"𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑠 𝑢𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒: 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒."
—𝑆𝑜𝑝ℎ𝑜𝑐𝑙𝑒𝑠

𝒟.

"𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀 little girl? Hit harder!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm trying."

Diego clenched his fist tighter before throwing the punch, the boxing glove then colliding with the thick skin of the punching bag that Nigel was holding onto.

He grunted as he punched once more, and, with a small chuckle, Nigel chided, "Come on, man, I know you can hit harder than that!"

Diego rolled his eyes in amusement, earning another chuckle from the taller man, and he rolled his shoulders back. He used his forearm to wipe the sweat off his forehead and squinted at the centre of the punching bag.

"Come on, Diego," Nigel encouraged as he slapped the punching bag. "You've got it. Come on."

Diego began to punch again, using all of his strength to power every punch and letting out a grunt every time. He could feel beads of sweat quickly replace the ones he had just wiped away but he had no time to let that bother him as he bounced on his toes and hit the bag.

After getting a good few punches in, Diego paused for a moment, catching his breath as he bounced on his toes. And then, he went back in and began hitting the bag with all his might.

"Harder!" Nigel insisted. "The other guy's gonna laugh at you tonight. More!"

"You know," Diego said in between punches, though he had a grin, "your encouraging words should be more, uh, encouraging."

"It's called tough love, my friend," Nigel rebutted as he steadied the punching bag. "And it works, doesn't it?"

"Be nice to hear a" —punch— "'good job!' once in a while," Diego grunted.

"Good job!" Nigel said in a mockingly cheery voice before rolling his eyes. "There ya go. Happy?"

Diego grinned before sending a punch that knocked the bag out of Nigel's hands. "Very."

"Okay," Nigel sighed as he grabbed onto the bag, which was swinging, and steadied it. "Good enough."

Diego slid the gloves off and tossed them to the side. He wiped his sweaty hands on the muscle tank that he was wearing and sent Nigel a grin as the taller man threw an arm around his sweaty shoulders.

"Hey," Nigel began as the two began to walk towards the lockers, "saw a girl coming out of your room this morning—hair all messy, shirt barely even half on . . . Who was that?"

Diego gave him a mischievous grin. "Honestly, man, I don't even remember her name."

"Ah, I don't know how you pull so many girls," scoffed Nigel as he opened his locker and grabbed a water bottle. He chugged some of it down before slapping Diego on the back. "You ain't even nice to 'em. And your room is filthy."

"Don't need to be nice, don't need a clean room," Diego countered as he grabbed his own water. "They like me for somethin' else."

"Disgusting," he remarked, causing Diego to chuckle before taking a swig of water. "Man, you ever gonna look for somethin' serious?"

Diego's smile faltered for a moment before he scoffed and shrugged. "Guess we'll see. Maybe one day."

"Yeah." Nigel slapped Diego on the back once again before putting the water bottle back in his locker and shutting the door. "I'm gonna head out for some lunch. You wanna join?"

"Nah." Diego shook his head. "I'm gonna stay here."

"All right," he sighed. "Training continues after lunch, eh? Gotta get you ready for tonight."

Diego nodded, and, as soon as Nigel left, he headed back toward his room.

He sighed as he opened the door, using the back of his other hand to wipe the extra sweat off his forehead. He went down the couple of stairs that brought him to the landing and immediately went towards his small fridge.

He pulled the door open as he sniffed, and grabbed an egg from it before shutting the door. He cracked it against the edge of his sink and brought it over his mouth as he used his hand to split it in two. The egg dropped into his mouth, and he took no time to delight in the bland taste nor the slimy texture as he swallowed it.

"That's disgusting."

Diego whipped around in surprise to see Klaus laying on his bed, and he rolled his eyes.

"When'd you get here?" Diego questioned as he walked over to him.

Klaus played with the curtain that was usually drawn in front of the bed as he gave a lazy shrug. "Oh, about ten, twenty minutes ago."

"And why are you here?" 

"No reason!" Klaus said brightly, though Diego didn't believe this for a second.

"Klaus, I barely have a penny for myself." He scoffed. "I ain't givin' you shit."

Klaus raised his hands in defence as he sat up and reassured him, "I don't want your money!"

Diego's eyebrows furrowed as he sat down on the edge of his bed and questioned, "Then what do you want?"

He shrugged. "To see my lovely brother."

"And?"

"And . . . I wanted some food."

His nose wrinkled. "Why don't you just go dig in a dumpster or somethin'?"

"Already did." Klaus sighed as he shook his head. "Nada."

"Fine. Whatever," Diego conceded as he gestured towards his fridge (though, admittedly, he needed to stock up on food). "Help yourself."

"Oh, no. I already did," Klaus reassured him with a grin, causing Diego to roll his eyes. "Just stuck around because I wanted to chat it up with you."

Diego's eyebrows knit together tightly. "Why?"

"Like I said" —Klaus shrugged— "I wanted to see my lovely brother. Wish him a happy belated birthday. Expect a happy belated birthday in response, because we have the same birthday."

"Klaus," Diego sighed as he got to his feet and brushed his pants off, "I'm busy."

"With what?"

"Training."

"For what?"

"A boxing match."

"When is it?"

"Tonight."

"Against who?"

Diego groaned. "Who are you? Curious George?"

"You know what," Klaus rebutted as he wagged a finger in Diego's direction, "he's a pretty cute monkey, so thank you."

"Shut up."

"By the way," Klaus piped up as Diego leaned against his desk, "you wouldn't happen to have any money you can lend me, do you?"

Diego gave him an incredulous look as he pointed out, "I literally just told you that I didn't."

Klaus shrugged. "Had to try."

Diego gave a long sigh, rubbing his eyes as he questioned, "What do you need money for?"

Klaus grinned. "Take a wild guess."

"Klaus," he groaned, "you gotta get sober, bro."

"Why should I do that?" Klaus queried as he ruffled his already messy hair. "I like feeling good, so I stay away from being sober."

"You know what'll make you feel good? Eating a vegetable." Diego gestured towards his own body as he raised his eyebrows. "Your body is a temple."

Klaus's nose immediately scrunched in disgust. "I hate when you say that, you know that, right?"

He grinned. "That's why I say it."

"You know, one of my exes used to say that all the time," Klaus sighed as he leaned back. He put his hands behind his head and crossed one leg over the other as he asked, "Speaking of exes, how's your love life goin'?"

"It's been a lovely chat," Diego muttered as he grabbed Klaus' shoulder and pulled him to his feet. "Goodbye."

"No, I wanna talk!" Klaus protested as Diego began to pull him.

"Nope."

Klaus pulled the other man's hand off of him and clasped his hands together as he leaned against the desk. "Diego, please."

Diego gave a great sigh as Klaus began to sift through the many items on his desk, and he demanded, "Stop it."

"But I—" Klaus moved aside one of the books, and his eyebrows furrowed as he came across the picture of Diego and Natalia. "What's this?"

"Nothing!" Diego exclaimed quickly as he grabbed the photo from his hand. He was careful not to ruin it, though he clutched it tightly behind his back. "Don't touch my stuff."

"Who was that?" Klaus questioned curiously, trying to peer at the photo. "Who's that girl?"

"Nobody," Diego immediately responded before using his free hand to point toward the door. "Get out."

"No, no, she's kissing you," Klaus pointed out, his eyebrows scrunching together. "I wanna know who it is."

Diego shook his head profusely and pointed to the door once again. "Leave."

"Fine," Klaus yielded with a huff, and, after giving Diego a kiss on the cheek, which Diego grumbled about, he sauntered up the stairs and left.

Diego sighed as he lifted the photo into his sight and gazed at it for a moment. Biting his lower lip, Diego dropped it back onto the desk and covered it with the book once more.

𝒩.

Natalia grinned as she spotted Vanya already sitting at their usual spot, and she waved before heading over there.

"Hey," Vanya greeted with a smile as Natalia sat down. She pushed a mug of steaming coffee towards her. "I already got your coffee, hope you don't mind."

"Thanks." Natalia smiled.

It was Tuesday, meaning it was the day that Natalia met Vanya after work. They usually met once a week at a coffee shop that was only a few minutes away from Natalia's work—Columbia University—and used a good half-hour to catch up.

"How's work going?" Vanya asked before taking a sip of her coffee.

"Oh, pretty good." Natalia paused, squinting her eyes as she shrugged and admitted, "There was a little explosion in my lab this morning, but it turned out fine, everyone was okay."

"God," Vanya breathed out as her eyes widened, "sounds dangerous."

Natalia gave another shrug as she took a sip of her coffee. She took a moment to relish in the warm brew before remarking, "It is chemistry."

"I remember doing chemistry back at the Academy." Vanya gave a small shudder, though the corners of her lips turned upwards. "I hated it."

Natalia laughed. "I think everyone did."

"Except for you."

"Yeah, except for me," she agreed. "But, then again, I hated music, and you were obviously the best."

Vanya's cheeks pinkened as she gave a modest shrug and sipped her coffee. "I wouldn't say the best."

"Vanny, you're literally pursuing music," Natalia pointed out with a chuckle. "Also, Klaus and Luther couldn't count a beat to save their life."

"Guess that's true," she mumbled, her smile only growing more apparent.

"How about you?" Natalia asked as she leaned forward on the table. "How's teaching violin going?"

"It's going all right," Vanya answered, gripping her mug tightly as she thoughtfully looked off to the side. She sighed as she looked back at Natalia, and gave her a small smile. "I think some of my students might be better than me at this point, though. They're teaching me new things every day."

Natalia grinned. "Hey, that just means you're a great teacher."

"Or they're just naturally gifted," Vanya rebutted, swallowing the sip of coffee she had just taken. 

"I'm gonna go with the great teacher thing," Natalia chuckled. "You're in an orchestra, too, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, the, um, St. Pluvium Chamber Orchestra," Vanya answered as she tucked a strand of brown hair behind her ear.

"How's that?" Natalia asked curiously, quirking an eyebrow before taking a drink of her coffee. "Are you the star of the show?"

"Well, I'm only third chair, so . . ." Vanya trailed off, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips.

"You gotta realize that means nothing to me."

She gave a small smile. "Just means I'm not the best."

"Well, I'm sure you'll make it to the top soon," Natalia reassured her. She paused for a moment, squinting her eyes as she slowly said, "And that would be . . . first . . . chair?"

Vanya nodded. "Yeah."

"Well," Natalia said, now with a little more confidence, "you'll make it to first chair in no time."

Vanya smiled, letting out a quiet chuckle. "Thanks, Lia."

"Mhm. And tell me when you have a performance, I'll come watch," she said brightly. "Maybe I can bring Klaus or Allison, too."

"Oh, I don't know," Vanya murmured, shifting uncomfortably in her spot as she shook her head. "I think they're still not happy with me."

"Why?" Natalia's eyebrows furrowed before realization dawned upon her, and she sighed. "Oh. Your autobiography."

About two years previous, Vanya had written and published an autobiography titled 'Extraordinary: My Life as Number Seven,' where she unveiled the secrets and reality of the Umbrella Academy. About how her siblings treated her, the fights between them, the unfair treatment from their father—just about everything in its blunt truth. 

It had been quite successful and sold out almost immediately upon release. Natalia enjoyed it, personally, but judging from the reactions she heard from some of the others . . . they didn't like it so much.

Vanya gave a shrug. "Everyone seemed to love it except for the Umbrella Academy themselves."

"First of all, you're wrong, I loved it," Natalia corrected as she raised a finger. "Second . . . I mean, I guess they kinda come across as—how can I put this lightly?—assholes."

"Well," Vanya sighed, "it was just the truth."

Natalia nodded slowly. "It really was."

"You sure there are no hard feelings between us about that, right?"

Natalia shook her head, giving her a reassuring smile. "Never."

"Good," Vanya sighed. "You're just about the only friend I have left."

𝒩.

Natalia shivered slightly as she entered her apartment; it was mid-October, and the chill of the season had finally come. 

She quickly went through her usual routine: put her things away, make some tea, and drink that while going over her lecture notes that were meant for the next day.

As soon as she finished all that, she sighed and got to her feet. She tucked her lecture notes back into her purse and headed over to her bedroom.

She unclasped her necklace before pulling out one of the drawers of her dresser and tucked the necklace into her jewellery box.

She was about to close the drawer when her eyes caught sight of the pencil case from her time at the Academy that sat in the corner of the drawer, and her eyebrows furrowed. When had she put that there?

And she then realized: she had been meaning to gift it to Claire. The little girl was all about sparkles and the colour purple (just like her Auntie Nat), and she figured it'd make for a good surprise present (although, her parents were rich—at least it was sentimental, right?).

But there was no way Natalia was going to remember about it the next time she visited. She could hardly even remember right now.

So, she pulled the pencil case out, frowning slightly as she realized that it was still full. She was sure Claire wouldn't want used-up pencils and dried-out markers, nor the little inappropriate drawings that Klaus had scribbled on slips of paper and shoved in. 

Natalia unzipped the pencil case and carefully dumped its contents on top of the desk that was placed in the corner, some of the pencils and pens rolling off and hitting the ground.

Her eyebrows furrowed as something else fell out, and, without realizing what it was, she grabbed it and lifted it to see.

She felt a pang in her heart as she realized what it was: the note Diego had given her ten years before, which read the three simple words that she longed for.

Natalia groaned as she put the slip of paper onto the desk and pressed a hand against her forehead.

Cleaning up the mess she had made of pencils could wait. She needed a drink.