#sixthtm

It’s been a little under twenty four hours since Ben died and Klaus is coping as well as can be expected, which is to say not at all. He hasn’t been sober since heard the news, not that he’s sober often these days anyway, but this is different. Instead of lightly buzzed on weed and alcohol he’s taken a dip into his oxy stash, head dived straight down into the rabbit hole of narcotics because really, why not? What’s the fucking point of being careful if Ben isn’t here to say I told you so? He’s on his bedroom floor, flat on his back staring up at the ceiling completely dead to the world and yet more aware than he would like. Someone came by earlier, he can’t remember who, but they asked if he could conjure Ben and Klaus barely had the coherency to shake his head at them. Of course he can’t, not like this, which is precisely why he’s taken so much. Klaus won’t-can’t-see Ben’s ghost, he refuses. There is no way in hell or anywhere else he is going to see his brother’s mutilated corpse, hear his screams and why didn’t you help me Klaus help me Klaus help help help-no. No. He’s not doing it. Full stop. Maybe that’s selfish of him, it is selfish of him, the others need closure, but Klaus simply doesn’t care anymore. There’s nothing but the distant thump of his heart, and grief that even the drugs aren’t chasing away. 

For a while, he drifts. Sometimes he opens his eyes only to realise he must have fallen asleep, and for the rest of the time he simply stares at the ceiling. Grace comes upstairs, tells him he needs to eat, but Klaus ignores her. Luther comes by and says something that sounds disappointed, and Klaus can’t even remember how to flip him off. Even Vanya, quiet forgettable Vanya stumbles through a few words that Klaus ignores before walking away again. Every now and then he fumbles for another pill, a swig of alcohol, but that’s it. Klaus could die right here on his bedroom floor in the next two hours and be grateful for it. He closes his eyes, fades away for a time and only opens them again when he hears a noise by his wardrobe. With great effort he rolls his head in that direction and no-no.

‘   will they miss me if i go?   ’

daughter starters / accepting / @sixthtm

Does he? He should, obviously he should, and it sounds so obvious when Ben says it like that-I know you regret it. Spending over a decade lost deep in the jaws of addiction is absolutely the kind of thing one is meant to regret. Between the stealing, the lying, the hurting people he loves and the waking up covered in his own piss or vomit, Klaus has a lot of things to be sorry for, a lot of things that should keep him up at night praying, forgive me father for I have sinned and all that business. A lot he should regret-the first time he plunged a needle into his arm for example, or the first time he stole from one of his siblings to buy a handful of oxy. The first time he woke up in the back of an ambulance or any of the times he was arrested for crimes he didn’t remember committing once the high wore off. Anyone else would regret all of that, wouldn’t they? Anyone with half a shred of decency left in them, anyway. Except-except-

Klaus has spent so much of his life scared. If he were the dramatic kind he would go so far as to say he doesn’t remember a time in his childhood when he wasn’t afraid. Not always of the ghosts, either, but of his father or Luther, or the monsters that lived inside Ben and threatened to pull his brother apart from the inside out. When he was high though, Klaus didn’t have to think about any of those things. For a few shining hours he would feel brave and indestructible, or at the very least he would be numb. Klaus knows he is a coward, he must be, but sometimes he thinks that the drugs might have been the lesser of two evils. That without them he probably wouldn’t be sitting here talking to Ben, because how the else could he have survived all of that? Maybe his siblings are stronger than he is, and Klaus is so, so happy for them that it hurts, but he wonders sometimes if ruining his own life didn’t save it too. If maybe all the things he’s meant to regret he doesn’t, really, because they kept him going. Living one high to the next isn’t a good way to be, he knew it then and he knows it now, but at least it kept him alive. 

Not that he can say any of that, not to Bed. Ben who followed him around for all those years trying and failing to get him sober. Ben tries, but he doesn’t understand, Klaus thinks, not really. Sometimes he wonders if Ben has ever truly understood his addiction at all. Oh he knows the drugs kept the ghosts away, but there are times where Klaus has looked at his brother and realised that Ben truly thought he could just quit. That it was as easy as getting up one morning and deciding not to get high that day. Klaus isn’t angry at Ben, but it hurts, sometimes, when he thinks about it.

With twenty dollars in his right shoe and a blunt between his fingers, the world is Klaus Hargreeves’ oyster. He’s three days out of rehab and finally buzzed enough that he can’t hear the dead screaming at him everywhere he goes. If he were anyone else he’d almost feel bad about falling off the wagon again so quickly, but sobriety can bight his ass. Klaus would challenge anyone to put up with the shit he deals with while sober. It’s all very well and good for Luther to call him weak but Klaus thinks that’s pretty fucking bold from the guy who punches shit real hard. Not that it bothers him, not really, Klaus has long since given up trying to explain himself to his siblings, and they have long since given up on him-it’s easier this way, for all of them. They get to go about living their lives, and Klaus gets so high he can no longer even say the word mausoleum: everyone wins. 

Everyone except Ben, anyway, who has no life to live and is stuck hanging out with Klaus for the rest of eternity or whatever. Yet another thing Klaus should feel bad about, but doesn’t, Well, he does, just not right now, it’s hard to feel bad about anything with the comforting blanket of narcotics between him and the rest of the world. He’s not high enough that he’s completely past being coherent (yet) but not sober enough to hear any of the ghosts besides Ben. A fair middle ground, he thinks, though he doubts Ben feels the same way. He takes one last drag of his blunt before stamping it out under his knock of converse (they completely clash with the black dress he stole in rehab but whatever, beggars can’t be choosers). 

hug him!!! / accepting / @sixthtm

Sobriety sucks. Okay so there are some benefits-Klaus no longer lives in a permanent fog which is kind of useful, he knows what’s going on a lot more than he used to, and talking to his siblings is a lot easier without a layer of oxy between them. So, not all bad, but pretty shit all the same. Between the ghosts yelling at him with renewed force as if to make up for the years he’s spent ignoring them, and the constant cravings under his skin Klaus has been feeling absolutely miserable. On top of all he’s still wrestling with his powers, the same one’s he’s been deliberately ignoring and drowning out for almost two decades. Fun times all round in the Hargreeves home. 

He and Ben are sat crossed legged in Klaus’ bedroom, facing each other as Klaus tries in vain to make Ben physical. Part of him wants to give up, and he’s said as much several times, but he keeps going anyway. The thought of being able to touch Ben is too great a thought to have him give up now. His lip is still stinging from Ben’s punch and Klaus focuses on that, on the fact that his dead brother fucking hit him. So many times over the years Klaus has tried to high five Ben, or lean on him, or hug him, only to pass through and end up on the floor, confused and laughing and so very sad. It’s not just about him, either. Klaus might not be the smartest of his siblings, but he’s not blind or an idiot either. Being dead is hard on Ben, of course it is, for over a decade the only person he’s had to hang out with is his junkie brother. It’s surely a sign of what a good person Ben is that he hasn’t abandoned him, Klaus thinks, he’s a much better person than Klaus has ever been, and god dammit he deserves this. 

Sweat is beading on Klaus’ forehead and his hands tremble with exhaustion as well as withdrawal. They should stop, call it a night, but all he can think about is how unfair it is that Ben has been stuck like this, how ungrateful he’s been of his own life-that’s the real torture, watching your brother piss everything away. It’s not fair, and Klaus knows he can do something about it, but he’s so tired and-and suddenly his hands stop midair because they’ve hit something solid. Klaus looks in shock at his hands pressed against Ben’s, palm to palm and he can feel Ben’s hands under his. A shocked laugh falls from his lips and he opens his mouth to speak but before he has the chance he’s being almost knocked over by the force of Ben’s whole body crashing into his.

she finished the song minutes ago now   ,   but she’s been staring at the sheet music on its stand as if it may jump from the page   &   attack her at any point   ,   unblinking   &   nervous.      ‘   i’ve been thinking   ,   ’      she starts   ,   characteristically hesitant   —      ‘   i   ,   uh   ,   d’you think i could go to college?   for music.   i don’t know   ,   it might be stupid   ,   but.   ’      she trails off   ,   words hanging in the air.   the unknown frightens her   ,   more than she could ever say   ,   &   there is nothing more unknown than the world outside these walls   ,   and thus nothing more terrifying   —   but she wants to escape   ,   wants to breathe air not clouded by the dust of this dark mansion.   (   someday   ,   her heart sings   —   there must be something beyond this   ,   and someday she will have the courage to find it.   )