child’s hands cling that much tighter to waterlogged sleeve, curling in the fabric halfway taught before forcibly letting go, breathing deep through his nose and hoping his brother couldn’t feel it through the rain because — because it’s a useless gesture, one that leaves his teeth aching, grinding together in something akin to anger but burning cold instead of hot beneath his ribcage.
smoldering coals doused in water froze over is easier than the ache guilt burning just below the surface of his skin. the familiar blister that flares every time he sees a scratch in the hardwood that wasn’t there before he left, a hairline scar carved just above Diego’s ear, dimmed eyes somehow dimmed even further, grown bodies somehow gaunt, frail, weathered, understandably so ( already witnessed, just halfway under rubble and lifeless instead ) but it’s different actually seeing it in the shadows embedded beneath Klaus’s eyes, the glaze of something turning blue a dull gray to match the clouds, and it makes his fingertips tremble where they hover useless nearby.
the smell of blood, familiar, too much, still leaves him almost dizzy but not quite, painfully present, drenched to the skin and bone and somehow Klaus feels even colder. “ shut up, Klaus, ” he repeats, useless, but he needs to say it, to stop, ignore the indication of his words, as if Five would just leave — as if that’s so impossible to imagine —
“ i’ve killed more people than you could comprehend, ” and it comes out too sharp, brittle, as if it’s about him even if that’s the furthest thing from the feeling trapped deep in his throat, “ and i’ll kill them if they even fucking breathe down his alley. ” in fact a part of him longs for them to come back, to indulge him his bloodlust, old friend, always turning quivered hold to steady, an unrivaled focus, but that’s not important right now, not when he can still smell it, see the glimpses of red through Klaus’s huddled form. “ how bad is it, Klaus? — no bullshit. ”
KLAUS MISSES THE COMFORTING COILS OF RISING SMOKE THAT TENDS TO OCCUPY THE SPACE BEFORE HIS EYES . The way they danced and intermingled, looped into one another and clung before pulling away with polite departure. What he wants even more now than ever is to retreat into one of his lengthy baths, music drowning out the silence, the spirits, and to ignore the problems for an hour or so. But he knows it won’t be so simple, knows Five will persist and persist until answers are given. In truth, he VALUES such a quality.
And then comes the confession Klaus had always dreaded. For a man who walks the border between the living and the dead, there’s subtle fear hinting at the edges of his eyes. He’s seen those who’ve fallen victim to Hazel and Cha Cha, the brutality and mercilessness, bodies twisted and carved to horrific misfigurations. This... only makes him aware of what else he may see around Five. Will he see the same? He wants to ask, but he doesn’t, mouth kept SHUT on the topic in favor of remaining as ignorant as possible. Such a virtue, it was.
“ You tell me, ” he begins, willing himself to uncurl despite how every nerve SCREAMED begged him not to move. With effort, and a whine he hoped Five hadn’t heard, luxurious coat is pulled to the side, half-shirt lifted up more to reveal just the beginning of ugly bruises: a vibrant red already turning plum, along his ribs. “ Guess it could be worse, huh? I could be dead. ” No, that would be the preferable option, but he doesn’t voice that aloud. Pretty crimson ribbons run over porcelain skin, streamers of lacerations, medium in length, carve into his hip. It’s clear they intended to HURT him, not kill him. A warning to be hearkened.
Yet he smiles --- PAINED as it is --- and rests his head back against the wall behind him. There’s a labored inhale, even a sarcastic chuckle, avoidant of eye contact. Emerald greens stare down the other end of the alley, away from his brother. “ My whole life I tried so hard to prove daddy dearest wrong, but turns out he was right. I always was the family fuck up. ”
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