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

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."

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.

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.

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.

"No," he exhales in a harsh breath, something akin to a mirthless, ungraceful laugh. "No, the fuck it isn't." The rapid pitter-patter of his heartbeat is physically paining him, but when those arms cinch his middle, he's certain his eardrums will burst with how loud everything's become in that moment. He squeezes him back, breathes a quivering sigh and inclines his head once they've pulled apart.

His immediate thought is to start squirming, too-- rather than do so though, he stretches out, gingerly clasps one of his younger self's hands, reaching to withdraw a pre-rolled joint from the pocket of his vest with the other. "Wanna smoke? Probably about time I pay you back anyhow."

He blinks in surprise when his older doppelganger grabs his hand, a frown sketching across his face as confusion temporarily takes up the biggest space of emotions he's feeling in the moment. At least for a second, before there's a joint in the equation. "Fu-uuuck yes." he breathes out a heavy sigh that is not quite a relieved sound.

He's not sure how he's supposed to deal with this, or what he's even supposed to do with the information. If Ben is here, and he's alive--or at least one of him is, anyway--then does it even matter? If whatever fucked up the timeline and allows all of these versions of everyone exist here at once unfucks itself and Klaus goes back to where he's supposed to, will he remember what he learned here, or will it all just disappear and be like nothing ever happened at all?

All things he doesn't have, nor can he gain, answers for. So, instead, he fumbles around in his pocket for a lighter, which he strikes to life and holds out so that Klaus can spark that baby up.

Oh, thank God, he tells himself, visibly relaxing when the teen agrees to smoke with him. It's a small, temporary solution to a much bigger problem (like putting a bandaid on a bullet hole), but they'll come back to that... eventually. Klaus wants to be able to reassure him that it more than likely won't matter about what he knows here since the timelines will reset when he goes home. Will it really? He doesn't honestly know, but it's what he'll say and so far, he hasn't been wrong all the time.

Bizarrely, part of him hopes little Klaus remembers, so he has a small something to cushion the blow once he does return home because he wouldn't wish this feeling on anyone for a first time, let alone a second. Yet another bridge that will have to be crossed once it comes.

He pops the spliff between his lips and leans toward the flame, taking care to not singe any important bits while he lights it. One hit, then a second – maybe half of a third – then he aims the smoke toward the ceiling when he exhales, passing the joint with a pleased hum. "I know it won't help forever, but... it's something for now."

He grabs the joint and takes a couple of hits without sparing more than a couple seconds, closing his eyes as he takes the smoke into his lungs. "I don't care," he admits in a voice choked by smoke before he exhales, not bothering to be half as courteous as the older man at where he directs the smoke. "it's good enough."

He chews the inside of his cheek after the joint is taken, eyes frantically darting between it, the floor and anywhere else that isn't Klaus's face right away. His stomach feels kinda queasy; there's an odd burning sensation in his throat, something he can't explain, aside from the fact he knows it's not because of the pot. "Got me there, I suppose." And he won't complain about smoke blowing toward him if his counterpart doesn't.

He takes another hit before passing it back. The silence that sits between them is heavy and it's hard to deal with, because he really doesn't know what to say, but he can't stand listening to all of the nothing trying to suffocate the room, either. How do you skip topics after a conversation--and full-blown breakdown--like that, though? He fidgets a little and glances around the room, trying to find something, anything that might be good enough to fumble through until everything feels less knife-sharp rip in his chest.

The dominoes.
They were gonna play. Before.

He shoves both hands through his hair before he pushes himself up on his knees to shift and move back over to the pile of tiles, dragging seven of them toward himself and setting them up. He doesn't care if Klaus follows suit or not. If he does, great, they'll play; if not, then he'll just start setting them up in some design or another to knock over for the sake of something to do.

It's almost suffocating, really, and Klaus is thankful for the distraction if he's being quite honest. He tucks the smoke into the corner of his mouth, glances around while he inhales, seeking out the dominoes he'd dropped earlier when something suddenly occurs to him: why not use that fancy new technique he's been trying out with Five lately?

"Hey, watch this shit," and it sounds like the beginning of one of those 'hold my beer' moments, but it's technically less harmful for everyone. Klaus takes another pull, hands the bud back to his younger self, turns in the direction to face one of the items he's searching for and pops his knuckles. "Okay, it might not work right away, but..."

The hand motions are completely unnecessary; it all has to do with mind movement or whatever, but curving his fingers and twisting his wrist just looks cooler and makes sense for who he is as a person. He talks with his hands, so why wouldn't he use a power the same way, particularly one where he's 'moving' things as it were?

For the longest time, nothing spectacular happens-- it's probably a letdown, to be honest, except when the domino that'd been some feet away comes floating over, hovers momentarily in front of the other Klaus then sets down across the few tiles he's already gotten set up. Well, damn, I guess the practice is paying off.

The comment is enough to get his attention and he looks over at the other man, confused for a moment. He has no idea what to expect, and it doesn't really get any clearer as he watches him make some weird, vague motions with his hand.

"Dude, what--?" He lifts one hand in the air, face twisting into a question of a kind until it all completely fades away when one of the dominoes starts floating. His eyes widen when it hovers just in front of his face and his jaw drops. "What the fuck? What the fuck! You did that? We can do that?!"

Distraction officially achieved, Klaus. Good job.

And that's a win for him, he'd say.

Klaus bursts into laughter at his doppelganger's reaction, clenches a fist then pumps it into the air. "Fuck yeah, dude, I'm so glad this worked!" Amusement and excitement may not be the most appropriate things after what they've just discussed, but he'll take those over the heartbreaking sadness they were feeling moments ago.

"Apparently. I was coming down off a high after rescuing Five from the chandelier when I first discovered it." He softens somewhat, however the smile on his face is still partially present. "He's been helping me practice and I've gotten better, but uh... this is the first time I've tried again while intoxicated." A pause, his eyes darting around the room they're in. "Here's hoping I don't royally fuck something up."

Klaus has always had wildly inappropriately timed emotions, so he's really not as phased by this as someone else might have been. It's so much easier to lose himself into something better, happier, anything other than the sad, screaming desperation he doesn't want to fall further into.

"Weeeeird." he draws the word out and glances around the room. It's sort of a constant mess, but... He spins his attention back to the older man. "Do it again. Do something else!" What? It was cool!

Ah, yes, this is a much better thing to focus their attention on. His twin faces him again and Klaus snorts, peering around the room for anything else he could levitate for him before an idea pops into his head: why not himself? He'd done it with Five, but that'd been an emergency, which means it could be different.

But they'll never know if he doesn't try. "Okay," he huffs, shaking his arms out first then his legs, followed by another brisk exhale. "I can't promise this one is going to work. If it doesn't, I'll move something else."

"Ohh-kaaaay...." He squints at him, watching carefully, trying his hardest not to blink so he won't miss whatever it is Klaus is going to do next. He's practically teeming with excitement about it, waiting.

Figuring he's limbered out as much as he's going to be able to, Klaus closes his eyes, concentrates on what he wants moving rather than what shouldn't. At first, it's just his toes lifting a couple inches off the floor, but once he gets a little higher, he draws his legs up (mid-air, mind you) and crosses them one over the other in a lotus position, eyes fluttering open afterward.

"Oh," the taller medium notes, a wide grin coming across his face while he peers down. "Shit, it worked? Must not be too fuck up, then."

He watches with ever-widening eyes, and even further widening grin, as Klaus slowly starts to hover mid-air. "Holy shit, that's so awesome! How the fuck-- This is so not fair! How do I do that?!"

He upturns his palms, lifts his shoulders in a half-assed shrug then teeters both hands. "No idea, half-pint. I've only been able to do this for... maybe two weeks at the longest? And that's practicing every day for a few hours."

"So, what's the trick? Is it all Peter Pan and think happy thoughts or what?" He pushes him again. "Come on, old man, give me your magician's secrets, here!"

"God, if only it were that easy," he laughs, waving his hands dismissively. "No, it's more like... thinking about moving the object with your mind rather than your hand. If that makes any goddamn sense?" Followed by another snort from the older Klaus while he shifts around and stretches out on his side, props an elbow up and drops a cheek in his palm.

Klaus stares at him for a moment, like maybe he's considering if that does make sense or not before--

"No." he shakes his head. "That doesn't make sense at all. How the fuck--?" He huffs. This is stupid. Why can't he do cool shit like that?!

Following an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes, "Okay, come here." Maybe it'll be strange to do it like this, but he can't think of any other way to help him understand while he's still buzzing.

"And this is going to be weird, but... bear with me, okay?"

"Okay..." he frowns and moves closer, giving his older self a confused look. "What do you want me to do?" There's a buzz of confused excitement at the idea of, well, he doesn't know-- but whatever he's about to do, Klaus is pretty sure it's gonna be cool!

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

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