Diego waits and he listens when Klaus speaks, lets him get out the words he needs to. It pains him to hear it, to hear how afraid Klaus is of his own mind and the way it betrays him.
Number Two knew the drugs had started as a way to mute the ghosts that haunted him but somewhere along the way the addiction had become something more, a way to block out his feelings and all the things their father had done to them. It had taken facing war and meeting Dave to change it, to give Klaus the push he needed to change things and Diego knew it was an uphill fight, one he'd face for the rest of his life.
There's a brief moment where he hesitates, but then Diego slips an arm around Klaus' shoulder and meets his gaze.
"T-then we start again." He internally curses his stutter, the way it betrays how much he's feeling beneath the surface. But Klaus needs to know that Diego is here, even if it's just him. They're doing things differently this time. "I meant it Klaus. You don't have to do this a-alone."
Klaus doesn't hesitate as that arm comes around him to crumble against his brother's chest, face hidden, fingers twisted into the material of his shirt, at such a loss for words at all, suddenly.
The Hargreeves have never been the tightest knit family, and things got infinitely worse after Ben's death and when they all eventually just parted ways and did their own things in their own time and with their own lives. Klaus' own life was mostly just a further downward spiral along the same path he'd been on for awhile by that point.
But now...
It's different. He's different. And it's hard and scary and he is so glad he won't be alone in the process of it.
His shoulders shake with the weight of the sobs, but there is no sound to accompany them, save a few gasps interspersed when he has to catch his breath. The silent cries might make it all that much harder to witness, knowing that he is so overcome that he can't even put a sound to it at all for the pain and the fear choking the air from his lungs instead.
Klaus isn't sure how long he stays like that, but it feels like a mild eternity before his breaths regulate and his eyes can focus beyond a tear-blurry mess. His fingers untangle from Diego's shirt and he slowly pushes himself to sit up, both hands dragging down his face with a deep, and downright annoyed, groan.
He hates this. Everything about it. The fear. The pain. The tears. Every ounce of his being that just feels like it's either on fire or would be better if it was. There is this impossible sort of weight that can't decide if it should be on his shoulders or in his chest more often, and both make it harder to breathe. Is this sobriety? He's sure he should check out of it, except for all the reasons he shouldn't.
Of all of their siblings, Diego's always had the softest spot for Klaus. Maybe it's because he needs someone to take care of him and Diego likes feelings like he's needed.
And maybe, just maybe, that's why it feels like his heart is breaking when he feels the silent sobs against his chest, bony fingers twisted in his t-shirt and tears soaking the material.
He just holds Klaus through it, arm wrapped firmly around his shoulders.
His grip on him only loosens when Klaus sits up, scrubbing at his face aggressively and Diego watches his back, waits until he speaks again, not wanting to push, not now when Klaus is opening up.
A million thoughts, and maybe just as many emotions, are swimming through him right now, but he can't even pick one to focus on, to hone in on and figure out a way to put into words. Hence the reaction when he'd finally managed to stop crying. Klaus isn't sure he knows how to feel things anymore, not after all this time, and maybe that's part of the problem.
His eyes shift to the side that Diego is sitting at, but his head doesn't move. And his gaze drops to fingers twisting among themselves in his lap. He wants to say.... something, he's sure of that much, but what it is, how to make those words actually form and tumble out of his mouth? He's not sure.
"I..." A mirthless huff of a laugh escapes him and he shakes his head, folding his legs up toward his chest, hands spread. "I guess I'm all out of words now." He rests his forehead against the top of his knees and falls silent again.
It feels stupid, being at a loss like this. He can't seem to look at it any other way-- like the fact that he'd made it through the worst ends of detox by now, or that the conversation he'd had with Diego was emotionally taxing and how much that kind of thing drains a person. Klaus hasn't been very apt at looking at anything about himself in a positive light in awhile, so much quicker to lean toward self-deprecation instead.
Diego watches Klaus for a long moment, let's him do what he needs to. It isn't until he curls in on himself that Diego shuffles into action, sliding his hand over his brother's bony spine and rubbing gently.
He doesn't know how to help, how to make Klaus feel better. But he can offer comfort, be there when he needs it.
Klaus subconsciously leans into the touch, it's warm and comforting and god, he's so sore everywhere from the toll his body has been rolling its way through for the last handful of days. Without actually moving, he nods at the suggestion. "Mmnn...yeah. Yeah, please."
"Alright. Stay here." Diego gives Klaus' shoulder one last squeeze before he gets up and leaves the room, ducking into the bathroom to fill the tub with hot water and plenty of bubbles, just how he knows Klaus likes.
When it's ready, he returns to get Klaus. "C'mon. It's ready."
Klaus is still sitting in the same position he was in when Diego slipped out of the room, folded up over his knees and in the incredibly short time it took for his brother to run the bathwater for him, Klaus already started drifting to sleep.
"Mnn?" He lifts his head and squints into the darkness of the room before Diego's words register in his head. "Oh." He shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet and pads his way to the door, where he pauses to glance over his shoulder at Diego, "If I'm not out in like-- twenty minutes? Come make sure my stupid ass ain't drowning." He's really tired at this point.
With that, he disappears into the bathroom, smiling a little at the bubbles fizzing quietly over the top of the water. He takes no time in getting in and sliding down underneath the water, both hands scrubbing down his face.
Luckily, there's no need for a dramatic drowning rescue. He's in and out in a reasonable time, dressed and staring at himself in the mirror. He looked like hell, which was appropriate, because that's what he felt like, too. But as he glances toward the bathroom door, and realizes he has to leave this room, and go to another one, there's a lurch of panic suddenly.
Does he have to go to his room and be alone again? He really doesn't want to. Diego may have put up with him for awhile, but did he really want to babysit his grown-ass brother all night? No. Who would? That feeling burns low in his belly, a familiar kind of anxious energy Klaus doesn't really ever remember living without. It dulls, it ebbs and flows, but it never really leaves him alone; how could it, when he's spent decades running away from everything that scares him?
He flexes his fingers at the sides of the sink, slowly turning his attention back to his reflection in the mirror. The fact that this was his response to even the idea of being alone kind of spoke for itself, though.
He blinks, hard, and shakes his head in an effort to dispel stray thoughts. He moves toward the door and makes his way back down to Diego's room, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. "Can I...stay?"
In a continuing theme of the night, Klaus suddenly, overwhelmingly, feels like a kid again; the same kid who stood in doorways of siblings' rooms on a countless number of nights, terrified of the dark and the things in its shadows. Mostly, he still is that kid.
Diego frowns, curling his hand around Klaus' shoulder and squeeze in reassurance before he nods.
"You're not gonna drown, drama queen."
While Klaus is in the bath, Diego goes about getting ready for bed. He tidies himself up and makes sure all his knives are clean before he puts them away in their case, packing it away under his bed. It's easy to change into sweats and a t-shirt before climbing back onto the bed and sprawling out, waiting for his brother to come back.
Four is back before Diego has a chance to worry and he's shuffling and looking awkward and uncomfortable.
And then the words that he was waiting for come and Diego nods, patting the bed beside him. Honestly, he's surprised that Klaus asked him at all, instead of just crawling in and helping himself.
"You're always welcome here. You know that right?"
There's a long pause as he considers that idea, tries to mull it over and decide if he did, in fact, know that. But eventually, he settles on, "I- D, it's...been a long time. I try not to assume anything anymore." Before dad's funeral, could either of them pinpoint the exact time they had even last spoken to one another?
Still. The open-ended invitation is enough to push Klaus over the threshold of the doorway, pausing only long enough to click the door shut, before crossing the rest of the room to slide onto the side of the bed his brother isn't already occupying.
"But I really... really appreciate it." he admits quietly, sliding under the comforter, while simultaneously curling up against his brother's side. Klaus has always hated sleeping alone, and having the opportunity to be certain he wouldn't have to is rare, so he intends to soak up every moment of it for the time being.
He supposes it has been years since the last time they did this, but Diego's always had a soft spot for number Four and it's easy to fall back into the same routine and wrap an arm around Klaus, sliding it under his neck and pulling him close. Despite being the same age, Diego has often had trouble remembering that Klaus isn't the younger brother he needs to look after. He's sure he's not alone in that feeling.
He sinks somehow deeper into that hold, burying his face against his brother's side and breathing in the comfort from being here. Klaus somehow forgot that in lieu of Ben being around, Diego was always the first person he ran to when he needed something. Maybe it's been too long since they last spoke, before all of this.
He breathes out a quiet, muffled, "Thanks..." as his now-tenuous grip on staying awake slips away to something more relaxed. It takes almost no time for him to drift off to sleep, the kind of sleep that makes him practically dead to the world, the kind he really doesn't get nearly enough of.
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no subject
Date: 2019-03-10 10:39 am (UTC)Number Two knew the drugs had started as a way to mute the ghosts that haunted him but somewhere along the way the addiction had become something more, a way to block out his feelings and all the things their father had done to them. It had taken facing war and meeting Dave to change it, to give Klaus the push he needed to change things and Diego knew it was an uphill fight, one he'd face for the rest of his life.
There's a brief moment where he hesitates, but then Diego slips an arm around Klaus' shoulder and meets his gaze.
"T-then we start again." He internally curses his stutter, the way it betrays how much he's feeling beneath the surface. But Klaus needs to know that Diego is here, even if it's just him. They're doing things differently this time. "I meant it Klaus. You don't have to do this a-alone."
no subject
Date: 2019-03-11 12:28 am (UTC)The Hargreeves have never been the tightest knit family, and things got infinitely worse after Ben's death and when they all eventually just parted ways and did their own things in their own time and with their own lives. Klaus' own life was mostly just a further downward spiral along the same path he'd been on for awhile by that point.
But now...
It's different.
He's different.
And it's hard and scary and he is so glad he won't be alone in the process of it.
His shoulders shake with the weight of the sobs, but there is no sound to accompany them, save a few gasps interspersed when he has to catch his breath. The silent cries might make it all that much harder to witness, knowing that he is so overcome that he can't even put a sound to it at all for the pain and the fear choking the air from his lungs instead.
Klaus isn't sure how long he stays like that, but it feels like a mild eternity before his breaths regulate and his eyes can focus beyond a tear-blurry mess. His fingers untangle from Diego's shirt and he slowly pushes himself to sit up, both hands dragging down his face with a deep, and downright annoyed, groan.
He hates this. Everything about it. The fear. The pain. The tears. Every ounce of his being that just feels like it's either on fire or would be better if it was. There is this impossible sort of weight that can't decide if it should be on his shoulders or in his chest more often, and both make it harder to breathe. Is this sobriety? He's sure he should check out of it, except for all the reasons he shouldn't.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-11 01:08 am (UTC)And maybe, just maybe, that's why it feels like his heart is breaking when he feels the silent sobs against his chest, bony fingers twisted in his t-shirt and tears soaking the material.
He just holds Klaus through it, arm wrapped firmly around his shoulders.
His grip on him only loosens when Klaus sits up, scrubbing at his face aggressively and Diego watches his back, waits until he speaks again, not wanting to push, not now when Klaus is opening up.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-11 02:57 am (UTC)His eyes shift to the side that Diego is sitting at, but his head doesn't move. And his gaze drops to fingers twisting among themselves in his lap. He wants to say.... something, he's sure of that much, but what it is, how to make those words actually form and tumble out of his mouth? He's not sure.
"I..." A mirthless huff of a laugh escapes him and he shakes his head, folding his legs up toward his chest, hands spread. "I guess I'm all out of words now." He rests his forehead against the top of his knees and falls silent again.
It feels stupid, being at a loss like this. He can't seem to look at it any other way-- like the fact that he'd made it through the worst ends of detox by now, or that the conversation he'd had with Diego was emotionally taxing and how much that kind of thing drains a person. Klaus hasn't been very apt at looking at anything about himself in a positive light in awhile, so much quicker to lean toward self-deprecation instead.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-15 10:02 am (UTC)He doesn't know how to help, how to make Klaus feel better. But he can offer comfort, be there when he needs it.
"Want me to run you a bath?" Those help, right?
no subject
Date: 2019-03-16 04:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-03-16 10:45 am (UTC)When it's ready, he returns to get Klaus. "C'mon. It's ready."
no subject
Date: 2019-03-22 04:14 am (UTC)"Mnn?" He lifts his head and squints into the darkness of the room before Diego's words register in his head. "Oh." He shakes his head and pushes himself to his feet and pads his way to the door, where he pauses to glance over his shoulder at Diego, "If I'm not out in like-- twenty minutes? Come make sure my stupid ass ain't drowning." He's really tired at this point.
With that, he disappears into the bathroom, smiling a little at the bubbles fizzing quietly over the top of the water. He takes no time in getting in and sliding down underneath the water, both hands scrubbing down his face.
Luckily, there's no need for a dramatic drowning rescue. He's in and out in a reasonable time, dressed and staring at himself in the mirror. He looked like hell, which was appropriate, because that's what he felt like, too. But as he glances toward the bathroom door, and realizes he has to leave this room, and go to another one, there's a lurch of panic suddenly.
Does he have to go to his room and be alone again? He really doesn't want to. Diego may have put up with him for awhile, but did he really want to babysit his grown-ass brother all night? No. Who would? That feeling burns low in his belly, a familiar kind of anxious energy Klaus doesn't really ever remember living without. It dulls, it ebbs and flows, but it never really leaves him alone; how could it, when he's spent decades running away from everything that scares him?
He flexes his fingers at the sides of the sink, slowly turning his attention back to his reflection in the mirror. The fact that this was his response to even the idea of being alone kind of spoke for itself, though.
He blinks, hard, and shakes his head in an effort to dispel stray thoughts. He moves toward the door and makes his way back down to Diego's room, hovering awkwardly in the doorway. "Can I...stay?"
In a continuing theme of the night, Klaus suddenly, overwhelmingly, feels like a kid again; the same kid who stood in doorways of siblings' rooms on a countless number of nights, terrified of the dark and the things in its shadows. Mostly, he still is that kid.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-23 09:58 am (UTC)"You're not gonna drown, drama queen."
While Klaus is in the bath, Diego goes about getting ready for bed. He tidies himself up and makes sure all his knives are clean before he puts them away in their case, packing it away under his bed. It's easy to change into sweats and a t-shirt before climbing back onto the bed and sprawling out, waiting for his brother to come back.
Four is back before Diego has a chance to worry and he's shuffling and looking awkward and uncomfortable.
And then the words that he was waiting for come and Diego nods, patting the bed beside him. Honestly, he's surprised that Klaus asked him at all, instead of just crawling in and helping himself.
"You're always welcome here. You know that right?"
no subject
Date: 2019-03-24 03:51 am (UTC)Still. The open-ended invitation is enough to push Klaus over the threshold of the doorway, pausing only long enough to click the door shut, before crossing the rest of the room to slide onto the side of the bed his brother isn't already occupying.
"But I really... really appreciate it." he admits quietly, sliding under the comforter, while simultaneously curling up against his brother's side. Klaus has always hated sleeping alone, and having the opportunity to be certain he wouldn't have to is rare, so he intends to soak up every moment of it for the time being.
no subject
Date: 2019-03-24 07:50 am (UTC)"Anytime."
no subject
Date: 2019-03-24 10:03 pm (UTC)He breathes out a quiet, muffled, "Thanks..." as his now-tenuous grip on staying awake slips away to something more relaxed. It takes almost no time for him to drift off to sleep, the kind of sleep that makes him practically dead to the world, the kind he really doesn't get nearly enough of.