IGNIS : the umbrella academy [COMPLETE]

I

     THE TV WAS DISPLAYING SOME SORT OF CARTOON, although it was no more than white noise to the teenage girl sitting on a chair in the middle of her flat.

     Carla Jenkins had been waiting all day, so when night had finally rolled around, she was growing impatient, her knee bouncing with barely contained anxiety and excitement.

    Her hands were clasped in her lap, covered by bright pink washing up gloves that almost reached her elbow. Her fiery hair hung about her face in slightly wavy strands, and her turquoise eyes were fixated on a spot on the floor, although she wasn't really seeing it.

     The flat she was sat in was moderately clean, and very bare, with little furniture, only the basics. Her chair was old, stuffing leaking out from one of the seams, and springs digging into her thighs.

     She should have gone to get coffee from the place on the corner of the street, but she also didn't want to risk missing a long-awaited knock on her door. She supposed the added caffeine wouldn't have been great for her already jittery form, either.

     Knock, knock!

     "Honeeey," a familiar voice sung from outside, "I'm home! "

     "Speak of the Devil himself," Carla muttered as she leapt to her feet, unable to hide the joy from her voice, and she practically threw open the door, beaming widely at the figure in front of her, "Klaus!"

     "Carla!" The lanky figure Carla had grown to admire and appreciate wrapped the younger girl in a bone-crushing hug, "How's my favourite teenage dirtbag?"

     "I'm mentally the same age as you-" Carla inhaled deeply, before pulling away with a frown, nose wrinkling in distaste at the scent of weed and other illegal substances clinging to his clothes, "Already? Really? You were released from rehab today."

     "Can you blame me? It's been weeks since I got fully shitfaced," Klaus pouted, walking into the flat, and looking around, "Wow, you cleaned this tip up. Fun story: I was actually in an ambulance."

     "An ambul-?" Carla frowned, gently shutting the door and following him into their flat.

     However, she was cut off by Klaus, who gasped, whirling around to face her, as if suddenly remembering something, "Which reminds me: my dad's died and I want you to come with me to visit my childhood home of horrors."

     "I- what?" Carla spluttered, beyond confused. This was not how she had expected his coming home to pan out, "Klaus, what the fuck are you talking about?"

     "Look, I really have to leave soon. My dad - you know, Sir Reginald Hargreeves - he's died. So I'm going to go back home, much alike my siblings I assume, and I want you, my little firecracker, to come with me."

     Carla took a defensive step backwards, concern instantly twisting her features, and Klaus spoke again, "Look, I know you're scared about meeting them, but they'll like you, I swear. You're like us, remember?"

     "I don't know if that's a good idea, Klaus," Carla began, gloved hands clasping nervously as she tried to calm herself, "It's probably a personal deal, and you'll all be mourning the death of your dad. I don't want to intrude."

     "Oh, please," Klaus shook his head, waving his hand dismissively, "No-one's going to be mourning - our dad was a piece of shit. You should know this about me by now."

     "Klaus," she sighed, "I doubt your family will be accepting of you bringing a random teen to your dads funeral."

     "No, no, no!" He insisted, stepping towards her, "You're like us. It's interesting, what you can do - you're interesting. Plus, as you said, you're mentally the same age as me."