, half asleep and out of focus, but still just as imposing as he’d always been. Funny; where Klaus looked different from how you remembered him — too skinny for his frame, visibly exhausted beneath the heavy eye makeup, the gleam in his eyes you had always loved to see now missing — Diego looked oddly the same. Still well muscled, though not uncomfortably so, still poised like he was ready to start a fight in an instant, still handsome enough to get whatever he wanted.

It was pretty fucking annoying, truth be told.

He blinked against the harsh light of the hall, shielding his eyes with a hand that — notably — clutched a sleek, silver knife. He hadn’t noticed you yet, tucked behind Klaus as you were, and for that you said a prayer of thanks to whichever higher power had granted this small mercy. You could only imagine what his knee jerk reaction might have been if you’d greeted him instead of Klaus.

“You have any idea what fucking time it is, Klaus?” Diego grumbled, a powerful yawn possessing him suddenly. Distantly, you felt bad for dragging him out of bed at two in the morning; you weren’t sure what Diego had going on, but if he was anything like his brother, he definitely couldn’t have been getting enough rest. On the flip side, you were relieved, albeit for selfish reasons. Diego’s presence meant that you wouldn’t have to remain with Klaus in solitude, ensuring that there would be no more stunts that involved kissing, emotional turmoil, or backhanded guilt. “What are you doing here?”

Before you could even truly process what was happening, Klaus simply stepped back and to the side, wordlessly lifting a finger to point at you. He glanced between you and his brother, an awful smirk adorning his mouth as he watched the shift in Diego’s expression, realization dawning on his face as he worked out just who you were. A moment later, Klaus moved forward to step around his brother, entering the room and leaving you to Diego’s scrutiny.

Fucking traitor.

The flip in Diego’s demeanor was near instant, though you supposed you should expect nothing less from someone who spent their teen years training insistently. It wasn’t like you spent much time around Diego when you were younger — your days had always been explicitly dedicated to your relationship with Klaus — but you remembered enough to know that the way he was looking at you now was especially malicious. It was predatory and dark, fiercely protective and terrifyingly accusatory.

Everything Klaus deserved out of someone who cared about him, and unfortunately nothing you were able to give him yourself.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” Diego muttered lowly, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his head to the side. Jesus; twelve years hadn’t made him any less of a self righteous bastard, apparently. “Where do you get off, showing up here like nothing happened?” You didn’t much care for the way the silver point of the knife was twirling idly between his fingers.

“No offense, D,” you sighed, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. Diego immediately bristled at the use of your old nickname for him; it was hard to blame him. Nicknames were familiar, for people who could be trusted, and you had done nothing to be worthy of Diego’s good graces in the last decade. Quite the opposite, actually, considering you’d torn his brother’s heart out of his chest and spat on it. Brushing past him and ducking into the tiny little room, you continued, “But I really don’t think I can do witty rat bastard tonight. There’s too much going on, and the sooner I catch you up, the sooner I can leave.”

“Oh, so you’re leaving again,” Diego spat, following in your steps. There wasn’t much space for that, but then, this was Diego you were dealing with. Dude would take any opportunity to be as dramatic as the situation would allow for. “Okay, well. Good to know you’re consistent, at least.”

You didn’t like what Diego’s tone implied. You understood why he was upset; really, you did. But you’d already gotten a massive load of shit from Klaus — who had taken it upon himself to not only pretend to hallucinate you, but had also kissed you in an effort to make you feel even shittier and insult your integrity further on the car ride here. In perfect honesty, you weren’t sure how much more shit from a Hargreeves sibling you could take; your quota was just about maxed.

You crossed your arms over your chest, biting your tongue. The old you, the one that hadn’t been swimming in guilt for the past twelve years, the one who had been just about to make an appearance while fighting with Klaus over picking the fucking gym lock, would have lit into Diego with little caution or remorse. He had been kind enough when you were younger, and had never said a word to anyone else on the nights he caught you sneaking in through Klaus’ window, but he was also a bit too judgmental for your liking. Would’ve been easy to knock him down a peg, but... well. Your heart just wasn’t in it these days.

“Something you wanna say to me?” you prompted when Diego simply continued staring you down. The words came out defensively, and you hated how guilty you sounded.

“Depends,” he shot back, matching your intensity. “You planning to fuck my brother again?”

“Well, if she is, it’s definitely not in the fun way,” Klaus called from the other side of the room where he was rifling through Diego’s things. It was easy enough to imagine the shit eating grin that would be present in his face.

You immediately winced, the dirty joke catching you by surprise, and you saw Diego grimace as he realized the misstep in his words. The two of you shared a mutual look of discomfort, and then the moment was gone like smoke in the wind.

“You know,” you whispered, glancing back at Klaus and frowning in worry. Not for the first time, you noted how worn out he looked. His words and actions spoke of eccentricity, but his face told another story entirely; that only solidified what you were about to do next. “Maybe we should talk abut this... outside?” Diego opened his mouth to protest, but you stopped him before he could. “Look, Klaus is really high, okay? And he... we had some issues on the way here. I just think we should wait to explain this to him until he’s a little more... you know, sober.”

Diego looked like he wanted to protest, but ultimately thought better of it. “Klaus,” he prompted, turning over his shoulder to eye his brother. You looked over as well, finding him propped against the wall, busting himself by absently and clumsily twirling a slim silver dagger between his fingers.

Oh, for fuck’s sake; with how high he was and whatever he was on, it was only a matter of time before he accidentally cut himself. Part of you instinctively wanted to chastise Diego for leaving the damn thing out, but you resisted. That shit wouldn’t fly, especially not in Diego’s own home.

“Maybe you wanna lay down?” Diego continued. You had to note the shift in tone, how much softer he’d made himself as he turned his attention to Klaus. That had to be new. You didn’t remember Diego being the biggest asshole in your youth, but he’d definitely never bothered to sugarcoat anything.

This, of course, begged the question — what the fuck had happened while you were gone?

“No,” Klaus responded, throwing the dagger up in the air and narrowly avoiding the blade biting into his palm. “No, I think I’m good.”

“Klaus,” you added before you could stop yourself. “I really think you should try and get some sleep.”

The resulting grin that split his face was both disingenuous and without humor. “No offense, sweetness, but I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t take advice from you.”

Diego shot you a dirty look, one that clearly told you to back off. He took another step toward his brother, hands raised in a placating gesture. “Klaus, really. It’s late, and you should get some sleep. Y/n and I are just gonna step outside and talk about a few things. It really won’t take long.”

Klaus hesitated this time, and for a moment — just one moment, fleeting and breathless and earth shatteringly something — his eyes flicked over to you, and you saw everything. Hints of old affection that still managed to cling to his mind, fondness that was no doubt wilted but was still there. The look present in his eyes that split second, full of fear and wonder and childlike hope, it was... it was the same look in his eyes from the night you’d met. Not even on your worst nights, when all you could do was cradle yourself and sob as you imagined a better outcome for you and Klaus, not even then had you imagined Klaus could still look at you like that.

He didn’t hate you — he just needed time. It was a long shot, but maybe... maybe you could get it all back. Maybe you didn’t have to return to isolation.

Down at his side, Klaus’ fingers stopped fiddling with the dagger. When he looked at you this time, it was full on, and the emotion in his gaze had shifted to something you couldn’t quite name. “If I go to sleep, am I gonna wake up to you being gone again?”

Despite the fact that his question was a fair one, it seemed to cut you deeper than that knife in his hand ever could.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you murmured. You tried to communicate your sincerity with your gaze, but it was doubtful that held much weight. Hard to imagine that Klaus could out any trust in you at this point. “I’ll be here as long as you want me.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Diego shot your way. You opened your mouth to tell him to mind his business, but he was already turning back to Klaus. “Look, I’m not letting her leave without explaining herself, okay? But please, Klaus, you don’t look like you’re doing so great. Please just rest.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but also understood this wasn’t a fight he was going to win. This was something Diego and you happened to be united on. With as rare as the two of you agreeing on something was, Klaus didn’t have a chance in hell.

Klaus rolled his eyes, letting the dagger in his hand clatter to the floor. “Great, yeah, cool,” he muttered. He didn’t spare either of you a second glance as he moved over to the cot in the corner, flopping down and rolling over. “You two have a nice time fist fighting, or... whatever it is you plan on doing.”

He looked small, curled up as he was now, and you were once again reminded of that night in the mausoleum, as well as the many spent in his bedroom, the two of you twisted together until you couldn’t make out where your limbs ended and his began. Part of you wanted to go to him now and relive those memories, but you fought the urge. Klaus had to set the pace; he’d be nothing but defensive if you got too familiar faster than he was comfortable with.

Diego grabbed your arm, jolting you out of your thoughts with his touch. You tried to protest, batting at his shoulder with what little resistance you could manage, but it was no use. He was too big and well muscled, and before you knew it, he had you shuffling out the door of his room and was leading you over to the boxing ring in the center of the gym — a safe enough distance that Klaus wouldn’t be able to hear your conversation. Once he was satisfied, he released his grip on you and crossed his arms over his chest, staring expectantly.

“Talk,” he said simply.

You opened your mouth to speak, then closed it again. What could you say? How did you justify your showing up unannounced? What would make him believe this was all worth while? You couldn’t beat around the bush, not with something like this. You had to tell the truth — it was what Klaus deserved. No sugarcoating, no bullshit, nothing. That, at least, you owed to him.

Taking a breath, you swallowed once before leveling Diego’s gaze with your own. “Klaus is in danger,” you muttered, pouring as much concern into your words as possible. Absently, you hoped you weren’t coming off as desperate. “There are people out there trying to kill him. I came as soon as I could to warn you.”

For having just told him that his brother was in danger of the lethal variety, Diego appeared to be surprisingly nonplussed. “Okay,” he allowed, narrowing his eyes. “I’ll bite. Who’s trying to kill him?”

“I’m not fucking joking, Diego, this is serious,” you insisted. You should have known he wasn’t going to put much stock into your words. “A few days ago, someone left a note on my front door. Said something called The Commission was after Klaus and that they needed him dead. Something about him being a liability to their plans? I dropped everything to come here and warn you.”

Diego blinked, clearly caught off guard. Yeah; that was what you thought. “Klaus is harmless,” he told you, lowering his voice to a mutter. “They wouldn’t be worried enough to come after him.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” you snapped, rolling your eyes. “Jesus, Diego, we’re not kids anymore and he’s your brother. Can’t you put away your shitty superiority complex for one second and worry about him?”

“I’m not—“ He cut himself off, clenching his fist and swallowing his words, voice becoming dangerously low. “I’m not doubting you. Not that you’d know, but Klaus... he’s powerful, yeah. Apparently always has been. But he’s no more use to anyone dead than he is alive, because his powers...”

The realization hit you like a sack of bricks.

“The drugs,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. Of course. He’d said as much in the car, had implied that he’d been using with how often he hallucinated you; he’d even branded himself a junkie, not that you had fully understood at the time. “How long has he...?”

“Since you left,” Diego muttered. There was something in the way he looked at you, the way his lip curled like he was sucking on something bitter. It was the same way you’d looked at yourself in the mirror every day for the last twelve years. Diego was... not angry, no; that wasn’t severe enough a word. Diego was downright livid. “You really did a number on him.”

Like you needed to be reminded of the pain you’d inflicted. Obviously you hadn’t been around to witness the aftermath, but Klaus’ emotional state couldn’t have been too far off from your own. Everything was the same; same pain, same depression, same burning hole in the middle of your chest. But for Diego to accuse you of being the reason that Klaus turned to drugs? That wasn’t a blame you were willing to let him lay on you.

“Okay, I said this to Klaus, and I’ll say it to you. I’m not responsible for anything he’s chosen to do since I left.” Funny; the words had been heavy on your tongue when you’d screamed them at Klaus in the car, but weren’t quite so weighted now. Maybe you were getting used to saying them. Or, maybe it was because you hadn’t actually done anything wrong to Diego. Either way. “There was nothing I could have done.”

“You could have stayed,” Diego shot back. “Honestly, what did you think would happen? Was he supposed to just forget you? You should have known he wasn’t stable enough to handle that kind of loss, especially not after Ben!”

Oh, he was dangerously close to provoking a fight. It wouldn’t do you any good — would probably only make things worse. But Diego had no idea what he was saying, couldn’t have known that he was giving a voice to the darker thoughts living in your head.

“Diego,” you sighed, trying to figure out how to word it all. “Do you honestly think that I wouldn’t have stayed if I was able? If I knew what was going to happen to him? I’m not a psychic, okay? I can’t see the future. He and I liked to get drunk sometimes, and yeah, we smoked pot like three times. There weren’t any signs that he was... I didn’t know he had the addict gene. I did my best to stay, and it wasn’t enough, but I never would’ve abandoned him to become a junkie if I had known.”

The humorless laugh Diego barked out was so similar to Klaus’ that the sound was jarring. They may not have been related by blood, but they were certainly brothers.

“You know something?” he prompted, leveling you with an unforgiving glare. It didn’t match your mental image of him, wasn’t quite on par with how Diego looked in your memories. Between the number that adulthood had clearly done on Diego and Klaus, it was hard not to wonder how the rest of the Hargreeves had turned out. “You were it for my brother. The way he talked about you, the way he started looking forward to spending every night in the mausoleum because you would be there? I used to think he was making you up because there was no way that any of my siblings or I could have something that good. Klaus got dealt a shit hand in life, but you were the thing that made it all just a little more worth it. You wouldn’t know — mostly because I never bothered to say it — but I was grateful to you. You kept him grounded.”

For a moment, Diego’s cold mask cracked, and you saw beyond the tough guy vigilante facade he was always careful to maintain. Beneath that mask was an attentive older brother, one who cared deeply for his troubled sibling and would chase after anything to make that sibling happy. Gone was the illusion of a rough, jagged exterior, of the implication that he wished you harm. He was just a concerned brother, pure and genuine. That was all this was.

“Klaus,” you began, swallowing hard and looking away, “was probably the only thing I ever looked forward to. Mom died when I was seven, so I got chucked into foster care and bounced around a lot. I couldn’t use my powers unless I wanted people to think I was a freak, so I didn’t tell anyone about them. Jesus, I mean, I literally had to trespass in a cemetery and break into a mausoleum just to make a friend. But after that...” You raised your gaze, showing Diego a genuine, wistful smile. “After that he was the entire reason I bothered to do anything. Klaus was the only person who actually cared how I ended up. My foster parents were fucking terrible, and the social workers were shit at their jobs. My teachers never said much to me when I stopped showing up to school half the time. Klaus just kept checking in, and eventually I got so used to it that the idea of him stopping was... fucking terrible.” Your tone became wistful, mind beginning to whirl with memories from your youth. “He was the only good thing I had. I’m not being dramatic when I say that.”

The silence between the two of you was heavy, and you realized you’d led Diego down a path that could only end in him asking one question.

“If that’s true,” he murmured, sympathy seeping into his words, “then why did you leave?”

The words sprang to your lips before dying just as quickly. Twelve years; twelve years you spent training yourself not think about what Diego was asking. Mostly just because living with what you’d lost was easier if you could put the details out of your mind, but also because there was some fear attached to what might happen if you decided to tell anyone the truth. But then, this was Diego, wasn’t it? If there was anyone who could figure out away around the repercussions, it was definitely him.

And, besides; you and Klaus were no longer children. There was no way the consequences could hold the same weight as they would have ten years ago. That, at least, was the one good thing about adulthood.

“I left,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut and searching for any spare scrap of courage you could muster. “I left because of your father.”

Diego blinked, stunned to silence. When he finally managed to speak, it was with confusion and disbelief. “My father?” he repeated. “What does my father have to do with—?”

The plaster of the wall you were standing in front of suddenly exploded, bits of paint and wood splintering with a loud crack and covering you in a cloud of debris. It wasn’t until Diego had tackled you to the floor a moment later, seconds before another explosion of plaster, that you realized what was happening — or that, had you been standing an inch closer to him, the first bullet would have struck you directly in the throat.

“You okay?” Diego shouted, shifting to shield you from the barrage of buckets shooting into the wall above your heads. “Are you hit?”

“I’m fine!” you called back, hoping he could hear you. This wasn’t the time for panic, but fighting it off proved difficult. “What do we do?”

Diego opened his mouth, but cut himself off at the telltale sound of a heart stopping click. For a split second, you made eye contact, exchanging unspoken words. Surely this was just some dual hallucination brought on by stress or lack of sleep. Surely you hadn’t actually heard that noise.

But then the sinister sound of metal rolling against the floor followed, and before you could really register what was going on, you and Diego were scrambling to evade the grenade, tripping over each other as you attempted to right yourselves.

He was screaming — you could hardly blame him. It was clear you wouldn’t be getting away in time, and though you’d managed to become tolerable to each other in the last few minutes, there were certainly other people you would prefer to die with. But you couldn’t worry about that right now — you didn’t have the luxury. Your fight or flight response was kicking into high gear, and if you didn’t focus, things would be ending very shortly for you and Diego Hargreeves.

For a moment, you couldn’t feel it, and you were genuinely worried your ability had faded from disuse. Thankfully, though, the familiar tug of your power began cinching your sternum, and you managed to solidify a large patch of air to use as a shield just as the grenade blew.

The force of the explosion added to the effort required to maintain your shield was enough to physically pain you. Preventing your deaths was easy enough, thank god, but the effort was too great and your skill level was lacking; at the tail end of the impact, you lost your hold and the shield dropped. The explosion itself was over and done with, but the stinging fire suddenly shooting through your leg meant you hadn’t managed to avoid the shrapnel.

“Fuck!” you screamed, pained tears springing to your eyes. You could already feel blood beginning to bloom over the fabric of your jeans.

This wasn’t right; this had to be them. Whoever was coming for Klaus, whoever wanted him dead, they’d finally managed to track him down.

They’d come to kill him.

“Diego, we have to—“

“Can you walk?” he demanded, cutting you off. The bullets had stopped for the moment, but that wouldn’t last; you could hear a gun being conspicuously reloaded off in the distance. “You need to find Klaus, you hear me? Both of you get somewhere safe and stay there. Meet me at the academy in the morning — do not try and go until daylight hits.”

You blinked hard, trying to comprehend Diego’s words, shove down your panic, and ignore the searing pain trailing up your leg. “What? What about you?”

“I’m gonna go get the son of a bitch shooting up my fucking gym,” he answered. He grabbed your shoulders and met your gaze. It only lasted a second, but his meaning was clear. “Find my brother. Tell him what our dad did.”

And then Diego was gone, slipping down the hall in the direction the bullets had been shot from. You called out to him, but your voice was again stolen by the pain in your leg as you made to stand.

There was only one thing left to do now.

—

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