tact from me is like blood from a stone

[opiate_visions]

Isaac's birthday had been registered as the 17th of September, two weeks to the day before those children were born from mothers who weren't pregnant, the miracle children who were forgotten again until the unveiling of the Umbrella Academy.

Isaac had never learned much about it all. He'd lived somewhat sheltered from that part of the world and by the time he was old enough to explore on his own, the Umbrella Academy had come and gone and he was more interested in his own life and future.

But the blackouts became more frequent and the medication didn't help. He stopped taking the medication and it got more out of control, but he had found other ways to control it and by the time he was thirty, he was out of rehab (again) and didn't know what to do or where to go to learn about what he was.

So he used the last of his money to make his way to the old address of the Umbrella Academy and hoped someone there might be able to help.

He was raising his hand to knock on the door when he saw the flicker, a momentary glimpse and he stepped back enough that whoever was coming to the door wouldn't barrel into him...

Comments

[opiate_visions]

"Right. Yeah. I read about the Academy. I guess it's just not as ingrained an association for me, not growing up with it."

Isaac listens. Nods. Thinks about it. "Fractured reality. Coexistence of multiple variations in a moment? I think I did a comic on something like that once..."

[excessed]

"Did it involve a skinny fucker with tattoos on his hands? If so, you've got even more proof," he notes, thinking about his brother.

"But yeah, you want to stay clean, we'll work on keeping you that way," he says, meaning it. "We'll be there for you." And he's new there, but that's Diego's feeling on how things are right now and how they need to be taken care of. If they can manage it.

[opiate_visions]

"I've painted him," Isaac comments softly. "Hello. Goodbye. Not a comic, I mean... I painted him. I'm sure of it, but I don't remember what the painting was. It might be in one of the tubes. And I'm trying to stay clean this time. For real."

[excessed]

"That should be creepy, I'm sure but eh," he says, shrugging, though he tries to smile a bit. It's a bit more baring teeth than a comfortable smile. "Wait, you corrected that. Did you do some of the Umbrella Academy comics?"

He nods though about staying clean. "Then it'll happen though it'll be ... Five drinks like a fish out of water. The moment he figures out you can add alcohol to coffee, nothing will hold him back. I can't swear all my brothers are clean. I can only speak for one of them."

He thinks it's his brother. He thinks, though in his mind they're also all his, but he knows that one in particular is trying to stay clean, and he's going to make damn sure he does.

"But you need help, I'll be there. Except when I'm at the Met gala, but that's only a weekend or so."

[opiate_visions]

"No." He shook his head. "Not old enough, was I? No, I'm a comic artist, I do 9th Wonders when I'm sober enough to meet deadlines and not preparing for a show." Given he's the same age as them, he was just a child when they were superheroing.

Still, the passion with which Diego pledges his help to Isaac's sobriety genuinely touches him, draws a small smile. "That's- really good of you. Thanks. I'm away from all my old haunts and connections, which will hopefully help."

[excessed]

"There were some written down the road. Every now and again there seems to be a resurgence of things. I figured the old man pushed for it to make a profit," he says, shrugging.

He nods at that. "Good. We'll help with that." He puts his phone on the table. "Do you have a cellphone? You can put your number in mine if you want, and I'll hit you back up so you have mine."

[opiate_visions]

"Not by me." He feels weird about drawing real people, even unintentionally. Doing it on purpose for money is just bizarre, unless he's commissioned.

"Um... no." He bites his lip. "I hocked it for smack months ago. When I got clean and came out here, haven't needed to get one. I can probably buy one. I probably should." Now he's thought of it. "Can I sketch you? I focus better when my hands are occupied."

[excessed]

He pauses at that, arching a brow as his face kind of screws up. "Uhmmmm, sure? I don't care," he says, though he pauses. "I mean, this isn't some weird picture in the attic kind of thing, is it?" Not that he really seems concerned about it.

"And you should. That way we can help you. And by we I mean me and Klaus, and maybe the others." He hasn't had a lot of faith in them. "Though Mom? I mean, Grace? She'll be there for you instantly," he says, his smile warming as he talks about her. "She's been amazing about taking in everyone that's shown up."

[opiate_visions]

"... Dorian Grey? No. I'm a professional artist. You can look me up, I worked with a gallery, had a studio, the whole nine yards. I just also sometimes black out and come to having painted the future."

The warmth of Diego's voice is telling and helps Isaac relax a little. "Grace. Okay. She... is clearly an awesome Mom from the way you speak of her. Like, I love my mother, but I don't like her a lot of the time."

[excessed]

"Around here, you never know," he points out, but there's a hint of a smile as well. "Well... Why do I suspect that would raise the cost of your paintings? Or maybe not," he says, shrugging as he thinks about it.

He grins kind of crooked at that, ducking his head to hide it as he looks away. "She is. She's been there for us all, and when everything changed? Her heart only got bigger." He won't ever mention that time in between, the changes. They were fixed now.

[opiate_visions]

"Hard to say. The best thing I could do for the price is die, but having done that a couple of times, I can't recommend it."

"So, how do I recognise Grace if I see her?"

[excessed]

Diego arches a brow at that. "So you have more than one superpower?" He knows several do. He does, for one. But now he's curious.

"She's tall and graceful, beautiful as well. Blonde with an angelic face," he says, not at all being bothered by how he speaks of her. "I would say she often wears skirts and attire like you might see in the Fifties, but she's been changing lately. I'm proud of her finding her own style."

[opiate_visions]

Isaac laughs. "No, but I've OD'ed my fair share of times." Flatlined and stopped breathing.

Diego... sounds very enamored of his mother. He clearly adores her completely and it's sweet in a way that suggests Diego's very attached, probably form the trauma of their father.

"Tall, lovely, blonde, I can remember that. I'll probably end up asking to draw her." Speaking of...

He pulls out a sketch pad and a pencil, flipping to a clean page and starting to lay down lines.

[excessed]

"Shit, you are my brother," he says with a snort. "Yeah, let's not have a repeat of that in the house," he says, as if he's got a say in that. Hell, he doesn't even have that say with Klaus, nonetheless another kid who wasn't raised here.

He's quiet a moment, lighting up at that though. "Would you? Do a drawing or two of her? She's never had a portrait in the house, and everyone's talking about new ones as we get everyone, but I'd love for her to have her own."

She deserves it. She's why they're trying to be okay, who had given them hope and love. Even if logically he knows Pogo programmed her, he knows what she did for him.

[opiate_visions]

"I meant it when I said I was trying hard to stay clean. I don't like who I am when I'm using." He doesn't like himself that much anyway, but he likes himself even less.

The idea brightens him up. "Fuck, man, if you supply me what I need for it, I'll paint her portrait several storeys high. I just need materials to do it and photos or a sitting with her." He loves working and the chance to do it clean and professionally is very appealing.

[excessed]

"Okay, we got you then. There's a lot of people here that will help you if you want to stay, and we'll make room for you," he says, finding himself more and more coming to this place where he actually wants to help others. Not just save them but do the things he should have done before.

He grins then, ducking his head a bit. "I can do that. Tell me what you need and I'll get it."

[opiate_visions]

"Um, really? That's- thanks. I sort of picked up with nothing and came here. Most of what I brought was art." He can rustle up money fast enough if he has to, but having somewhere to stay makes it easier.

"Um... no offence? Unless you're a trained painter, it's probably easier for us to go together for supplies. And I'll need to meet her before I can select anything, so I know what colours and tones to get ahead of time."

[excessed]

"Yeah, sure. We've all been through hell one way or another for being born like this. Somehow the rest brought people together and me? I figure there's a reason for that. Course, I also think I'm trying to use this whole thing to erase what the old man did and start over so, definitely really."

Maybe it's his own penance for ignoring his siblings before; for not being there for Klaus and Vanya and the others. He's doing what he can though.

"None taken," he says with a shrug and a shake of his head. "I play bass, and I haven't even done that in ... fuck, too long, so all good. She should be around here? Unless Klaus took her shopping. Again."

[opiate_visions]

"I don't need to meet her this second," Isaac clarifies. "Just... before I get supplies. If the offer for somewhere to sleep is still available, I'd love a chance for a shower and clean clothes."

[excessed]

"Yeah sure. Come on. I'll show you the nickle tour and get you a room," he says, pushing back from the table and gesturing for Isaac to follow.

[opiate_visions]

"Thanks." Isaac hefted up his duffle, closing and gathering the art book close. "I really appreciate this."

[excessed]

Upstairs things have changed. Dens and libraries have been changed to bedrooms. With Isaac though he heads up another level, to a room where he knows there are high windows, figuring an artist needs large windows and light. Isn't that what they say on shows?

"The bed may not be much but we're working on new things. Selling off all the crap none of us needs," he admits. "But the house has been useful.

[opiate_visions]

"I've been through rehab, the bed will be fine." It was off the floor, there was a pillow, he'd manage. "Might as well send it off to someone who wants it. And if you're taking in strays and waifs, the money won't go astray, though, isn't your father like, a multi billionaire?"

[excessed]

"Oh yeah, we have a shit ton of money," he says with a smirk. "We... and by that I mean me for sure, just enjoying getting rid of all that shit we weren't allowed to touch because it was expensive." And he looks amused by it definitely.

"But we're redoing what we can for those here. Eventually we'll come up with other ideas."

[opiate_visions]

"My father's well off. Cargo transport." He pauses by a door and then goes back, heading in. "I think that might be a Whistler." He wandered over to a small painting on the wall, leaning in to look at it. "I mean, I'm not an evaluator or the like, but I did art school. And this reminds me of Whistler. You should consider bringing someone in to value this stuff. Some of it might be worth auction. Or donation, depending on how you feel."