[Klaus doesn't know how Ben does it, how he keeps himself together like that, keeps his face calm, keeps his expression neutral, his mouth as if it were drawn with a ruler. Of course he knows Ben enough to read the subtle signs - the way his mouth softens a little, the way his brows move, but he doesn't say anything or emote and Klaus is still crying, silently, the tears coursing down his face. It makes him feel out of control and stupid for crying over Reginald Hargreeves, of all people, but here he is, and Ben just looks at him with that calm expression.
Something builds up in Klaus' chest and gut and he clamps his hands harder against his middle, feeling like he's going to sob or vomit or both, or like his diaphragm is going to explode into his chest cavity. Then Ben's face changes, the mask falls, his hand comes up to cover his mouth, and Ben tells him not to say that he didn't want to come back, and his voice is sharp and - to Klaus' ears - accusatory.
It's like a tidal wave. Klaus turns abruptly and makes his way into an alley, out of public view, and squats on the ground beside the wall of a building, buries his face in his hands, and sobs hard for a few moments. Sobs hard enough that he chokes on it, drags his fingers through his hair and his body squirms with the sheer intensity of what he's feeling.
He'd died. He'd talked to his sadistic abusive father in the afterlife. Everything hurts and corpses follow him wherever he goes, he can't get away from it, there are no breaks or relief.
Dave is dead. Dave is dead and he's never coming back, not solid and present and warm and perfect and so beautiful it hurts.
It takes a while, but eventually he's able to lift his head to look up at Ben, who seems smudgy and blurred through the tears. Ben's seen him worse than this, Ben's seen him doing worse things than crying in an alley, but he feels too vulnerable and more than a little stupid, because Ben is always in control and Ben always looks calm and Klaus is a mess, has always been a mess.]
[ There isn't much he can do (and that's nothing new); he just watches and watches as life rips into his brother, tears away pieces of him, more and more. It never hurts any less to see it. Ben can only stay closer, following Klaus as he moves further into the alley, crouching down to stay on his level as he sobs. ]
Klaus... Hey, Klaus...
[ All the edges are softened from his voice, and it is quiet and coaxing, trying to bring his brother back from whatever yawning void of sadness has opened up in him now. Ben's chest aches, seeing the way Klaus's face is twisted up, half like he's laughing, half like he's in pain. He wishes he could give him a hug. He wishes he hadn't sad anything when Luther left the house. This isn't all his fault, but it's a larger percentage than he'd like. ]
Just breathe, alright?
[ He doesn't look ill, or still injured, or like he's going to pass out. Which doesn't make the emotional agony he's feeling any better, but at least it means there is no need for brightly-lit ER waiting rooms or clipboards or condescending doctors. Ben sighs, head dropping to his hand, covering his eyes. He is exhausted. Ever since their dad died, there has been so much happening. ]
Let's get you home and safe...
[ And Ben stands up, waits for Klaus to collect himself enough to stand, too. He coaxes him in this way, even though he can't touch him - just taking the next steps himself and waiting for Klaus to copy, to follow. Once Klaus is steady on his feet, Ben starts heading out the alley, eyes on his brother, walking step by step beside him.
He doesn't push his luck too quickly. For a few minutes they walk silently, away from the clubs, to quieter streets that are deserted by the late-night party-goers. When they're a few blocks from the Academy he finally speaks up again. ]
You don't want that, okay? Just... trust me. I'm the expert here. I mean, I'm not even really jealous that for some reason you got to come back. That's how badly I- don't want you to die, bro.
[It's nice that, when Klaus looks up at his brother through tear-filled eyes, Ben has come closer to crouch in front of him, speaking with that soft voice. Soft and coaxing and gentle. Ben is the only one who's ever been that gentle with him, spoken to him like that, talked him through all his flashbacks and dope sickness and the worst of the terrible things that had happened to him in the streets. Most of those times, the worst moments in his life since he'd left home, he only really remembers Ben's voice through flashes of darkness and pain and misery, telling him to breathe, telling him to move, telling him he wasn't safe until finally Ben told him he could sleep.
So Ben tells him to breathe, and he does, he takes a shaky breath, sobs it out, but then takes another. Everything still hurts, but it feels like some of the raw edge has been taken off - he has a whopper of a headache from crying while being dope sick, but he feels a little more clear-headed, he doesn't feel like he'd rather die than keep living like this, or at least he doesn't feel it enough that he's tempted to act on it. A few more shuddering breaths that come with tearless sobs, and he rubs at his face with the palm of his hand. His face is wet with tears and sweat, and his hands are dirty, so he ends up with dark smudges of dirt mixed with wetness and eyeliner across his face and down his cheeks and forehead.]
Okay okay okay...
[He whispers it, slowly pushes himself up to his feet, then hooks his arms around his stomach again while he wavers on his feet and eventually sways too far backward, enough that his shoulderblades smack into the wall and he leans there for a moment.]
Home and safe, huh? [He gives a soft little laugh, eyes sinking shut as he tilts his head back against the wall, shivering hard and feeling his gut twist with nausea so sudden and intense he feels like he's going to throw up his guts.] You do remember that when I got kidnapped and tortured it was from that safe home, right?
[But he pushes away from the wall with his elbows, feeling the rough surface of the brick scrape against his elbows, and starts moving out of the alley. When he emerges, some girls walking back from the club squeal and cross the street to avoid him, and all he can do is laugh bitterly, under his breath. It feels like forever before he can see the end of this hopeless trek, and then Ben starts talking again. Klaus looks over at him, sideways, not sure if he feels touched or mildly offended. Maybe it's a bit of both.]
If I didn't know for sure I'd probably end up a screaming angry ghost, if it was just like, falling asleep forever, that might be better than the life I have right now. Fuck, Ben...
[ Klaus's face may be dirty and he may be swaying on his feet but at least he stands up, at least he finds that hard kernel of strength in him and pushes through, despite all of it. Ben thinks he never met anyone so resilient - even if half the time Klaus is crawling his way back out a hole that Ben warned him again and again not to walk near, to watch out for.
When Klaus jokes about being kidnapped from the Academy, Ben opens his mouth, the reflex there to protest that he had tried to warn Klaus there were intruders, had shouted his name again and again only for it to be drowned out with Klaus's music. But for once, he bites back the defensive words. 'Tried' hadn't been good enough - it was never good enough - and everything unsafe that has happened to Klaus tonight was because of Ben's trying. ]
I'm not gonna let that happen again, ever.
[ It's absurdly unenforceable, that promise. The truth is things happen in the world as they are going to and how Ben Hargreeves feels about them doesn't make the slightest difference. But Ben had been there the entire time Hazel and Cha-Cha had Klaus. If either of them get close to him again, well, he's going to do his best to find a way to make things different. ]
Dying isn't the solution.
[ The words come out tight, clipped with annoyance that doesn't hide the increasingly frantic concern underneath. Klaus had been so close to finally growing, finally starting to take steps towards healing. And now this: wishing he were dead, talking about how it's better than the life he has now. Ben can't let him talk like that. Can't let that kind of reasoning take root. He can see the gates of the Academy as they round a corner and his voice is low, encouraging and loving and exasperated all at once: ]
If you hate your life, then make your life better. 'Cause once you're dead, that's it. Nothing improves, not ever. And I'm not screaming or angry but I haven't slept in fourteen years so resting in peace doesn't seem to be on the cosmic menu.
[Klaus knows just as well as Ben does that there's no way he can promise to not let that happen again and actually be able to follow through. Ben is dead, and Klaus can just walk through him whenever he wants, all Ben has is his voice and emotional manipulation and his compassion.
But sometimes it feels like Ben is the only one who gives a shit. Maybe Ben pushed him to rescue Luther when Luther didn't really need rescuing, and maybe that pushing led to Klaus dying for a few minutes. But Klaus is alive now, and Ben kept him distracted long enough that he didn't immediately relapse when the worst of the dope sickness set in, and Ben is helping him get home after Luther ditched him dead on the floor of a club.
Klaus squeezes his arms around his middle a little harder, glancing over at Ben as his brother says that dying isn't the solution, and he can hear the worry with an edge of panic that Ben is carefully concealing with his usual placid demeanor. Klaus doesn't know what to say in response, so it's a bit of a relief that Ben doesn't bring it up again until they're almost home, gives Klaus some time to chew that over in his feverish head. His whole body feels too hot and too cold at the same time, and his stomach is twisting. He feels like he needs to go to the bathroom and empty himself from both ends, and if that isn't the most depressing, disgusting thing he can think of right now, then...well. He doesn't even know. It's this sad train of thought that Ben derails when he starts talking again, saying that if he hates his life that he needs to make it better, that nothing improves once you're dead, that he hadn't slept in fourteen years.
Klaus winces.]
Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah, okay okay, fine. You win. I won't go shuffling off this mortal coil anytime soon, so long as Luther doesn't go get himself high and drunk and laid again. Deal?
[It's a little sarcastic, but he also means it. He wants Ben to relax and stop worrying about it so much. Ben turns into an awful nag when he's anxious and worrying about things. Lifting a hand to rub at his face, Klaus winces again.]
God. It's not even like I actually want to be dead. I'm just sick of...feeling like shit, and I miss Dave, I miss him so much. I don't know how I'm supposed to want to be alive when he's gone.
[The grief washes over him again, and as he slips inside the Academy doors, he's got tears running down his face again, his arms squeezed around his middle, stumbling his way up to his room or the bathroom, whichever he feels like he might need more by the time he gets up the stairs.]
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substances) wrote2019-05-02 10:18 pm
no subject
Something builds up in Klaus' chest and gut and he clamps his hands harder against his middle, feeling like he's going to sob or vomit or both, or like his diaphragm is going to explode into his chest cavity. Then Ben's face changes, the mask falls, his hand comes up to cover his mouth, and Ben tells him not to say that he didn't want to come back, and his voice is sharp and - to Klaus' ears - accusatory.
It's like a tidal wave. Klaus turns abruptly and makes his way into an alley, out of public view, and squats on the ground beside the wall of a building, buries his face in his hands, and sobs hard for a few moments. Sobs hard enough that he chokes on it, drags his fingers through his hair and his body squirms with the sheer intensity of what he's feeling.
He'd died. He'd talked to his sadistic abusive father in the afterlife. Everything hurts and corpses follow him wherever he goes, he can't get away from it, there are no breaks or relief.
Dave is dead. Dave is dead and he's never coming back, not solid and present and warm and perfect and so beautiful it hurts.
It takes a while, but eventually he's able to lift his head to look up at Ben, who seems smudgy and blurred through the tears. Ben's seen him worse than this, Ben's seen him doing worse things than crying in an alley, but he feels too vulnerable and more than a little stupid, because Ben is always in control and Ben always looks calm and Klaus is a mess, has always been a mess.]
Okay, okay okay...okay...
[It's soft, breathy, gasped out between sobs.]
no subject
Klaus... Hey, Klaus...
[ All the edges are softened from his voice, and it is quiet and coaxing, trying to bring his brother back from whatever yawning void of sadness has opened up in him now. Ben's chest aches, seeing the way Klaus's face is twisted up, half like he's laughing, half like he's in pain. He wishes he could give him a hug. He wishes he hadn't sad anything when Luther left the house. This isn't all his fault, but it's a larger percentage than he'd like. ]
Just breathe, alright?
[ He doesn't look ill, or still injured, or like he's going to pass out. Which doesn't make the emotional agony he's feeling any better, but at least it means there is no need for brightly-lit ER waiting rooms or clipboards or condescending doctors. Ben sighs, head dropping to his hand, covering his eyes. He is exhausted. Ever since their dad died, there has been so much happening. ]
Let's get you home and safe...
[ And Ben stands up, waits for Klaus to collect himself enough to stand, too. He coaxes him in this way, even though he can't touch him - just taking the next steps himself and waiting for Klaus to copy, to follow. Once Klaus is steady on his feet, Ben starts heading out the alley, eyes on his brother, walking step by step beside him.
He doesn't push his luck too quickly. For a few minutes they walk silently, away from the clubs, to quieter streets that are deserted by the late-night party-goers. When they're a few blocks from the Academy he finally speaks up again. ]
You don't want that, okay? Just... trust me. I'm the expert here. I mean, I'm not even really jealous that for some reason you got to come back. That's how badly I- don't want you to die, bro.
no subject
So Ben tells him to breathe, and he does, he takes a shaky breath, sobs it out, but then takes another. Everything still hurts, but it feels like some of the raw edge has been taken off - he has a whopper of a headache from crying while being dope sick, but he feels a little more clear-headed, he doesn't feel like he'd rather die than keep living like this, or at least he doesn't feel it enough that he's tempted to act on it. A few more shuddering breaths that come with tearless sobs, and he rubs at his face with the palm of his hand. His face is wet with tears and sweat, and his hands are dirty, so he ends up with dark smudges of dirt mixed with wetness and eyeliner across his face and down his cheeks and forehead.]
Okay okay okay...
[He whispers it, slowly pushes himself up to his feet, then hooks his arms around his stomach again while he wavers on his feet and eventually sways too far backward, enough that his shoulderblades smack into the wall and he leans there for a moment.]
Home and safe, huh? [He gives a soft little laugh, eyes sinking shut as he tilts his head back against the wall, shivering hard and feeling his gut twist with nausea so sudden and intense he feels like he's going to throw up his guts.] You do remember that when I got kidnapped and tortured it was from that safe home, right?
[But he pushes away from the wall with his elbows, feeling the rough surface of the brick scrape against his elbows, and starts moving out of the alley. When he emerges, some girls walking back from the club squeal and cross the street to avoid him, and all he can do is laugh bitterly, under his breath. It feels like forever before he can see the end of this hopeless trek, and then Ben starts talking again. Klaus looks over at him, sideways, not sure if he feels touched or mildly offended. Maybe it's a bit of both.]
If I didn't know for sure I'd probably end up a screaming angry ghost, if it was just like, falling asleep forever, that might be better than the life I have right now. Fuck, Ben...
no subject
When Klaus jokes about being kidnapped from the Academy, Ben opens his mouth, the reflex there to protest that he had tried to warn Klaus there were intruders, had shouted his name again and again only for it to be drowned out with Klaus's music. But for once, he bites back the defensive words. 'Tried' hadn't been good enough - it was never good enough - and everything unsafe that has happened to Klaus tonight was because of Ben's trying. ]
I'm not gonna let that happen again, ever.
[ It's absurdly unenforceable, that promise. The truth is things happen in the world as they are going to and how Ben Hargreeves feels about them doesn't make the slightest difference. But Ben had been there the entire time Hazel and Cha-Cha had Klaus. If either of them get close to him again, well, he's going to do his best to find a way to make things different. ]
Dying isn't the solution.
[ The words come out tight, clipped with annoyance that doesn't hide the increasingly frantic concern underneath. Klaus had been so close to finally growing, finally starting to take steps towards healing. And now this: wishing he were dead, talking about how it's better than the life he has now. Ben can't let him talk like that. Can't let that kind of reasoning take root. He can see the gates of the Academy as they round a corner and his voice is low, encouraging and loving and exasperated all at once: ]
If you hate your life, then make your life better. 'Cause once you're dead, that's it. Nothing improves, not ever. And I'm not screaming or angry but I haven't slept in fourteen years so resting in peace doesn't seem to be on the cosmic menu.
no subject
But sometimes it feels like Ben is the only one who gives a shit. Maybe Ben pushed him to rescue Luther when Luther didn't really need rescuing, and maybe that pushing led to Klaus dying for a few minutes. But Klaus is alive now, and Ben kept him distracted long enough that he didn't immediately relapse when the worst of the dope sickness set in, and Ben is helping him get home after Luther ditched him dead on the floor of a club.
Klaus squeezes his arms around his middle a little harder, glancing over at Ben as his brother says that dying isn't the solution, and he can hear the worry with an edge of panic that Ben is carefully concealing with his usual placid demeanor. Klaus doesn't know what to say in response, so it's a bit of a relief that Ben doesn't bring it up again until they're almost home, gives Klaus some time to chew that over in his feverish head. His whole body feels too hot and too cold at the same time, and his stomach is twisting. He feels like he needs to go to the bathroom and empty himself from both ends, and if that isn't the most depressing, disgusting thing he can think of right now, then...well. He doesn't even know. It's this sad train of thought that Ben derails when he starts talking again, saying that if he hates his life that he needs to make it better, that nothing improves once you're dead, that he hadn't slept in fourteen years.
Klaus winces.]
Yeah. Yeah yeah yeah, okay okay, fine. You win. I won't go shuffling off this mortal coil anytime soon, so long as Luther doesn't go get himself high and drunk and laid again. Deal?
[It's a little sarcastic, but he also means it. He wants Ben to relax and stop worrying about it so much. Ben turns into an awful nag when he's anxious and worrying about things. Lifting a hand to rub at his face, Klaus winces again.]
God. It's not even like I actually want to be dead. I'm just sick of...feeling like shit, and I miss Dave, I miss him so much. I don't know how I'm supposed to want to be alive when he's gone.
[The grief washes over him again, and as he slips inside the Academy doors, he's got tears running down his face again, his arms squeezed around his middle, stumbling his way up to his room or the bathroom, whichever he feels like he might need more by the time he gets up the stairs.]