Klaus wouldn't have expected him to knock, either. They'd lived together long enough, they all knew the risks of opening a door without making certain it was safe to do so, but he's so extraordinarily glad Diego didn't wait.
Even if he is obviously hurting, he looks uninjured (a bullet scar marring the skin of his left shoulderblade notwithstanding) and somehow softer, lacking his usual makeup, standing there with slightly damp curls plastered against his forehead and cheeks.
I almost was, is what he wants to say, except Diego's crying and— “Oh, Diego, it... it's okay.” He cinches both arms around his brother, squeezes him tight, buries into the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. “I'm fine, yeah? D-Don't cry.” Funny that he says it when his own eyes are beginning to well up, too.
Diego's arms are tight around Klaus' lithe frame, holding him close. Each breath is shaky and he never wants to let his soul mate go.
"It's not, Klaus. I... I went to the hotel and you were gone and 'Dora... Eudora is gone and I thought you were dead!" Pulling back, Diego curls both hands around Klaus' face and watches his eyes fill with tears as well. "What happened?"
It's grounding, reassuring. If it were possible, Klaus would hold him tighter, but he's still a little wary, still unsure of whether this moment might be a dream or not.
But then Diego's talking about the hotel, about Eudora, withdrawing and reaching to clutch his face instead. Much as he wants to keep himself together, it just won't be possible, not when he's being held so gently. Patch is... “Gone? No, I—” he pauses, glances toward the door then reaches his hands up to carefully hold Diego's wrists, “—I'm sorry, I fucked up.” And now he's a real ridiculous mess, crying like this.
"No. No, you didn't. She should have waited for me." Diego chokes on his tears and looks down at the ground for a moment. "She... They shot her." Frowning further, Diego looks back up at Klaus and runs his thumb under his eyes to catch the tears.
"They were after Five. Whoever these people are, the people who killed Patch." He presses a kiss against Klaus' lips before pressing his forehead against his. "What happened to you?"
Of course they did, fucking hitmen. God, seeing Diego like this, it sincerely hurts, makes Klaus's heart ache in ways he'd thought impossible after Ben's death. He shakes his head, gives a faint sniffle then lifts one of his hands higher, gently rubbing his knuckles across Diego's cheeks.
“Yeah, they... they tried to get information.” Succeeded even, hours of torture later. He exhales a breathy little whimper, cups Diego's nape to draw him closer during the kiss, only relenting so their foreheads can meet once he breaks it off to speak again. “After Patch saved me, I just. Escaped as fast as I could. Stole some of their shit along the way.”
Diego's thumb keeps brushing over Klaus' cheek even as he cups his face and holds him close, just breathing him in and memorising the blue of his eyes, bare of their usual eyeliner, which is odd in and of itself.
"What happened, Klaus? Why did my colours fade? I thought you were dead."
He doesn't want to say, he really would prefer they just skip right past the nitty-gritty details, but. That's not fair to Diego and honestly? Maybe Klaus selfishly wants to tell him, anyway.
“To be fair? I genuinely thought I was going to die, haha!” Except it's not something he should be laughing about at all. “They had this briefcase. I stole it and I... time-jumped? You know, like Five does?”
"That's not funny, Klaus." Diego looks anything except entertained by the comment about dying and he stares at his soul mate for a long moment. Wait, Klaus time jumped? Was that why his colours had dulled so much, because Klaus no longer lived in their time?
“N-No, it's not.” So, why'd he make the stupid comment? “Sorry,” he murmurs, nudging his forehead more intently against Diego's and heaving a sigh. Afterward, Klaus withdraws, still holding one of Diego's wrists, his other hand flicking toward the door, telekinetic energy effectively pushing it shut.
With some semblance of privacy to the room, he admits barely above a whisper, “Vietnam.”
Diego only acknowledges the apology with another kiss because he doesn't really know what else to say to it that won't make Klaus feel even more guilty for trying to lighten the mood -and failing, but that wasn't the point.
"Viet-- wait... you don't mean..." The War, goes unsaid because Diego can't bring himself to even say it.
And maybe Klaus holds the kiss a little longer than necessary but can he really be blamed? They both genuinely thought the other was gone not all that long ago; he'd hate considering how it would be if it'd been the truth.
Rather than respond verbally, he nods at the unfinished question, glances toward his left arm from his peripheral then twists it toward Diego, flashing the new tattoo there.
Diego isn't against holding that kiss and he cups Klaus' face when they separate once more, just watching him for a moment, memorising the face of the man he'd thought he'd lost only an hour ago.
The tattoo is... something Diego has only seen in pictures.
Unable to help himself, he buries into Diego's hands, reaches up and cups his own around them so they'll stay put for now since it feels like if he lets go, everything will fall apart (again).
“Ten months.” Christ, that's... almost a whole year, now that he thinks about it.
Why doesn't it feel like it's been that long? Probably because for everyone else, it wasn't.
"Jesus Christ, Klaus." He can't even begin to imagine the things Klaus must have seen, the things he must have done. The ghosts that must have haunted him on the battlefield. It's too horrible to even try and think about, so Diego doesn't. Instead, he wraps his arms around him and pulls him into a hug.
"You're home now. I'm here for whatever you need from me."
“It, it's fine. Not fine, y'know? I... I'll be okay, though.” All of those things are shit he's going to have to deal with. Maybe not now – maybe not in the next few days, even – but eventually, everything will come to a head and it'll need addressing. Until that bridge needs crossing, Klaus's completely fine with returning the hug, both arms looping tight around Diego's shoulders and squeezing reassuringly.
“Y-Yeah. This is, uh, good for now?” A beat then, “God, I missed you.”
Diego just holds Klaus close, keeps his arms wrapped around him and revels in the feel of his smaller frame -more defined now than it had been the day before- and the colour that brightened his vision and threatened to overwhelm him after the hours without it.
Yeah, the war can be thanked for that. It can be for a lot of things but definitely not for the color that'd bled back into his vision whenever he'd gotten home. That was all wholly Diego and God, he's so glad they're together again.
“I'm sorry,” Klaus whispers thickly, extricating himself enough to clasp Diego's arms and walk them backward to his bed so they can sit.
Diego lets Klaus lead him to the bed and he sits beside him, so close that their thighs are pressed together from hip to knee. One arm curls around his back but the other cups his cheek and he strokes a thumb over his cheek bone.
"Don't be. You're here now. You're back with me and that's all that matters. We can get through the rest together."
Being this close to Diego again, it makes his heart pitter-patter and steals his breath away but also calms him in a manner no one else seems to be able to. The arm wraps around him, causing Klaus to rest some of his weight against his brother, one hand settling at the small of his back while the other reaches up, gently hooks his fingertips into the spaces between the fingers on his face.
“I, I don't know how I'm going to— to...” he lets himself trail off, shakes his head then turns and buries into Diego's neck rather than let him see the tears welling up again.
Diego just holds on even tighter. His brother's breath is hot against his neck and he can feel the wetness of tears against his skin. It breaks his heart to know that he's so lost and alone and Diego has no idea how to make him feel better, how to take away his hurt.
"You won't be alone. We'll get through this together, okay? I'm never going to let you deal with this by yourself."
‘You won't be alone.’ The breath abruptly catches in his chest, choking off the sob attempting to slip out, his left hand reaching and cupping around his face. If there's one thing he won't be, it's that. How could he ever with Diego here?
Klaus exhales the sigh he'd been holding in, clutches both arms around his brother's shoulders again. “God, I know we've said it a million times but I'm so fucking glad you're here.”
"I'll always be here, baby. Any time you need me." He snorts a soft laugh. "Which is always, because you're a fucking mess. A beautiful mess, but a mess all the same." It's meant as a light tease, to try and bring a smile to Klaus' face, which is why he kisses him again, smile pressed against soft lips.
You know, that started out really, really heartfelt...
And then it just got sappy as hell— which Klaus appreciates, he truly does. A chuckle of his own slips free after Diego moves to kiss him, his arms slackening, hands resting lightly on his brother's shoulders while he reciprocates. He draws back a moment, long enough to mutter, “At least I'm your mess,” then he kisses him again.
"Yeah, well, someone's gotta make sure you eat something more than pills and waffles. Y'know, some proteins and vegetables and drink some water." Diego kisses him again. "Speaking of, let's get you some food. On me."
“Hey, at least I'm eating something,” he complains without any of the heat. As soon as Diego mentions food though, Klaus's expression brightens somewhat. “You mean it? Do I get to pick where we're going?” Since he just might have a place in mind.
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Even if he is obviously hurting, he looks uninjured (a bullet scar marring the skin of his left shoulderblade notwithstanding) and somehow softer, lacking his usual makeup, standing there with slightly damp curls plastered against his forehead and cheeks.
I almost was, is what he wants to say, except Diego's crying and— “Oh, Diego, it... it's okay.” He cinches both arms around his brother, squeezes him tight, buries into the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. “I'm fine, yeah? D-Don't cry.” Funny that he says it when his own eyes are beginning to well up, too.
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"It's not, Klaus. I... I went to the hotel and you were gone and 'Dora... Eudora is gone and I thought you were dead!" Pulling back, Diego curls both hands around Klaus' face and watches his eyes fill with tears as well. "What happened?"
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But then Diego's talking about the hotel, about Eudora, withdrawing and reaching to clutch his face instead. Much as he wants to keep himself together, it just won't be possible, not when he's being held so gently. Patch is... “Gone? No, I—” he pauses, glances toward the door then reaches his hands up to carefully hold Diego's wrists, “—I'm sorry, I fucked up.” And now he's a real ridiculous mess, crying like this.
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"They were after Five. Whoever these people are, the people who killed Patch." He presses a kiss against Klaus' lips before pressing his forehead against his. "What happened to you?"
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“Yeah, they... they tried to get information.” Succeeded even, hours of torture later. He exhales a breathy little whimper, cups Diego's nape to draw him closer during the kiss, only relenting so their foreheads can meet once he breaks it off to speak again. “After Patch saved me, I just. Escaped as fast as I could. Stole some of their shit along the way.”
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"What happened, Klaus? Why did my colours fade? I thought you were dead."
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“To be fair? I genuinely thought I was going to die, haha!” Except it's not something he should be laughing about at all. “They had this briefcase. I stole it and I... time-jumped? You know, like Five does?”
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"You... Where did you go?"
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With some semblance of privacy to the room, he admits barely above a whisper, “Vietnam.”
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"Viet-- wait... you don't mean..." The War, goes unsaid because Diego can't bring himself to even say it.
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Rather than respond verbally, he nods at the unfinished question, glances toward his left arm from his peripheral then twists it toward Diego, flashing the new tattoo there.
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The tattoo is... something Diego has only seen in pictures.
"Klaus... how long were you there?"
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“Ten months.” Christ, that's... almost a whole year, now that he thinks about it.
Why doesn't it feel like it's been that long? Probably because for everyone else, it wasn't.
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"You're home now. I'm here for whatever you need from me."
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“Y-Yeah. This is, uh, good for now?” A beat then, “God, I missed you.”
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"I was so afraid I'd lost you."
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“I'm sorry,” Klaus whispers thickly, extricating himself enough to clasp Diego's arms and walk them backward to his bed so they can sit.
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"Don't be. You're here now. You're back with me and that's all that matters. We can get through the rest together."
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“I, I don't know how I'm going to— to...” he lets himself trail off, shakes his head then turns and buries into Diego's neck rather than let him see the tears welling up again.
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"You won't be alone. We'll get through this together, okay? I'm never going to let you deal with this by yourself."
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Klaus exhales the sigh he'd been holding in, clutches both arms around his brother's shoulders again. “God, I know we've said it a million times but I'm so fucking glad you're here.”
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And then it just got sappy as hell— which Klaus appreciates, he truly does. A chuckle of his own slips free after Diego moves to kiss him, his arms slackening, hands resting lightly on his brother's shoulders while he reciprocates. He draws back a moment, long enough to mutter, “At least I'm your mess,” then he kisses him again.
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