{Another day goes by, I think it feels just like yesterday

[ghostphone]

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{Can't sleep, can't dream, long nights, no peace

[ghostphone]

Nights are the worst time for Klaus, because the ghosts tend to like to appear more then. He supposes it's just their natural habitat or something, more shadows to hide in or jump out of and the like. He remembers being little and crying in the dark about a woman in the closet that wouldn't leave him alone. Dad didn't believe him, but she was there, she was always there, waiting for him to go to bed at night, all the lights to be out, before she'd show up. Long, fancy-ish, blood-spattered dress, long dark hair, sad eyes. She never said much-- she just screamed. It was terrifying. But unfortunately, even on nights he was numb enough not to be bothered by spirits, sleep still didn't come easy. Self-taught insomnia, he supposes, but he gets bored of trying to lay somewhere-- whether it's the bed, a chair, in a pile of clothes or just on the floor-- and get some sleep. Eventually, he gets up and rummages around the closet for something to do. Most nights, one or the other of his older selves are also awake, so he'll drag out a deck of cards, a set of dominoes, or some boardgame or another so they'd have something to do to pass all the time they weren't sleeping.

[fluffyexterior]

She didn't mean to sneak up on him, it was just that she didn't really have as much control here over her comings and goings as she'd had at home. Which was why, on one of those trips to the closet, she was just there when he closed the door again, probably looking at least as surprised about at as he would.

She rallied easily enough, however, "Oh, hiya. And sorry, really wasn't trying to sneak up on you, I swear. If I was trying I think I'd have done better."

[ghostphone]

He jumps at the sudden voice. "Jesusfuck." he spins toward the owner of the voice, eyes a little wider than usual, a hand on his chest like that might calm the way his heart is jumping in his chest. "No need to do it any better, lady." He half-growls, annoyed at the interruption by someone who clearly is a ghost.

He moves over to the bed, to flop down onto it and start shuffling the cards he'd grabbed from the closet. "You're a lot less blood-soaked and shrieky than the usual suspects." He perks a brow at her.

[fluffyexterior]

"Yeah, so I've been told." She replied, following so that she could perch on the nearest surface, "Eventually it might stop being weird to hear it." Though somehow she doubted that, "I'm Thelma, guess word hasn't got around yet."

Though given as how even she wasn't sure where she'd been since talking to the other one at the party, that made a certain amount of sense. Sometimes she was just wandering the halls of the frankly fucking enormous house, and sometimes she just found herself doing that again after having been... nowhere, probably. Which was what had happened this time.

[ghostphone]

"Wouldn't count on it." He shrugs and pauses in his shuffling of the cards to look up at her again when she introduces herself. "I'm Klaus. But I guess you know that, if you met one of the other ones. They're all older, though."

He finishes shifting the cards around and pauses for a second, squinting at her. "Can you hold stuff?" He's never seen any of them do it, but considering she seems new-- because, really, he did not at all recognize her from the faces that normally followed him when he was at home-- he may as well ask. He's still not completely sure how all the ghost rules apply.

[fluffyexterior]

"I can." She said with a nod, edging a little closer, "But depending on what it is doesn't mean I will just because I can." She'd dated boys off and on before realizing that what she was supposed to do wasn't what she wanted to do, and she knew that question -and questions like it- were often followed by something lewd, and she wasn't taking any chances.

It was easy to wing back around to the first statement, "And I have, yeah, and they are, everyone here is, it's a little unnerving, really. Feel like I've got to be on my best behavior all the time even though I know nobody's actually going to be able to tell if I'm not." She shook her head again, smile emerging, cautious, but still amused, "Present company excluded, of course."

[ghostphone]

His faces scrunches up at that implication. "Ew." The verbal slip of distaste is out of his mouth before he could even think to stop it. "No offense," he adds a beat or two later with a slight shrug. "But you're not really, uh-- my type." She's dead for starters. And he likes boys more, anyway.

"Don't bother," he waves a hand dismissively. "My family are all varying degrees of disasters and have no place to judge, even if they could see you and all your reckless ghosty behavior."

[fluffyexterior]

"Oh no offense taken." She replied brightly, "You're cute, but not at all my type either, and really I'm just not used to having so many actual adults around who aren't faculty or staff somehow. Bit disconcerting, innit?"

She could guess that he felt similarly, but she wasn't sure, and wasn't going to presume, either, that would be rude.

[ghostphone]

"I guess, kinda, yeah." he admits with a bit of a nod. He's definitely way more used to the teenagers outnumbering the adult-shaped people in the house. "I guess I'm just not as bothered by it, cause they're still like-- my family and shit." He shrugs.

[fluffyexterior]

"That would definitely make a difference in it all." She agreed, nodding, "It would definitely be less weird for me if I already knew them."

A shrug followed, taking the cards so she could shuffle them, "Don't suppose it matters, though, in the long run, I probably won't be here long enough to get used to it."

[ghostphone]

"What makes you say that?" He tilts his head a little to one side. "You know how you got here? Or some way to leave?" Because he's not sure he wants anyone else to figure that last little bit out. He is pretty sure here is better than whatever is in store in his real, regular timeline or... whateverthefuck.

[fluffyexterior]

"Well, your lot have averted the apocalypse, which means the veil's going to fall into place again and I'll go back to... I don't know, wherever I was before I wound up here. That's how it happened before." She didn't sound particularly bothered, it was just a statement of fact.

"So what are we playing? Gin? Hearts? Go Fish? I think we'd need more people for Hearts." Her brow creased, "And then there's Old Maid, which is just Fish with extra rules."

[ghostphone]

"I dunno... I think they broke stuff when they did that?" He squints a little. "I dunno, no one's talked to me much about the future stuff." He admits with a nonchalant shrug. He doesn't seem too concerned about it, even if secretly in the back of his mind, he hates it, being shoved to the side, invisible, not important enough to know things.

"Go Fish?" He shrugs, he hadn't really thought that far ahead, and it seemed as good as anything else, really.

[channellings]

Tonight, when Klaus stumbles across his younger self, he's obviously far more wired than usual, muttering to himself (or so it seems?) as he toes out of his sneakers, pivots on the ball of his foot and— Oh, shit, there's a little Number Four there.

"Oh," he notes, bringing his arms together so he can rub the inside of his wrist with his thumb. Fuck, he hopes he didn't look suspicious at all. "Having trouble sleeping again, huh?" And maybe if he acts like he's not high as a damn kite, the teenager won't call him out if he'd heard him talking to nothing.

The only problem: he's never been all that great with acting, and he imagines if anyone were going to be able to see right through him, it'd be his counterpart. He strides over, picks up a domino or two, click-clacks them together by rolling his fingers. "Wanna play for a while?"

[ghostphone]

"Huh?" He hears the muttering, but not really the words, as he pops back out of the closet to find one of the older him's wandering in, looking half-surprised to find him in here. "Oh, hey." he waves a little on his way from the closet to... the biggest area of not-piled-with-crap part of the floor to start setting up the dominoes. He had maybe kinda-sorta-definitely just planned to make some kind of random design and knock them over, but having someone else in the room and the ability to play an actual game is way more appealing so-- "Duh." He says like it's clearly obvious. And you know. Maybe it is. He shuffles the dominoes around before sliding seven of them out to line up for himself.

[channellings]

Except there's one problem with being high as fuck: sometimes your mouth moves a bit more quickly than your brain. Klaus registers it's teenager him, even vaguely remembers doing this many a times himself, but what he fails to remember during the worry of being caught intoxicated is this version knows nothing, Jon Snow.

"Yeah, hey to you, too. Eh, I was just telling Ben how much of an asshole he is," a beat, then he even adds, "Again," and follows it with a laugh before he realizes moments too late-- oh no, he's made a terrible mistake.

He raises both hands, cups them firmly around his mouth. "Jumping Jesus on a goddamn pogo-stick." Too bad it does nothing to muffle the devastation in his tone, though. "N-No one you know, of course! Someone you'll meet when you're older." Shit, that doesn't help. "'Eyyy, don't worry about it," attempts the taller of them, shifting to grab for his own dominoes in hopes it'll be enough of a distraction (it probably won't be).

[ghostphone]

Klaus is sitting with his legs folded under him, criss-cross-applesauce and looking over the dominoes he's pulled for himself when the older one gives his explanation. His incredibly off-the-wall, nonsensical explanation because-- His faces squinches up, eyes squinted, a frown etched across his forehead, the insult written clearly across every inch of his face, "Ben isn't even in here, you, idi--" But as he's midway toward throwing the barb out at him, the older version of him is stammering through a bunch of bullshit in a weak attempt to cover the tracks of what he'd just, inadvertently, laid out on the ground in admission. "Wait... n- you... is he?" His voice hits a little bit of a higher pitch on those last two words, his face threatening to crumble depending on the answer his doppelganger gave to that question. Dominoes abandoned, his heart slamming too hard in his chest at the implication he'd just been handed, his eyes stay trained on the older Klaus practically begging to be wrong, to have misunderstood.

[channellings]

Fucking hell, you goddamn idiot, his inner-self screams (or was that an actual voice? Ben? he can't tell), fingers clenching white-knuckle tight around the items between them. His eyes frantically dart between the floor, his painted toenails, the other Klaus, and the quite obvious thing he's said they'd all been so careful to avoid.

But maybe it's time to legitimately address the elephant in the room. Nobody wants to be the one to do it, except this halfwitted chatterbox, it'd seem-- and he has already stuck his foot in his mouth, so why stop there? "Do you see him around here? No, of course not!" Klaus shouldn't – really knows he shouldn't – ends up glancing around them anyway, like he has to make sure Ben's not there.

The dominoes hit the floor, both hands reaching to clutch the sides of his head then he follows suit, crouching low, knees against his chest while he tries to stop the suddenly spinning room. "Jesus Christ," he mutters, careful to keep an eye on where his counter-part still is. "You know we say stupid shit all the time, right?"

[ghostphone]

"Dont, okay-- quit fucking with me!" he knocks the dominoes over with the wave of his hand that he made to emphasize the point. "There's something that everybody has been walking on eggshells about around me, I'm not stupid, I just thought maybe it was some kind of timeline bullshit that I didn't have to worry about, but--" The more Klaus freaks out, the more this one feels panic trying to grip at him and dig its claws in. He sits, stunned in his place on the floor, as he watches the older man fold in on himself. Klaus isn't sure what to make of it, or what it means. "This isn't that. This is- r- real, isn't it?" He still isn't accepting it, isn't letting the thing he keeps not actually saying really sink in or take hold of him. Not yet. Because maybe he's still wrong. He's been wrong tons of times, it wouldn't even be a surprise if he was now, too. He'd welcome it, just this once, he wants to be wrong.

[channellings]

He cringes when he dominoes hit the ground, gritting his teeth in response to the clack-clack-clack as they skitter across the floor, his expression wavering. God, if it'd been as easy as going on about timeline shenanigans, he would've told younger Klaus about it a long time ago.

And yet the teen isn't wrong. Despite every single excuse he can give him, it will always be a lie, which is not fair whatsoever. He shouldn't have to tiptoe around at all, particularly not around himself, and considering he's made the stupid mistake of letting his presumptuous mouth overrun his high brain, it's only fair he accept blame. "I really fucking wish it wasn't," chokes the older clairvoyant, forcing himself to shift, stretching a hand out so he can clasp his adolescent self's wrist. "And I'm sorry, but it is."

[ghostphone]

He doesn't push for an answer. He doesn't scream or yell or make demands. Instead, he's still and quiet, and he waits. He waits for Klaus to speak. To explain. To say something. Anything at all. And he hopes. He hopes that when he finally speaks up, it's the kind of explanation he can cling to, that he tells him he misunderstood the whole thing and everything is fine. "...wish it wasn't." "...sorry, but it is." The words just seem to reverberate in his head, over and over as the shock of it really hits him. Something in his chest twists, something else stabs, still something else breaks. He's shaking his head before he can even find a voice to so much as squeak out a noise at all, nevermind find enough of it to put words into the world yet. The features in his face crumble into something raw and thick with emotion, and the rest of his body just withers into a heap on the floor. "No," the first in a waterfall of them slips out, voice broken and sorrow-laden as one hand flies up to cover his mouth and finally the tears that he's known were coming flood his eyes-- white hot pin-pricks at the edges of his eyes he'd refused until now. He's shrinking forward, folding further in on himself even as the older man grabs his wrist. "No, no, no-- when?" His head snaps up to stare at the man expectantly, "What happ-- why didn't you guys tell me, wh- why would you--" Suddenly, there's a spark of-- it isn't quite hope, it's far too desperate for that, but it grasps at straws to parade like it might be, for just a second. His hands-- at least his free one-- moves wildly, like accenting the point physically could push his point into being true if he just tried hard enough. "But he's here! He- he's here and Charlie and Mom and-- and everybody else sees him!" That explains it, doesn't it? It proves that Ben is still alive. "He- he's not-- he can't be, he can't..." But it isn't the kind of thing he--here and now or in some days of future yet to come-- would ever, ever say if it wasn't true. He just wouldn't, and the realization brings another convulsion of sobs he can't control. His voice loses all of it's earlier fire and fades into barely above a whisper, "He can't- I can't... I can't--" his waterfall of words fades into one of tears and broken sobs.

[channellings]

It's like reliving Ben's death all over again-- but would it be for a third time because he's feeling it for the other Klaus at this moment plus double the pain for remembering it himself or would it just be one whole time? Either way, watching teenage Klaus slowly come to realize that what he's said – something he'd never, ever lie about in his life – is real, it's goddamn heartbreaking.

There's no way he'll be answering the almost 'What happened?' he catches; the fact he's said Ben's died is enough, so nobody's going to force him to tell how. His fingers curl tighter, ensuring the boy won't be able to shake him off too easily, despite the fact he's currently a broken pile on the floor, some crazy shattered mess of emotions that he's caused. "God, Klaus—" Man, it sounds weird to say his own name, but what else is he supposed to call him?

Klaus recoils but holds firm still, shamefully inclining his head, the heat of a humiliated blush creeping up to his cheeks when he feels his counterpart's gaze on him. "Probably not long before you ended up here? You... look about the right age, and we— we were just trying to protect you!" The lamest damn excuse he can give, although it's the truth. Something tells him this is going to have an extraordinarily bad reaction.

"Ben's here because of Five," a beat, then he decides he should explain better, "Some of them, anyway. There are at least one or two that are floating around, that didn't... didn't get brought back, I guess? I don't fucking know how this timeline shit works. It's why he's doing so much reckless stuff, you know? Like consuming copious amounts of caffeine and doing daredevil stunts."

He's just, uh, going to leave out the part where he convinced Ben to freerun and jump across a huge gap from one rooftop to another.

The moment he breaks down, Klaus's heart sinks straight into his belly, his insides roil, his throat burns and his mouth floods with an awful, acidic taste. Tears prick the corners of his eyes as well, but try as he might, they squeeze out, streaming down his cheeks while he shifts onto his knees, moves both arms to scoop the smaller male up off the floor. He holds him tight, reaches to stroke comforting circles between his shoulder-blades. "I'm sorry," he consoles softly. "I'm so sorry, we should've— Christ, we shouldn't have hidden this from you."

[ghostphone]

Emotions cascade in a whirlwind in those immediate moments after he truly breaks. Panic and grief at war with one another above everything else--anger and betrayal for having the truth kept from him; a suffocating sort of sadness he doesn't think he's ever felt before; and a swirl of other things too mixed up for him to even pinpoint and name all at once. And it all feels like waves coming up to consume him. He hears the things his older self is telling him, but he can't respond to any of it. Every breath he takes in only seems to fuel the full body-wracking sobs he can't contain. He doesn't fight or fuss at all when he's picked up and pulled against the older man, little more than a person-sized ragdoll at the moment, easily moved and manipulated any way Klaus might like. Luckily, he only wants to offer comfort-- and who better to know exactly the style and type of comfort he would need than himself? Words are too much to even debate or consider just yet, his own thoughts aren't even forming words right now, it's more like a long, agonized scream instead. He clings to Klaus tightly, pressing his face against his shoulder and decides to ride this out until he remembers how to breathe again.

[channellings]

And the older Klaus lets him cling, clutches the boy firmer against his chest, still rubbing over his shoulders while shushing into his hair. God, they never should've done it, never should have kept it away from him so long, but this is exactly why he didn't want him to find out. The sheer and utter heartbreak his counterpart's suffering right now hurts far worse than the sting of talking about Ben's death again, no doubt in his mind.

Eventually, he goes quiet himself, focusing on the in and out of the other Klaus's breath, stretching an arm up to rub his own tears away. It's a valiant effort, though he's smudging eyeliner all over his face because of doing so; he's not honestly thinking about something piddly like messy makeup.

"I know," he huffs, sniffling a couple of times then clearing his throat and repeating, "I know. It's fucking bullshit and I'm sorry." He's genuine with the apologies, but he doesn't know how far sincerity will go from here.

[ghostphone]

Klaus isn't sure how long he stays like that, clinging to him like he's a lifeline, sobbing his heart out at this news he'd just been delivered. "It's n-not fair." He chokes out, squeezing his arms around his older self's middle. He thinks it's better not to revisit the abandoned question about what happened, so he doesn't plan on going back to it, even after his breaths start to slowly even out a little. He's a little shaky when he finally decides to pull away, wiping at his eyes and sniffing a bit. He's still very shrunk in on himself, like he wants to make himself smaller than he already is-- and looks completely lost, sitting on his knees in the floor, fingers fidgeting uselessly in his lap.