Klaus doesn't know where any of his siblings are. He'd see Diego occasionally, but even then it was few and far between, often from a distance. Klaus knew better than to try and inject himself into one of his sibling's lives. The only one he managed to keep up with on occasion was Allison, when he had enough time or change to use a payphone. Sometimes the call would go to the answering machine and he'd leave as long a message as the thing would allow, or until his time ran out on the phone. He'd pretend he'd spoken to her, but hadn't let her get a word in edgewise.
But the months crept on and phone calls became less frequent and he'd occasionally stop at a newspaper stand to see if her name had popped up in any of the headlines.
"Stop apologizing, jeez," Klaus whines and shifts so he can roll onto his back, looking up at her with tired eyes. "How dare you go life a fabulous life with a pretty assistant. I mean, I'm sure Patrick's grand and all but you know. Life gets busy, and what's there to do in a place like this? I mean, aren't you having a ball already? Welcome home, first class trip to the rehab center, yipee."
He lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes slowly. He squeezes her hand, resituating it on his chest if only so he can link his fingers with hers. When he speaks, it's soft, quiet enough that maybe even the assistant in the front seat will have trouble understanding him. "I'm glad you came. I hate staying in those places by myself."
Because no one ever comes. He waits his days out in rehab centers and hospitals, nary a call or a face there to see him afterward. Not that he expects, he knows better. But sometimes, when the hallucinations are strong enough, he almost imagines he'll find them all out there, beyond the doors, waiting to walk home with him. When his mind clears up and the drugs wear off, he sometimes has a hard time remembering if those images were ever real.
no subject
Klaus doesn't know where any of his siblings are. He'd see Diego occasionally, but even then it was few and far between, often from a distance. Klaus knew better than to try and inject himself into one of his sibling's lives. The only one he managed to keep up with on occasion was Allison, when he had enough time or change to use a payphone. Sometimes the call would go to the answering machine and he'd leave as long a message as the thing would allow, or until his time ran out on the phone. He'd pretend he'd spoken to her, but hadn't let her get a word in edgewise.
But the months crept on and phone calls became less frequent and he'd occasionally stop at a newspaper stand to see if her name had popped up in any of the headlines.
"Stop apologizing, jeez," Klaus whines and shifts so he can roll onto his back, looking up at her with tired eyes. "How dare you go life a fabulous life with a pretty assistant. I mean, I'm sure Patrick's grand and all but you know. Life gets busy, and what's there to do in a place like this? I mean, aren't you having a ball already? Welcome home, first class trip to the rehab center, yipee."
He lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes slowly. He squeezes her hand, resituating it on his chest if only so he can link his fingers with hers. When he speaks, it's soft, quiet enough that maybe even the assistant in the front seat will have trouble understanding him. "I'm glad you came. I hate staying in those places by myself."
Because no one ever comes. He waits his days out in rehab centers and hospitals, nary a call or a face there to see him afterward. Not that he expects, he knows better. But sometimes, when the hallucinations are strong enough, he almost imagines he'll find them all out there, beyond the doors, waiting to walk home with him. When his mind clears up and the drugs wear off, he sometimes has a hard time remembering if those images were ever real.