Disclaimer: The Umbrella Academy and all its characters used in this fanfiction are copyright of Gerard Way, Dark Horse Comics, etc. I am not making any profit out of this.

Summary: Nobody wants a sob-story; especially not gods that look like cowboys.

Pairing: Klaus/Ben

A/N: Back to present time…

XxXxXxXxX

Chapter Four : The dawn under the stars

XxXxXxXxX

Fireworks for the dead

Its time to put yourself to bed

In the hospital, the friends you stole surround you

"Did the devil sign your cheeeck? Wooohooo~ Yeahh!"

"K-Klaus! D-don't move so much!"

"Can't stop me~!" the medium shouted, taking large strides, dragging his companion along.

"Wha – Wait!" Ken grasped the arm over his shoulders tighter, unwilling to let the drunk psychic walk off on his own. Granted, both of them had downed copious amounts of alcohol through the day, the Vietnam-born writer still had some semblance of a clear head – growing up with a bar under your house helped with that.

It was past eight in the evening and the only solid food they'd taken in were the mixed nuts at the bar. Dinner was out of the question – they had decided rather unanimously that they didn't have much of a stomach for food at the moment. Restaurants also had a tendency of declining patrons who reeked of alcohol, so yeah… there they were, leaning on each other as they trekked up to the blown up Hargreeves Manor.

Ken had listened to Klaus' story the whole afternoon, absorbing every detail and getting his heart broken as the psychic recounted the gory events. He'd been holding back his tears all day – he didn't want to cry in front of Klaus even if he'd had no trouble doing so when he was Ben. Their 'reunion' was weird enough as it is, he didn't need Klaus getting suspicious of him – if the medium wasn't already, anyway; Ken wanted to do things right this time around…

They stumbled past the crooked gates, the ruins of the estate loomed over them and Ken felt his stomach churn – he was home again. When he'd left the bar earlier, he asked Klaus where he lived so he could drop him off; the Séance had replied 'At the old hellhole, where else?' which Ken easily understood to mean 'The Academy.' The journalist obliged and hailed a taxi to get them there but only when their ride had left them in front of the ruins did he realize that there wasn't a proper room in the rubbles for the medium to spend the night.

Ken's expression turned anxious as they walked up the beaten path decorated with debris and broken furniture, molds growing all over the place. "Klaus, are you sure this is where –"

"Yep," the auburn-haired medium chirped, slipping his arm off his companion's shoulders and taking flight. He circled the air once before settling down into a cleared patch of grass in the middle. "Ahh… Home sweet home!"

The journalist tentatively walked over to the older man, "Don't tell me you plan on sleeping there…"

Klaus blew away the bangs that had fallen into his face. "Okay then, I won't tell you," he replied in a cheery tone, stretching out his arms and legs, telepathically pushing more of the debris away from him, making space.

"Darn it, Klaus," Ken muttered, standing beside the man. "You can't sleep here, what if muggers come and attack you? We could check you into a hotel or something for the night…"

"Pssh, naww," Klaus smiled sloppily from below, spreading out his limbs as though he was going to make snow angels. "I saved the fucking world, remember?" he grinned "I can take care of me~"

"But Klaus –"

"Jesus, Ben, I told you I'm fine!"

The dark-haired man bit down on his tongue in an attempt to stifle the gasp in his throat, his insides felt cold and hollow all of a sudden. Klaus called him Ben. Ben. Had Klaus figured him out already? It wouldn't be surprising, his brother was a genius! So what should he do? He wanted to confess – it would make things easier, but… he wasn't Ben Hargreeves right now, was he? Not physically, at least.

Muddy brown eyes softened as the Séance realized what he'd said. The Asian man had gone eerily quiet and he found the jet black eyes staring at the gates. He felt the shoes near his side shift and heard the beginning of a mumbled statement before he cut it off.

"I didn't mean that."

The Séance's brown eyes met with twin black orbs.

"The way you sound just reminded me of someone… an old friend."

"Oh… I'm so sorry, then…" Ken mumbled, breaking eye contact choosing to stare at the distance way past Klaus. Wrong choice. Not more than a few yards away, he spotted what appeared to be Ben's statue – or at least half of it – battered, lying on the ground, accumulating molds. "I… I should go now…"

"No, wait!" Klaus abruptly sat up, making Ken halt with one foot half-lifted from the grass.

"It's okay… I wouldn't want you to remember someone you'd rather forget…" Ken smiled sadly. "You must've hated that guy…"

"I didn't hate Ben, I loved him."

The seriousness in Klaus' tone washed over him like a tidal wave. The wind blew harshly but neither of the two flinched. Ken felt his cheeks burning and he found nothing to say which Klaus took as a chance to continue.

"You're a nice guy in your own right, Ken," withered auburn locks gently caressed the pale face. "So how about joining me down here for a little while longer?" A black-tipped hand patted the turf beside him in invitation. "The view's nice, too…" Klaus raised his face towards the heavens where a million diamonds shone.

Ken looked up – to hide his face more than anything; his thoughts were racing and his heart was pounding. Only Klaus…

He wanted to stay. Without a word, the journalist stepped back and folded his knees, his back hit the soft grass and a quiet sigh escaped his lips.

Klaus was already snoring but it didn't look like it was going to rain.

When he pulled you from the wreck

There was nothing left to recognize about you