"Hey~o!"
Diego swore liberally under his breath as Theodore cheered heartily to the patrons of the boxing gym as they entered. There went his attempt to get his nephew upstairs without much hassle. In the past couple of years, Theodore had frequented the gym when visiting his uncle, often enough that he knew the regulars by name.
"Hey, buddy" Elliot Wilson (a Computer Sciences undergrad) smiled as he sat on the edge of the ring and methodically wrapped his hands.
"Hey, Ellie~!" Theodore cheered as he bounded over to the young man. Diego groaned inwardly as his nephew wiggled out of his grip, thwarting his plans of a simple & easy escape upstairs. Particularly as Al was now looking at him with a mix of amusement and his usual grouchiness; the old man was probably a bit annoyed that they'd interrupted a training session or something.
"So, what's with you Theo?" Elliot smiled, wincing only slightly at his mates' jeers about the feminine nickname. "What's going on with your arm?"
"I AM THOR!" Theodore bellowed in reply (clearly there were still drugs in his system) as he brandished his bound arm. "THIS IS MY HAMMER!"
"Uh…" Elliot spared a questioning look over his shoulder, at Diego.
"Painkillers" Diego replied shortly, crossing his arms.
"Oh. Oh" Elliot nodded, before he turned to one of his mates. "Hey Jon! Come check this out!"
"What is it?" Jonathon Mason (another undergrad) asked as he trotted over, a towel draped around his shoulders.
"Jon! Look!" Theodore replied as he swung his brightly-coloured arm over towards the tall teen. "I'm Thor!"
"You're Thor?" Jonathon quirked a brow before side-whispering to Elliot, "That's not an innuendo, right?"
"Dude! He's, like, twelve!" Elliot playfully smacked his arm.
"I'm just saying!" He raised his hands up in defence as a playful smirk danced across his lips.
"See? See? This is my hammer!" Theodore bounced up and down. "Ready? Watch this! Pow!"
"Ah!" Jonathon gasped dramatically, one hand over his heart as he dropped to the matted floor, playing dead. "You got me!"
"Uhhh…" Theodore's bright expression fell, eyes swimming with tears as he stared at the smirking body at his feet.
"Uh oh" Diego hummed in amusement, noting the look upon the boy's face.
"JON!"
"You killed him!" Elliot joked, lips twitching as he tried to contain his laughter. It wasn't working.
"Wah—!" Theodore immediately burst into tears, turning on the waterworks at a drop of a hat when he thought that he truly killed the young man. If he was in the right frame of mind, then he would've noticed how Jonathon was giggling uncontrollably at his feet.
"No you didn't—!" Diego hurriedly interjected as a rather loud buzzing sound started to emanate from the boy in his despair. The last thing they needed was for the LANE Keepers to be called here. "Look, he's just kidding! He's okay!"
"NO~!" Theodore wailed pitifully as his hands flailed about. "I KILLED HIM!"
"…Good going, jackass" Elliot kicked his friend's foot.
"It was just a joke, Ellie" Jonathon replied as he sat up.
"Nngh!" Elliot maturely stuck his tongue out at the taller boy who joined his friend on the edge of the boxing ring. All the while, Theodore continued to cry and wail over the fact that he'd 'killed' Jonathon.
"Hey buddy, look—look—!" Jonathon soothed, 'I'm okay! See?"
"…H-huh?" Theodore sniffled, wiping his nose on his bandaged arm (which probably wasn't good).
"See? He's totally fine" Elliot agreed as the boy shuffled closer to inspect the so-called 'body' When it seemed to dawn on the boy that the young man was, in fact, not dead, he surged forward to hug him; small arms wrapped around his neck as he cried into his shoulder. "Hey, look, Theo!" Elliot tried, "Theo, look—Jon's just fine! He was pretending, he was just pretending"
"I DON'T WANNA LOSE JON!" Theodore cried into his bare shoulder. The man in question scrunched up his nose in disgust as he rocked back against the rope behind him, with the force of the boys hug and tried not to think about all the gunk that was dribbling onto him.
"I—I know" Jonathon replied, petting the boy's head in comfort as best he could. "It's okay, Theo"
"…Don't do that again"
"Okay, he won't do that again, will he?" Diego nodded, raising a brow that dared him to be defied.
"That wasn't very nice of him, was it?" Elliot couldn't help but tease.
"…So sad" Theodore whimpered, only loosening his grip just a little as he slumped against the young man.
"That made you sad?" Jonathon quirked a brow, still carding his hands through Theodore's curly locks (he seemed to be fascinated by the bounce of the locks).
"You love Jon, don't you, Theo?" Elliot smirked, unable to help poking fun at his friend's expense; particularly as he found himself glomped by the anaesthesia-high Hargreeves boy.
"…I'd have to speak at his funeral!" Theodore whimpered.
"You'd have to speak at my funeral?" Jonathon smiled, "What would you say?"
"I'm so sorry for killing Jonathon~!"
"Yeah~! That wouldn't be good, would it?"
"No…"
"But look, I'm all good, bud! You didn't kill me!"
"…WOULD I BE A MURDERER?!" Theodore exclaimed as he pulled back from the hug, his expression falling into something a little more akin to aghast and fear.
"Wha—what?" Elliot choked on his laughter, falling back as Theodore continued to ramble
"I'm like—the rest of my life, I'll never go to college or get a jog because I MURDERED JON?! BECAUSE I'M THOR…!"
"…Sounds like you had a fun day" Al hummed mildly as he drew up alongside Diego. The man in question hardly registered the comment (he was so close to getting them both upstairs and out of sight) until he took note of the old man next to him, jumping in surprise. "Diego"
Shit.
For a moment, Diego was still as his breath became stuck in his throat. He hoped that the old man hadn't picked up on any of the alien cues that his nephew had let slip or that he was annoyed about his latest training session being interrupted. Thankfully, they were sequestered far enough back from the rest of the gym, in the corner by the reception, that he wasn't giving everyone a free show (unlike Theodore who was high off his tits), but that meant he had to brace himself for whichever berating that the old man deemed worthy to bestow upon him that day. Because he would, because that's just the kinda guy Al was; just your typical British boxing teacher with a thick accent and a tiny dog.
It wasn't that Diego was scared of him or anything, but the first few times that he'd been around Al, he'd gotten the feeling that he hadn't forgotten the circumstances of their very first meeting; that his first impression had never really gone away. He never said anything flowery, Al was a quieter, hard-talking man by nature, but Diego knew well enough when someone held a certain sort of opinion about him. He had grown up in the care of the illustrious Sir Reginald Hargreeves, afterall.
"Yessir?" He asked as the honorific slipped out without a moment's notice, even though he didn't usually use such a title for anyone other than his late father. But Al was the type of man who commanded that kind of respect; one born of a man who could bash your brains with his own hands in or clobber you around the ears if you so displeased him. Diego often wondered if Theodore would ever turn out to be that kind of man too, y'know, if he ever let his nephew near the old man and the ring.
"Thanks for cleaning up yesterday" Al said just as serious and genuine as ever (he was, in fact, referring to the Junior League's boxing tournament held during the day. It had been a simple affair, something that Diego was able to fit in between the family meeting and the masked invasion of the academy). "We'll be seeing you in the fight next Tuesday, right?"
"Uh, yeah, no problem" Diego huffed, feeling a little thrown off by all that had happened to properly reply. It didn't seem to matter though because Al simply gave him a concise nod and disappeared into the folds of the gym.
Seeing the dismissal for what it was, Diego eventually herded Theodore away from the two undergrads and back over towards the stairs, the ones that led up to the apartment above. "Can you just walk?!" Diego hissed quietly as his dopey nephew stopped at the base of the stairs and stared at the wooden steps with disdain.
"Floor's wrong" Theodore grumbled a little too loudly for comfort.
"The floor's not—" Diego sighed in exasperation, not willing to put on another show for the patrons as he hefted his nephew up and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. It wasn't hard, and an act that was made exponentially easier now that the boy was awake. "Just—c'me on"
"Weeeeee!" Theodore cheered as his arms instinctively looped themselves around his uncle's neck as he began to purr rather loudly in his ear. It was a soothing noise, if nothing else.
Once they had made it to the doorway of his bedroom (after having fumbled to get the key in the door with one arm preoccupied with his nephew upon his shoulder) Theodore seemed to go on autopilot as he strode forward without hesitation and plopped face-first onto Diego's bed, leaving the man to linger out in the doorway. Diego had seen his room a hundred times before; the twin bed shoved into the corner, the mirror upon the back of the door, the exposed brick that wrapped the room and a crocheted poster of Number Two that lay framed in a sleek black frame. There was the old police radio that sat on the windowsil (plus all the other work-related items that came with being a freelancing PI) , a selection of coffee-stained boxing posters that sat stacked off to one side and the family-related trinkets which were pinned to the corkboard. Even though it was his own bedroom, he still felt strange, like he shouldn't go in.
It was just a room—his room—for God's sake! So why did he feel so strange? Like this was all too much? Too personal? He must've been in here a thousand times, been in Theodore's own a hundred more; but now that his nephew looked so vulnerable upon the rumpled bedsheets, he couldn't help but feel strange. Like he'd failed somehow; failed to keep him safe, failed to keep his mother—Diego's sister—safe, failed to keep Grace alive, failed to do so many things. Of course, logically, he knew that those things were far out of his control, but that didn't help matters. That's just how it was.
THUMP!
The quiet thump as one of Theodore's shoes hit the floor, pulled Diego from his reverie. At some point whilst Diego had been lost in his own mind, Theodore had pushed himself up and somehow managed to untie one of his shoes but the other one appeared to be more trouble than it was worth. Mumbling irritably to himself, Theodore growled lowly in frustration at the sooty loafer which refused to come off, even as his other socked foot wiggled freely. Diego pushed those solemn feelings down, burying them deep as he finally stepped across the threshold so that he could kneel on the ground before Theodore.
"Hey, hey, hey! Calm down!" Diego called, reaching out to grab ahold of the shoe and its laces. "Let me help you"
"Mrrow…" Theodore meowed softly, but acquiesced his hold on the shoe (He'd often picked up cues from Mrs K's cats, of whom he'd more or less grown up with). With Theodore stilled, his foot held aloft so that Diego could remove the shoe (an easy feat when you were sober and had full mobile capabilities). Though, it was a little hard to do so under the intense burning stare of the twelve year old whose gaze remained fixed on him and his deft fingers, not looking away even once as the shoe was discarded on the floor next to the other one.
"What?" Diego asked, feeling a littler unnerved by his nephew's unwavering stare. Normally, he was used to people looking at him—a byproduct of being one of the Umbrella Academy heroes—but right then it felt like something else; like he was too exposed. It was like Theodore was looking right through him, like he was trying divine some answer from the chipped bricks beyond or even that he could see something that no one else could.
And then Theodore smiled, carefree & bright and just like that, the undefinable stare was gone. Although, it made Diego wonder just what his nephew had been trying to puzzle out, just what he had been trying to find in the crevices of those red bricks. That sweet boyish expression remained painted on his face even as he flopped graciously back onto the moth-bitten mattress, wriggled under the blankets and shut his eyes. And Diego knew, even as he watched his breaths even out—even as he curled up around the musty pillow until he was comfortable—that Theodore would not wake again until morning.
But now Diego was left standing in his own bedroom, watching his nephew as he dozed peacefully with the bright pink cast being the only thing out of place. Diego knew that he should go, that he should walk out of that place, wave goodbye to Al & his patrons, to get in his car and go. Because Theodore would be fine up here in bed and with Al bustling about downstairs & Munchie lounging in the sun patches in the living room, he would be safe until Diego returned.
But…but Diego didn't want to go just yet. Leaving meant going back to Luther and his biased comments, leaving meant having to search for Vanya & Five, leaving meant having to face his own thoughts—his own emotions—without having anything to distract him. Leaving meant…leaving meant leaving Theodore, and even though he was fast asleep by now, safe beneath the blankets Diego still wasn't ready to go. Logically, he knew that there was no reason for him to still be there, not when he had so much to do, but something kept him glued in place.
In, out, in, out. Theodore breathed gently as if nothing in the world could bother him. He lay curled up like a pretzel, barely taking up any space on the mattress; something which only highlighted how small his body really was. Diego often wondered if he had ever been that small once upon a time (surely not). Theodore looked more relaxed than Diego had ever seen him; his expression was peaceful with the ghost of the smile that he had worn before he had succumbed to sleep (probably because he was absolutely oblivious to his surroundings or he just didn't care). He didn't know that Diego was standing in his room, standing over him as he watched the boy with a deep frown etched into his features.
Diego's thoughts were soon interrupted by a soft sound that echoed about the room, startling him. But any panic that might have hit him like a sledgehammer was quickly replaced with hissed breaths of relief when he realised that it was just Munchie snuffling about the discarded shoes. He wasn't sure how he had missed the fat little frenchie's entrance, but he had and now the canine was staring up at him with big pleading eyes that begged to be picked up. Diego scoffed quietly, but still bent to pick up the dog anyway. Huffing at the weight of him, he dumped the dog on the end of the bed (it couldn't get dirtier than it already was) and simply watched as Munchie traversed the landscapes of the duvet before cuddling in close to his nephew. Theodore, for all his worth, immediately pulled the dog close and burrowed into his scruff even though he was still clearly asleep.
A rush of affection coursed through Diego as he took in the cozy scene, but there was also a sour tinge in the back of his throat. He knew for a fact that no amount of fondness on his side would make a damn difference if he could not track down Vanya. It was all well and good to play the role of uncle as best he could, but the boy still needed his mother (he still needed his own, even after everything that he had done). With that in mind, Diego finally turned from the room, gently closing the door behind him (making sure to leave it open a crack for the dog) as he did so. He didn't trust himself to be in there with his nephew anymore, not without screaming or breaking something or even bursting into tears.
He didn't pay Al any mind as he hurried out of the gym and back outside, returning to his car with haste. The cityscape that had seemed calm & relaxing not thirty minutes ago, was now cold & unwelcoming as he slammed his car door shut behind him. Gripping tight to his steering wheel, Diego felt his resolve harden within him. This time wouldn't be like it was with Eudora or Five or even MoM; he wouldn't let it. Diego owed it to Theodore to find Vanya, to find out where she had gone and what had happened to her. Because Theodore didn't deserve the hand Fate had dealt him and he didn't deserve the heartache he already had. Diego refused to let Theodore end up like the Umbrella Academy, and he refused to acknowledge that he might have, already.