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One
Number Four was never fated for a happy life, and that much is apparent to him at only eight years old. His father, if he even deserves to be called that, has just locked him away in the mausoleum for another three hours and the ghosts are getting more and more restless and more and more violent.
Normal kids his age are playing catch in fields, going to school, watching TV, and opening presents on their birthdays. Four is spending his first few hours as an eight-year-old holding his hands over his ears and praying to a god he isn’t sure he believes in that the ghosts don’t find a way to touch him. So yeah, happiness seems pretty far away for him even if the concept feels almost too big for his young brain to truly comprehend.
His siblings are probably asleep – they’d been so jealous when Dad had told them at dinner that Four was going for some special training that night. Probably assuming it was some kind of fun birthday present while ignoring the abject terror written all over Four’s face. They’d always been blind to the true horror of his powers, and although Four knew hiding bits from them had led to this, he just couldn’t stand the disbelief and assumptions he was lying. So maybe he did deserve a little bit of their disdain, but it didn’t stop it from hurting.
He's an hour and a half into the three hours Dad had set, when he notices the ghosts seem to be increasing in number. He’d noticed that before in the house, he can’t stay in one room for too long otherwise they find him. His bedroom is the worst, the constant shouting and screaming keeping him awake all night.
There are probably 20 of them now, crowding around him and screaming for attention. Listen to me! They say, Help me Four! You can send me back, you can help us!
He can’t, he wants to scream back, I don’t know how to help you.
He can’t acknowledge them; he’d learnt that earlier in the night and his ears were still ringing from the onslaught of sound when they’d all wailed in perfect synchronisation. Four cups his hands over his ears and fights back tears from the rising panic in his chest.
It’ll be okay. He tells himself; they can’t touch you.
Almost as soon as the thought leaves his mind, the first ghost reaches forward, and their rotting, blood-soaked fingers latch onto his academy blazer and tug. Four feels his back leave the mausoleum wall and screams.
After that, the rest seem to realise they can touch him and take great delight in digging their fingers into his body, desperate for even an ounce of attention without even realising they are literally tearing him apart.
Number four dies for the first time at eight years old, choking on his own blood and crying out for a father who will never love him.
When he opens his eyes, the light is so bright compared to the darkness of the mausoleum that it makes his eyes burn until he adjusts. There’s a girl standing over him, watching. She’s wearing a grey dress and riding a grey bike and it’s only then that Four realises everything is grey.
She looks around his age, similar in height to Number Three. Her eyes watch him curiously as he scrabbles to stand up.
“You’re not supposed to be here.” She says, checking her watch, “You’re too young, go back.”
Four feels the ground beneath his feet shake, before giving way entirely and he falls into oblivion.
When he wakes up again, it's daylight outside and his father is shaking him awake. His uniform is clean and wiped clean of blood and there isn’t a single visible scratch on his body. He aches though, and his head swims alarmingly.
“Come on Number Four,” Sir Reginald Hargreeves says, “You will never master your powers if you fall asleep. Two more hours.”
The door locks behind him, and as Four stands up and stretches, he notices a thin scratch wondering up his stomach, previously hidden by his shirt.
Huh, he thinks, he must have had a nightmare. But the little girl had looked so real.
Two
He’s twelve now. Wearing his mom’s heels and dancing around the house. Three watches him with a fond smile while also donning her own pair of silver sparkly heels. Two is also watching, but he’s more tense; anxiously awaiting the return of their father.
They’re on the third floor when Four decides he wants to get Seven involved in their antics, her room is the floor below and as he races down the stairs, he trips.
The staircase is steep, and he feels his head hit the solid edge of one step, and then the world fades away.
In reality, he’s dead before he even hits the bottom, and he’s definitely dead before his jaw smacks against the floor and breaks. There’s no little girl this time, no peaceful void. Just empty nothingness, like he simply ceased to exist.
He wakes up in the infirmary, jaw wired shut and veins pumped full of morphine. The room is eerily silent, quieter than he’s ever known it and he realises then that drugs can control the ghosts.
It doesn’t matter that his jaw is wired shut for eight weeks and his head hurts so bad even with the painkillers because he’s found something to help.
And that means more to him than anything else.
Three
Their first mission. Three months after Grace had picked their names, and Klaus is not loving it. The name is great and he likes the way it makes him feel – Klaus is just gender neutral enough to dispel the weird feeling starting to settle in his bones when his siblings refer to him as their brother.
He doesn’t have words to explain why it makes him feel that way, so he hasn’t said anything to anyone about it.
But on this mission, his mind is all over the place. Luther had once called him a “poster boy for ADHD” and it rings through his mind as he paces anxiously waiting for something – anything – to happen.
He’s been placed on lookout duty, which is somewhat of a relief because he isn’t as combat skilled as his other siblings but God, it’s boring. So, he occupies himself by singing in his head and dancing around, aided slightly in his loose movements by the strong painkillers he’d smuggled out of the infirmary the day before.
Which is why he misses the sound of someone sneaking up on him.
The gun cocks and fires before he even registers, and he watches his blood splatter with eyes that are dead before the image is even interpreted.
He wakes up in the weird void again, there’s no little girl this time though and he wanders through a dense forest until he reaches a wall. He’s looking down on himself, he realises. There’s a single bullet wound on his forehead and the wall behind him is splattered with blood.
Did I die?
No, that’s ridiculous.
He wakes up twenty-five minutes later with a killer headache and a small scar fading on his forehead, and nobody even thought to ask where he was. He leaves the corridor just in time for Dad to arrive and chew him out for not alerting everyone to the new intruder.
It wasn’t my fault, he wants to argue, they killed me.
But he already knows how much everyone doubts his powers, and he doesn’t want them to doubt this, so he keeps it to himself.
Four
It’s been six months since the last time, and Klaus is curious. He takes the kitchen knife he’d smuggled out and locks the bathroom door. He climbs into the bath and presses it against his wrist.
Blood runs quicker than he expected, and the bathtub begins to fill. He presses the knife against his other wrist and repeats the same motion.
There, he lies down and waits.
Death doesn’t come quickly this time, not like before. He’s painfully aware of every second he lays there in that cold bathtub as the life drains from his body. The room starts spinning, and he starts to feel like he couldn’t move even if he wanted to. There's a heavy weight settled on his chest and it hurts to breathe as his body grows weaker.
It’s not like he wants to die, he’s just curious about the other side. About the little girl on the bike and the grey landscape and everything.
Until, eventually, he shuts his eyes as his heart stops beating.
Just like before, the new world around him is so bright it burns and he struggles to make anything out in the grey landscape while he waits for his eyes to adjust.
The little girl is there watching him, but this time she has a small bouquet of daffodils in the basket on her bike and the yellow is so vibrant it is jarring to see. He looks down at his outfit and the yellow shirt he’d borrowed (read: stolen) from Allison is also shining in full colour.
Before he has time to think about why he can only see the yellow, the little girl starts talking.
“You can’t be here, not yet. You don’t belong here.”
Klaus grumbles as he brushes dirt off his trousers. “Newsflash! I don’t belong anywhere.”
“You will,” The little girl looks at him with eyes so serious he thinks they could see right through him, and hell – maybe they can, “and you need to be there for it. I don’t want to see you again soon.”
He wakes in the infirmary again, only this time he’s banned from the painkillers and his arms ache with a fresh vengeance.
Five, six, and seven
He doesn’t remember much from being fourteen. He overdoses and slices and stabs and just hopes that just once he’ll be allowed to stay in the nice grey void where everything is calm.
He has questions for the little girl, he wants to see five. He wants to know if his brother is dead or not.
It doesn’t work. He never gets an answer.
Eight
He’s only sixteen when the taste of alcohol becomes a near constant after discovering the keys to Dad’s alcohol cabinet. If anyone else notices, they don’t care.
After one particularly grueling day being locked in the mausoleum, he takes two whole bottles and runs. This is unusual for him, usually choosing only to fill his small hipflask to avoid detection.
He sits on his bed, smoking and drinking until the room spins and the ghosts are quiet. He finishes one bottle, and urged on by his recklessness and impulsivity, chugs the second in just a handful of seconds.
The bitter taste burns his mouth and the heat from the liquor makes him shudder but the room spins too much to even begin to regret it.
He lies down on his bed and passes out.
That night, he chokes on his own vomit and wakes up rolled onto his side with Diego’s watchful eyes tracking his every movement. His head hurts and his stomach feels like he might have been steamrolled and the room is somehow still spinning.
“You could have died.” Diego says, meaning well but the message makes Klaus laugh despite his violent hangover.
“Yeah, yeah,” Klaus waves his hand dismissively, “Wouldn’t have been the first time.”
Diego simply scoffs and walks out.
Nine
Ben dies and Klaus finds themself sinking. Drowning under the weight of everyone’s expectations of them.
This time, the overdose is accidental, but the relief it brings is enough to keep them satiated for a while.
Ten
They get kicked out of the academy after pawning one too many of their father’s priceless artifacts.
$40 it gets them, enough for a bed for the night and enough meth to make them forget everything. The dealer they usually go to isn’t there, but there’s a strange man loitering on the street corner.
“Are you looking for Smithy?” The guy asks, leering and glaring down at Klaus. It turns out, they are looking for Smithy, and they say this.
“Klaus,” Ben urges from their side, invisible to everyone else, “get out of here. I don’t trust him.”
Klaus, desperate for something to take the edge off his anger and sadness at losing the only home they’ve ever known, doesn’t listen.
They come to a few hours later, their body aching and covered in scratches and bruises. Their memory is spotty, but from what they do recall, they are glad the rest is wiped from their mind. There are two clear bags tucked into the pocket of their jacket that weren’t there before, and the forty dollars sits tucked into their shoe.
They get a hotel for the night and scrub their skin until it's raw.
Eleven
“Let’s drink to childhood trauma!” They shout, standing on the ledge. The partygoers watch amused and cheer loudly with them. At that moment they feel infinite as they take another swig from the bottle of vodka clutched in their hand. The music is loud and the people around look to be having so much fun and Klaus, for the first time in a while, is having a really good night.
Their body sways and they step back to accommodate –
And they fall;
Down;
Down;
Down.
They wake up in hospital.
Twelve
From what they can recall, deaths 12 to 17 are all accidental overdoses, occurring over four years. They try rehab once, just to shut Ben up, but it doesn’t stick.
Being sober is overrated. Especially when they can’t die.
Especially when the drugs provide the sweet relief of silence from the hundreds of screaming ghosts. They don't regret any of it.
Eighteen
They’ve started seeing someone, it’s just casual but the guy keeps them in supply of drugs and a place to stay in exchange for sex and companionship. It’s far from healthy, but it seems to suit them both.
It works, until one night when Klaus comes home slightly late and the guy freaks out.
Sam, his name is, and he’s six foot and tall, wide built but lanky. He’s attractive, but Klaus doesn’t love him.
Klaus decides they don’t even like him as Sam smashes their head into the wall for being late.
They wake up alone in an empty apartment, with no sign of Sam ever even living there. It’s daylight out which means several hours must have passed, but their head no longer hurts and despite this being the longest they’ve gone without taking anything, they don’t feel the tell-tale shakiness of withdrawal setting in yet.
They keep the apartment for two months, and Sam never reappears. Probably certain he had killed Klaus and in hiding, which worked in Klaus’ favour.
It’s the most stable their life has felt for years.
Nineteen
At the age of 27, Klaus decides to try sobriety.
It lasts for two days until they seize so violently it causes them to choke on their own tongue.
It’s their most terrifying death so far, made worse only by the fact that as soon as they wake up the fear keeps them from continuing with the withdrawals.
The small pill clutched in their hand tastes so much sweeter as it washes away all their pain and suffering.
Twenty
This time, the rehab is court mandated. They’d been caught with possession and almost attacked an officer after the drugs were confiscated.
The little sobriety chip in their pocket sits uncomfortably heavy as they wash down the pills with a swig of whisky.
They wake up in an ambulance to the news that their father has died.
Fuck.
Twenty-one
Hazel and Cha-Cha are quickly becoming their least favorite people. They’d just managed to form some kind of connection to their remaining siblings, and Five had reappeared for the first time in years. But now, tied to a chair and slowly sobering up surrounded by an ever-increasing number of the ghosts brutally murdered by their two kidnappers, Klaus is pissed.
They had plans okay! And no – those plans hadn’t involved helping stop the apocalypse (though if that happens it is a win), but they’d still had plans. Mostly to raid dad’s expensive possessions and pawn what he could but Pogo and Luther had tried too hard to stop him.
And besides, Klaus would be more inclined to help if their siblings treated them less like a junkie nuisance and more like a sibling who happens to be a junkie nuisance.
But now, they’ve been tied to this chair for long enough that they’re starting to realise nobody is coming to save them.
Ben, bless his eternally dead soul, has been incredibly helpful. But there’s only so much Klaus can take both mentally and physically.
The withdrawals and prolonged torture cause their already worn heart to stop while Hazel and Cha-Cha are out.
They wake up just before they get back, and the ghosts look at them with an air of almost sadness.
Pity, they think it might be.
The ghosts pity them.
Twenty-one
Deaths twenty-one to fifty happen in Vietnam. When they’re stranded there after the suitcase they’d tried to open in the hopes it had contained money lights up with a flash of bright blue and the itchy material of the bus seats had shifted to hot grass and a disgustingly humid temperature.
There’s no time to think before an attractive guy hands him a gun and says help and Klaus, blinded always to pretty people, has no choice but to follow.
They die, a lot, but every time they wake up Dave is smiling down at them and it makes the aching in his body dissipate just a bit.
They share their first kiss just after his forty-fifth death, and Klaus finds they wouldn’t trade this for the world.
Fifty-one
Dave dies, and unlike Klaus, he can’t come back. The briefcase remains tucked under their cot exactly how they’d left it and the familiar flash of blue lands them sat back on that same bus, just twelve minutes after they’d opened the briefcase originally, almost ten months ago.
Their hands are still red with blood, and the dog tags around their neck clink together as they cry.
They destroy the briefcase.
Five is the only one to notice something has changed, and Klaus struggles to adjust to the almost constant watchful gaze and the impending threat of the apocalypse.
All they want is to see Dave again.
And, when they sober up and still can’t conjure Dave, they resort to other methods.
The knife feels all too familiar as it digs into their wrist, just how the grey void feels all too familiar when they open their eyes there.
The little girl is there again, this time with a fresh batch of lavender in her basket. They can’t see the colour, but the smell travels over to them and they breathe it in deeply.
“You can’t see him.” She says, looking almost sad, “It’s not time yet.”
Klaus doesn’t know when it will ever be time, but when they wake up still in the same place they died, the tears come fresh and don’t stop until hours later when Diego bangs on their door for a family meeting.
After all, the apocalypse doesn’t stop for grief. They should all know this by now.
Fifty-two
Klaus is trying to be sober, really trying, but the nightclub is loud and the memories from Vietnam keep popping up in horrific flashbacks until they don’t see any other choice to make it out of there in one piece.
There’s a weird chain of events where they’re too panicked and too concerned for Luther to really pick out anything specific that happens, but all they know is that they hit their head hard (ouch) and they wake up back in that weird void.
Their dad is there this time, too. Fun.
Klaus hates it, hates the idea that they can’t escape their dad even in death. The once peaceful environment turns threatening as their dad sits them down in a chair and starts shaving their face.
It’s a weird environment, one that they’d be almost certain they had dreamt up if they’d ever been able to recreate the void in their dreams. Still, they sit there and listen to their dad talk and try to resist the urge to shudder every time dear old Reggie touches him.
They don’t learn much interesting. It’s the same old jabber dad had spouted all along, and enough of it they’d guessed anyway. Blah blah, dad killed himself, blah blah wasted potential, blah the world is ending. Whatever, it’s boring and when they wake up still on the floor of the nightclub, nothing much has changed.
None of their siblings believe them, but that’s okay. They’d never expected differently.
Fifty-three
Five’s plan worked, but now Klaus is alone in Dallas. There’s only Ben to keep them company and they’re aware of the constant stares as they appear to be talking to themselves.
Mostly, for the first week, they’re concerned. They’d stayed hanging around that same street looking for their siblings but after no sign of them, they’re getting desperate.
They try conjuring them, but all it does is piss them off when it doesn’t work.
And, despite all their outer reluctance to admit as much to Ben, they’re missing their siblings. The bonds they’d started to reignite in the last few days burn with their loss.
Klaus doesn’t think twice about throwing themself into the pool and submerging themself until their lungs burn and ache with fatigue and the world spins before fading to that familiar grey.
“You again.” The girl says, before giving them a chance to adjust to their surroundings. “You don’t belong here. Not in this time.”
“Yeah,” Klaus agrees, “But I need to know where my family is.”
The little girl looks at them, and they realise then that she hasn’t aged in all these years, through all the visits. The only changes are the flowers she carries with her (red roses today, they don’t know how they know the roses are red, but they are certain of it). They wonder briefly about who this girl is who has such a dislike towards him.
“Your family? They don’t exist.” She turns up her nose. “And I’d like for you to leave now.”
“No, wait,” Klaus holds their hands out, “What do you mean they don’t exist?”
The girl frowns, turns her head to the side, and stares at them. “They disappeared into time but haven’t reappeared yet. I don’t control that; I can’t help you.”
“Will I see them again?” Klaus asks feeling hot anxiety flush up their spine.
“Probably.” The girl shrugs before getting back on her bike. “Though I can’t say for certain, you do have a habit of messing with my world.”
Before Klaus can even think of how to respond, they’re coughing up pool water and gagging as it forces its way out of their mouth. It’s their least dignified awakening yet.
Their mind is reeling after that encounter, and they tell Ben everything as they figure out how on earth to deal with this mess. Ben looks like he doesn’t believe them, and fair enough, Klaus isn’t sure they would too, but eventually Ben agrees.
Their life in the 60s turns out to be good for both of them. Klaus gets sober – properly sober this time. No drugs, no alcohol, and they feel freer than they have in years. Ben enjoys their traveling around, and the cult they form along the way keeps them both entertained.
Throughout it, the girl's words ring in Klaus’ ears.
How long do they have to wait to see their family?
Fifty-four
The answer, as it turns out, is three years and eight months. In this time, they’ve traveled all across the states, created a cult of incredibly dedicated followers, strengthened their bond with Ben, and learned to properly enjoy life sober. And not the false "life is beautiful when you're not obsessed with meth" bullshit they spew in rehab, no actually enjoy it. They've found reasons to keep going and strengths to keep their resolve strong during the years - not that they didn't have cravings, but they're manageable now. It's no longer a case of their addiction controlling them, but them controlling their addiction.
All in all, Klaus would say they’ve had the most successful time out of their siblings. Who, miraculously, all made it to the 60s in one piece. Unfortunately, they did manage to bring the apocalypse with them, which seems very typical.
Klaus realises early on that less time has passed for their siblings, and it’s shown when they still expect the same old junkie they used to be. And it’s understandable, but Klaus is certain that even by looking at them it is obvious they no longer rely on those substances. They’ve gained weight, lost the emaciated heroin-chic look they had going, and adopted a new range of slightly more colourful clothes. Even their powers are getting stronger, with Ben able to possess them and the ghosts they conjure able to take physical forms and protect them sometimes. But alas, their siblings seem indifferent to any changes Klaus has made and it almost makes them regret trying so hard.
It turns out, that the apocalypse is caused by Vanya, yet again. And Klaus tries not to judge her for it, because really, who are they to judge based on past activities.
They’re in the FBI building, and Vanya is glowing so brightly it makes Klaus’ eyes burn even after they close them. Diego and Allison are out cold from their attempts at trying to stop their all-powerful sister, and Klaus is aware it’s up to them now.
Ben nods encouragingly, and Klaus stands. They make it halfway before the forces get stronger and the hosepipe, they’d been using to pull themself along threatens to tear out of the wall. They take another step, and a chunk of plaster flies out of the wall in front and collides with their head. They slide back down the floor, hitting their head on the desk they’d used as a barricade.
They’re dead before they even see Ben glowing blue.
Fifty-five
The Sparrow academy, as they call themselves, seem like a bunch of assholes. Klaus had just wanted everything to be normal, everything to be fixed so they could live life normally again. Or at least as normal as a traumatised family with superpowers can be.
Instead, there’s suddenly a glowing ball in the basement and Klaus can’t resist the urge to reach out and touch it. Everything inside of them wants to run away from it, but the colours are so bright and so shiny they can’t help but reach out toward it.
If Ben – their Ben – were here, he’d be screaming for Klaus to stop. To leave and tell the others what they saw. But Ben isn’t here, so Klaus reaches out of spite.
It burns, and they feel every part of their body disintegrate in painful clarity.
They wake up laid on the cold floor, that ball hovering just above them.
They don’t tell anyone about it. They don’t feel the need.
Fifty-six
They just wanted to ask whether their Ben still existed.
He doesn’t.
Klaus wakes up and immediately pours themself a shot. They’ve earned it.
+ One
Okay, Klaus wouldn’t say they’re doing a good job looking after Stan, but they’re definitely not doing a bad one either. The kid hasn’t stolen anything expensive and hasn’t taken any hard drugs so really, it’s a win.
They break into the white buffalo suite, Klaus letting Stan fuel his rebellious side just as much as they are fuelling the kid. It’s probably a combination that would have Diego shouting at the both of them, but Klaus doesn’t really mind.
It’s just pure bad luck that the spear gun goes off, Klaus knows the kid wasn’t trying to hurt them. Probably just thought the gun would be cool to hold.
They want to tell Stan that it’s okay, they’ll be back soon. Don’t panic. But their chest aches and their mouth fills with blood and Klaus realises they won’t get a chance to say any of that before their impending death takes them.
There’s something more painful about this one, it’s rare for them to die at the hands of someone other than themself and the years they spent in the 60s relatively unharmed softened them, and made them forget just how bad it can be.
It’s painful and time seems to slow down as they bleed out on the white plush rug. Stan stands there, visibly panicked, and Klaus wants to scream no – it’s okay, I’ll be fine, I do this every so often.
Instead, their eyes lose focus and the bright pink of the hotel room fades to the grey of the void.
This time, they’re allowed to stay. Not for long, the little girl isn’t that nice, but she says someone wants to see them and Klaus, eager to see Dave or Ben again walks through the overgrown field as quick as they can.
It crosses their mind that it could be dad, but this version of their dad is very much alive and doped up thanks to the Sparrows.
The field opens up to a beach, grey sea, and grey sand with a bright grey sun shining down. It would be truly beautiful if the colours were present, and even drained of life it is still breathtaking. There’s a table there, a beautiful woman with dark hair watching them, waiting.
They recognise her from photos alone.
“Mom,” Klaus says, pulling out a chair, “Is that menudo?”
The conversation flies by quickly, but the moment will be treasured forever. Their mother is beautiful, and she is kind, and she loves them regardless of everything they’ve done and everything they will do. It’s the purest form of love Klaus has ever known and it warms something deep inside of them.
This is the first time they’ve ever truly not wanted to go back.
She tells them about the fifty-six other times they’d died – fifty-seven in total now. About how every time she’d wanted to come and comfort them, wrap them up in her arms and say, “it’s okay, my love, you can do this.”
Klaus isn’t ashamed to admit they cry. They aren't ashamed of how much they want to stay.
Eventually, that tell-tale sense of vertigo overtakes them and the image of their mother fades.
When they open their eyes, they are not alone like usual, there is a crowd of people around them. They gasp for air, sitting upright and rubbing gently at the sore spot on their chest.
“What the fuck?” Diego says, jumping back and fixing Klaus with an intense stare. As a child, Klaus had dubbed this one Glare Number 4, which means Diego is mad but not at Klaus, and frustrated at something, or confused. Or constipated.
“What?” Klaus blinks, rubbing their eyes and flexing their arms as they adjust to living again, “You’ve never died and come back to life? Grow up, Diego!”
Viktor snorts at this, and Klaus shares a soft smile with their brother.
“How long have you been able to do that?” Luther asks now, eyes wide as he holds Sloane’s hand gently. Probably more for his sake than Sloane’s but Klaus has an odd way of winning people over so they can never be sure.
Klaus stands now, leaning slightly to crack their back and catching the way everyone seems to wince at the wound on his chest still leaking blood. “Since I was like, eight, I think? That’s the first time.”
They gingerly poke at their chest wound, before realising that their usual fast healing is not kicking in. Probably punishment for staying in the void too long, Klaus makes a mental note to curse out the little girl next time they meet.
“You died at eight years old?” Viktor asks, at the same time as Allison goes “What the fuck?”
“Well, what did you think special training for the person who can see dead people would be.” Klaus shrugs it off, already accepting that shitty part of their life and not especially willing to dive into it in front of everyone. “Besides, it has happened like fifty-something times now. God hates me, she’s a little girl and for some reason she hates me.”
“You met god?” Diego blinks, “You said this before, and I thought you were just lying or tripping or something.”
“Yeah, that’s why I tended not to bring it up. I didn’t even realise what was happening properly until I was like 16 and the little girl kept kicking me out. She can be a real bitch, you know.” Klaus sits down, pours themselves a drink, and shoots it down.
Diego keeps blinking, staring at Klaus with a meaningful look. “What about when we were kids, all those,” he pauses, fixing Klaus with a stare, “attempts.”
He doesn’t say it outright, but Klaus knows everyone else is smart enough to catch what he meant. Klaus flushes, suddenly embarrassed.
“I had unfinished business,” They say after a moment, “Besides, someone had to check if our sibling was dead.”
Klaus glances at Five after that, they aren’t sure whether everyone else gets the message but Five seems to. His eyes widen and his mouth opens ever-so-slightly, before being schooled back into that same neutral expression he’d worn the whole time.
“Okay,” Five starts, before pausing to take a drink, “Let me get this right – you killed yourself, several times, to see if I was dead?”
Well, when he puts it like that, Klaus doesn’t know how to respond, because yeah that’s technically true, but they survived which makes it okay. They tell everyone as much.
“But you didn’t know then, that you were going to come back?” Five questions further, frowning now as he regards Klaus.
“Well, no, but I did. Yippee!” Klaus waves their hands at that, stretching a grin onto their face and trying to make it look real.
“Klaus,” Diego pauses, opens his mouth like he’s going to continue talking but instead he just steps forward and wraps his arms around Klaus tightly, like he’s afraid Klaus will splinter into 1000 pieces if he lets go.
Before he knows it, everyone else is joining in on the group hug. Even Lila reaches in to ruffle their hair and smile at them. It’s nice, and relaxing and, even though they know they have bigger problems, and probably lots more to talk about as a family, it’s nice to take a moment to breathe and know they are no longer alone in this.
Klaus takes a deep breath and lets themself relax into the hug.
They’ve earned it, even if it did take fifty-seven deaths to get there.