AN: If you are interested in following my writing journey outside this fanfiction, I encourage you to follow my Facebook page "Karo"!
Klaus curled up in the corner of his tiny room, sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. He was twelve years old; he shouldn't have had to deal with so much crap.
Sometimes he was wandering around the city in the summer, looking at all those happy kids blithely playing with their friends on the playground or eating ice cream with their parents, and he was jealous. He had never had a chance to be like that. Blithe and happy.
His reality was bleak. The house was large but dark and unwelcoming, just like his family. It felt like the longer they lived together, the less united they were. Members of the seems-to-be loving team presented on the national television forgot about each other's existence as soon as they found themselves behind the closed doors of the Academy, and everyone seemed to be okay about it, except for Klaus, whose heart was slowly tearing apart.
Klaus didn't want them to be away. He needed them. As soon as they were gone, all of the ghosts around him were trying to reach out to him, talk to him, and it was just too much. When he wasn't alone, they were quieter, more distant, and he desired this more than anything in the whole world, but despite all the efforts, most of the time he was on his own, and there was nothing he could do about that.
That day, after a week of being surrounded by no one but walking corpses, he just wished for a mission, even though he hated them dearly. That bit of fake support in a compelled company of his siblings for the delight of paparazzi would not only be enough but a real blessing at this point.
However, the universe had different plans, and instead of getting convened about another crime, he was being dragged downstairs for the third time this week, and his brothers and sisters were too busy to even notice.
"You have to stop being afraid of them," said Reginald, locking him up in that dark, separated room, as he used to. "You can't spend your whole life in fear of your power. You have to possess it; not run away from it."
And here he was, after three hours of being held in that cage, crying his eyes out in the silence of his own room, having only some lost, bleeding spirit for company.
Suddenly, an indistinct voice could be heard from the living room, shouting, followed by the second one, way calmer, but just as angry. Klaus shakily stood up and, embracing himself, headed towards the hall, where crouching beside the railing looked down to see what was going on.
"Stop doing this! Haven't you seen him?" cried Diego clenching his fists, while their father stood unconcerned gazing at the Five's portrait. "He's devastated!"
"I'd want you to stop snooping around, Number Two. How I take care of Number Four isn't and never was your concern, and it shall remain this way."
Diego covered the space between them in a few steps and pointed his finger at the old man.
"He's my brother! And I am done with your-"
Reginald slapped him before the boy even had a chance to finish the sentence, and the clout was hard enough to knock him right off his feet. Diego touched his burning cheek and looked at his father in a silent shock.
"Mind your own business, Number Two," said Reginald without a hint of remorse, then turned around, and left the room.
Diego's lip twitched, but he didn't let the tears pour. Shaking, he tried to get on his knees, when a pale hand reached towards him out of nowhere. He looked up and saw Klaus with his eyes still red from crying, but with a weak smile wandering on his face.
"Thanks." Klaus struggled to not start weeping again.
Diego took his hand, smiling back at him.
" We're brothers," he said. "We have to have each other's backs."