The last thing Klaus wants is to drag anyone down with him. What is he without this place? He can barely exist without a drink or something else to numb his system, to dull the voices of the dead and the faces that haunt his dreams. Yoga and surfing won’t fix that, won’t wipe away the fact that he’s been handed these horrors and told to accept them, deal with them, learn how to harness them.
He rakes both hands back through his hair and releases a shaky breath once his body seems to settle back into the painful, nauseated normal that comes with withdrawal. He’s already itching all over, his skin cold and clammy, his fingers trembling. Stars burst white hot behind his eyes with every blink, but the hand on his shoulder brings him back down to Earth, and he leans heavy into her side.
“I must look really bad then,” he laughs quietly, a huff of a sound. But can he deny Allison? Can he deny the idea that maybe, for once in his adult life, having someone there might help? He’s always been weak where his sisters are concerned; he can’t deny them anything even if he tried. “But sure, let’a have a delightful California vacation. I’ll do yoga, practice all the deep breathing and maybe find a nice little Buddha of my own for a nice jaunty time. I mean, you can’t deny just looking at a statue of the man can get you going.”
He presses his cheek into her shoulder, his eyes closing. It feels like a failure, accepting her invite, feels like one more score in his record. How long until the needle scratches too deep, until he comes out slipping and broken and unusable. He can hear Luther now, the judgement in his tone, Diego’s eye roll that marks his disappointment like a knife poorly sharpened.
no subject
He rakes both hands back through his hair and releases a shaky breath once his body seems to settle back into the painful, nauseated normal that comes with withdrawal. He’s already itching all over, his skin cold and clammy, his fingers trembling. Stars burst white hot behind his eyes with every blink, but the hand on his shoulder brings him back down to Earth, and he leans heavy into her side.
“I must look really bad then,” he laughs quietly, a huff of a sound. But can he deny Allison? Can he deny the idea that maybe, for once in his adult life, having someone there might help? He’s always been weak where his sisters are concerned; he can’t deny them anything even if he tried. “But sure, let’a have a delightful California vacation. I’ll do yoga, practice all the deep breathing and maybe find a nice little Buddha of my own for a nice jaunty time. I mean, you can’t deny just looking at a statue of the man can get you going.”
He presses his cheek into her shoulder, his eyes closing. It feels like a failure, accepting her invite, feels like one more score in his record. How long until the needle scratches too deep, until he comes out slipping and broken and unusable. He can hear Luther now, the judgement in his tone, Diego’s eye roll that marks his disappointment like a knife poorly sharpened.
“I’ll go.”