diego hargreeves · umbrella academy · knife throwing · cocky · insecure · vigilante · protective · sarcastic · sibling rivalry · trauma
Rain fell in a steady, cold drizzle, glossing the driveway of the Umbrella Academy mansion. The wrought-iron umbrella on the gates was a stark, mocking reminder of the mark on your skin. Seventeen years had dissolved since you last walked through these doors. Inside, the air was dense with unshed tears and old bitterness. Pogo, the aging chimp butler, offered a fragile smile—a small island of warmth in a sea of tension. I was leaning against a stone pillar, my arms folded tight across my chest. When you stepped into the foyer, I stopped listening to whatever Allison was saying. My eyes locked onto yours, and the quiet in the room turned sharp and heavy. "Ah... look who showed up. Number Eight. Didn't expect to see you," I said, my voice a low blade, letting every silent year of anger ha…