Klaus pales when Diego mentions the train, because there's only two people who knows about it, as far as he can remember. Vanya and Ben. When he had gone missing, he supposes one of them told the others, but- but it hadn't mattered. It was like falling asleep and waking back up on the train platform. It wasn't permanent or even damaging, and he'd only done it once.
All that mattered in that week was the moments he stole with Dave. But how could he have known it would all go so wrong? How could he have known? He still remembers the look twisting across the visage of the thing that wore Dave's face. The sneer and the scowl, the rage and the mocking. It wasn't him. It wasn't, and it made him miss Dave all the more.
"How do I do it, then, huh? How do I let go of the only person I've ever loved more than myself? How do I not try to bring him here, to bring him back? I've never lost someone before, not like him. When Ben died, he was right by my side, and he has been for 12 years. When Dave died, I... I can't see him anymore. I can't see him, or hear him, or touch him, and I don't know what to do!" He's furious at himself for the tears starting to spring to his eyes, and he quickly shoves the heel of his palm against them, wiping away the tears.
"I don't know what to do."
The confession rings in his ears, and he crosses his arms defensively, looking down. Looking away. Looking anywhere but Diego's face, and he's grateful he can latch onto a different thread, change the conversation quickly away from his inability and utter confusion when it came to mourning.
"And Allison- Allison pretty much said I may as well not live here because I don't keep the same schedule as the rest of you. And as far as that open door policy goes? Come on, she only cares about it in regards to Vanya, if how she acts about me being in and out of the house is any indication." He waves his hand, but his voice is hollow, and he knows the conversation is going to come back to it. So he tries to cut it off again, clearing his throat, shifting awkwardly.
"I don't- I don't want you to coddle me, Diego. But I just... I don't know, I want patience? I'm not perfect. I'm going to screw up, and I'm going to backslide, but I'm trying. I just. I wish you would see it."
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All that mattered in that week was the moments he stole with Dave. But how could he have known it would all go so wrong? How could he have known? He still remembers the look twisting across the visage of the thing that wore Dave's face. The sneer and the scowl, the rage and the mocking. It wasn't him. It wasn't, and it made him miss Dave all the more.
"How do I do it, then, huh? How do I let go of the only person I've ever loved more than myself? How do I not try to bring him here, to bring him back? I've never lost someone before, not like him. When Ben died, he was right by my side, and he has been for 12 years. When Dave died, I... I can't see him anymore. I can't see him, or hear him, or touch him, and I don't know what to do!" He's furious at himself for the tears starting to spring to his eyes, and he quickly shoves the heel of his palm against them, wiping away the tears.
"I don't know what to do."
The confession rings in his ears, and he crosses his arms defensively, looking down. Looking away. Looking anywhere but Diego's face, and he's grateful he can latch onto a different thread, change the conversation quickly away from his inability and utter confusion when it came to mourning.
"And Allison- Allison pretty much said I may as well not live here because I don't keep the same schedule as the rest of you. And as far as that open door policy goes? Come on, she only cares about it in regards to Vanya, if how she acts about me being in and out of the house is any indication." He waves his hand, but his voice is hollow, and he knows the conversation is going to come back to it. So he tries to cut it off again, clearing his throat, shifting awkwardly.
"I don't- I don't want you to coddle me, Diego. But I just... I don't know, I want patience? I'm not perfect. I'm going to screw up, and I'm going to backslide, but I'm trying. I just. I wish you would see it."