The Flood // the umbrella academy [Klaus]

n i n e t e e n

*16 years ago*

She heard him before she saw him. Laying on her bed after another strenuous day of trying not to accidentally drown herself, a fourteen-year-old Phoebe needed to rest. Eyes closed, she reveled in the silence of her base level bedroom, door shut and distractions eliminated. And yet...after a good few minutes she heard it. A soft sound, barely audible but still there. Sobbing. 

Opening her eyes she sat up slowly, positioning her ears to gain a better understanding of the origin of the noise. Who could it be? she asked herself. Most of the others weren't around; they were still training in various locations around the Academy grounds. The only way she would find out for sure would be to investigate. She stood, quiet as a mouse, and crept over to the room's entrance. Opening the door with practiced ease, she avoided the common creak and tiptoed outside. Swinging her head from left to right she listened, determining the source. The sobs were louder now, albeit only marginally, but the rise in noise level helped. It's coming from the right, she realised. And whose room was to her right? 

Diego.

Diego was a tough boy from what Bea had seen over the past few years that she had been living at the Academy. He was a natural leader, though his efforts were often quashed by his numerical superior. Bea trusted his instincts and they had never led her astray. She had managed to grow close enough to him over the years that they considered each other siblings, and she knew of his close relationship with Grace - even if he hid away his sensitivities from the others. She hadn't, however, ever heard him cry. If he got knocked down, or berated by his father, he would hold his head high and walk away. If he didn't win an argument he would storm off; angry, not sad. Even when the pointed needle of a tattoo gun pierced his left arm, he stayed stoic.

Bea, in contrast, cried all the time. When she first arrived, abandoned as a child, she couldn't stop crying for well over a week. She would weep at the dinner table, during practice, or randomly burst into tears with no provocation at all. As she aged, the tears lessened - both from making friends to being scolded for being 'too weak' by Reginald. By age thirteen she was strong. She pushed through the urge to cry by recognizing that it would only make her situation worse, especially if she were trapped in a pool. Lack of air and water don't make for an ideal combination. 

Though she had made great strides in her progress to become mentally tenacious, it had all gone out of the window last year. The year Five disappeared. Losing her best friend had been too much and Bea felt her seven-year-old self rising up to the surface once again. They had all been affected. All 'mourned' the loss of their brother, but it had hit Bea the hardest. In retaliation to these emotions she had thrown herself into her training; anything to take her mind off of him. Today was one such day. And after such a mentally taxing day, a crying Diego was utterly unexpected. 

Standing outside of his door, Bea called out to him. "Diego?" With a sniff, the crying stopped. "I know it's you in there. Can I come in?"

"Go away!" came his answer - short and sharp.

She kept her voice soft and free of judgement. "It's only me. If you think I didn't hear you, you'd be wrong. Please let me in."

A moment passed. He stayed silent. Bea took this as a cue to enter and proceeded to turn the handle. As she did so she walked in, gently shutting the door behind her and finally getting a good look at her brother. The first thing she noticed was that he looked small, much smaller than he actually was. He was folded up in a chair by the end of his bed, knees to his chest, and hastily wiping at his eyes as if to clear any evidence of his true emotions.