... I mean, if there's one good thing about the Corona Virus is that us writers have time to actually write, right? Right. In all seriousness, I hope everyone is safe and sound. We're gonna get through this.

Someone on tumblr suggested I write an AU where Ben's ghost is just like the other ones screaming at Klaus, so of course I did it. I hope you enjoy, cause I broke my heart while writing this!

Big thanks to my friend ManyNerdThings for helping me with the summary of this. Let's just say I struggled a little more than usual, lol.

DISCLAIMER: Heavy descriptions of gore lie ahead, as well as a hint of suicidal thoughts? So please be cautious before reading!

For as long as Klaus could remember, Ben had been there.

No one ever understood how overwhelming his powers got. Waking up every day, surrounded by the dead, being targeted, yelled at, attacked. Everything was a reminder of what a failure he was, for not being able to keep his powers at bay, like everyone else.

Ben was like that too. He didn't have ghosts launching at him, but his body wasn't his own, and everything was a living reminder of that.

The others had learned how to control their powers, but Ben and Klaus? It was impossible to control something that didn't belong to them in the first place, be it a dozen of ghosts or a tentacle monster from another dimension.

In the end, that's what got Ben killed.

And it was only then that Klaus realised he'd never witnessed the worst of his own powers.

The days after Ben's death passed slowly. The only thing Klaus remembered was a memorial, but all was vague. He couldn't tell when it happened, or how long it'd been since then. No one bothered to get him out of his room these days, not even their father.

Until he did.

Klaus didn't have the energy to resist being dragged into the car, and pushed into the mausoleum.

He didn't have the energy to stand on his feet when his back hit the cold floor.

He didn't run to the door.

He didn't beg for good old Dad to let him out.

He didn't close his eyes when the first ghosts appeared.

He didn't scream.

He didn't.

Not even when the limping figure of Number Six dragged itself to him, with his torso wide open and his broken ribs, his guts hanging out of his stomach, barely being held together by what was left of his hoodie. His leather jacket hanged on his shoulders, keeping his hands to the side of his body.

He couldn't.

Not even when he called out his name, with a quiet, yet louder than anything else in the room, scream, an empty scream, with a bloody blank expression, and a pair of cold dead eyes, looking at Klaus in the most accusatory way he possibly could have, which would haunt him forever—

He blamed him. Ben blamed him.

And maybe he was right. Maybe if Klaus hadn't run to him on all those sleepless nights, then maybe Ben would still be looking out for himself instead of Klaus, maybe he'd still be alive. And maybe, just maybe, Klaus would be dead in his place, and everything would be okay.

Ben blamed him. And Klaus blamed himself too.

It was only then that Klaus moved. He pulled his legs closer to his body and covered his ears, but Ben's screams were getting louder and louder, filled with anger, hatred.

He shut his eyes closed, but the image of Ben's guts being dragged across the floor was far too engraved in his memory to forget.

Klaus.

Klaus, Klaus, Klaus.

He—

KLAUS.

Klaus, Klaus, Klaus—

Hel—

klausklausklausklausklausklausklaus—

KLAUS. KLAUS, KLAUS—

Klaus. Klaus. Kla—

"HELP ME."

For a split second, all the voices stopped, and Klaus squinted his eyes open.

He'd never seen so many of them before. Men, women, kids, all surrounded by blood, all surrounding him. And right in the middle, Ben, with the same blank expression, and sentences he couldn't speak hanging from his tongue.

Help me.

"I'm sorry," Klaus mumbled, his eyes filling up with tears.

Ben's mouth hanged open, and for a second, it was just like when they stayed up in Klaus' room, keeping each other company, comforting one another. And after crying for hours and hours, Ben's expression would soften, and he'd tell Klaus it was okay, and then it would be. It would be okay.

"Help me." There was nothing comforting in Ben's voice now. "Klaus." He took another limping step forward, his eyes filling with fire as he realised that no help was coming. "Klaus, Klaus. Klaus, help me, KLAUS—"

"I'm so so sorry," Klaus said, tears running down his cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"

His words became more and more mumbled, to the point there was no telling Klaus' apologies and Ben's pleads apart. And soon enough, the room flooded with screams again, drowning them both.

Trust me, writing this hurt just as much as reading it. I am not sorry.

But also, DID YOU GUYS SEE THE NEW S2 PICTURE? Not gonna lie, long-haired Diego is growing on me. I just can't believe we're getting closer and closer to a trailer, I'm so excited.

And welp, apparently I have two weeks to spare now, so I'm opening writing requests again! I'd suggest dropping them off at my tumblr (evelinaonline), as it's easier for me to check.

And if you enjoyed this, consider leaving a donation at my Ko-fi (evelinaonline)! I'll always post my fics for free, but I'm trying to raise money for college, so any pitch helps.

Thank you so much for reading, till next time!