#klaens.

he’s always been so good with words, it’s funny how easily the question disarms him. a slight stumble in green gaze, eyes flashing with a temporary loss. mulling it over, buying himself some time, top row of pearly whites bother his bottom lip. it’s pulled into mouth a bit, distorting expression before lips are instead forced apart, making room for the weight of the sigh that is exhaled. optimism is so hard to find these days, but he’s intent on making his tragedy a work of art. “the future is the white fence, two dogs, some kids mulling around. the american dream, but not so painfully straight.”  he winces as he throws a very purposeful wrench in the plan of the conservative future. grin eventually flashes, and finally he’s buying into his own fantasy. “it doesn’t matter if we go back in the long run, because were happy no matter what fucking alternate universe we end up in, together.” 

as much as he would like to have found a way to bandage this particular wound with anger, there just wasn’t any. instead, he looked suspicious, i n c r e d u l o u s even. the words seemed like they were just a little too indulgent to him, and he’d been so fucking c a r e f u l the whole time. ignoring all the signs, stepping away from what he wanted instead of toward it, all of it, and here noel was to tell him every punishment he’d handed himself wasn’t good enough. the sound he made was somewhere between a s c o f f and a c h u c k l e. “oh come on, you didn’t know.”