Klaus can't deny the fact that everything happening to them is just a culmination of their father's fucked up mind games. That, for years and years they treated Vanya has though she were some decrepit, black sheep in the family when in reality? She was no different than any of them. They all grew up as sad, dreary children trying to find their place in a world not made for them.
It's no different now, is it?
But seeing the thick lines of sharpie on the paper paired with the look on Allison's face, the rasp that falls between her lips when she breathes or tries to speak, but can't. Klaus knows that feeling. Knows that sometimes, no matter how the wealth is spread, the fault feels so real and deep and cutting that nothing will shake it loose from its place in your mind.
Klaus doesn't finish his cigarette, letting the tobacco turn to ask between his fingers. He wants to go home, now more than ever, and the moment she begins writing on the notepad again, it's like he knows. He and Allison might not be able to communicate telepathically, but sometimes, in terrible moments like these, he feels like the universe reminds him that his bond with his sister is different from all the rest.
"Yeah," he says finally, fighting around an eerie lump in the back of his throat before he flicks the cigarette butt away to the pavement, letting it roll and smoke. So what, if it burns the city down. They're about to go burn the world down, so what does it matter? "Yeah, yeah, of course. Let's go. Though it's gonna be tight quarters, and you know how I am in closed spaces. You can't get mad if a man's hands wander, okay?"
He smiles, all show and teeth and false brightness but he reaches for her hand and gives her a soft tug toward it. The thought of crawling into that tiny box makes his chest feel tight, makes his heart beat, but there's room enough. It'd be much, much worse if it was Luther or Diego he happened to be Clark Kenting with. But opens the little door and gestures.
"Ladies first. I'll dial, if you wanna write some stuff down, yeah?" How is he going to explain? Will Patrick answer? Will Claire? He suddenly feels sick.
no subject
Klaus can't deny the fact that everything happening to them is just a culmination of their father's fucked up mind games. That, for years and years they treated Vanya has though she were some decrepit, black sheep in the family when in reality? She was no different than any of them. They all grew up as sad, dreary children trying to find their place in a world not made for them.
It's no different now, is it?
But seeing the thick lines of sharpie on the paper paired with the look on Allison's face, the rasp that falls between her lips when she breathes or tries to speak, but can't. Klaus knows that feeling. Knows that sometimes, no matter how the wealth is spread, the fault feels so real and deep and cutting that nothing will shake it loose from its place in your mind.
Klaus doesn't finish his cigarette, letting the tobacco turn to ask between his fingers. He wants to go home, now more than ever, and the moment she begins writing on the notepad again, it's like he knows. He and Allison might not be able to communicate telepathically, but sometimes, in terrible moments like these, he feels like the universe reminds him that his bond with his sister is different from all the rest.
"Yeah," he says finally, fighting around an eerie lump in the back of his throat before he flicks the cigarette butt away to the pavement, letting it roll and smoke. So what, if it burns the city down. They're about to go burn the world down, so what does it matter? "Yeah, yeah, of course. Let's go. Though it's gonna be tight quarters, and you know how I am in closed spaces. You can't get mad if a man's hands wander, okay?"
He smiles, all show and teeth and false brightness but he reaches for her hand and gives her a soft tug toward it. The thought of crawling into that tiny box makes his chest feel tight, makes his heart beat, but there's room enough. It'd be much, much worse if it was Luther or Diego he happened to be Clark Kenting with. But opens the little door and gestures.
"Ladies first. I'll dial, if you wanna write some stuff down, yeah?" How is he going to explain? Will Patrick answer? Will Claire? He suddenly feels sick.