"𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑠𝑎𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑠 𝐼'𝑚 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤."
—𝐸𝑑𝑛𝑎 𝑆𝑡. 𝑉𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑎𝑦

𝒩.

𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐒 have passed since Diego had left the Academy, and Natalia was feeling more alone than ever.

It was bad enough that he had just broken up with her, but the fact that he had left merely minutes later, without saying goodbye? That shattered her heart.

To wake up the next morning and wonder why the spot beside her at the dining table was empty was a mixture of confusion, worry, and fear. And it felt as if those three feelings never truly left her from then on.

She hoped he was okay, wherever he was. She hoped he was healthy. Surviving well. Sleeping in a nice place. Maybe even with a job. As long as he was safe . . . and happy.

And it seemed that inspiration had struck from that moment; Allison had picked up her stuff and moved out as well only two weeks later (though, this time, it had been announced and prepared for).

When Natalia had spoken to Allison the morning of her departure, Allison had said she wasn't really sure what she wasn't going to do. But whatever it was going to be, it was going to be great. And Natalia had no doubt that it was.

Vanya was the next to bid her farewell. She had decided that she would go to college—but not at the Academy. Packing her violin and necessities, Vanya said goodbye to Natalia and wished her well, and the two exchanged a tearful hug.

Now, Natalia was stuck with Klaus and Luther in the big house.

Klaus, she didn't mind so much. He was one of her best friends after all. And, now, she stuck to him all day—who else could she talk to? She was happy to say that they were closer than ever, but then again, the reason for that was an upsetting one for her.

Luther, on the other hand, she was not so grateful for. As suspected, he had no intention of leaving and only planned on continuing to serve their father, who took his loyalty with a shrug. She and Klaus still accompanied him on missions sometimes, though that was really the only time they'd ever talk.

Missions weren't dealt with as much anymore. How could they be? They were a job for the Umbrella Academy, and such a thing no longer existed.

Natalia had begun her university classes only a couple of weeks before, and she was honestly enjoying classes far more than she had in the past. Not only was the peace and quiet around her so very pleasant, but the focus on chemistry—her absolute favourite—and other math and sciences, in general, was a nice change from all the history and language.

Pogo was usually her teacher, which she didn't complain about. Most of the time, it was just the two of them in the classroom; Luther wanted to focus on missions and training, while Klaus slouched around and did pointless things.

But it was fine. Natalia preferred being by herself, anyway.

Although, sometimes, the silence could be rather loud.

Natalia pursed her lips together as she answered the question on her paper, glancing up to see that Pogo was watching her.

It was weird to have all the attention focused on her all the time, but it wasn't something to be complained about. At least she got all the feedback she needed and could improve.

She felt a little uncomfortable, knowing that Pogo was watching every stroke she made as she drew different benzene compounds, but she tried her best to look focused.

"Okay." Natalia sighed after she finished drawing the last compound (1,2-dimethyl-5-nitrobenzene). "I'm done."

"Wonderful." Pogo stepped forward and picked up the sheet of paper. His eyes scanned over each drawn compound for a few moments, and his smile slowly broadened. "Perfect work, Miss Natalia, as always."

"Thanks, Professor Pogo." Natalia smiled as she got the paper back and slid it into her binder. "What's next?"

"I've already told you that you needn't call me Professor Pogo, Miss Natalia," Pogo corrected with a small smile. "Simply Pogo is fine."

"You're my professor." Natalia grinned as she shook her head.

"All right," he chuckled before clearing his throat. "Since we've finished benzene" —Pogo gestured to her binder— "we will now move on to the alcohols. Can you guess what the nomenclature should be?"

Natalia squinted her eyes for a moment; she remembered briefly learning this the year before. "Ends in OH?"

"Exactly." Pogo smiled. He walked up to the chalkboard and picked up a piece of chalk, and Natalia began to scribble down what she was writing. "So, for example, an alkane will become alkanol, alkanediol, and such."

Natalia nodded, chewing on her lower lip as she copied it all down.

"Let's go over some key points," Pogo murmured as he continued to write. "When naming, the -OH receives the lowest branch number. Alcohols have relatively high boiling points due to what?"

"Hydrogen bonding."

"Perfect." Pogo drew a compound, which had an R and an H attached to the oxygen on one side, and another R and H attached to the oxygen on the other. He put five lines in between the side, and explained, "The hydrogen bond here is worth five kcal per mol, which means the bond dissociation energy is five kcal per mole."

"Okay," Natalia murmured as she wrote that down.

"Let us move on to the acidity. An alcohol is most acidic when it forms a stable alkoxide anion." He wrote down the chemical formula for alkoxide, which was RO⁻. "Now, what represents the measure of acidity?"

"PKa," Natalia answered.

"Good, pKa. It depends on the R groups in this situation, and the factors that stabilize the alkoxide anion." Pogo glanced at the clock, which showed that it was half past five—class was finished. "Tomorrow, we will begin with the three ways to stabilize the alkoxide anion. Today, for homework, I want you to review how to draw alcohols."

Natalia thanked Pogo as she was handed a worksheet, and she slipped it inside her binder before standing up.

She headed back to her room, placed her books on the corner of her desk, and decided that she'd finish that worksheet after dinner.

She grabbed a hair tie from her vanity and quickly set her hair into a loose bun before sighing.

Maybe she should just do the worksheet now. There was nothing else to do, anyway.

Natalia grabbed the paper out of her binder, set it down, and opened her desk drawer to grab a pencil. Her fingers, however, suddenly brushed against a slip of paper, and her eyebrows furrowed as she grabbed it.

She felt her heart sink to her stomach as she looked at the three scrawled words that had given her so much happiness only a few months before. Now, they were an empty promise.

She felt tears form in her eyes. She missed him so much. She missed his love. His voice. The way he cared for her. How he'd tell her that everything was all right, even though it wasn't.

And every time she thought about the things she missed, she felt the same question break in: Why did he give up so easily?

And the same answer always popped into her head: because he didn't love her anymore.

But that was ridiculous, right? No way that was true.

Right?

Suddenly hearing footsteps approaching, she shoved the paper into her pencil case and zipped it close. She turned to see that Klaus was at her door, and the grin on his face broke the grim mood in the room.

"Hey, Nutella," he greeted with a nod. "Busy?"

She smiled, shaking her head as she gestured for him to come in. She kept her lips pressed together; she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she'd cry.

"Life is so boring now." Klaus sighed as he collapsed onto her bed. "Don't get me wrong, I'm happy that I'm not learning about organs and sine waves—"

"Not that you were ever listening," Natalia mumbled.

"—but at least it was something. Now, everyone's gone, and there's nothing. And you're in class all day, so I can't even hang out with you."

"You still have Luther," she pointed out as she got up and laid down next to him, though she gave a small chuckle when he retched.

"Use your smart brain, Nutella." He scoffed. "I would rather die than hang out with Luther alone. I don't know how Allison did it."

She sighed. "I mean, they were in love."

"Which is disgusting," he added. "They're siblings."

She shrugged. "Not blood-related."

"Still!" he insisted. "It's different with you and Diego, at least you're not related to us."

Natalia felt a pang in her heart from the mention of his name, and it seemed that Klaus had noticed the sudden shift in mood.

"You miss him?" he questioned with raised eyebrows. As Natalia nodded, he sighed. "Ah, I don't know, Nutella, you should've told him when he had the chance. Maybe he would've stayed."

Natalia almost laughed out loud. Klaus couldn't have been more wrong.

𝒟.

Diego sighed as he laid back on the creaky bed that he was currently spending his nights on.

He had spent the last couple of months searching for a stable job, so he stayed in this motel, using the money he earned from the job he had right now—working as a cashier at a grocery store.

He didn't plan on keeping this job for long; his ideal career was not greeting people with a plastered smile and scanning their items.

It was growing increasingly difficult to find a good job that he enjoyed, considering his limited education and little to no experience. Of course, people recognized him as part of the Umbrella Academy, but that frightened them more than anything, especially considering his specialty.

It was times like these that he felt a little envious of Allison's power; he would just be able to rumour them into giving him the job, and, bada bing, bada boom, he's good for life.

He also wasn't exactly sure what his dream job supposedly was. He had never given it too much thought, especially in the last year; he had thought he'd have more time to think about it, primarily since he knew Natalia wouldn't let him leave for at least a year.

One thing he kept in mind was the police academy. Being a police officer was the closest he could get to doing what he had done in the Umbrella Academy, and it made a sufficient amount of money.

Other than that . . . he had no clue.

Diego groaned as he sat up, ruffling his hair as he glanced over to the clock. It was a little past ten, and he figured he should get some sleep. He had a long day of dealing with people who were a little too angry about the prices of fruit.

He trudged over to the bathroom and quickly grabbed his toothbrush, wettening it under the tap before squeezing some toothpaste on it.

He took a good two minutes to finish brushing, and he walked back into the bedroom.

He slipped into bed and shifted onto his side as he reached over and grabbed the photograph of Natalia and him from the nightstand he kept it on.

Diego sighed as he laid on his back, gazing at the photo with a small frown as his head sank into the pillow.

Dear God, he missed her so much. He missed everything about her; her smile, her laugh, the way she looked at Diego with pure love, the sound of her whispering that she loved him, her intelligence, her jokes, how she always seemed to find a way to make him feel okay. . . . It only became harder for him to be without her with each passing day.

He wanted so desperately to run back to the Academy and take her away with him, but he knew that she'd never let him do that. And who was he to stand in the way of her dream?

He wanted her to be happy. And if staying at the Academy for five more years to get her education was going to make her happy, so be it.

But as soon as she left . . . Diego made a promise to himself that he'd find her.

But would she want him to?

That was a question that haunted him every time he thought about her. Would she still love him the same way after five years? There was no way.

All he knew was that he would never stop loving her. Even the thought of not loving her sounded ridiculous to him.

Diego put the photo back onto the nightstand with a sigh, gazing at Natalia for a moment more before flicking the lamp off.

And, with the hopeful thoughts of seeing Natalia once again one day, Diego drifted off to sleep.