[ It clearly takes a lot of effort for Ben to get the words out, and he takes the time he needs to say each one, even though his voice is so wrecked with emotion that he's only just comprehensible. Ben had forgotten what it felt like to cry, as a living person. The way his head pounded, how hot the tears were, the choking awful way it crept up on him. He cries almost completely silently - he'd learned that, growing up, and now he wouldn't know any other way. Ben tries to force it down, but the physicality of it, and his overwhelming exhaustion, and Klaus's soft-voiced kindness, are all too much.
It doesn't last long, but for a couple of awful minutes his back shudders with sobs and he keeps his face hidden, ashamed at his own weakness and lack of self-control. Somehow, Klaus's gentleness only intensifies that feeling. When he says he loves Ben, Ben pulls away from him, sitting up cross-legged on the bed and wiping at his face with the sleeves of his hoodie. His tears have stopped, now, but his breathing is still shivery, interrupted by occasional hiccups. Even in the dim light of the room, the redness around his eyes and nose is visible.
He had pulled away not only to recoil from the comfort (though there is a little of that, because being loved hurts) but because he wanted to look at Klaus when he responds. His voice is hoarse from the tears, but there is no longer that bursting pressure behind it. ]
I love you, too. [ Another swipe at his cheek, and then Ben says softly: ] Quit being so- so patient with me. When I've just- all I've been is angry and impatient and judgmental with you for - I don't even know. For so long.
[ It is complicated, and the both of them know that. Their relationship is full of love, but resentment and jealousy and bitterness and regret are marbled through that love. Klaus really could be selfish, unreliable, self-destructive, a genuine piece of shit. But Ben could be judgmental and envious and cold, too. And he's only just now realizing that being dead so long had perhaps made him colder than he realized.
Perhaps, too, there is a part of Ben that struggles with believing he is worthy of any kind of comfort, or reassurance, or kindness. He doesn't deserve that. ]
no subject
[ It clearly takes a lot of effort for Ben to get the words out, and he takes the time he needs to say each one, even though his voice is so wrecked with emotion that he's only just comprehensible. Ben had forgotten what it felt like to cry, as a living person. The way his head pounded, how hot the tears were, the choking awful way it crept up on him. He cries almost completely silently - he'd learned that, growing up, and now he wouldn't know any other way. Ben tries to force it down, but the physicality of it, and his overwhelming exhaustion, and Klaus's soft-voiced kindness, are all too much.
It doesn't last long, but for a couple of awful minutes his back shudders with sobs and he keeps his face hidden, ashamed at his own weakness and lack of self-control. Somehow, Klaus's gentleness only intensifies that feeling. When he says he loves Ben, Ben pulls away from him, sitting up cross-legged on the bed and wiping at his face with the sleeves of his hoodie. His tears have stopped, now, but his breathing is still shivery, interrupted by occasional hiccups. Even in the dim light of the room, the redness around his eyes and nose is visible.
He had pulled away not only to recoil from the comfort (though there is a little of that, because being loved hurts) but because he wanted to look at Klaus when he responds. His voice is hoarse from the tears, but there is no longer that bursting pressure behind it. ]
I love you, too. [ Another swipe at his cheek, and then Ben says softly: ] Quit being so- so patient with me. When I've just- all I've been is angry and impatient and judgmental with you for - I don't even know. For so long.
[ It is complicated, and the both of them know that. Their relationship is full of love, but resentment and jealousy and bitterness and regret are marbled through that love. Klaus really could be selfish, unreliable, self-destructive, a genuine piece of shit. But Ben could be judgmental and envious and cold, too. And he's only just now realizing that being dead so long had perhaps made him colder than he realized.
Perhaps, too, there is a part of Ben that struggles with believing he is worthy of any kind of comfort, or reassurance, or kindness. He doesn't deserve that. ]