#i'm!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

@pyreshe​ sent 🫂 for a hug

     After all this time, Klaus still doesn’t get much sleep. It’s not his fault, he supposes— there are plenty of reasons his body has hardwired itself to keep the motor running for as long as physically possible. If he can stay awake, he can keep those phantom voices at bay (or, at least, keep them in the periphery). If he can stay awake, he can always skip away when the patrol officers make their rounds to kick him from benches and vacant coffee shop tables. If he can stay awake, he can protect himself (protect Dave) from the enemy lurking in the dead of night.

     So he stays awake. No big deal. 

     Only problem is, when he’s awake and all by his lonesome, that’s when all those yucky things called feelings start to creep back in and if he’s not careful he may just start to feel them. Guilt, grief, fear, anger, the whole shebang mixed up like a molotov cocktail in his ribcage.

     He’s not quite sure how long he’s been sitting here, crying softly to the droning late-night stream of infomercials, but he doesn’t realize her presence until the beat-up old couch cushions sink right beside him and her little arms are wrapped tight around his torso. 

     You shouldn’t be up, he wants to scold. It’s a school night. Dave will kill us both if he catches us.

     But she’s so warm. And he’s been cold for too long. 

     He wraps one arm back around her, pulls her close as the lady on the tv fawns over her miraculously non-stick pans.