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In the early hours of morning and when there's nothing to dampen the harsh light filtering through the window, he's so
(cold)
(lost)
(angry)
(lonely)
tired.
So very tired. So very tired and there's nothing he can do to even get up. It's a half-way house, one of many where they know him and let him stay a while before he wanders off again (a bit like a large alley-cat), and there's the constant noise of dripping water coming from the other side of the wall. He's also hungry but the very idea of eating turns his stomach so instead he fumbles for his coat, draped over him like a slighty less scratchy blanket. He can feel the small plastic bag under his fingers but stops when a very familiar voice calls to him.
- Seriously? You've hardly opened your eyes yet...
Ben's voice is tinged with worry but Klaus doesn't stop, he never has. He can't take the maddening, deafening presence of the normal and the mundane and the ordinary. One day he'd told his sponsor (one of them anyway. He has a long list of disappointed sponsors and social workers from one side of the city to the other) about the dead eyes that followed him, the dead hands reaching for him, the dead lips screaming his name
(the dead the dead the dead the dead the dead.....!!!)
but sympathy obviously has limits. So he pops the pills and lies back on the bed, eyes finally wide-open and the familiar sensation of weightlessness in the pit of his stomach. Just a little linger and the world will loose the jarring harshness of reality and -
- Klaus? Klaus, are you listening to me?
Ben is still there (when is he not?) sitting on the edge of the rickety old bed, and Klaus knows exactly what he'll see in those dark eyes. Sympathy, reassurance, love... He can't stand any of that right now, so he just shrugs.
- No, not really. So sorry to disappoint.
- No you're not. But I wish you'd -
- Stop?
He laughs, high-pitched. and grating enough to warrant That Look from the man sitting next to him. And he (almost) relents. It's Ben, after all. The one fixed point in his life that doesn't hate him or that he wishes didn't exist.
- You know me, Ben.
- I know you're not as weak as you appear, but you could at least try?
It's a lost cause. Ben's been telling him more or less the same thing since he was fourteen, and he'd usually have a snarky remark to signify the end of the conversation, but not this time. He's just..tired.
- I could.
- Come on, let's go for a walk somewhere? Please?
- I'm not sure I want to, Ben.
- Get up, you huge lump!
- Oh drop dead.
- Low blow!
It's a cheap shot but it's a ritual by now. The false hurt on Ben's face, the timing of both sentences, the beat just after...it makes them smile. And in one smooth mouvement, Klaus grabs his coat, his shirt and his shoes and a few moments later they're both walking along the frozen pavement towards the small lake. In summer it's surrounded by children and hipsters soaking in the sun. In winter - like now - it's devoid of anything except half-frozen ducks slipping on the ice.
If Klaus notices the temperature he doesn't say anything. But a little old lady braving the elements glances up at him before shaking her head and walking off. Ben is smiling and even if his hood is up, Klaus can see the dimples his brother's always had at the corners of his eyes.
- What's so funny?
- That lady didn't seem to approve of your fashion sense.
- At least I don't look like I'm colourblind and got dressed in the dark.
- No, you look like you raided a goth teenager's closet. Perhaps colours wouldn't be so bad from time to time?
Klaus looks at himself up and down, eyes widening in mock-horror.
- What, like...tie-dye...?
- Drama queen.
It's so normal to be like this. So soothing. In the park with the wind playing with the dead leaves and the rare passers-by who don't really give much of a fuck about seeing a random hobo on a bench with days-old eyeliner. It's so soothing to just be there with Ben, incorporeal but solid in his eternal presence. And it's so damn cold but he doesn't care and the words are
(easy)
easier to say right now.
- I'm sorry Ben.
- I know.
- No, really. I know you try to help and get me to do what's best, and all I do is mess it up.
- Klaus, I know. I know you and I know why you do it. I'm not judging you.
- You are and you're right.
- I know it's hard, ok? And I really wish you wouldn't but I get it. It sucks to be you, yeah.
Klaus gives a tiny grin.
- There's one good thing about all this, though. At least I can see you?.
While they both sit in silence for a while, something unsaid hangs between them, stretching out the seconds and Ben's voice is almost a whisper.
- I know.
It's not a real answer, they never speak about what the actual thing hanging around them is. They've never put it into words, it just isn't necessary.
- I wish -
- I know. But we can't, so there's no need to talk about it.
- I love you, Ben.
Ben rolls his eyes, too fondly, too quickly, too amused and too sad. Klaus knows every tiny expression on his brother's face and hurridly grins. But it's humourless, the situation being what it is for so long.
- Klaus, you're tired.
- Yes, I'm tired. I'm tired and horny and I've been in love with you since we were fourteen, but we're here and you're dead and it's a stupid, ridiculous, idiotic situation, and there's a guy over there who wants to know what I'm yelling about!
- Then stop yelling and get laid!
- But I want you!
Well. That comes out exactly not as planned. Not that he's ever planned to say it, at least not like that, not at all. Because even if they've always known and even if they've always been together and even if Ben probably knows everything, there are some things that they've never said.
And now he's just gone and blurted it out like that and now he can't take it back. Not that he wants to take it back. Does he? And Ben is looking at him with a deep, unreadable gaze.
- A little late for that, isn't it.
The drugs are wearing off, he can feel it. He can also feel a headache coming, pounding like a bad 80's disco. But he's heard Ben's voice, hesitant, softer than usual... Has he ever heard his brother so unsure? He can't tell, and holds his hands out. He /wants/ to touch him, he /needs/ to touch him, but Ben is an intangible as he's been all these years. So Klaus just brushes his fingers against a ghostly cheek.
- I'm sorry, Ben.
Ben doesn't answer, which of course gets Klaus panicked. Ben /always/ answers.
- I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I don't control my brain, so -
- Klaus.
- I'm so so sorry, I -
- Klaus! You're a drama queen, a human disaster, a wimp and an idiot but you wouldn't lie. Not to me.
- But I'm sorry!
- Stop saying that. Please?
At least Ben isn't yelling and hasn't disappeared, and Klaus feels hopes - hopes - that soon the conversation will disappear from either of their memories.
- It can't be nice to hear.
- What, that you love me? My god. My god you're an /idiot/, you're such an idiot! Whay do you think I've been hanging around for so long?
- Because I'm still a better conversationalist than the Void?
- Because I love you too, you absolute cretin. And if you didn't always think of yourself as unloveable and useless, you'd have figured it out by now. I'm more than just your dead brother, your conscience or your emotional support ectoplasm.
*
The door to the crummy hotel room closes and Klaus drops his coat on the chair in the corner. It isn't the Ritz but but it's cleaner than some of the places he's been to. /Most/ of them, anyway. It's not like he should even have been able to pay for this but turns out that the guy at the door wasn't that zealous when a couple of pills dropped into his hand.
It's the last of his stash but for once, Klaus doesn't mind. He's got other things on his mind right now and they're all to do with Ben's dark eyes on him.
Klaus is aching so bad, like he's physically going to explode if he can't, right at this very moment, like /right now/, grab Ben by the neck and kiss him like he's oxygen and heroin and sunlight all rolled into one. He can't, obviously, but he can settle for the next best thing, which is falling onto the bed and gazing up at his brother who's smiling like all's well in the world (and why wouldn't it be, right?)
Ben zips his hoodie down and grins.
- What? You never thought I could do that?
- I was concentrating on the whole "hood-up, hood-down" situation, usually...
- Guess you'd better savour the moment, then...
It should have been awkward. There's no way the very idea of getting down and dirty with a ghost won't ever not be awkward. But this isn't just a ghost, not really. This is /Ben/. And Ben is right there, unhooded and stripped to the waist, standing in front of him.
Klaus can't breathe for a second, taking it all in.
- You're...you're gorgeous.
- And you're still dressed...
- Good point.
Not like he's got that many clothes to get rid of. Pants and shoes are thrown on the floor, and he's kneeling on the mattress, hands between his legs, pupils blown wide-open.
- Fuck...Ben...
- You've still got your shirt on.
Ben's voice isn't normal. He's encouraging but not like he usually is. It's not the voice that comes to him in his lows, not the voice that calls softly to try and stop him from taking that tenth pill or that shot before bed. Ben's voice right now is something that almost gives Klaus pause.
- Ben, I -
- Touch yourself, Klaus. Imagine my hands on you.
- /Jesus/ Ben!
Ben just grins.
- What, you know I'm always there, right? I know what you say, what you like and what the others say.
Klaus wants to reply - he's got the perfect reply on the tip of his tongue - but his hands are moving faster and faster and he can just manage a strangled cry. He hasn't masturbated in ages, not since he discovered speedballs in coffee. (and to be totally honest, he really prefers jerking off around other people because it's a lot less depressing...)
At last he starts to breathe normally again, riding on the waves of his pulsating cock. Ben's watching him, as close as he can, and Klaus grins like a Cheshire cat.
- You're still dressed. Shy?
He stops abruptly, afraid - really /afraid/ - that he's said something stupid like the dumb idiot he is, but then he looks back up and sees his
(brother?)
(lover?)
Ben in all his naked glory, close enough to touch, and glowing in the ugly halogen light. It's enough to get him jerking off again and his voice comes out hot and heady.
- Ben...Ben, talk to me...
God he's so close but he doesn't want to come, not yet, not when he's finally got what he's wanted for so long. He whines, something desperate, something pleading, and Ben is right next to him and he tries so very hard to imagine he can feel Ben's hands lying on him. And he can't remember what Ben says, he knows he won't, but it's not important, it could have been a shopping list. His eyes are closed and the words make his hair tingle, his skin burn even more, and when he opens his eyes he can see the most beautiful sight. Ben is right in front of him, close enough to kiss, hands on his own cock and stroking himself. Klaus doesn't look away, focused on Ben's face, on his cheeks tinged with pink, on the breathy sighs coming so, so quickly. And suddenly their eyes meet and they don't look away again, not until they're both panting and sweaty.
Klaus briefly wonders if ghosts jerk off in that other world where they go, and then flops back onto the bed, hands sticky and eyes full of so many different emotions. For a second he can't see Ben anymore but is too exhausted to lift his head.
- Hey, are you - ?
- I'm here. Of course I'm here. But you need to sleep, Klaus.
- I'm just out of practise, I swear!
Ben's voice is as it's always been, so warm, so soothing, and Klaus can feel every muscle relax in answer.
- Don't go anywhere...?
- I promise, I won't.
And Ben doesn't. He never has and he never will. Until he loses sight of Klaus for a day and everything changes, but that's not yet.
Not yet.