❝ yes you can. you don’t have a choice. why it’s important doesn’t matter. ❞ there is resolve in his voice, but of course it matters to klaus. he can’t keep him in the dark, ben knows that. but wasn’t dying enough?
does klaus think the years spent training left ben unequipped to handle the horrors, that it was simply a misstep of footing? no; it’s more than that. it’s knowing what their father is capable of, what luther wants from him ( from all of them ), and being unwilling to continue to participate. brash, maybe, but meaningful. so he hopes.
still, he can no longer reach out and take klaus by the shoulder and guide him, can no longer turn to his dresser the way he wants to and stubbornly announce, fine, i’ll start packing for you, idiot, the way he wants to.
what he does instead is touches the air just over klaus’ shoulder, fingertips glowing an eerie blue. ❝ it’s not illegal to engage in torture or extreme conditioning of legal adults with consent, ❞ ben says slowly. sadly. he brings his hand down to his lap and drops his head. ❝ we’re going to be eighteen in a few weeks, klaus. ❞ we. not quite.
now ben rises from the bed. claps his hands, knowing only klaus can hear. his look is pleading and questioning all at once. don’t you want to get out? don’t you trust me, do you want to do this forever or will you go? please?
❝ i’ll be with you every step of the way, okay? we’ll figure this out. we just need to go. ❞
He knows what Ben is trying to say.
Or at least he thinks that he does. But it can’t be true, can it? Of course, Klaus had taken the time to think about the way that he and his siblings have been brought up. He’s taken the time to try and compare their experiences with that of most others, from what little he knows about them. And knows, somewhere deep inside his mind, that this is all wrong.
Somewhere in his mind, he’s already called out Reginald for exactly what he is, just as he’s fairly certain he’s heard Diego mutter under his breath on more than one occasion.
Unlike his brother, he’s been unwilling to voice it in quite so simple and straightforward terms. He’s made his jokes, though, cold as they may be when one breaks them down. It’s easier to deal with it like that. He far prefers it.
Still, hearing Ben’s words... It chills him to his bones. He wants to deny it, he wants to say that he must have misread whatever was in those files and notebooks that their father never let them see, but he knows that Ben has no reason to lie, no reason to want anything but to help them. And if Ben isn’t lying, then he’s right and -
He should be ready to go, he tells himself. He should be, because he’s dreamt of this for so long, and he’s never thought of himself as being attached to the this place, to this life. He’s wanted to escape it for as long as he can remember. So why isn’t leaving easier?
“Ben, he’s not - he can’t - “ He wants to argue, but the words leaving his mouth just seem wrong. He knows everything he’s trying to say is wrong before the sentence even finishes forming itself in his mind. “We can’t just go. Can we?”
He feels like he’s standing at the edge of a precipice, and he knows it won’t take much to knock him down either way. It’d be just as easy to convince him to go as it would be to frighten him into staying as he’s been frightened many, many times before.
“Whatever you’re not telling me, Ben, I -” He swallows, eyes stinging with tears once again, though this time they don’t roll down his cheeks, just welling up in his burning eyes. “I need to know. Please, I can’t - I can’t just go, I... I don’t know the first thing about being on my own, and - and Dad’s not going to let us go so easily, and what - what if the others don’t come with me? I can’t leave them behind, I can’t -”
He shook his head, needing to take a moment to catch his breath.
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