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Klaus Hargreeves doesn't exactly remember the last time he was sober.
It isn't much of a surprise. Most of his mental energy at this point in time is spent on when he's going to get his next high. Sometimes he worries about money – not because he cares whether he starves to death or sleeps on the street, but because he knows that he needs money if he's going to keep the ghosts at bay any longer – and sometimes a passing thought will dedicate itself to wondering after his siblings. Is Luther still stuck with dear old dad? Is Diego still getting himself injured like an idiot? Is Allison remembering to take time for herself?
Is Five even still with them? He wonders that, sometimes.
Is Vanya feeling any better? He did spare some of his remaining competent brain power to reading her book. Honestly, even with everything in that book that she wrote about him – calling him everything from a nutcase to a junkie – Klaus can't blame her. It isn't as though it's untrue. He is a nutcase. He is a junkie. Maybe he'd be upset if she had told a lie. Maybe he'd care, even slightly, if there had been some mistruth.
But, honestly, why does Klaus care if the world knows the truth about him? He's never pretended to be anything else. A nutcase. A junkie. The disappointment. Perhaps even more than poor little Vanya. She never had the potential to live up to their bastard of a father's expectations, no matter what she did. It isn't her fault. Klaus would never think less of her for it. What a stupid thing to judge people on.
Klaus, however, was fully capable of living up to everything his father wanted from him. Klaus could have been great. Klaus could have harnessed those powers that his father thought were so powerful, and become someone so much stronger. Stronger, maybe, than even Luther or Diego or–
"Klaus."
He blinks himself out of a stupor. He fell into thoughts, at some point. Maybe he didn't take enough, if he can still fall into thoughts of things such as family. Past. Fathers. Anything and everything that he would rather forget in favor of the numb bliss of a high. He closes his eyes again and leans backwards. Maybe he's hoping to fall asleep and let the numbness wash over him. Maybe he's hoping that the person snapping in his face will just bug off already.
"Klaus." The person repeats, pointedly and angrily and Klaus furrows his brow in annoyance. Can't they see that he's trying to sleep? Can't they see that he's tired and that the drugs are making him sleepy?
"Klaus. Open your eyes."
"What!?" He finally snaps, eyes opening and entire body lurching forward. His coat slips from his shoulders, and honestly he doesn't care enough to try adjusting it. He's not going to move. Why bother? No matter how far he might stumble, where he might go, there isn't anyone who would care enough to help him out. There's no one who would open their door for him, and he doesn't have the energy to break into Diego's apartment or look up Allison's phone number.
"Oh, forgive me for worrying about my brother's health." Klaus' companion practically hisses. Through the haze of his vision, Klaus can just about see Ben Hargreeves, his brother, with arms crossed over his chest and eyes narrowed. "You're shaking, Klaus. If I were you, I wouldn't pass out on the street."
"Oh, truly?" Klaus mocks, waving his hands as though doing so would help make his point in any way. He doesn't even have a point to make. His head is starting to hurt, and really he just wants to go to sleep. As much as he loves his brother – that's what he's supposed to think, right? Not how much he wishes his precious brother would just leave him the fuck alone – he really wishes he could throw a brick right at Ben's face. Maybe that would shut him up. "Why wouldn't you? Passing out sounds great, right about now!"
Ben raises an eyebrow, as though Klaus' words are truly ridiculous. Maybe they are. He's starting to think that he definitely didn't take enough. His tolerance keeps getting higher and higher and the drugs are less and less effective. It's never pleasant to blow every penny he's managed to gather on an amount that would have gotten him high as a kite just a month ago to find that it barely has any effect. Maybe it's time to give up. Maybe it's time to just stab that needle into his neck and call it a day.
If he can't stop the ghosts, might as well become one. Right?
He shudders at the thought. As though Ben would ever let him do something that self-destructive. No matter what Ben's interactions with the world could be, Klaus doesn't think he could bring himself to do something like that in front of his brother. Not Ben, anyway. The brother who has followed him around so loyally since they were teenagers.
Not that either of them had much of a choice.
Ghosts are drawn to Klaus Hargreeves. Of course the one belonging to his brother – and the one he was closest with to boot – wouldn't leave his side.
Klaus' hands start to shake.
"My head hurts." He mutters, raising his hands to pull at his short brown hair. Headaches are nothing new. Often they come with the drugs – or at least they come with the drugs wearing off – but this one is a different kind of familiar. A worse kind of familiar.
Klaus.
He feels himself jump. His shoulders start shaking. His fingers detach themselves from his hair and fumble through his pockets. Fingers jumping and shaking and there's no way he's out, right? There's no way there's no way there's no way–
Klaus!
He jumps again. He feels a whimper bubbling up through his throat. There's nothing in his pockets. How did he run out already? There's no way there's no way there's no way–
Klaus!!
He gasps for air. Desperate and pained and god can they ever just shut the hell up–
"Klaus."
His eyes snap open. He looks up. Ben is there. Ben is exactly where Klaus left him, but his eyes don't look as... upset? Angry? Annoyed? Ben doesn't usually wear concern so blatantly. Usually he hides it beneath a layer of judgement. Just to make sure that Klaus is always aware that Ben doesn't condone his choices.
"Klaus, hey." Ben's voice is quiet. Comforting, almost. It brings him back. So far back. He remembers being 12. 13. 14. After long days of training – or what their father thought was training, anyway – where Klaus barely knew up from down anymore and he'd end up dragged back to the house. Barely conscious and entirely stuck in the sounds of the angry dead.
Those days, where Ben would be the one to whisper to him that it was okay. That Klaus was safe, and whatever their father had taken him to do was over now. He remembers never believing it. No matter how many times Ben would hug him and let him cry and scream and whimper and–
"Klaus. Listen to me." Ben continues, and Klaus' hands slip over his ears. Maybe. Maybe he can just block them out that way. Maybe he should just gouge out his ears. If he can't hear, then the ghosts can't bother him. Right? Maybe–
"It's okay." Ben whispers. "You're okay. You're not there. You're here. With me. It's Ben. Dad is gone, the ghosts can't hurt you, and you're okay. The withdrawal will wear off. You'll be okay. It'll be okay."
Klaus almost wants to laugh. Say something about how stubborn life coach Ben Hargreeves suddenly took a turn into soft and gooey feelings territory, but he thinks himself far too tired for such a thing right now. His head hurts. He wants to sleep. He wants to feel numb. His entire body itches for something that he doesn't have, and he thinks that this might just be the worst feeling in the world.
"Klaus," Ben's voice stays quiet. "You can do this. You don't need the drugs. You can do this. You're strong. You can do this on your own."
Maybe that's what sets him off. Of course Ben would use this to try to shove that bullshit down his throat once again. Of course. Of course of course of course. What else did he expect? No matter how soft Ben makes his tone or how much Klaus is reminded of their teenage years, Ben wants Klaus to do something. And, as Klaus now knows, Ben is willing to use Klaus' trust in him to get him to do it.
"Think I can pickpocket enough for some coke~?" Klaus coos, forcing himself to his feet and waving his hands dramatically. Flashing both the 'Hello' and 'Goodbye' to his brother as he starts down the alley. He struggles not to sway, eventually leaning against the alley wall with one hand. He can't hear Ben following, but knows that his brother is hot on his tail.
Maybe Ben is right. Maybe Klaus should just let the drugs leave his system and work on a way to deal with his powers all on his own. Maybe that would be the best thing for him. Maybe that would be the healthy, adult way to handle this.
But, really, does Klaus care what the healthy, adult way to deal with his problems is?
No?
That's what he thought.