March 23, 2019 - 11:45 pm
In room 33, I try to sleep. Diego's room isn't very big, but at least it's cleaner than Klaus's. There are dartboards, piles of books, and lucha libre magazines. I avoid touching the bedside table: there are sharp objects on it. I attempt to sleep, but it's not easy. In the next room, I hear Klaus struggling with his visions of ghosts.
I distinctly recall comprehending what he was truly seeing, a decade ago. When I realized it was not merely the hallucinations of a lost junkie, as he experiences plenty as well. I was aware of his identity; I simply wasn't certain about his 'abilities'. Everything is so tangled inside of him. There is what he sees, and also what he remembers. The two echo each other, spiraling him downward. The more he is sober, the worse it becomes. And tonight, the promise he made to Allison feels like a curse. I don't know what he's doing: if he's hitting the wall or what, but I sometimes hear him swearing, or blowing loudly. I roll over in bed, again and gain. And then...
"Damn it".
I finally get up and I take the few steps that separate rooms 33 and 34.
He's standing in front of his closet, his arms crossed and his eyes closed tight. He seems even more tired than during dinner, dark circles stretching under his tense eyes. He is battling both external aggressors and internal struggles, attempting to maintain control over his emotions and power. Upon sensing my presence at the door, he glances over his shoulder and forces a strained smile at me.
"Hey... How are things going?", he asks, his teeth somewhat clenched, but I shake my head.
"For you. How are things going for you."
I look around. Of course I can see nothing.
"Shitty".
His answer is brutally honest, like the knives on Diego's nightstand. He turns back to his closet, his expressions beyond my understanding. A blend of grief, anger, fear and guilt. I know he didn't want to 'burden me' with all this, but we don't always get what we want.
"It's shitty", he mutters again, to himself this time, and yeah, I can see that it is shitty indeed, to the way he's shaking.
"Should I come in, or do you prefer to be alone?"
I won't pressure him. I never do. He shakes his head as if he was going to say no, but he answers me with resignation and weariness:
"Yeah you can come in".
Klaus appears too exhausted to speak more than five words in a row. That's exactly what I do. I navigate through the room's clutter and settle down at the foot of the bed, leaning my back against the wall. He falls silent, and I don't anticipate any words from him. I just remain sitted, if it makes him feel good to see behind him in the miror somthing else than vociferous ghosts. It's clear that my black and purple pajamas only belong in this world, not in the afterlife.
For a long moment, nothing happens, and only silence fills the room. After a few minutes, drowsiness starts to overcome me, but finally Klaus's breathing pulls me back from the edge of sleep.
In the mirror of his closet, I can see his eyes flickering as he struggles, now, his arms clenched on his chest as he tries to stay grounded in reality. But it fails. Even though I'm quite sure Klaus is relieved by my presence, the ghosts and memories don't care. They don't care at all. They come back again, as if they are ticking off the seconds and minutes in this bedroom. They're the ones calling the shots right now. And I can see that Klaus isn't even able to come and sit on the bed with me.
I see him tense up more and more, as if the voices that had been whispering to him until then were now starting to shout at him. Louder and louder, and his expression changes to despair. I feel helpless. I know I must not touch him, as he may unintentionally hurt me in his distressed state. I stay there for many minutes, and his suffering is unbearable for me. I've never seen him like that, for sure. I don't know if it's the withdrawal, his father's death or something else, but really, it's bad. I can't just stand and watch, I close my eyes. But suddenly I open them again. I have ~an idea~.
There is a hiss, barely audible: that of the air which has just taken the space I occupied a second before. My power has just made me intangible, but I remain visible. Klaus will see me but he will just pass through me if he tries to hit me. Yeah, just like those damn ghosts, except I'm not one. Very carefully, I get off the bed and I approach him slowly.
He doesn't react. His tightly closed eyelids and furrowed eyebrows tell me he is completely unaware of my presence, all his attention is focused on what is happening within himself. I want to whisper his name, but he could not hear it: when I am intangible, I cannot produce sound waves in the materiality of air. So I stand motionless, my reflection visible in the mirror behind him.
I see him shaking like never before. He clenches both hands into fists on his temples, his exhales echoing with pain. I might be tempted to give him one of the medications lying around on his nightstand: it would be over. In a minute. But he didn't take them. He didn't. So I won't.
Instead, I cautiously make myself tangible again, gradually getting him used to my presence. He's not going to hit me. I'm certain he understands that I'm here now. So I slowly lean towards his ear, and I begin to sing. A very simple melody, closed mouth, like a soothing humming. I often see Klaus screwing his headphones onto his head before lighting a toke. I know that music helps him. And singing... I know how to do that. I hum in the darkness of his bedroom, and I don't care if the ghosts think it's stupid. It's even better if it bothers them.
He doesn't react at first, but slowly, my humming seeps into his mind, and I see a touch of surprise pass through his tense struggle. He turns his head slightly toward me, his fists still clenched at his temples. I know he's listening, so I go on and hum again.
I'm not sure how much time passes. But eventually, I feel his breathing return to a less chaotic rhythm, his hands unclenching from his temples. And it's only when he opens his eyes that I know the visions and voices have finally gone silent. I'm not stopping right away. I just lock my brown gaze with his green unstable stare and I sing, just a few more seconds. A few more. Until I'm entirely certain he's okay.
Klaus closes his eyes one final time, seemingly absorbing the absence of voices and the tranquility of the room. His expression is now astonished, grateful, although still immensely tired. On the verge of collapsing, he pulls me back onto the bed next to him and wraps me in a feeble hug.
"That's okay".
That's absolutely all there is to say, for the moment. I'm not going to protest about not being his teddy bear this time, and my relief is such that I return the hug. The one of a friend, genuine and selfless gestures of affection. Like a reload, like an exhalation. Holy shit, he scared the hell out of me this time. I let a moment pass. And then I finally tell him:
"Those damn ghosts can really go fuck themselves".
March 24, 2019 - 08:11am
In the 'kids lounge' dining room, downstairs, it's sometimes difficult to tell whether it's daylight outside or not, especially when it rains. This is the first time I've been alone here since I arrived, and it almost feels good in the aftermath of this night, or 'better' anyway. I don't know where Mom is. Allison and Diego left for their own business. I found some bread for toasting, peanut butter, despite not being fond of it. And I had to search extensively in the kitchen to find a tiny portion of coffee powder in the very last packet.
Coffee. That's pretty much all I need. If every day of this week follows the same pattern, I will end up burned out, and it won't solely be due to my job. Klaus ended up falling asleep, more from exhaustion than anything else, and I was able to get a couple of hours of sleep as well, in room 33.
My own headphones are on my ears this morning, and let the captivating rhythm and sitar riffs of 'Paint it, Black' help me escape from the lingering memories of the night. I breath a long, tired sigh, before resetting the track to its initial position.
When Klaus finally comes into the room, I put down the headphones and put them on the wooden table. The final words I hear echo 'I could not foresee this thing happening to you', just like a prophetic statement.
"Hi there".
I don't say anything else for now, but we both know what we came back from. He waves his hand slightly, and silently drains the last drops of coffee into a mug before returning the coffee pot to the machine.
"Damn", he says, "we won't be able to have a proper funeral ceremony without more coffee. We'll need whiskey."
I choose not to comment. Klaus becomes even more agitated than usual when he's exhausted. He may seem like a completely different person, but that's because you can't read between the lines. Regardless, it will be a challenging day for whoever remains with him, but since I have to go to work, it will be someone else's problem, because I have to go to work.
If Luther actually comes today, and if the Hargreeves siblings proceed with their funeral speech despite the heavy rain and their brother's wired behavior, they will be truly heroic. However, Allison insisted on Klaus being on his feet, and that's exactly what he is. I have done my part in making it happen. The rain won't be an issue if they aim to wrap up the event swiftly. And - well - an assembly of umbrellas would be ironically appropriate for the occasion.
Klaus walks back to the table with his minimalistic coffee, nearly tripping over the chair. I can see in his eyes that he is about to say whatever stupid thing comes to his mind. However, he manages to compose himself, and a shadow settles in his eyes as if he remembers every detail of the night
"I'm sorry...", he stammers, "I..."
I look at him and slide the plate of toast closer to him.
"No need to apologize, it is what it is."
He takes a seat across from me, sipping his coffee slowly. There's a hint of gratitude in his expression. We sit in silence, the music from my headphones crackling softly in the background, and then he speaks:
"Thank you... You had my ass pulled out of the brambles".
Our eyes meet, and despite his playful demeanor, we both know about the weight behind it. It's the first time I've smiled at him since last night.
"Did you take anything this morning?", I ask.
He shakes his head abruptly.
"No... Uh... Just one pill. Only one. I won't take any more."
He takes another sip of coffee. Then, he asks a question that catches me off guard:
"Do you feel okay?"
Perhaps my surprise shows, but quickly, I shrug my shoulders.
"I'm like a sponge, absorbing and rejecting feelings. It's not a superpower; it's empathy. Right now I'm exhausted, I'm feeling like to throw up, but I know it will pass".
It might sound straightforward and crude, but there's no reason to not be honest with him.
"I did what I believed was necessary to give you a boost, nothing more. You achieved it, not me. And I am truly proud of you."
I notice the familiar expression on his face whenever someone compliments him. Whether you believe it or not, he usually doesn't receive as many compliments as he'd like. And compliments about someone being ~proud of him~, in particular: never, even in rehab. Especially in rehab. This time, he is almost taken aback.
"Yeah, you're freakin' right... I handled it like a boss..."
His tone is both grateful and disillusioned, but he embraces the idea. I shake my head and chuckles. Tonight, life and work will have made us forget everything, anyway.
"Hey, don't brag", I say as I finish my toast, and he chuckles along. This teasing tone sounds so much more like our usual relationship. Klaus needs this familiarity too: to see me behaving as I normally would. Soon enough, my coffee is finished as well.
"I have to go to work today. You're not going to do too anything foolish things? I'm coming back tonight."
He pretends to be offended, as if it were obvious.
"No, of course not," he says, the sarcasm in his tone revealing how fragile this promise is, "What time are you coming back?"
"I don't know".
The truth is, Sunday is the worst day of the week at my job, but I smirk and ask: "What time do we watch the Rocky Horror Picture Show?"
It's something we like to do: watch good movies (or perfect bullshit) while eating waffles. Klaus claps his hands.
"Ah yeees, if the eulogy is today, watching will be absolutely necessary to bury the day. We need some rice to throw during the wedding scene."
"Yeah, not for the funeral, for sure".
We laugh. It's so weird to laugh at something like this, but we need to, and this house probably won't hear any more laughter, very soon. Klaus nods.
"Okay, make sure you're back before 8pm".
He says this, faking a serious expression that makes it sound more like an order than a request. I wipe my mouth, stand up, then go and place my glass in the sink before turning back to him.
"If you're not taking other pills, please don't compensate by drinking, alright?"
This also feels more like an order than a request, but my expression remains resigned. Klaus knows I won't be back before 8pm. And I fear that within an hour, his lovely promise will be forgotten. I smile at him nonetheless. I don't mind, but Allison might. I sling my bag over my shoulder and I take a step towards the door at the back of the room, which opens directly onto the backstreet.
"Oh, and please... I'd rather not have your Mom's eggs and bacon again for dinner. Try to find some good waffles for our TV evening. And please, not frozen ones".
I glance back at him over my shoulder.
"Hang in there, Klausie-Klaus".
With a step, and a crack of blue light, I disappear, leaving Klaus alone with his many temptations... and the music still playing in my headphones.
This chapter was incredibly easy to write despite a rather depressing content.
By the way, I'm sorry, Five, that Klaus and Rin drank the last drops of coffee available. You'll have to go get "a decent coffee" somewhere else tonight... I like how Rin's small actions in deleted scenes could lead to major events in the plot. And Klaus... will he get good waffles or not ? I'm sure he'll try to crash into Five or Diego's car to try to get some.
Chronological markers: this scene also fits like a deleted scene from the first episode of season 1, around 10:00, just after the events of my chapter 1 "A piece of cake".
Any comment will make my day!