"Yeah?" He shoots the words at him like a bullet, meant to wound, because he's hurting and confused and scared. "And how much better in your someday is it, really, then? Cause, I've seen you guys running around the house and none of you really seem like you have your shit any more together than I do and I can't say that's all too inspiring right now." He knows that at least some of them seem to be making attempts at sobriety but what good are attempts that you fail from eventually, anyway? And near-death experiences, multiple and uncounted because it became too much to keep track of or just stopped mattering, didn't ever make a difference, so what would, what ever even could?
All that fiery snap is gone when Klaus wraps his arms around him and lets him cry against him. He can't resist the pull of it, like having that kind of compassion, and the permission, means it's okay and the rest of the world doesn't matter while he's being shielded from it for now. He crumbles and curls against him, crying quietly into the older man's chest.
When he talks, pointing out all these other parts that tie themselves around Ben's death like they could be shaped like hope, he pauses and pulls away to look up at him. "What...?" He frowns a little and tries to think through suddenly muddied thoughts to remember. "N- no, I don't think.... but- wait, doesn't that mean-- I don't know, that something's fucked up for him still or whatever? He's stuck, like the rest of them-- is it, does he look--" 'However he did when he died?' He's full of questions he can't give real voice to today, apparently.
"Touch-- wait, how?" That one is absolutely desperation-drenched. He needs that answer more than any of the others, suddenly, like it's a life line he didn't even know he needed until it was presented to him.
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All that fiery snap is gone when Klaus wraps his arms around him and lets him cry against him. He can't resist the pull of it, like having that kind of compassion, and the permission, means it's okay and the rest of the world doesn't matter while he's being shielded from it for now. He crumbles and curls against him, crying quietly into the older man's chest.
When he talks, pointing out all these other parts that tie themselves around Ben's death like they could be shaped like hope, he pauses and pulls away to look up at him. "What...?" He frowns a little and tries to think through suddenly muddied thoughts to remember. "N- no, I don't think.... but- wait, doesn't that mean-- I don't know, that something's fucked up for him still or whatever? He's stuck, like the rest of them-- is it, does he look--" 'However he did when he died?' He's full of questions he can't give real voice to today, apparently.
"Touch-- wait, how?" That one is absolutely desperation-drenched. He needs that answer more than any of the others, suddenly, like it's a life line he didn't even know he needed until it was presented to him.