zombie-rott

[zombie-rott]

[zombie-rott]

☆ It's okay though cause I'm cute and funny ☆

[zombie-rott]

me: i think i’m gonna write something light and fun me: *opens doc* me: so anyway here’s a story about grief, generational trauma, and a boy who dies in the snow

[zombie-rott]

[zombie-rott]

"When the ghosts finally shut up" | Klaus

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A little Dean doodle | ref

[More art, wips, and sketches on my Patreon 💖]

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"Who will I be when the empire falls?"

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Shotgun Opera // Chapter Nine.

Chapter Nine [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

" The realisation crashed into Diego like a wave. He had no control, only a slight influence in ways of holding space for his brother, space, he didn’t know if he could offer. And then there was the issue of where Klaus would be. After all, the ball was currently in Ora's court. "

or

Diego spends some time pondering over the situation at hand. He worries about Klaus' detox, Ora's decision & how it all pieces together. Will Ora allow Klaus to stay and ride out withdrawal in a safe and comfortable space? Will this be the last time he sees Klaus through a come-down? And will he even stay sober after the fact?

Withdrawal never got any easier. No matter how many times they’d been through this, Diego still felt the same sting, the same deep-seated frustration and anger that he’d always felt when dealing with Klaus in detox. He tried to tell himself that things were going to be different. Klaus was being honest, and not just because he wanted somewhere warm and a shoulder to cry on. He tried to put the ghosts of previous attempts to the back of his mind: The lies Klaus had spouted, the escape plans, the begging and pleading and, eventually, relapses.

“Junkies are liars,” He heard the voice of his thearpist remind him, “It’s okay for you to be skeptical."

As the house fell silent, Klaus, having retired to bed after such an eventful morning, Diego opened the back door for Flint and stepped into the yard for fresh air. Wearing a heavy coat and holding a fresh mug of coffee between his hands, Two allowed the chill air to fill his lungs. 

In. Hold. Out. Just as he'd been taught.

He closed his eyes and tried to pull apart the tangle of thoughts. He visualised a ball of yarn, its threads made up of all the things he couldn't quite grasp. The fears. The memories. The information he’d gathered throughout his brother’s addiction. But the more he picked, the more the yarn wouldn't unravel. Every time he got somewhere, it kinked with another piece, and then another and another. 

Start from the beginning, he told himself. The facts against the assumptions, and work from there. 

He thought about himself first and how he could better handle the situation opposed to past experiences. For starters, Diego was trying not to allow his anger to get the better of him. He was breathing before he snapped back when Klaus was being difficult. He was using his filter and thinking before he spoke, especially when it came to the cuts on his brother’s arm or the way he talked about his ‘power.’  He didn't express his opinions overly, especially regarding Klaus' 'ghosts.' Even though he wasn't entirely convinced that they weren’t wholly inspired by some level of drug-induced psychosis. He felt that was a later problem for a time when Klaus was better able to articulate and talk about it, even if he didn’t want to. 

It was best to focus on what was most pressing, and that just so happened to be withdrawals. Diego had watched it before, had soothed his brother and held his hair back as he’d vomited until there was blood. He’d been there to put him into recovery when, on a few dark occasions, Klaus had seized, shaking and foaming at the mouth. He’d rushed him to the ER, spent thousands on rehabilitation, barked down the phone at their siblings who’d done nothing but argue back, having long since given up. 

Another trail of the yarn broke away, his thoughts cast to the aftermath (if they made it that far and, if indeed, Klaus was still in their company). 

He thought about the quiet. The depression. The far-off look in Klaus' eyes as he smoked cigarette after cigarette, and jigged his knees obsessively. It was the emotional and mental come down that really took it out of them, and Diego was almost certain it was the reason that Klaus always fell back into old habits. It was a cycle they had to find a way to break if Klaus wanted to stay sober.

With that in mind, Diego returned to the warmth of the kitchen and opened Ora’s old, bulky laptop. He went in search of help, of ways he could combat the inevitable melancholy that came in recovery. But, after thirty minutes of scrolling and jotting down notes, it became clear that it was an inevitable part of the journey, and a part that, while a village was included, the individual needed to go through alone. 

The realisation crashed into Diego like a wave. He had no control, only a slight influence in ways of holding space for his brother, space, he didn’t know if he could offer. And then there was the issue of where Klaus would be. After all, the ball was currently in Ora's court. 

As if on cue, his cell phone rang. He scrambled to pick up before the sound could travel up the stairs and into his brother’s ears. 

“Hey D.” Ora spoke first, her voice giving off a slight echo, “How’s it been?” 

Diego didn’t know how to answer that. Was he honest, a move that would gain sympathy? Or did he sugarcoat it and risk her turning his brother away? 

“It’s been a morning.” He opted for vagueness. 

She sighed. He heard the sound of the precedent, the intercom and the banging of doors. She was in a stairwell. He recognised the din as somewhere she liked to go when they needed to have a private phone call. Granted, it was usually when they were arguing or discussing something more intimate. 

“Has it started?” 

Diego didn’t need to ask for clarification; he knew exactly what she meant. 

“It’s been building since early. He managed a shower and some oatmeal, but it was a struggle.”

“Where is he now?”

“I set him up in the spare bedroom.”

She hummed an answer before huffing out a breath, “I’m sorry for how I acted this morning.” 

“You acted exactly how I’d expect you to. It wasn’t fair of me to expect anything different.” 

“It’s just I’m so close to this promotion -”

“I know.” 

“- and I don’t need anything to jeopardise this for me.”

“You’re right. You’ve worked too hard for that.” 

“With that being the case -” Diego’s ears pricked up. He felt himself sit upright, his spine lengthening as he listened to his girlfriend intently. For the first time since their conversation this morning, he allowed himself to feel a sliver of hope. She continued, “ - I’ve talked with Sarg, and Klaus staying with us shouldn’t have any impact on my work. Provided he’s in active recovery. I can’t have drug dealers showing up, and he can’t bring any illegal substances into the house.” 

A sense of relief washed over Diego. He felt his shoulders fall and his chest release a long-held breath. 

“But he can stay?”

“For a while. This isn’t a permanent fix, D. It’s only until he’s over the hump. A few weeks, a month or two at a push.”

It was more than he’d been expecting, and certainly more than she was entitled to give. In that moment, he loved her more than he knew possible. He thanked God that she was his and that she loved him so unconditionally that she was willing to accept his brother despite the trauma he’d rekindle. 

She continued, talking about linguistics and conditions. She rhymed off things he’d never even thought to consider, such as medical intervention and long-term treatment. The latter was something that hadn’t crossed Diego’s mind in a long time, the prospect of ‘long-term’ having devolved into a thing of the past. 

Before he knew it, they were coming to the end of Ora’s lunch break. In those thirty minutes, they’d planned a meeting with an old friend from her time in medical school, and cliff-noted Klaus’ other instances of withdrawal, namely, what could be learned from them. It was all so matter-of-fact that Diego forgot he was speaking to his partner, instead reminded of how professional she was in a crisis. 

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Shotgun Opera // Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

"He allowed himself to rest his head back against the tiles and take in the feelings of his body. The exhaustion, the aches, the pains, the cramps in his stomach, the shaking of his muscles, the hollowness in his chest. He thought about the events of the last twenty-four hours and tried desperately not to go any further, afraid to visit that night in Dandy’s. He didn’t know what was harder for him to believe: the fact he hadn’t had a hit of heroin in two days or that he was in Diego’s bathtub. Stranger still, his brother was shacked up with a uniformed cop, in a townhouse with an adorable mutt and a spare bedroom.

God. Life certainly had a way of going from zero to one hundred real quick. "

Or

Klaus gets cleaned up and acclimatised to Diego's hospitality, as limited as it may be.

Despite Diego’s blessing, the news came with the blow that Ora didn’t feel the same. Klaus couldn’t find it in him to blame her, though. He was a stranger (virtually speaking), and a junkie at that. What sort of upstanding officer of the law would she be if she’d welcomed him without some level of scrutiny? But he'd be lying if he didn’t admit that he was a little frustrated with Diego for getting his hopes up. More than a little, actually. If only he’d mentioned a girl, a dog and a townhouse back at the apartment, maybe then Klaus wouldn’t have been so stupid as to have had any hope at all.

He didn’t say this, of course, having neither the energy nor the audacity. After all, Two came to his rescue when he had every right not to, and for that, Klaus was grateful, no matter the result. 

“She’s trying to get a promotion -” Diego explained, nervously stumbling over his words like they were fourteen again, “You g-get it, right?”

Klaus was nodding, only having caught half of what was being said. He was much too focused on the feeling of Flint’s fur between his fingers and the growing cramping in his stomach. It was - what? - a day since his last proper hit, and withdrawals were well and truly setting in. Whatever little junk he'd left in his system (over-the-counter painkillers, allergy pills, booze) were the only things keeping him from doubling over and vomiting right there on the mismatched tiles.

He swallowed the lump climbing his throat, fear of the brutality of detox becoming all too real.

Then Diego was standing, leading him upstairs, Klaus’ bag over his shoulder, and Flint taking the steps two at a time. Four trailed unsteadily behind, his hands gripping the bannister so tightly that his fingernails dragged along the wood. He tried to focus on anything other than how he was feeling. He looked around as he ascended, noticing how ordinary everything was. There weren’t Knives everywhere for a start. Instead, Klaus spied prints hung on raw brick walls, and as he set foot on the landing, a colourful woven rug was rolled out across the wooden flooring. It was so beautiful that he felt guilty trodding on it with his old, grimy boots.

He thought about telling Diego how nice his home was, cracking a joke here or there, maybe even making a back-handed comment about Two hitting the girlfriend jack-pot. But he couldn’t find the words or the motivation. All he could do was follow his brother further down the narrow hallway and into a room that, with all respect, was nothing special, yet miles above anything Klaus had ever owned. 

Diego dropped the backpack onto the floor with a thud, “Well, this is it,” he said, gesturing to the room around them, “It’s not The Ritz.” 

Klaus looked longingly at the double bed pushed snugly against the wall and matching IKEA storage. Sure, it wasn’t the most fancy of places, but it wasn’t a shitty single in a detox facility with no doors and floors that smelt like an old mop. 

When Four didn’t respond, Diego asked if everything was okay, to which Klaus almost laughed. Almost, but he was too afraid that the motion would trigger his vulnerable gag reflex.

“Okay?" Klaus repeated, "This is great. Fancy. You sure you want me sleeping on these sheets? They look pretty expensive.” He joked, but his voice didn’t quite reach the jovial heights he was used to.

“They cost ten dollars at Target.” Diego deadpanned. 

“Case and point.”

Diego rolled his eyes. “I’m going to make us some breakfast. Get yourself cleaned up and changed. I’ll leave you some of my clothes.” 

“I thought you packed me some?” 

“I did, but, no offence, they smell putrid. A little like you.” 

Klaus snorted, “Gee. Thanks bro. Kick a fella when he’s down, why don’t ya?” 

“I’m serious, Klaus. I’ll give you a few minutes to get settled, and then I want you in that shower and your clothes in the laundry. Got it?” 

Klaus saluted sarcastically as Number Two passed, Flint at his heel. He waited until steps could be heard across the hall before slumping down onto the mattress and letting out a long-suffering breath.

“That went…well?” Ben perched atop the cheap IKEA dresser like the gargoyle he’d somehow become.

“Yeah,” Klaus groaned, sitting gingerly on the bed, “It’s one of the better encounters we’ve had. At least he’s trying. Ora though? She’s gonna be a tough nut to crack.”

“Can you blame her? Like Diego said, she’s a cop and you’re a drug addict that she barely knows detoxing in her guest room. I wouldn’t want you here either.” Ben shrugged from his fiberboard throne, “No offence.”

Klaus hummed a quiet response, carding a hand through his hair. He cringed at the feeling between his fingers, the mats gathering in clumps and strays getting caught beneath his fingernails. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken a shower. A few days ago? A week? Maybe even as far back as Dandy’s? His memory was foggy at the edges, and all he could feel was the pain of the water from that fateful night. A shiver trembled down his spine, his stomach twisting. 

“Klaus? Bro?” Ben’s voice cut through the fog. He’d been talking, unheard as Klaus struggled with his grip on reality, “Did you hear me?”

The medium shook himself and glanced towards the specter, his eyes lidded and heavy with exhaustion, “Sure, Benny.”

“Then what was I saying?”

“Something about…”Klaus searched his brain for an answer. Anything at all, “…pottery.”

“Pot - Klaus,” Ben sighed, “I said you ought to get clean. You can’t fall asleep like that. Not on those sheets.” 

Klaus groaned as he struggled to his feet. He took a moment to search for his bags, only to remember that Diego had removed his clothing, leaving behind only the empty backpack and whatever Klaus wore on his person. There was the promise of new clothes, his brother’s that would no doubt be three sizes too big and likely to expose the parts of himself that, while decent, he still didn’t want aired. Fear was added to the churning in his belly.

“You better get moving.” Ben chirped.

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Reblog if you’re grateful for your commenters <3

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Shotgun Opera // Chapter Seven.

Chapter Seven [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

" “Ora b-before you say anything. This is my b-br-brother, Klaus.”

Her features softened, eyes flickering back and forth between the two men. Diego swallowed.

“Klaus? As in Number Four Klaus?”

“The man, the myth, the legend.” Klaus piped, earning an eye roll from Diego.

“And you’re in our kitchen?” "

Or

Diego struggles with his guilt, brings Klaus home to his girlfriend and realises that maybe it wasn't the best thought-out plan.

Diego was never one to shy away from dirt and grime. He’d had his fair share of shitty apartments and even shittier room-mates, but looking around at his brother's living room made him shiver. The entire flat was, for lack of a better description, a personification of the medium's misery. And while Klaus had always been known to be a tad messy, he'd never been dirty . He’d always smelled washed, usually with something floral, and even when high, he'd maintained an air of cleanliness. The places he’d lived (or the places Diego had been privy to) were often kept in the same state as his bedroom back at the Academy; Organised chaos with a suspicious absence of grime. But the hygiene in Lavender Avenue left a lot to be desired, with dishes piled in the sink, grime in the grout and a smell that could only be described as 'hot garbage.'

Two had done his best not to show his discomfort, but he couldn't help but wrinkle his nose and cringe with each new sight or scent. Klaus didn't make any remark, however, even when he caught Diego groaning as he took a seat on the couch, his body perched precariously on the edge of the cushions. Four either didn’t notice or was too embarrassed to bring it up, and, knowing his brother, Diego figured it was the latter. Even living on the fringes of society as Klaus had, he’d always held a certain standard. To have dropped so far must have been killing him.

While Klaus got dressed, Two fretted and overthought his next move. He heard a stumble, followed by a loud curse, but held back on calling out. Truth be told, he'd been thankful when Klaus had refused his help getting cleaned up, the memory of his brother's bedroom turning his gut sour. He’d seen enough of the broken glass and vomit and blood stains, and certainly didn’t want to see Klaus fully unclothed, all too aware of how emaciated his brother was beneath the oversized, high-necked sweater.

Four kept muttering to himself and talking in hushed whispers, and Diego took deep breaths. In and out. This was all part of it, he reminded himself—just another in the long list of his brother's follies.

Sighing, Diego pinched at the bridge of his nose. Behind his eyes, a headache was blooming. All he had to do was get Klaus the fuck out of there and back to the comfort of his brownstone. He could deal with Ora afterwards, although he suspected she'd be none-too-pleased about opening her home to his severely drug addicted sibling. Christ knows how Klaus’ presence would impact her job at the precinct.

Was he selfish for asking this of her? The woman who had saved him in all senses of the word? The woman who loved him even through his own troubles and personal growth?

Opening his eyes, Diego's attention was drawn to a small bag peeking from beneath the couch. It was empty save for a fine dusting of white powder coating the insides. He swallowed and reached to take the packet between his fingers. A green happy face covered the plastic, and following a sniff test,t he was able to determine (with all his mediocre experience with drugs) that it certainly wasn't sugar. It was more likely to be heroin or cocaine, specifically impure and laced.

He growled. It was going to be one hell of a day, and it wasn’t even seven AM yet.

“Jesus, Klaus.” He uttered, holding the bag up to face level.

The medium reappeared in the doorway, dressed in a pair of old black pants and an oversized hooded sweater, topped off with a woollen tartan patterned scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. He looked warm, perfect for the weather they'd been having, but impossibly thin thanks to the extra material. Over his shoulder was another bag, a duffel with frayed straps and patches covering the exterior. Diego made a mental note to check the contents when they made it back home.

“I see you found my couch stash.”

“So did you apparently.”

Diego couldn’t help but notice the nervous way in which Klaus’ fingers traced the hem of his sleeves, or how he gnawed on his bottom lip, all while maintaining his gaze over the empty packet.

Without hesitation, Two closed his fist around the bag, crushing it against his palm. “You ready, man?”

“Yeah…I think so. I figure I can always come back if I need to.”

“Sure. Of course,” Diego lied. He had no desire to bring his brother back there, “But we can talk about that later. Just make sure you have everything you’ll need for the foreseeable, yeah? Any books you wanna read or, I don’t know, those tarot cards you like, maybe? I’ve already packed you some clothe,s and anything you don’t have, we can get. Just…no drugs, okay?”

“That goes without saying…”

Little else was exchanged. Small things like checking the locks, making sure Klaus had his keys and a quick run back for the spare pair of shoes he liked (“ For when I’m feeling better.” ). After that, the energy seemed to deplete, and the drive became relatively silent save for the noise of the heater. Klaus fidgeted in the passenger seat, head turned to look out the window at the passing traffic, both people and cars.

While the medium seemed relatively calm under the circumstances, Diego felt quite the opposite. His hands were holding onto the steering wheel for dear life, his mind ablaze with fret and anger and sadness and all the emotions he couldn’t quite name. And when Klaus reached across to flip on the radio, he couldn’t help but notice how his sleeves climbed up his forearm, allowing a glimpse of an angry-looking gash, its edges still jagged and inflamed.

His heart sped up in his chest, his breath becoming caught in his throat. He was taken back to when they were thirteen and he’d walked into Klaus’ room fully expecting to wake his brother for breakfast, only to find him manically writing on the walls in his own blood. It wasn’t an odd occurrence to see the medium in such a state. He used the walls of his childhood bedroom as a sounding board all the time, but never in blood, and certainly never his own.

Diego remembered the emotions clearly because they were the same he’d felt each and every time he'd gone to Klaus’ rescue. He remembered the feeling of hot blood between his fingers as he pried a shard of severed tin from his brother’s fingers.

He hated it.

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[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Six (Part 2)

Chapter Six Part 2 [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

" “All this time, we thought you were just…I don’t know…overdramatic,” Diego continued, “Like all of this was just your way of expressing trauma from our f-fucked up childhood. We didn’t really think you were s-s-serious when you told us that you’re….what did you call it?”

“Perpetually haunted.”

“Yeah. That.” "

Fear was not something Diego liked to admit to. Not to himself, not to Ora, and certainly not to his fuck up of a brother. Even though Klaus was largely responsible for his fear as an adolescent, he didn’t like to let him see that. Luther was their father’s minion, but Diego was the strong one. Maybe not in body (although he often liked to dispute that fact), but certainly in mind.  That’s what his anger issues were all about. Instead of letting stress break him, he let it fester and build resentment and indignation. 

But, as he watched Klaus curl inward on the floor of his grimey apartment, screaming and clawing at his flesh, Diego's body shook with fear. His eyes were wide with fear. His mouth was unable to speak cohesively for fear . He was the embodiment of fear as his brother practically lost his mind right in front of him. There was anger, sure, but it was simmering, brewing deep below the horror and panic and confusion. 

He cried out for him, dropped to his knees and desperately tried to pry him apart. But, for being so thin and wiry, Klaus couldn’t be budged. His fingernails were dug so deep into the arm of his sweater that Diego was sure he’d break skin.

It all happened so suddenly that Diego hadn’t even had time to comprehend the possible trigger. One moment they were having a heart-to-heart, Klaus finally talking about his ghosts (metaphorically and figuratively), and Diego listening and feeling his heart break with every wobble of his brother’s chin. Then, Four was screaming and curling into a ball on the floor. He was begging, pleading, beseeching that he be left alone by an unseen assailant. A breakdown? A ghoul, maybe? But Diego couldn’t be sure because, to him, it was empty space. 

He desperately fought and finally managed to pull Klaus into his arms, where he screamed, and screamed, and screamed some more. The man screamed until his voice broke and his body started to grow warm. And then something outlandish happened; his hands began to glow blue. Such an ethereal, holy blue that Diego held him at arm's length for fear of what it meant. 

As quickly as it began, it ended. Klaus collapsed into his arms, his body trembling and chest heaving. Deigo held him like a child, gripping him so tight he could feel bones where fat should be. 

“K-Klaus?” He asked aloud. There was no answer, and honestly, he hadn’t expected there to be. His brother was out cold, his body a dead weight against his. 

He sighed and rested his cheek against the medium’s matted mane of hair, the smell of sweat and dirt climbing up into his nostrils. But he tried not to think about it, or about how light Klaus was when he finally decided to move him to somewhere softer, or about just how poorly his brother had been coping in life. He especially tried not to think about how much of Klaus’ current situation was his fault. How he’d abandoned him and continued to do so for, well, their entire life. Even when he’d tried to help, he hadn’t listened.

And isn’t that what everyone wants in life? To be listened to? Especially by those who are meant to love us. 

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[zombie-rott]

[zombie-rott]

The beautiful thing as you get older is that you realize so many “rules” are made up and you can just do whatever. Posters can go anywhere in the house not just my room. I can sit down while cooking a meal or taking a shower. I can make the same thing for breakfast lunch dinner for a week straight. I can roam around the house shirtless. I can wear a dress with jeans. The world is my oyster key word my and I can live as I please embracing little things such as this

[zombie-rott]

Shotgun Opera // Chapter Six (Part 1)

Chapter Six Part 1 [A03]

Klaus Hargreeves is down and out when he finds himself in the arms of a man who takes advantage of his desperation. Suddenly Ben finds pulled back from the void to witness an horrific attack that ends up throwing Klaus’ train completely off the tracks. But harsh realisations, dark intrusive thoughts and the fear of following through all point them in the direction of Diego, the only living sibling Klaus’ feels he can trust. But things have changed for him too. He’s learning to navigate a life with his partner, Eudora, and cope with loss of his ‘dream’ job.

Can they all work together to concur their demons? Can Klaus get sober once and for all? And what happens when an unexpected spanner is thrown into the mix?

Warnings [Please Heed!]

Drug Addiction / Drug Abuse / Alcohol Abuse / Prostitution / Rape&Non-Con / S**f-Injury / S*icide Intent / Psychosis

(More to be added)

Chapter Extract:

" "And you thought he wouldn’t come running?” Ben said. Klaus didn’t even react, “ He’s always loved you the most.” Ben was right, of course. Klaus had always been Diego’s favourite, even if it was never said out loud. " Or The chapter wherein Diego is reunited with his brother, but brings an unwelcome guest along for the ride. Klaus is faced with having to open up, even if it brings him to tears. And despite how wholesome their reunion should be, certain truths come to light. Literally.

Klaus expected many things from Diego. A growl, a snarl. Something more furious, like a swift punch to the jaw. But what he didn't expect was the look of horror that replaced Number Two's usual glare.

As soon as Klaus opened the door, Diego's jaw dropped and his eyes widened as they quickly took in the situation at hand. The situation being that of Klaus' disgracefully gaunt and haggard appearance. True to form, Four fixed him with a half smile, the edges barely enough to warrant the association. He knew (or thought he did) how much time and the substances involved had ravaged his body. He knew the hollowness of his eyes, the glaringly obvious points of his cheekbones, the grease and mats trapped in his auburn curls. He knew how much worse it got the more layers he removed (and worse, and worse, and worse) .

"H-Hi - "

Before Klaus could finish his greeting, Diego pulled him into a hug. He dared not breathe for fear that he'd ruin the moment. Instead, he closed his eyes and melted into Diego's arms, allowing the man to hold him upright and take the strain off his aching limbs. Not once had any of his siblings offered a genuine, honest-to-god bear hug before. Least of all when he was in such a sorry state.

God. He must look terrible if this was his brother's first move.

"You're so skinny, man...." Diego whispered into Klaus' shoulder.

How was he meant to respond to that? Did he agree or disagree, or deflect?

"Thought I'd try my hand at modelling..." True to form, Klaus chose dark humour.

Diego huffed out a sigh and pulled back, leaving his hands firmly on both of Klaus' biceps. His eyes searched the medium’s face, pupils darting from side to side, no doubt assessing the damage up close. Finally, after an age of silence, Number Two pursed his lips together in a tight scowl and slowly shook his head.

"Please don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Don't give your usual crock of shit."

"....Sorry."

"You look like hell."

"Thank you - "Klaus cringed. Deflection was a hard habit to break. "Sorry. I meant to say I agree."

"S'okay. Can I come in?"

It was then that Klaus was struck with the realisation that his apartment was possibly in worse condition than he was, and that, worse still, his brother would be privy to it. How had he not thought about this before? Of course, Diego would want to come inside. It was nearly five in the morning, blistering cold (or was he just much too thin?) , and there was nowhere else to go. Klaus couldn't even pinpoint the exact damage of the space behind him, only that the evidence of his week-long bender was plastered everywhere, from the ashes on the kitchen table to the empty bottles on his bedroom floor.

"I came all this way, Klaus. Just let me come in."

"It's a mess."

"Dude, I grew up with you. Do you honestly think I don't remember the cesspit you lived in? Come on! It's freezing."

Hesitantly, Klaus moved aside, granting access to his brother.

"Diego doesn't care about the state of your apartment, dude," Ben uttered somewhere next to him.

Klaus didn't believe it. How could he? The place was the personification of depression and loathing. Klaus didn't even know how bad it smelled, having been holed up for well over a week. Your sense of smell started to disappear after that, having gotten used to your own pool of misery.

Four was about to follow his brother inside, his mouth open and ready to direct him towards the kitchen, when a darkness caught the corner of his eye. A shape, a human shape, followed behind Number Two, stepping into the shallow light as if he were an extension and not an unwanted visitor.

Ben gasped first, followed by Klaus, who jumped so hard that he crashed into the wall. Illuminated by the light, it’s body was covered in blood, it’s chest pierced by thousands of tiny gashes, and it’s face pulled into a horrific grimace. The medium felt his stomach drop and goose bumps rise along his skin.

“Fuck!” Klaus cried out, and suddenly, it's gaze fell on him.

Of course ! How could he have been so naïve? Betty was right there, moaning her incessant prattle as if warning him. And then there were the other two who'd battled it out in his living room until Ben threatened them to pack it in. He wasn't in control, not at all, and the ghouls and ghosts could smell his fear a mile away.

“Klaus?” Diego looked at him quizzingly, his eyebrows pinched in the middle, “W-what is it?”

Klaus looked wide-eyed between his brothers and the wheezing ghoul hunched in front of him. Terror stopped his heart, his limbs shaking, and a cold, much worse than the air outside, settled into his bones. Then Ben was between them both, his arms outstretched and a growl ripping from his throat.

"I'll handle him." The specter barked in a voice only reserved for those few occasions when he allowed The Horror to creep through, “Get Diego inside and keep it together. The last thing you need to do is scare him."

Swallowing down the taste of bile, Klaus took a few deep breaths to compose himself, something he'd had to do thousands of times before in similar situations. He calmly turned back to Diego and offered a small smile.

“S-sorry. I - It’s been a while since I’ve had company. I guess I’m just easily spooked.” Klaus tried to chuckle, but it came out as more of a pathetic whine, “C’mon.”

He quickly led his brother to the least disgusting of rooms, which sadly so happened to be the one room that Betty liked to reside in.

Another ghost. Just what he needed. But at least she was passive and for that, Klaus was grateful.

As she blundered next to the window, Diego tentatively took a seat at the kitchen table. Klaus, however, chose to stand by the stove, the furthest place from Betty and the doorway.

Somewhere in the hall, Klaus heard Ben arguing with the ghoul. It got louder and louder until it rapidly died to nothing but silence, followed by them both entering the kitchen, the darkness stepping up behind Diego and Ben coming to stand by Klaus. Regardless of what had gone on between them, the ghost stared at him from behind his brother with dead eyes and a toothy snarl that oozed and dripped fetid blood.

Klaus tried his best to focus on the living in the room.

"Do you want tea? Coffee? I'd offer you a bump, but I'm pretty sure I'm out..." He joked, having noticed Diego staring at the open injecting kit on the table. It was pointless to pass it off as anything other than what it was. So pass remarks on it, Klaus would.

Regardless of Number Two's thick skin, he looked shaken by the nonchalantness of it all. Not only for the honesty, but also for the fact that it was just left there. No shame. No hiding. Just like the rest of the apartment.

"S-seriously?" He looked in horror from the used needle to his brother and back again, "I-I thought you s-said you were sober?"

Ah. The situation had rocked his brother's deeply rooted composure enough to unlock his speech impediment. Klaus would be lying if he said he didn't feel a little guilty about the fact.

“I am. I mean mostly. I haven’t had any heroin in a while. I just….haven’t gotten around to tidying up in the last few days.”

“H-heroin?!”

“I - oh.” Klaus paused. It’d been a while since he’d last talked with Diego, and heroin certainly hadn’t been something he’d admitted to during that time. Or ever, for that matter. As far as Number Two was concerned, this was a new vice and one that warranted a certain level of anger.

Diego pinched at the bridge of his nose and sighed, “Jesus, Klaus. You’re a s-smack head now t-too?”

“In my defence, I’ve been a smack head for a while. This is just the first time you’ve heard of it.”

There was a heavy silence as Diego slowly took in his surroundings, Klaus allowing him to do so, instead passing glances between his two brothers, Betty and their new addition. The former let out a groan, and the latter joined in. Shortly there was a chorus of the undead moaning in his kitchen, and all Klaus could do was mutter under his breath.

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