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: Klaus/Ben needs more love. Please enjoy~


Chapter One : So did I fuck you?


Let it in… Let it go…

When they lift you up, there's something you should know

What you find, it might astound you

'Cause the world, my friend, is big enough

Without you…


The auburn-haired medium barely had time to recognize the voice when a pair of arms threw themselves around him and he was pulled close to a chest that smelled of peppermints.

The man (it was safe to assume since he wasn't smothered with breasts) kept on murmuring his name like a mantra, hands planted firmly on his shoulders. It didn't take long for his beer-addled mind to register that he was being hugged by a total stranger.

"Do I know you?" Klaus ventured, almost getting a mouthful of the man's shirt.

At that, his assaulter hastily let go and the medium was able to get a good look at the guy. Under the dim lighting of the bar, he could see that the man was on the thin side with milky white skin, oriental black eyes were staring back at him as he noticed the short and unruly jet black hair. The man wore a white shirt with a green necktie printed with ivy leaves as charcoal slacks covered his lower appendages. He looked no older than twenty.

"S-Sorry…" the Asian-looking man stammered, a tinge of pink lighting his cheeks.

"Did I sleep with you?" Klaus asked bluntly as his memory failed to put a name to the face in front of him.

"N-No!" was the flustered reply and the psychic grinned to himself in amusement.

"Then why're you acting so chummy?" muddy brown eyes were kept on the blushing man as The Séance took a swig of whiskey.

"I, uh…" jet black eyes stared at the floor while the man chewed on his lower lip. "I'm a fan…"

"Really?" Klaus raised a brow.

"Y-Yes!" the Asian man put up a smile but a nervous look was still present in his eyes. "A-And I've always dreamed of meeting you in person…"

"Uh-huh…" Klaus frowned a little as he emptied the whiskey bottle into his drinking glass. The kid's reply didn't explain why he had been addressed by his first name.

"C-Can I ask you a question…?" the foreign man asked tentatively, a worried look taking over his features.

"Only if you drink with me," Klaus replied with a lopsided smile. "Sit down, kid." He turned to the bartender for a moment and asked for another glass and a new bottle of whiskey. "So," the spirit medium continued, twisting off the bottle cap and pouring a hefty amount into the two empty glasses in front of him. "What'cha wanna know?"

The bar stool screeched as the pale Asian took his seat, a full glass of alcohol already waiting for him. "What happened to you…?" he asked, eyes glued to the once-flawless face.

The sweating glass stopped midway to the Séance's lips, the amber liquid sloshing around. Klaus' expression held a sliver of suspicion as he put down his drink.


"Really, kid, who are you?" the medium asked, staring back.

"I'm just a fan, honest!" the younger man's reply had been a little too quick and defensive. "I'm just – well, concerned… You look pretty beaten up, you look so different from the last time I saw you…"

"Last time?" Klaus rested his hollow cheek on an open palm, leaning against the bar counter.

"I mean, yesterday… when you, um, left Vanities…" the dark-haired man licked his lips, slim fingers absently tapping the glass in his hands.

"Vanities? Ha, that was a pretty long time ago, kid… You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you…"

"Oh but I would!" jet-black eyes shone in earnest as the man finally let go of his glass. "I promise I'll listen…"

The Asian's remark made Klaus grin in spite of himself. "You're a weird kid."

Thin lips pursed tightly as the man stared down again, "S-Sorry…"

"And I thought I told you to drink with me?" Klaus interjected, earning him a surprised look.

"Um, I'm sorry…?"

"No drink, no story," the psychic smirked, downing his own glass for emphasis. Honestly, he was getting tired of the guy's woe-be-me expressions.

"Oh, r-right…" and the guy made a grab for his glass, taking a drink, eyes peering over the rim at the spirit medium.

"So what's your name, kid?" Klaus asked, noting how the glass was already half-empty when the pale man put it down. The way his companion froze didn't escape him, the guy looked exceptionally scared for a second before a reply came in his default nervous tone.

"Name… um, well… you could just call me Ken…" the hands on the glass fidgeted lightly.



"Well then why don't I start my story from yesterday…"

I've waited for this moment for years… To see him again, to hear his voice… to hold him in my arms one more time. He looks so different now – and that's coming from a guy who's been watching out for him since my eyes could see.

His nose looks like it's been broken and his face bears traces of old bruises and there's this scar on his forehead that scares the living crap out of me… it's like he's been shot. He looks so weary now, so tired… He's gone to - well, let me just call it an 'institution' in the past and that was to cure his depression. I know, I've been there and I've dearly wished that it would have worked…

His clothes look so different from what I remember and he's also grown out his hair… Everything about this man in front of me right now screams that I've missed so much… I would've loved to say that he'd grown wiser, too, but the fact that I'm getting drunk with him in an isolated bar in the middle of the afternoon begs to differ…

Oh where are my manners? I've been blabbing so much yet I haven't even introduced myself…

I'm Cham Ken, 22 years old. I'm Vietnamese by birth but I've migrated here where I work as a journalist for The City Paper…

I'm Cham Soccho's grandson.

Klaus Hargreeves' son.

Ben Hargreeves' reincarnation.