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sakufilms · 2 years

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Time Repeats Itself

MASTERLIST

⌁ the umbrella academy x gn!teen!reader (platonic)

⌁ instead of that horrible room being empty all those years, reginald hargreeves locked you in it. what happens when you’re found by your siblings on the day of reginald’s funeral? // angst, hurt/comfort

⌁ 5.6k words

! : abuse/child abuse, confinement, isolation, the room viktor was locked in in season 1, pre-transition viktor (takes place s1e1/canon compliant), reggie hargreeves

Klaus

Klaus Hargreeves was rather known for his curious nature. The way he was constantly talking, lazily observing at all times. Small observations in his adolescence blossomed into somewhat of a sharp eye in his adult years, which he used for finding money for drugs. Anything to keep the spirits at bay.

His hand dragged along the wall of his childhood home as he scoured the halls, but he only saw it as a prison. The building that took up an entire square block, once constantly surrounded by fans and paparazzi, and now nothing more than any other old boring building on the street. Klaus laughed under his breath. Good riddance. If anyone deserved to fail so horribly it was that asshole of a father, Reginald Hargreeves himself.

Klaus began to whistle a tune lightly; something random and off the top of his head. His eyes flickered over books and knickknacks. Nothing so far looked worth selling. Nothing of enough value. His father was rich for fucks sake, there’s gotta be something good around this damned mansion.

He sighed, and Ben pouted mockingly. “Oh, Dad’s funeral isn’t as exhilarating as you’d hoped?”

Klaus waved him off. “No, no. Funeral hasn’t happened yet. We still have time for fun.” He joked lamely.

The living man and the ghost turned a corner. The hall was quite empty, and Klaus did a 180° dramatically at the sight, groaning into the palms of his hands. Where’s the good stuff?

”Klaus.” Ben sounded . . . shocked? Confused? Curious?

”What do you want, Benerino?” Klaus turned again with a huff. Ben was pointing ahead of him with furrowed brows. Klaus’ eyes flickered to his brothers line of sight, and he tilted his head. There was an elevator at the end of the hallway, standing proud with a menacing feel to it. “Oh, that’s odd.”

”Yeah, no kidding.”

Klaus jumped to the opportunity, skipping down the hall to the mystery elevator. “Think there’s something worth selling in wherever this leads?”

Ben scoffed, following him hastily. “No, Klaus— an elevator that Dad never told us about? It’s probably something more than something worth selling.” Ben’s arms were crossed over his chest as Klaus clicked the button for the elevator.

”Something more? So what you’re saying is I could be rich? Besides, Dad didn’t tell us a lot of things. Also, this house is huge, makes total sense that we missed it.” Klaus hummed to himself.

Klaus made some points, but Ben was hesitant. “No, I’m saying that maybe—“

”Ah! Here we go.” The elevator opened slowly, and Klaus strode in, Ben right behind him. There were two buttons in the elevator, Klaus clicked the bottom one which was labeled ’B’.

”Really, Klaus?”

”Mm-hmm.”

Ben sighed. “You should just be more careful sometimes.”

Klaus nodded, eyes distant. He wasn’t paying attention at all.

The elevator dinged, and Klaus silently cheered, stepping out. His smile fell in an instant. The room was almost completely empty, apart from one thing.

At the end of the room was a large, prison like metal door. There was a small window to see the inside, and he crept forward, careful and slow. Whatever this was, it made him feel uneasy.

He peered through the thick glass, and he could’ve swore his heart stopped beating in his chest. Inside, there was someone young occupying the room. They wore loose, baggy clothing. Nothing much, just the colour of simple grey. They sat on a bed in the centre of the cell, which only had white bedsheets and a white pillow to match. There was a small bedside table to the left of the bed, and on it was just one single book. The room itself was padded spikey walls and dim lights—it was no place for a teenager. And, God, how long have they been in here?

Klaus’ heart clenched because no, no, no. This was too familiar to him. Flashes of being locked in a mausoleum for hours and hours on end poured over him and clouded his vision and he couldn’t hear anything but the beating of his own heart. They can’t be in there, they can’t—

They slowly looked up, made eye contact with Klaus, and with a start they backed up until their back hit the back of the bed frame. They looked confused, but then realization hit them like a freight train, and they sat in place, body tense.

”Oh, my God . . .” Ben broke the heavy silence.

”What do I . . .” Klaus cut himself short. His mind was swarmed with thoughts and emotions, he didn’t know what to do— because what the fuck? He knew his dad was bad, but this is just insane.

You

Mom was always caring; kind. You didn’t mind that she was a robot, she treated you like a parent should. As if she were human and you were made from her blood and cells. A child of her own, though she was made. You knew it was all in her programming, but it filled you with joy nonetheless. She’d bring you new books for your reading time, with all sorts of topics and plots. She’d bring you your snacks and cook you meals, and she’d take care of you. You knew Mom—you liked her.

Pogo always had this hurting look in his eyes when your eyes met his. You never understood it, but it made your senses tingle and you always felt a pull of energy, a headache forming between your eyes. You always knew your powers were trying to reach out and uncover the secret, but you weren’t strong enough. Besides, it wasn’t in your power to read minds. You still sensed something, however. But you knew Pogo too, and you liked him.

You didn’t know many things about family dynamics, and you never had the chance to fully understand social cues as your closest friend had always been silence, but you knew that Reginald treated you how a father shouldn’t. He claimed to care about you, but you saw how in the few times that he’s admitted that, he had a calculating look in his eye. He treated you like an experiment, not his child. You hardly left the padded box. You only left for training, and using the bathroom. All the rooms were in the basement, which according to Mom, it’s not how things used to be at the academy. You knew Dad, you . . . didn’t like him. But his words had stained your bones, he raised you, he took care of you, he was your father. You wouldn’t admit that you didn’t like him.

The man standing in front of you however, you didn’t know at all. His familiarity led you to believe you had seen him in a vision, but you didn’t know him.

Why is he here, why is he here—

The funeral is today.

With that thought in mind, you were frozen in place. All of your siblings who you had never met before would all be coming today—that, you knew. You dreamt about it while in your deepest stage of sleep. It was hazy and cloudy, but you saw it. The thought of them coming home left you excited and overly nervous, but now that one of your siblings was standing in front of you, you were frozen still.

He had a shaggy appearance, yet he didn’t look awful. His clothing style seemed very out there—extravagant, and joyful. It was everything his expression wasn’t. He looked shocked, scared, confused, hurt.

His lips were moving but you couldn’t hear a thing courtesy of the thick metal box you were placed in. The expression he wore looked almost unnatural for a face like his—he had very prominent smile lines, but now his lips were tugged downward and his brows were drawn together.

He began reaching to the large wheel attached to the door. He’s letting me out? Why is he letting me out? Where are we going?

He began twisting the large wheel, face pinching together in frustration. The metal groaned and creaked from the age of the room and the lack of use of the handle. Ever since Reginald’s death, you left the box less often. It hurt you deeply, knowing Pogo and Mom were still roaming the halls. They checked in rather often, but you didn’t leave to train anymore. It pained you to know that Mom and Pogo still lived trapped in Reginald’s power and rules. Even after death had taken him, your father was still hurting you.

The door opened with a hiss, and you clutched the bedsheets so tight your knuckles changed colour. The man—Klaus, you had the sudden knowledge that that was his name—stepped in hesitantly.

”Uhm . . .” It was clear he didn’t know how to approach the situation. You didn’t either, and your mouth remained clamped shut. “Who are you?” He looked unsure if that was the right thing to ask.

Your response was nothing but heavy breaths and tensed up muscles.

He nodded slowly, an emotion akin to sadness flickering in his green eyes. “Well, I’m Klaus.” You were tempted to tell him you already knew that, but you didn’t.

He glanced to his left nervously, opened his mouth to speak, but ended up saying nothing. He turned back to you. “Are you o— why are you in here?”

You know exactly why you’re in here. You heard Reginald talk about it in a flashback—you don’t get them often but when you do they’re immensely painful, sometimes ending with nosebleeds.

You’ve had two about Reginald. The first time you had one, Reginald sat alone in his office. It was a flashback from years ago, just before you were born. His children were growing older, the academy was falling apart. You had the urge to think he looked somber, but no. He looked thoughtful.

He opened a compartment in his office closet, typed in a code, and pulled out something that baffled you. It was glowing, bright as ever. Small orbs floating around in a glass jar. He observed it for a moment, went over to the window, and set the orbs free, floating off into the night.

You didn’t know what that flashback meant, but the next one was painfully clear. You remembered the anger on his face, his quick steps.

‘I don’t think this is a good idea, Sir.’ Pogo had said, distressed.

’No, I will not change my mind. The academy is already falling apart as it is. I need complete control this time. This is the only option.’ Reginald had replied fiercely. That was how you knew that you’d be stuck in the box forever.

Your lips parted to speak, but this was all new to you. The fear that encased you was thicker than the metal surrounding you.

”Okay, okay . . .” Klaus nodded, talking more to himself. “I . . . will be right back. Uh, don’t go anywhere.” He started into a quick walk out the door, stopping to make sure it was all the way open. You frowned as he walked away, confusion settling in your stomach. Why did he leave it open?

You thought about leaving, as the opportunity was given to you.

You didn’t.

With the open door, you could hear things again. There were multiple footsteps coming from above, and you curled further in on yourself. Your siblings were all here.

Footsteps came closer and closer, more than one pair. Not too many, maybe two.

”Klaus, what the hell is this?” A man with a prominent scar on the right side of his head—Diego—said lowly. His eyes were wide, he looked startled. He looked frightened.

”I don’t know, I— I found the elevator, came to see what there was, and . . .” Klaus’ voice broke off. He fiddled with his fingers. Again, he glanced over to the side.

The two stepped into the box, and Diego spoke. ”Who are you?” He almost sounded mad, and you would’ve thought he was if not for the way he looked at you. “Kid, what’s your name?”

You felt your nerves spike, his body was covered with an array of knives. “Eight.”

Diego gave a heavy sigh. Klaus looked sad.

”Why are you here?” He asked. It seemed to be a frequently asked question today. “How long have you been here?”

You were rendered speechless again. Diego sighed again, and pointed at Klaus. “You, you stay here. I’m getting the others.” Diego walked away hurriedly. You weren’t sure you were ready to see the others, but he had so many knives. You shouldn’t argue.

Klaus looked at the way you were near trembling. ”Are you okay?”

You looked at him, he seemed kind. You relaxed your muscles a bit. You nodded at his question, even though your answer was a lie.

He looked to his right, a questioning look on his face. He seemed to look at nothing like that a lot. It confused you. “You like to read?” You got the feeling he was trying to calm you, but you weren’t sure if it was working. It didn’t make you feel worse, however.

He was looking down at the book on your desk. The Giver by Lois Lowry. “Yes.” You said. You liked this book a lot. It was your favourite.

The world Jonas lived in felt familiar to you, in some way, if you twisted the plot a little. The way each day was the same, the way there were so many rules. You saw a bit of yourself in the The Giver himself, too. The way he passed on memories to Jonas reminded you of how you’d get visions sometimes with human contact, or even by touching an object.

You hoped that one day you’d get to break free from your own world of sameness, and see the world how it really was. You wanted to leave this box.

“That’s cool,” you didn’t think that Klaus himself was a reader, his voice sounded a bit flat when he spoke. It was how Reginald spoke when he said he cared about you. “I know someone who likes to read.”

”Who is it?”

He nodded to himself, breathing in deeply. “My brother.” He laughed nervously. “Our brother, I guess.”

Footsteps grew louder and closer, and you tensed up again. Multiple people came into your line of vision. It was unsettling, this was all so new to you. You had never been around so many people. As much as you had wished to be around others, it was much more frightening than you’d expected.

The first person to enter was Diego. The next person was tall, he looked stern. It made your stomach churn— he was so so tall, and the box was so small. You felt unsafe in a way. You felt trapped. More trapped than you ever had in the box. He didn’t look as comforting as Klaus. The next person was a beautiful woman, her bleached blonde curly hair standing out on her skin, and she was dressed semi-casual. She seemed very kind, and the way she was gazing at you with her hurt and confusion filled eyes felt motherly. The last person stood awkwardly, but her expression was nothing but. An emotion peeked through the emotionless face she had, it was clear as day. It was anger.

”Diego, what the hell is going on?” The woman with bleach blonde hair asked—Allison. Her name was Allison.

”I don’t—“ Diego turned to you again, then took a step closer. “Why are you here?” He’d asked the question again. You looked around the room, body rigid. The way everyone was looking at you made you uncomfortable. It was so much attention, it was too much.

“Diego, give them some space.” The awkward one—Vanya, your brain supplied—said. Diego looked upset, but he listened, backing away. “Are you seeing this? Look at what that asshole did while we were gone.”

You pushed yourself up to your bed frame further, arms beginning to shake for how long you’ve held yourself in that tense position.

”You know what? Luther,” the tall man looked shocked that Diego was addressing him, “why didn’t you say anything? You were here when they were. You never even moved out, Space Boy.”

Luther’s frowned deepened, and he towered over Diego. The tension in the room was building, your heart racing. “Watch it. I didn’t even know they were here.”

”Okay, guys,” Allison held up a hand, stepping in between the two, “you’re stressing them out.”

The sound of the clacking of heels eased you, and you felt more at home again. If you focused on the sound, breathing in and out slowly, maybe you could forget the world around you, and fall into the comforting arms of your mother. “Oh, Hello, dears.” Mom’s smile was wide, and she looked around, her head turning robotically. “I see you’ve met your sibling.” She clasped her hands in front of her.

”Mom, what’s going on?” Diego stepped toward her, eyes softening at her. You realized that Diego loved Mom as much as you did.

”What do you mean, Diego?”

”I— they’re—“

Mom placed a gentle hand on Diego’s shoulder. “Picture the word in your head, dear.”

”No, that’s not what I—“

”Mom, why are they in the basement?” Allison cut in, giving you worried glances.

”Your father doesn’t like when I talk about this.” This was the first time you had seen Mom look something other than joyful. The ends of her brows pulled down, and her smile fell.

“Mom,” Diego started softly, “Dad’s dead.”

Moms shoulders sagged. “Oh, that’s right,” She smiled again, standing completely upright, “I suppose you’ll just have to ask Pogo, hmm?” You’d noticed that Mom had been acting stranger lately; she had been ever since Dad died. She was never human, but lately that’s been more clear then ever.

Mom turned and left, going back to the elevator. If she had been human, you imagined she’d walk with a bounce in her step to fit her peppy personality. Her smile would look less artificial, too.

Your siblings all looked back at you. There were varying expressions: awkwardness, confusion, nervousness, upset.

Allison was the one to move first. “Do you get out of the house often?”

You merely shook your head. I don’t get out at all.

“Do you leave this . . . box often?”

You shook your head again.

Vanya seemed to tense up at that. You wondered why. The reason was just barely in your grasp, nothing but flashes of a time long ago. It was all hazy and you couldn’t quite tell what any of it meant. You felt a headache forming at the straining.

Allison walked forward slowly, reaching for your shoulder. You didn’t move, so she gently rested her hand down. She was as gentle as a mother should be—she was as gentle as Mom was. You wouldn’t be surprised if she had a child of her own. “How about we go upstairs, all right?” She smiled kindly at you.

You were left speechless. You couldn’t even remember ever stepping in the elevator, let alone going on another floor. The idea of it made you feel nervous, yet eager. You slowly nodded.

Allison smiled kindly, but she kept glancing at the others. She helped you stand, and your hand immediately reached for hers. It was muscle memory; you always held Mom’s hand when you went to train. Your heart lurched when you realized you were holding a strangers hand, but she didn’t seem to mind.

You stepped out of the box, and this was the first time you felt apprehensive while doing so. You weren’t going to train—you were going upstairs. You walked slower, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. It took everything in you not to squeeze Allison’s hand too tight—and everything in you not to let go. It was strange, really. You didn’t know her, but she was being so nice.

You stepped into the rickety elevator, and you soon felt even more nervous when everyone else stepped in as well. So many people trying not to look at you, but you still caught their glances. It was so crowded, you didn’t have enough space to breathe. It was too much, it’s too much—

Allison began to rub her thumb over the back of your hand. You didn’t realize you were shaking until that moment, as the world was blurry around you and the only thing you could focus on was this room was too small.

There was a scraping sound, indicating the elevators age. The doors slowly opened, the others filed out hurriedly. You took in a breath of air, feeling it rush into your lungs. Your heart was beating fast, hitting your sternum with every beat. You felt unfit to walk all of a sudden, like your legs would give out at any moment.

Allison began to walk, and you eventually moved your legs to go with her, your shaking hand still in hers. You kept looking down. You didn’t like how many people were looking at you. It was too much.

“How about we get you in some nicer clothes?” Allison said. You looked down at what you were wearing—your regular clothes, just grey. The fabric was semi-comfortable, a little bit itchy, but you had grown used to it over time. All of your clothes had been that way. What else were you supposed to wear? ”What . . . do you mean?”

Allison looked at Vanya for a second. “Well, do you have anything else? Don’t you think it’d be nice to change?”

You shrugged. You didn’t have anything else.

Allison insisted you wore something better anyway. You went to her room, and immediately decided you didn’t like her old clothes. They fit just fine, but they were so colourful in contrast to your bland attire. You didn’t like how it made you stand out. You ended up taking some of Vanya’s old clothes instead, it was quite similar to what she wore now, and you liked that. It had some of the softest fabric you had ever felt, but the colours were still dull, like you were used to.

After a few more twists and turns in the extremely confusing layout of the house, you found Mom. You stood awkwardly in the doorway. You had never been in the kitchen before.

”Oh, there they are!” Klaus said semi loudly. You didn’t even realize everyone was in here until now. Klaus still looked nervous and upset—which was the opposite of how he sounded—and the others looked tense.

Mom turned around from the counter and smiled. “Oh, well isn’t it nice to see you all together again.” It felt odd to be included, you realized.

Mom began putting plates onto the table, one for each sibling, and then she put a tray in the centre of the table. There were fruits and cheese and crackers, one of your favourite snacks. Mom would bring it down to you often. “Eat up!” She grinned.

Vanya put a hesitant hand on your back, guiding you to the table. She seemed to understand that the amount of people was making you uncomfortable, so she led you to the chair at the end of the table.

When her hand came in contact with your back, you gasped, freezing in place. Your eyes glazed over, a white film covering them as you were thrown into a vision—no, a flashback.

You saw padded walls and dim lights, a small window at the end of the room. The box. You didn’t see much, just flashes, but you still got the picture.

Vanya had been in the box before.

“Eight?” Vanya lifted a finger, tapping your back lightly. “Are you all right?”

Everyone was still looking at you, and the idea of them being there while you had a vision made you nervous. You only nodded.

Vanya seemed unsure, as she most definitely saw the change in colour of your eyes, but she continued to lead you to your chair, and then took the one next to you. You waited for the others to grab their food first, but they didn’t. Instead, Vanya slid the tray near your plate and smiled gently at you, giving you a nod. You tried to ignore the way they were still looking at you, and you grabbed some apple slices, along with some cheese and crackers.

Your fingers shook lightly, and Vanya saw it, then spoke. “What do we do?” You hoped she was okay. You didn’t like the box, yourself; she must not of liked it either.

”Well, isn’t it simple, Vanya?” Klaus took a sip from a bottle of alcohol, and Vanya just furrowed her brows, “we don’t give Dad a funeral, he doesn’t deserve it.”

Diego and Allison just shrugged, while Luther looked outraged, but he took one glance at you and hesitated.

You weren’t sure what to think about Dad having a funeral or not. He was your Dad, the only one you ever had, but he didn’t quite raise you, and he certainly didn’t care for you. Not on a parent-child level anyway. He only cared for you in the name of science.

Diego leaned back in his chair. “I don’t think he deserved a funeral anyway.”

That caused Luther to snap. “Diego!”

Diego opened his mouth to argue, but Allison held up a hand. “Guys,” she frowned in a disappointed manner, “enough.”

You’d spent so long wanting to leave the basement, but now that you were out and free, you felt so strange and out of place. You weren’t as prepared as you wished you were, even with the amount of books you had read. All sorts of genres, too, and you still felt lost. It was like when Klaus had found you, the world went on a standstill and all the attention was on you, which was something you were not ready for.

Not only that, but not even hundreds of books could have prepared you for the amount of items that belonged to a home, or just to people themselves. You’d passed many knickknacks on your way here, and the walls were far from empty with the paintings covering every inch of them. You had the urge to go inspect everything—it was extremely different from the box.

There was a sigh to your left, and you turned. It was Pogo. “I see you’ve found your sibling.” You didn’t like the way he said found instead of met. You weren’t a thing to be found, discovered, and figured out. You were a person with feelings, still figuring things out—and frankly, you were still figuring feelings out as well, no matter how much you’ve learned on your own.

”Found?” Vanya's soft voice was on the verge of incredulous.

“My apologies,” Pogo said, head hanging in shame at his choice of words. He wasn’t bad, not like Reginald was, but no one could deny the mistakes he’s made. “I suppose it’s time for your fathers secret to be revealed.”

Luther held his head high Pogos words. You didn’t like how much respect Luther showed your father.

Pogo gripped his cane harder between his fingers for a moment, sighing while looking down at the floor. “Your father had always been so set in his ways that no matter what I did, it was hardly possible to convince him to change anything,”

”That doesn’t make this any better, Pogo.” Allison frowned.

Pogo nodded slightly. “Yes, that’s true. I did try my best to stop this from happening—“

”What exactly is this? Why the hell were they down there?” Diego was tense, and you had to continually convince yourself that he wasn’t angry at you.

”When Eight was born, it was very much the same as you. It was just as strange and sudden, and your father wasted almost no time in getting them. They were raised downstairs their entire life for a reason I never knew, but trust me I tried to stop it.”

”Should’ve tried harder.” Klaus’ lips were pursed together in a tense frown and he was gripping his bottle tightly.

“While I was trying,” Pogo started solemnly, “Grace and I would bring them books, and sometimes Grace would teach them if your father let her. We wanted to prepare them as best as we could for the day they’d finally leave.”

It wasn’t enough, and you knew that. You were already so overwhelmed it was almost unbearable.

All of your siblings began talking at once, their voices gradually growing in volume to the point where the amount of sound you were hearing all at once became deafening. Your hands shot up to your ears, desperation swallowing you whole. You had never heard so much sound—the box was always so, so quiet.

The voices slowly grew quiet, and you opened your eyes to find everyone staring at you apologetically. You removed your hands from your ears and placed them at your side. You were no longer hungry, as discomfort settled in your stomach. You didn’t like the attention.

”Children,” Pogo began, “if you’d like to know more, feel free to ask. I will answer what I can but perhaps it’d be better to talk privately.” Pogo turned to leave the room, and no one followed. You had an inkling that they would rather talk later.

”I need to think.” Luther stood up abruptly, leaving the room. The siblings began filing out the room after that, each of them sending you hurt and sad glances. Eventually it was just you, Vanya, Klaus and Mom. Vanya stood to leave the room, but she looked at Klaus hesitantly. Her eyes eventually landed on Mom and her shoulders relaxed, and she left the room, too.

You felt more comfortable now. The room was almost empty, and Mom was here. If you thought hard enough maybe you could pretend Klaus wasn’t there, and it was just you and Mom, in the box.

But with a deep breath, you knew that wasn’t true. Klaus’ personality, however, did put you at ease. You were glad that it was him that stayed rather than Luther.

You tapped the table lightly, focusing on that and Mom’s humming.

“Wasn’t it so nice meeting your siblings, dear?” Mom said, turning around with a grin. Her joyful personality made you feel at home again.

You only shrugged in reply, and saw Klaus’ shoulders sag.

”We are quite the group, aren’t we?” He said lightly. You didn’t respond.

Klaus nodded to himself, setting his bottle down on a nearby chair. He was sitting on top of the table, fiddling with his necklace.

Klaus may have started talking, or maybe he didn’t, you didn’t know. You were stuck in your own head, a vision hitting you in flashes.

A blue flash; flickering faces; a boy in baggy clothes.

A sound began playing loud enough to be heard in the kitchen. It was a song you didn’t know the lyrics to—to be fair, you didn’t know many songs.

Klaus reacted first. He began dancing without a care in the world, and you felt the tension in your shoulders fade away. The song was relaxing, as was Klaus’ obnoxious personality. Klaus swayed around the kitchen gleefully, his eyes closed with a wistful expression on his face. The corner of your mouth twitched.

You began tapping your finger on the table lightly. It didn’t take you long to find the beat.

You didn’t jump around the room like Klaus was doing, but you were feeling a hint of joy all the same.

Then there was a noise—a blue flash. It was loud and terrifying. Knives and forks and kitchen utensils flew across the room, one missing your ear only slightly before it impaled the wall. You flinched backwards, your chair knocking over as you reached for the counter.

Klaus looked startled as well, freezing in place and turning to you. “Uh, stay here.” He grabbed a fire extinguisher, and he ran off.

The feeling of being alone was suddenly unwanted again, like how you felt this morning before you’d met any of your siblings. You were frightened and alone, and you didn’t know what to do.

Except, before you were trapped, in a completely sealed and closed off room. Now, you were out in the open, you had access to whatever you wanted, and yet you couldn’t move. Or rather, you wouldn’t. Walls were what held you back before, but now you had nothing but your own fear in your way. Fear thick as the box walls.

You had the faintest idea of what was happening outside—flickering faces—and the idea of facing it firsthand made your stomach churn. Being in the kitchen for the first time was one thing, standing in front of a glowing blue ball was something else entirely.

Something you weren’t prepared for, however, was a blue light flashing in the middle of the kitchen. It was much smaller, quieter, and quicker, but it was shocking all the same. Someone was now standing in front of you—a boy in baggy clothes.

His face scrunched up at the sight of you, who was still gripping the counter with fear-filled eyes. “Who are you?”

You didn’t reply.

He tilted his head, his confusion clearly growing stronger.

Klaus then ran into the kitchen breathlessly, stopping to put his hands on his knees, taking in deep breaths. Diego shoved him, entering the room as well, your other siblings soon following. Klaus eventually stood next to you with a sigh, keeping about 2 feet of distance. Assumingly for your own comfort.

”Who’s this?” The boy looked to them. His name was Five, you thought.

”Our sibling.” Klaus nods, painting a gleeful expression on his face. You couldn’t tell if the joy he was showing was real or not.

Five pauses, eyes flickering to you. “Our what?”

“Yeah, a lot’s been going on today.”

“Our sibling,” Five says again, more to himself, “okay, we don’t have time for this. What’s the date? The exact date.”