[Things had always felt equal to Klaus - or at least not completely tilted in one direction - even after Ben had died. After all, he'd been high enough that he'd left Ben alone for long stretches of time, hadn't been able to interact or help him or anything. And when he'd been sober enough to interact, he'd held books so Ben could read, he'd gone places with him so he didn't have to go alone, and Ben had helped him in return, watched his back on the streets and tried to talk him into making good choices. Obviously, Ben had been putting in more effort on Klaus' behalf than Klaus had been capable of returning, but it hadn't seemed so imbalanced to him.
So now it's his turn to put in more effort, to be the one capable of returning all the effort Ben has put into him for the past decade while Ben is the one struggling. He remembers the drugs in his bag, feels a surge of guilt, because he wouldn't be able to do any of that if he's back on drugs, and he bites the inside of his lower lip.
Focuses on Ben, looking at his face and watching as Ben nods, as the muscles in his face shift with his microexpressions, as the timbre and strength and speed of his breathing alter slightly, as he looks over at Klaus and then kicks off his boots. As Ben does that, Klaus slips off his Converse and kicks them under the bed, shifts to make room for Ben to lie down, and then clambers in behind him, flopping onto his side and resting his head on his pillow beside Ben's. That exhalation of relief and comfort is music to Klaus' ears, and he makes a soft half-laughing breath, lifts his arm and drapes it loosely over Ben's side, so he can't forget Klaus is there even if they're not pressed together body to body.]
Right? I thought they were going to be awful but then they were really nice.
[His voice is soft and a little mumbly, and his hand idly moves against Ben's waist, just reassuring himself that his brother is warm and solid and present.]
no subject
[Things had always felt equal to Klaus - or at least not completely tilted in one direction - even after Ben had died. After all, he'd been high enough that he'd left Ben alone for long stretches of time, hadn't been able to interact or help him or anything. And when he'd been sober enough to interact, he'd held books so Ben could read, he'd gone places with him so he didn't have to go alone, and Ben had helped him in return, watched his back on the streets and tried to talk him into making good choices. Obviously, Ben had been putting in more effort on Klaus' behalf than Klaus had been capable of returning, but it hadn't seemed so imbalanced to him.
So now it's his turn to put in more effort, to be the one capable of returning all the effort Ben has put into him for the past decade while Ben is the one struggling. He remembers the drugs in his bag, feels a surge of guilt, because he wouldn't be able to do any of that if he's back on drugs, and he bites the inside of his lower lip.
Focuses on Ben, looking at his face and watching as Ben nods, as the muscles in his face shift with his microexpressions, as the timbre and strength and speed of his breathing alter slightly, as he looks over at Klaus and then kicks off his boots. As Ben does that, Klaus slips off his Converse and kicks them under the bed, shifts to make room for Ben to lie down, and then clambers in behind him, flopping onto his side and resting his head on his pillow beside Ben's. That exhalation of relief and comfort is music to Klaus' ears, and he makes a soft half-laughing breath, lifts his arm and drapes it loosely over Ben's side, so he can't forget Klaus is there even if they're not pressed together body to body.]
Right? I thought they were going to be awful but then they were really nice.
[His voice is soft and a little mumbly, and his hand idly moves against Ben's waist, just reassuring himself that his brother is warm and solid and present.]
This is nice.