{I'm not afraid of the dark, perhaps that's part of the problem

[ghostphone]

Options in the comments. Not looking for much thread-jacking on this one, because they're going to be heavy-handed and in need of narrower focus.
CWs: drug abuse, overdose, anxiety/depression descriptions, potential suicidal ideation

For all of everything that stays completely unpredictable in Klaus Hargreeves' life, the one thing he can count on like clockwork is that he will always have some curveball or another thrown at him. Anything like a steady state of affairs and he might get concerned because that would mean the other shoe is about to drop.

And it did, a week ago, when one of his older doppelgangers told him that Ben is dead, has been, for years, and that it was probably happening any time if-when he ever got sent back to the right place. It happened again about five days ago, when Dad showed up. When one of the Vanyas explained something about an Apocalypse that was coming in his future. One that was caused and created by his own family.

For a week, he's kept largely to himself. Quiet, reserved, a harsh snap of a callback to those moments when he was younger and less accustomed to being locked in a crypt. How much he always isolated himself when his training was front-and-center in Dad's schedule. He hasn't left his room for much except an occasional trip downstairs for food, preferring to stay locked away, hiding-- under blankets, on the floor between the bed and the wall with a marker tucked between his teeth as he scribbles something new along with the faded ink from years past, wherever feels the most appropriate in the moment.

But tonight... he can't take the pressure of these walls caging him in any more. Staying one more minute in the bones of this house is too much to ask. He can't breathe here, and he needs to find somewhere with new air.

Once he's dressed--easy and casual, t-shirt, black jeans, converse sneakers-- he slips out of the house with an expert sort of ease, with no doubt no one saw him or would even notice he'd disappeared.

-----

Things may not be exactly identical in the city as the year Klaus had come from, but the truth is, as much that had changed had also stayed the same, and Klaus finds his way into a club with relative ease. Once inside, he wastes no time in flirting his way into a few drinks, and the night will only get more wild from there.

He finds friends everywhere he goes, and more importantly, they're the kind of friends that party and they're the kind that like to share whatever they're partying with. These three college kids that Klaus has followed back to a hotel room are so his kind of people. Chatty and touchy and the blonde boy keeps kissing him and Klaus really can't hate anything about this night.

Drinks continue being poured, blunts passed around in illogical rotations as they spread out across the room, lines of coke are inhaled from tabletops and mirrors. Klaus has nearly forgotten about everything that he's learned this week and his head is fuzzy and his vision is spinny, so he collapses against the bed in the hotel room next to Blondie, grin wide and sloppy on his lips. "Hi, Pretty." he mumbles, digging his fingers into the older boy's hair with one hand while gripping a fist full of his shirt with the other, to give himself the leverage to roll on top of him as Klaus kisses him.

Comments

{Until my bones are the forgotten fossils of a skeleton sunken city | @hellseher

[ghostphone]

The night stretches and yawns into the latest late-nights and earliest early-mornings and somehow, he's talked into 'just one more, for the road, gorgeous.' Klaus wants to say no, that he's reached a limit he shouldn't cross, but the devil on his left just screams 'FUCK IT' and he figures there can't be much harm in it at this point. "All right, I don't see why not." But that one more line was one more too many. Not that Klaus would notice it at first. At first, he felt great, almost like he was invincible, nothing in the world could possibly phase him. But a glance at the time makes him realize he really should get going and he pushes himself to his feet. "Where's my phone?" he mutters quietly, words slurred more than he'd admit just then. When he can't seem to grab it from her, one of the girls presses the phone into his hand and presses the other against his chest as she kisses him. "If you gotta leave, I guess I gotta let you, huh?" She pouts at him and tugs a little at his collar. He gives her a grin as lopsided as the one he'd given the boy earlier and nods, "It's the only choice you got, baby." He chuckles at himself and pulls away from her, stumbling his way out the door and down the hall toward the elevator. Maybe it was the too-cold air of the hotel hallway that made it obvious how hot he was; maybe it was the queasy way his stomach flipped as he sank against the wall in the elevator, watching the doors slowly slide shut. Whatever it was, something seemed to send him teetering over an edge he hadn't realized he was so precariously perched upon until it was too late. "Oooh...dizzy." He mutters to himself, reaching to grab the railing at one side of the elevator car, but he misses and slips, falling in a slump down to the floor of the elevator. His head feels like it's spinning and he tugs his phone out, punching a number he knows belongs to one Klaus in particular. He curls up into a ball in the corner of he elevator and when the line picks up, all he says is: "Su-Sunrise Hotel on ninth. Klaus... I don't feel so good... " he ends the call, more to raise the urgency of the moment than anything else-- he needs someone, and quick.

☈ no matter where you go, know you're not alone and i'm only one call away

[channellings]

Praise God (or whoever, really), he's awake when his phone rings, and thank fuck he's sober after he answers, realizes it's his younger self on the other line. "Wait, what? Why are you out there? Klaus—" but the line goes dead before he can ask anything else. His initial reaction is that the worst thing has happened-- imagine his surprise (and shame) when it turns out he's actually right for once.

Sunrise Hotel, Sunrise Hotel, Klaus repeats over and over again, making sure he won't forget while he makes his way there. This is one of those moments where he wishes he'd gotten his license already; he hadn't been able to get ahold of Diego (any of them), meaning his last-ditch choice was either stealing a car himself or— well, the alternative option: a goddamn bus. Ain't nobody got time for that, so whatever siblings get pissed off at him for stealing Reginald's car, they'll have to deal.

Somehow, he makes it there in one piece, without getting pulled over – even though he'd sped like a madman – and finally finds the teenager slumped in the elevator. "JesusfuckingChrist," comes out all at once as soon as he crouches down beside his counterpart, slides an arm beneath his shoulders and props him up. "Hey, Klaus, I'm here." His voices wavers, free hand moving to Klaus's cheek, tapping lightly, yet with a firm enough pressure to be felt.

"Can you hear me? Come on, half-pint..." Another pap against his face, followed by an abrupt shake that'll hopefully rattle him into coherency, no matter how brief a moment it may be.

[ghostphone]

He is a little in-and-out right now, not completely aware of anything, but he's sort of conscious. Enough that he hears words coming at him, even if he doesn't really comprehend what they mean. He squints to try and make out the person that owns the voice, but it feels like too much effort to try, so he lets his eyes fall shut again. "I don't-- ...too much, I took, I--" his words are slurred and hardly intelligible, mostly just mumbled sounds that try their best to become real words. "M'so dizzy." he manages to get out.

[channellings]

Took too much, he says, making the older man's heart free-fall straight into his gut. His immediate thought is to ask, 'Took too much what?' but rather than do that, Klaus secures the arm around his doppelganger's middle, slides the other arm underneath his knees and scoops him up off the floor. "Don't worry, I've got you." Then he hauls ass back to the car, gingerly puts the boy in the passenger's seat, makes sure his seatbelt is secured and Bo Duke slides his way across the hood (only less gracefully).

"Stay with me, yeah?" He gets the vehicle started, puts it in drive and slams on the gas. "Just hang in there, kid. I'm gonna get help."

[ghostphone]

There's absolutely no fight from Klaus as he's scooped up and carried away to the car; he doesn't insist he can do the seatbelt himself, thanks; he seems so complicit that it's almost eerie, and only speaks to just how bad this is. He tries to say okay, or give some sign of understanding, hearing that request, but it only comes out as a soft groan as Klaus pulls out of the parking lot. Everything feels so heavy, like his entire body is made of lead and every breath takes twice the effort to pull in.

{Anxiety holds me a hostage inside of my house, inside of my head | OTA

[ghostphone]

There's something a little traumatizing about realizing he'd nearly died, and it was all his own fault, and at his own hand. And not in a way that was anything remotely intentional, either. But it had happened and it was not something he wanted to talk about, deal with, and certainly was not something he was proud of. If anything, he felt worse now than he had before-- a deep sense of shame sinks down on top of him, sliding thick and sticky across his skin, finding its way to set up a home inside his chest and in his head. The story is a lot the same as the night he left-- he doesn't feel much like doing anything. The only difference is that he doesn't feel like he's safe on his own, suddenly. He refuses to spend any real amount of time alone, winding his way downstairs to find anyone he could stick to the side of. Helping Mom in the kitchen, hanging out in Peter's workshop downstairs, or next to any random person in the house who would let him exist in their space. He refuses to talk about what happened, even if he's sure the entire house knows about it.

[n5]

[ Five honest to god doesn't know how to handle the situation. This kind of problems, one that couldn't be solved logically or disposed of in a more violent way, are out of his area of expertise. And how much he hates it.

He finds himself angry at Klaus for making stupid choices, angry at his family for not noticing sooner that one of them was missing, angry at the fact they had put the Apocalypse on hold and yet his siblings still aren't safe because they a danger to themselves. More than anything, Five is angry at himself for thinking life would ever give them a break. Rookie mistake, won't happen again.

He's got the kind of smoldering anger that can turn into a forest fire if he doesn't control it. The kind of anger that turns into a worry that claws at his chest and makes Five checks on his brother constantly, never in ways he's easily noticed or directly engaging. He leaves food by Klaus door, prompts the puppy to go to his room when it seems like the other man has been quiet for too long, makes sure Grace or someone else easier to talk with is close to him...Not like Klaus isn't actively seeking people now, even if he avoids talking about the main issue.

Five watches from afar, checks all the ways Klaus could use to leave the house and forgets to sleep, doesn't think is worth the risk. His brother might have caught a brief flash of blue every now and then but for the most part, the oldest Hargreaves acts like another of the ghosts in the house.

He had taught the puppy tricks, so today Klaus might find that the little dog was getting into the living room with him to bring him a blanket. ]

[ghostphone]

[He knows Five has been... around, sort of, in his own ninja-under-cover-of-night way. He's seen the tell-tale blue-white light of his brother's space jump out of the corner of his eye more than once. But he isn't too bothered by the way his older(oldest?) brother can't really seem to find it in him to approach him directly. When he can't immediately find someone to stick with, Klaus perches in the most obviously public spaces of the house like the kitchen or, like right now, the living room. He tilts his head when he sees Five's puppy wander into the room with a blanket, which he promptly drags into Klaus' lap.] Hey, boy. [He smiles, a small, sad-tinged thing that is more practiced than genuine, as he reaches to scratch between the dog's ears. He pulls the blanket into his lap and then calls the dog up onto the couch, pressing his face against his forehead, muttering quietly at the dog.] Hey, what're you doin', huh? What ya doin'? Five's not far, is he, boy? No... he's not.

[n5]

[ Five hasn't left the house much since the ghost of their father showed up. He has little issue calling the old man put on his bullshit or calmly irritating him, not so different from the arguments they had during his childhood. Except he does it to distract the old man from torturing his siblings. So, really, not that different from heir childhood, really. And yet, he has missed Klaus leaving, which he couldn't forgive himself for.

The chandelier turned out to be a good place to sit and keep an eye on the people in the house because anyone rarely looked up and he could see the front door. Unfortunately, his dog is a little traitor. After snuggling with Klaus and trying to lick his whole face, the pup started to bark at the questions, tail wagging and looking up at the ceiling. ]

[ghostphone]

[He laughs a little as the puppy tries to attack his face and jumps at the sudden, first bark.] Shhh. What is it? What? [He notices him staring up when he barks and follows the pup's line of sight and frowns up at his brother.] Five? What're you doin'?

👻 if the silence takes you then i hope it takes me too

[substances]

This place is a lot, truly. Usually, whenever he ends up here, Klaus does his best to avoid the other versions of himself. It's a little too real, watching himself from the outside, a little too enlightening, a little too easy to see why people look at him the way they do. As much as he dislikes himself, he'd like to keep some semblance of...of what? Hope maybe. Hope that he won't always be this much of a mess.

But there's one version of himself he can't ignore, especially after the scuttlebutt he's heard around the house about someone almost dying.

It's easy to tell who it was, when he sees that teenage version of himself drifting around the house, looking like a ghost. He knows that look on his face, far too intimately. So up he goes, catching the kid in the hallway, slides an arm around his shoulders.

"Hey kid. You wanna get out of here? This place is de-press-ing, and I could use some breakfast. Diner. My treat."

[ghostphone]

Klaus certainly feels like a ghost. Or a shell, maybe. It's hard to say which is more right, really, just that everything feels wrong and empty. For the smallest second, he tenses at the arm around his shoulders but he relaxes a beat or two later as the insanely too-familiar voice reaches his ears. He slinks against the older version of himself, always more inclined toward touch for comfort than anything else. "The one off of third and main? It still exists, right?" Time travel bullshit makes it hard to keep up, but that hole-in-the-wall diner had been a staple downtown for years, he finds it hard to imagine it would get closed down.

[substances]

"Are you kidding me? I'm pretty sure all the transients downtown would start a riot in solidarity if they tried to shut that place down."

A wink. He'd never been good at talking about things openly, it's always best to slide in sideways and get to things after a bit of warm up. So he figures that's probably the best way to deal with the small version of himself, so long as the timelines aren't too messed up.

No wonder Five is insane. This stuff will really fuck with your head.

For now, the smaller version of himself is practically melting against his side, and Klaus doesn't mind it. He rubs his hand up and down the kid's back (he feels way too skinny, small and fragile, is that the way he seems to other people?) and gives him a little squeeze.

"So. Waffles or eggs? I am deeply sorry that we'll have to walk there, because, hate to break it to you, but future you is not allowed to drive. And of course there are no Diegos handy when you need one. Typical."

[ghostphone]

He lets out a half-hearted scoff at that comment, shaking his head, "Okay, good point." "Eggs," he nods a little, his mouth turning up at one corner and he tilts his head up to look at him, eyes squinted with curiosity. "Why can't we drive? Did you get your license suspended or something?"

[leafygreenvagoo]

Alexis was one of those random people in the house, though she wasn't staying there like some of the others, she had somewhere else to actually stay, but that didn't mean she wasn't visiting as often as possible, often at odd hours and for irregular amounts of time. Which was probably the only reason she hadn't heard what had happened.

As often as not she looked like some full-grown, six-foot-four Pippi Longstocking, red hair tied back in a loose braid or just held out of her face with a knotted bandanna, sometimes both, wearing workboots and jeans that were more utility than fashion, the same way the unbuttoned flannel layered over two different tank tops was.

It was late in the evening, after regular dinner hours, but not yet into late hours, and she had a tarp rolled out across the kitchen table -to make cleanup easier- while she repotted and tended to almost a full pallet of seedlings she'd rescued from the hardware store when she became aware of her audience, "They don't bite. You can help if you don't mind getting your hands dirty."

[ghostphone]

He's stood in the doorway, just watching her for a long moment, quiet and chewing on the nail of one thumb. He doesn't even know her name, or anything about her. He's just seen her in passing a couple times. He blinks when she addresses him, his gaze sweeping up to her face. "Oh- uh... no, I- I'd probably fuck it up." Like everything else he touches.

"What are they, though?" he asks quietly with the kind of passing interest that only someone who really needs a distraction can hold. He steps properly into the room and comes to stand on the other side of the table, staring down at the mess on the table.

[leafygreenvagoo]

"Tomatoes mostly, though there's some flowers and some herbs in there too, and believe me, you wouldn't be able to fuck them up any worse than the hardware store did." She shook her head, "They should stick to hardware and leave the plants to the professionals."

She smiled up at him then, expression a little wry, apparently having realized she was on the cusp of a rant to a veritable stranger, "I'm Alexis, by the by. Feel free to shorten it, most people do."

It was a simple process, really, and she did it with a practiced ease, scooping a little bit of potting soil out of a bag with a cupcake-wrapper sized peat pot, sliding the seedling in question out of its section of the four or six pack plastic it was in and settling it into the new pot with another sprinkle of dirt to cover any exposed roots and hold it upright and then moving it to a tray with the others for later planting outside.

She offered over a stack of the peat pots, "Here, you can do the easy part, fill those about halfway"

[ghostphone]

"Why're they sellin' this stuff at a hardware store anyway?" That hardly made any sense to him at all, if he's honest. He stands there awkwardly watching her work for a moment before she pushes some of it over to him and suggests he can absolutely do some of this. "Okay..." At least it gave him something to do with his hands instead of nervously fidgeting with his own fingers. "I don't think your name is long enough to bother shortening-- I mean, I can think of at least five different nicknames out of it, but it seems redundant with a short name." he shrugs a little.

[helafine]

By all rights, she probably should have noticed something. The house so full, the myriad of siblings familiar and variations on the same cracking through tile like so much shattering bone, the snap of glass that flares chemical light and life into being hasn't unsettled her so much as fallen into near comforting white noise. More chaotic than her childhood, certainly, but it's familiar to her days with the Hounds. Rowdy lives with short fuses, deep emotions, and the odd bout of interpersonal drama she let her people sort out on their own before getting involved if she absolutely had to. Thus- father's arrival, the details of the timeline that wasn't, the possibility of the world caving in, the nuances of grief and shattered expectations? Slip past. Drifting through a near constant haze of comfortable semi-intoxication doesn't help her observational skills in the slightest, though it does keep the bulk of the acid at bay when she notices Klaus as he was lingering. She's not doing anything in particular- (Drinking, researching, following the money) so to have him close, to have him quiet? Odd. Terribly so. The last time she'd seen him like this was just after the mausoleum. She'd torn up some o the furniture, after, in lieu of cutting their father to ribbons. Her hands itch for blades but this isn't something she can stab better, she's certain. Almost certain. "Is there a particular reason you look like misery incarnate or is my company that depressing?"

[ghostphone]

Klaus was on some sort of drifting auto-pilot on his way through the halls in the house. He wasn't really paying attention to where he was wandering, or where he stopped, until he gets noticed or called out. He blinks and stares at Hela, rolling his shoulders in a nearly lifeless sort of shrug. "Nearly dying does that, I guess." He says it so plainly that it almost seems like he's unphased by it-- except that Klaus is normally enough personality to fill a hotel suite all on his own, and all of that is just... more than muted, it just seems gone in the boy in front of her.

[helafine]

"...I beg your pardon?" Two words, those two words have the tipsy lassitude of her earlier lounging fizzle away like mist before the sun, tension locking up her spine and jaw as she jerks herself upright to stare at him. He's always had expressive eyes, did Klaus, all the more so when he was younger. Seeing him at this age and so...muted. So flat, the deadpan thousand-yard stare of someone that knows horrible things? Didn't suit him. It isn't something she'd ever expected to see on any of her siblings, let alone Klaus. "Who am I murdering?" It's knee jerk and immediate, for all her casual contempt of the Academy, her disgust of Reginald- her siblings she cares for in her own abrasive way. Such as rolling to her feet, dagger flowing into life in one hand, eyes flitting behind Klaus like someone else was watching and waiting or would provide answers. Either would be appropriate.

{Insomnia has this romantic way of making the moon feel like perfect company | Any/All Ben's

[ghostphone]

Nights are always awful for Klaus, that's nothing new, but there's something even worse about it now. Seems that every attempt at closing his eyes only brings him visions of dying. That look on his older self's face when he found him in the hotel. The too-bright lights and swarm of unfamiliar faces in the hospital, nurses and doctors doing whatever it is they did to keep him stable. It's too much to deal with, so he wanders the house late at night in another in a long string of insomnia. He stops at Ben's room, in hopes of finding his brother there. In lieu of that, he'll wander until he comes across him. One of him. There's a couple of them, and he would happily accept any or all of them just now. But there's an overwhelming need for the brother he both hasn't lost yet, and just lost a week ago, all at once. There's a sickening feeling of knowing his brother is still alive where he left him, and that it doesn't last long at all if-when he gets back there. Too little, too late, Klaus realizes he probably should have just gone to cling to Ben the night he left. Maybe he wouldn't have gotten into so much trouble, if he had.

[the_horror]

He hadn't been in his room. At least He hadn't, as he felt like there was too much going on and too many... him. Ghost or not he felt bad taking up space. The library was easier to deal with anyhow and he wasn't able to sleep very well lately. Too many thoughts.

So the library was it. Ben, seated on a long couch, shoes off, feet up and leaning into the couch back with his side. He was reading, though he wasn't doing very well at it. Too distracted with thoughts.

When he heard foot steps, his head peeked over the couch back to see... Klaus. The young one. The one he wanted to protect most of all and was failing at. He deserved the truth though, and he couldn't stop others from telling him, but he felt bad for it.

Closing his book he sat it right, looking off at the boy. "Can't sleep?" Ben called out to him.

[ghostphone]

He hates that his first, most knee-jerk instant instinct at actually finding the person he was looking for is to spin on his heel and dart out of the room. He doesn't do that, doesn't even move from his position of hovering in the doorway of the library at all-- but, oh, he wants to. He can feel the needle-prick feeling of unshed tears trying to push their way in to flood his eyes. He manages, only barely, to not let them fall as he continues to stand there, staring at his brother. He still doesn't know how it happened, but the truth of it is.... it doesn't matter, because the end result is the same no matter what: Ben's dead. Deaddeaddead. Everything about his life is death and he hates it so much. He shakes his head at the question, shoulders pushing up in a vague sort of shrug. "No..." his voice is raspy from lack of use for too many hours-- when did he last talk to somebody today? He's not sure... He still seems so frozen and rooted to the spot in the doorway. Like maybe if he moves, Ben might disappear on him before he can even cross the room and sit with him. So, he stays in hopes that he never has to leave, ever.

[the_horror]

"Me either." he said simply, but he was lowering his feet to the floor now as he looked on to the other boy. There was something wrong. He had been around the other long enough in his afterlife to know when something was bothering him. Something was up.

That No sounded small and raspy. the way he stood there screamed that there was something up. Not his normal lose and easy way to stand. He leaned on the couch back, watching the other, trying to figure what it might be. He worried that someone told him what might have happened. God, he hoped not. Not yet. Let him be as innocent as he can be.

His gut said that time had passed though.

"You okay?" He said, and reached a hand out to beckon him over to the couch.