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Tell Me We'll Be Alright

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"You'll be fine, Klaus. I promise that."

Luther's words pulled Klaus out of his haze, glazed eyes making their way lazily to look at his brother.

Luther looked worse for wear, his coat dirty from the scuffle.

Klaus almost felt guilty.


But he was Klaus and guilt was a constant emotion.

So it didn't count.

He sat up and spat out a mixture of blood and spit.


"Tell me about it."

"Did you know them?"

That's right, he thought, he'd been beaten.

"Not really. I've seen them before but that's it."

"Are you sure?"

"Am I ever sure, Luther?"


A few moments pass and Luther helps him up, choosing to not say anything when Klaus nearly topples over from the pain shooting up his ribs.

"Yep. Yep. Think they're broken." He gasps, eyes watering but not from pain.

His nose is broken too, he can't really feel that one though.

"You wanna go home?"


"Let's go then..." Luther stumbles with him, struggling with the nonexistent weight of Klaus and his wet clothes.

But neither said anything else on the way home, the streets almost empty and angry.

Klaus laughed at this, ignoring the concerned look that Luther was giving him.

Could streets seem angry?

He thought they could.




Luther wouldn't get it if he said it out loud.

And that was okay.

It was always okay.

The two of them stumbled through the doors of the house and successfully avoided anyone who might have been awake.

And no one was.

Small blessings.

He knew the old man would look at the security footage later, but that was a battle for them.

Luther dropped him off in his room, the room draped in tapestries and fairylights.

Old man didn't care what they had in the house as long as it wasn't "interfering."

"Fuck you..." Klaus mumbled laying back gently on his bed, white lightning shooting up his side.

"That's not very nice considering I just saved your ass."

"No. Not you."

"Then who?"

"Who do you think? The living. The dead. The inbetween."


"What, Luther?"

"Shut the fuck up."

Klaus stayed quiet and just shook his head, Luther wouldn't get it.

And even as his brother helped him clean up and lightly lectured him on picking fights he couldn't handle, he could not shake that feeling.

The feeling of dying while standing.

The feeling of drowning while trying to swim.

The feeling of how soon, he wouldn't have a home to come back to.

And somehow,

It terrified him.