Chapter Text
“I’m sorry, Number Four, am I boring you?”
Dad says it in the same cutting voice that never fails to flay them open no matter the words; it’s the sharp steel underneath his tone, probably. Klaus cringes. He hadn’t meant to yawn, he knows better than yawn when their father is talking, but–
Klaus is just so tired.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m listening,” he says, trying to recall the last thing he actually heard before the world had gone fuzzy around the edges and keeping his eyes open had become a monumental struggle. He comes up empty, but to be fair, it’s not his fault Dad’s been talking for the longest of times.
“No, you are most certainly not,” Dad scoffs, glancing at the clock on the wall, and then waves in the direction of the kitchen. “Go help Grace with the dishes, that ought to wake you up. You are no use for me like this.”
Again, Klaus knows better than to disagree when their father is already in a mood, and besides, that’s not so bad. While doing the dishes is definitely not something he likes, it’s still better than sitting here and listen to all the reasons why they’re doing everything wrong.
And as much as it pains him to say it, Dad was right. It will keep him awake.
“Yes, sir,” Klaus says in a monotone, rolling his eyes, and drags himself to the kitchen, pretending not to see Ben frowning worriedly at him.
*
Mom smiles gently down at him and asks if he wants to help to put the dishes away as if Klaus was actually doing her a favor and not following a direct order. She brings out a stool so he can reach the taller cabinets and lets him blow bubbles of soap until the shadows outside the window don’t look like bloody things anymore.
“Thank you, darling,” she says when they’re finished, wiping soapy water from his cheek and sending him up to bed.
All in all, it was almost nice.
He trudges up the stairs, walking back to his room with legs that feel like lead, and when he opens his door only to find Ben waiting for him, Klaus is not sure if he wants to cry in relief or scream in frustration.
“What,” he asks, too tired to demand anything, and collapses on his bed.
Ben watches him light up a joint with disapproving eyes but says nothing. He probably knows it wouldn’t make much of a difference at this point, they had this argument enough times by now. Klaus sighs, gestures for him to make his case. “What’s going on with you?” Ben finally asks, closing his book and studying his face. “You look terrible, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Klaus snorts, knowing there’s no point in being offended when it’s true. The bags under his eyes are deep enough to go by suitcases by now and the lack of sleep isn’t doing any favor to the paleness of his skin. “But it’s fine, no need to worry. Or risk Dad yelling at us for being out of bed.”
“Dad’s already left for his conference, remember?” Ben frowns, “like he was talking about earlier?”
Oh, so that’s what his boring little speech was about. “Right, yeah,” and now Klaus can breathe a little easier because that means no chance of being locked up anywhere for at least tonight. The house feels lighter already, less silent like it knew Sir Reginald is no longer pacing the halls. “I did think the air smelled less like sulfur.”
“Klaus,” Ben chides him half-heartedly, then narrows his eyes, “you’re deflecting. It won’t work, I know you. Something’s wrong and you should tell someone at least. Dad’s noticed already and he’ll be mad when he gets back.”
That is true. Their father has been happy to ignore anything as long as it doesn’t interfere with training, but if Klaus is too tired to go around pretending to be a superhero then that’s definitely a problem. And, well, it’s Ben, if he can’t tell him, there are not many other options, not since Allison is too busy with her magazines and whispering up and down with Luther. “It’s nothing serious,” he says, taking a drag, “I just haven’t slept in ages.”
“What?”
“Calm down, it’s only been three days, honestly.”
“That’s already too many days,” Ben shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in his distressed way. “Why?”
“Dad locked the medicine cabinet, can’t get sleeping pills anymore,” Klaus confesses. He’s not fully convinced that’s a coincidence and not another experiment, see how long Klaus goes without the pills he’s been sneaking out of the cabinet. “I can’t sleep without them, Ben. They come after me if I do. Apparently, dreams are fair game for the dead and it’s always so hard to wake up– what if one day I can’t?”
Ben purses his lips, standing up from the where he’d been sitting at the foot of the bed. “You can’t go without sleep forever either, Klaus,” he dusts himself off, making for the door, “wait here, I’ll be right back.”
Klaus shrugs. It’s not like he has anywhere else to be. He knew taking things from the house was risky, but the pills had been a blessing, letting him slip into a dreamless sleep for once, without bloodied hands clawing at him and a chorus of even bloodier people wailing his name like banshees.
“Okay, I think we’re good. I told Pogo you weren’t feeling so well and I was staying here in case you got worse,” Ben announces, strolling back with a sleeping bag and a pillow under his arms. “He says it’s okay but only for tonight, while Dad is away.”
“Where did you get that?”
“Dunno. Diego found it in the attic a few days ago and he said I could borrow it if it would stop you from looking like death warmed over,” he grins, “which I think means he’s worried too, in Diego-speak.”
It brings a huff of laughter out of Klaus because yeah, that sounds like him.
“So, I’ll sleep here tonight and wake you up if the nightmares come back,” Ben says it like it’s simple, like that will solve everything, like Dad isn’t coming back tomorrow night. “And then we’ll figure something out tomorrow. Five might know where Dad keeps the key, or talk to Mom, get you a prescription like Vanya.”
Klaus looks at him, opens the window to let the smoke out. He knows this won’t fix shit, that things are never this simple, that he’ll probably have to find another way to get pills, but Ben is offering to keep him company and Klaus hasn’t slept in three days.
It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s something.
“Yeah, alright,” he says, smiling hopefully not too sadly. “Leave the lights on, okay?”
“Great, I want to finish this chapter anyway.”
Klaus thinks he should at least say thank you, but the minute he gets under the covers, everything starts to fade into soft, cotton edges. He’s asleep before he can even finish saying, “ ‘night, Ben.”
There might have been an answer, but by then, Klaus is too far gone, dragged under in a restless sleep.