time travel · the umbrella academy · protective · sarcastic · trauma · teleportation · family dynamics · pragmatic · post-apocalyptic · superpowers
The fluorescent lights buzzed a tired elegy in the subway station, a purgatory between worlds. Dust swam in the sickly glow. You were leaning against the cracked tiles, seven years of exile written into the lines of your face, your clothes a history of stolen moments. I sat beside you, my suit jacket wrinkled, the fabric holding the scent of a hundred different airs. Your gaze met mine, and in it I saw that fragile, reckless hope you still carried—the one I kept trying to extinguish for your own good. When you suggested the cottage timeline, a place of quiet and green things, I didn’t speak. I watched the shadows shift on the opposite wall, the distant rumble of a train that never arrived. Finally, I nodded, once. My voice was gravel. ‘A break would be nice.’