How's your head? [even before he gets an answer, klaus is withdrawing partially, reaching his idle hand up to ghost his fingertips across quentin's temple, smooth and light as he works back through his hair, over his scalp. while his friend's fixated on his wounds, the taller man's drawing attention away from them, hoping it won't be such a big deal that he'd hurt and bled and felt something he shouldn't.
fuck, and then quentin's apologizing again, making him shake his head-- a little too vigorously, considering it causes a brief moment of dizziness.]
No, you don't have to apologize, just— [don't blame yourself? don't let go? what?] It must've been something with the ingredients. One of my people fucked us...
[for reasons unknown right now, but hand to god, he'll find out why or die trying. his attention lowers to where quentin's still holding his arm, eyebrows knitting, lips pressing into a thin line, then he lifts his gaze back up.] I'll fix it, okay? I don't know how yet, but I will.
[ Except for the part where it didn't, and Quentin is already trying to fight through the haze of painkillers and general sedatives. They haven't ruled out some form of weird suicide, which...
...Well. It makes sense. ]
Except for the part where it didn't. Uh--something stopped me. I think it's the same thing that sent me here.
Wait, what? You're telling me that was supposed to happen?
[doesn't make much sense to klaus, unfortunately, who's head is still swimming, eyelashes fluttering and expression creasing as he attempts to work through the confusion. in spite of the fact he's no magic user, he is pretty sure that's not how it was supposed to work.]
The Beast, yeah. [he lowers his hand, moves it to circle quentin's wrist, squeezes tight.] That guy fucked it up, huh? Messed with your magic like a raging dickhead.
[another shake of the head.] Wow, he really doesn't want you to go back. [a beat, his lips upturning somewhat.] Sucks to be him, I guess, because we're going to get you home.
Most of it was. Except for the part at the end, where, uh... [ He motions his head over to the wall and--oh, damn, they're in a new room. Makes sense. They had to clean up. He squints, trying to focus on something other than Klaus' hand, which he carefully sets down, and then draws his knees up to his chest to hug them. ]
I'll figure out some way.
[ Because there has to be a way, there absolutely has to be, and Klaus--God bless Klaus the junkie, Klaus the no one, Klaus the weirdo. He's none of those things, really. Even if he thinks he is, Quentin knows he's not.
but, fuck, even with the drunks there's a sinking feeling in his chest. ]
[klaus turns to look as well, sinks his teeth into the side of his cheek then returns his gaze to quentin.] Where everything blew up? [and just like that, quentin's putting his arm down, moving to curl in on himself. something white-hot pierces his chest, sharp, almost knocking the breath straight out of his lungs.]
Hey, it— it's okay. You don't have to do it alone, you know?
[considering he'd helped before, why wouldn't he this time as well? as a matter of fact:] Q, listen. [he shuffles up next to the shorter male, loops an arm around his shoulders and gingerly squeezes.]
We just gotta ride out the rest of the week, [he continues, gripping a bit firmer, his head tilting with consideration.] Then we can check out and you'll come home with me. We'll be able to work better from there.
[ The rest of the week? Yeah, if he'll get let out. Quentin has the sneaking suspicion, dread-like and in waves, that something's going to happen. That he's not going to be able to get out. He knows he can't think like that, but even through the medication, it's difficult not to.
How long has he been here? It's sort of blurred together. Or maybe it's blurring together now? He can't quite tell, and he slumps down in his position, no longer hugging his knees but sort of slumped, half on the ground half not.
It takes him a while to actually hear Klaus. He's physically heard him just fine, but: ]
Check me out? To your place?
[ Oh, God, Quentin had assumed Klaus was homeless and--hold on-- ] Do we get released the same day?
[so long as klaus lives and breathes, there's no fucking way he's letting quentin stay here by himself. who knows when they'd let him out (if they would)? all the magic talk might land him in more hot water, particularly after what'd happened an hour or two ago.
no, he can't leave his friend in the hands of these people who don't (and refuse to) understand. quentin slumps onto the floor and klaus shifts, watches him go down, eyebrows raising with consideration.] You comfy down there? [inquires the older male, bending so he's leaning over quentin, arms around his shoulders, looking at him from upside-down.]
Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. [pause] I mean if you'd want to come with me anyway? We have plenty of room.
[okay, well, to be fair: he's not totally wrong, but.] Close to it, I think. Maybe you're a few days behind me, but I'll wait if I have to.
[ Someone would wait for him. Quentin looks up at Klaus, squinting before he breaks into a smile. It's a genuine one despite the drugs--warm, bright, dimples and all--and he feels more and more like Klaus and Eliot would get along. Klaus, he's selfless, tougher than he thinks. Scrambling to get things just because some floppy-haired asshole wanted them. Quentin's never been more thankful.
It's not like he has anywhere else to go. It's not like he's not going to feel the walls closing in in a few hours and break down with how helpless he feels. Now, though, he's got Klaus. ]
[the sudden flutter of his heart, fast as a hummingbird's wings, makes the breath catch in his chest, his eyes widening at the sight of quentin's sincere smile. goddamn, just when he didn't think the guy could get more attractive, he goes and does something like that. people have called him some awful shit for befriending quentin, but in the end, it's been so worth it.
if they're lucky, they'll come down around the same time and klaus can do everything in his power to make certain quentin won't feel so helpless or lost once he realizes it's going to take more time to get him home.]
Whataya want from me, a blood pact or something? 'Course I would, you nerd.
[ There are a select few people in the world that call him nerd and he's not offended. Klaus, it seems, has somehow slid his way into that category, and he reaches over to grab at his arm again, right back to examining the bandages, even though they're upside down now. Different angle. ]
No, it's just.. It's nice to hear. I owe you a lot.
[ He's going to pay it back too, somehow. Find some sort of spells. Klaus, after all, is basically the magical equivalent of a battery, so-- ]
Klaus, can you do anything else? Asides from see the dead? Read thoughts, that sort of thing?
[which is good because klaus's tone of voice suggests the tease is completely harmless; it's how one would use an affectionate nickname, like when he calls him 'q.' absentmindedly tipping his head, he averts his attention to where quentin's holding his arm again, eyelashes fluttering heavily.]
Better get used to it, then. We both kinda owe each other.
[shit, speaking of: here's hoping the orderlies don't find the slip he'd tucked away in his pillowcase right away. maybe he'll be able to sneak in and get it before they toss the room.]
Anything else...? Uh, no, can't do telepathy. [he hums, thoughtful, shifting the arm quentin isn't holding so he can drum his fingers along the magician's shoulder.] Evocation? Daddy Dearest says I've got plenty of potential to live up to if I'd just [a long, drawn-out sigh] stop pumping myself full of poison.
[ Oh, there's something there, the way he's said Dearest, and Quentin can hazard a vague guess. They both know each other but don't at the same time, Quentin keeping a lot of his things quiet, Klaus doing the same. Not out of fear but just because they'd been so focused on everything else.
Daddy dearest, with that much spite and malice, like Penny borrowed a sarcastic quip from Eliot. ]
If you're like a conduit for me, that means you have something inherent in you. Obviously, you can see the dead, but what if it's more than that? What if you can do more? We're resonating with the same energy if I'm piggybacking off of you...
[ Oh, hey, those drugs are starting to wear off. ]
[his waspish tone is unmistakable, frankly, and he doesn't even try to cover that up. hell, if it were anymore acidic, klaus's tongue might burn out of his mouth, but he bites down, to the point he's thinking he might taste blood—
then quentin continues going on about how it's possible he possesses (haha, séance pun) other powers, momentarily furthering his confusion.] What, like, some unknown power I have to discover? I don't know, Quentin... [shit, he's beginning to comprehend things at a higher capacity as well. at least he can still make awful jokes to downplay his abilities though, and that's a bizarre relief.]
Are you saying I have Big Magician Energy? [followed by a hyena-like cackle.] Okay, fine, let's say I've got it: what do you think I'd be able to do? Anything helpful at all?
[ Quentin can't help but laugh at that, dimples and all, looking up at Klaus.
Big Magician Energy. Sure, yeah--that's just a lot of trauma wrapped up in bad coping mechanisms. If that's the definition, then Klaus has it in spades. ]
I don't know. It'd be trial and error--there's the fundamentals we can start with. Hand positions and the like. I'm still going to school for this, but-- [ He shrugs. ]
[klaus's eyebrows raise when quentin looks up at him, the slightest smirk curving his lips once more. oh, good, his ridiculousness just continues to make his friend laugh and he can definitely handle that.
although, that's a decent way to describe it if they were using less serious terms-- which is exactly how klaus handles situations like these, so yes, he does have a whole helluva lot of it. possibly more than he lets on most times, even.]
The blind leading the blind, [he chuckles between them, drawing away after a moment, but not without drifting his lips across quentin's head in what he's hoping is an absentminded (hopefully a hardly noticeable one) kiss while he straightens.] Then I know exactly what we can practice during our last week.
[ 'Our last week' sounds infinitely better than 'you're stuck here so lets make the best of it.' The fact that there's even a 'lets' in that sentence alone is enough to boost him a little. ]
Thanks.
[ He means it, too, even though it's one syllable it's filled with as much emotion as he can muster. ]
You know, it's not my first time in a place like this, but.. It is my first time with a bunkmate who gave a shit.
[one of the exact reasons he'd worded it that way. see, most times, he hasn't got two brain-cells to rub together, but other times – soberer ones – he's a lot smarter than most people give him credit for.]
You're welcome.
[it makes klaus's heart flutter yet again. being under the influence made it harder to conceal (don't feel), although he manages to cover with a small smile, gestures offhandedly toward nothing in particular.]
Sounds like a douchebag, [he admits, shoulders rolling nonchalantly as possible, his mouth downturned into a pout.] But you won't have to think about them anymore and soon enough, neither of us will be worrying about this place at all.
[ Mostly. There had been a few others and--well, Klaus is his bunkmate, and he isn't a douche. Just broken. It's meant more for him. Quentin smiles, half but soft, and sits up after a second. ]
Oh. [too, quentin says. like, "as well as" someone else he knows. klaus wonders if he's included in that since— gosh, he's pretty damn broken, isn't he?
he almost inclines his head as an excuse to look away, but then quentin's smiling again and there's no way he can't let his own lips curve higher while straightening his posture.]
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volunteertomatoes) wrote2019-04-16 01:33 pm
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fuck, and then quentin's apologizing again, making him shake his head-- a little too vigorously, considering it causes a brief moment of dizziness.]
No, you don't have to apologize, just— [don't blame yourself? don't let go? what?] It must've been something with the ingredients. One of my people fucked us...
[for reasons unknown right now, but hand to god, he'll find out why or die trying. his attention lowers to where quentin's still holding his arm, eyebrows knitting, lips pressing into a thin line, then he lifts his gaze back up.] I'll fix it, okay? I don't know how yet, but I will.
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[ Except for the part where it didn't, and Quentin is already trying to fight through the haze of painkillers and general sedatives. They haven't ruled out some form of weird suicide, which...
...Well. It makes sense. ]
Except for the part where it didn't. Uh--something stopped me. I think it's the same thing that sent me here.
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[doesn't make much sense to klaus, unfortunately, who's head is still swimming, eyelashes fluttering and expression creasing as he attempts to work through the confusion. in spite of the fact he's no magic user, he is pretty sure that's not how it was supposed to work.]
The Beast, yeah. [he lowers his hand, moves it to circle quentin's wrist, squeezes tight.] That guy fucked it up, huh? Messed with your magic like a raging dickhead.
[another shake of the head.] Wow, he really doesn't want you to go back. [a beat, his lips upturning somewhat.] Sucks to be him, I guess, because we're going to get you home.
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I'll figure out some way.
[ Because there has to be a way, there absolutely has to be, and Klaus--God bless Klaus the junkie, Klaus the no one, Klaus the weirdo. He's none of those things, really. Even if he thinks he is, Quentin knows he's not.
but, fuck, even with the drunks there's a sinking feeling in his chest. ]
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Hey, it— it's okay. You don't have to do it alone, you know?
[considering he'd helped before, why wouldn't he this time as well? as a matter of fact:] Q, listen. [he shuffles up next to the shorter male, loops an arm around his shoulders and gingerly squeezes.]
We just gotta ride out the rest of the week, [he continues, gripping a bit firmer, his head tilting with consideration.] Then we can check out and you'll come home with me. We'll be able to work better from there.
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How long has he been here? It's sort of blurred together. Or maybe it's blurring together now? He can't quite tell, and he slumps down in his position, no longer hugging his knees but sort of slumped, half on the ground half not.
It takes him a while to actually hear Klaus. He's physically heard him just fine, but: ]
Check me out? To your place?
[ Oh, God, Quentin had assumed Klaus was homeless and--hold on-- ] Do we get released the same day?
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no, he can't leave his friend in the hands of these people who don't (and refuse to) understand. quentin slumps onto the floor and klaus shifts, watches him go down, eyebrows raising with consideration.] You comfy down there? [inquires the older male, bending so he's leaning over quentin, arms around his shoulders, looking at him from upside-down.]
Yeah, that's what I'm talking about. [pause] I mean if you'd want to come with me anyway? We have plenty of room.
[okay, well, to be fair: he's not totally wrong, but.] Close to it, I think. Maybe you're a few days behind me, but I'll wait if I have to.
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It's not like he has anywhere else to go. It's not like he's not going to feel the walls closing in in a few hours and break down with how helpless he feels. Now, though, he's got Klaus. ]
You'd really wait for me?
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if they're lucky, they'll come down around the same time and klaus can do everything in his power to make certain quentin won't feel so helpless or lost once he realizes it's going to take more time to get him home.]
Whataya want from me, a blood pact or something? 'Course I would, you nerd.
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No, it's just.. It's nice to hear. I owe you a lot.
[ He's going to pay it back too, somehow. Find some sort of spells. Klaus, after all, is basically the magical equivalent of a battery, so-- ]
Klaus, can you do anything else? Asides from see the dead? Read thoughts, that sort of thing?
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Better get used to it, then. We both kinda owe each other.
[shit, speaking of: here's hoping the orderlies don't find the slip he'd tucked away in his pillowcase right away. maybe he'll be able to sneak in and get it before they toss the room.]
Anything else...? Uh, no, can't do telepathy. [he hums, thoughtful, shifting the arm quentin isn't holding so he can drum his fingers along the magician's shoulder.] Evocation? Daddy Dearest says I've got plenty of potential to live up to if I'd just [a long, drawn-out sigh] stop pumping myself full of poison.
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Daddy dearest, with that much spite and malice, like Penny borrowed a sarcastic quip from Eliot. ]
If you're like a conduit for me, that means you have something inherent in you. Obviously, you can see the dead, but what if it's more than that? What if you can do more? We're resonating with the same energy if I'm piggybacking off of you...
[ Oh, hey, those drugs are starting to wear off. ]
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then quentin continues going on about how it's possible he possesses (haha, séance pun) other powers, momentarily furthering his confusion.] What, like, some unknown power I have to discover? I don't know, Quentin... [shit, he's beginning to comprehend things at a higher capacity as well. at least he can still make awful jokes to downplay his abilities though, and that's a bizarre relief.]
Are you saying I have Big Magician Energy? [followed by a hyena-like cackle.] Okay, fine, let's say I've got it: what do you think I'd be able to do? Anything helpful at all?
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Big Magician Energy. Sure, yeah--that's just a lot of trauma wrapped up in bad coping mechanisms. If that's the definition, then Klaus has it in spades. ]
I don't know. It'd be trial and error--there's the fundamentals we can start with. Hand positions and the like. I'm still going to school for this, but-- [ He shrugs. ]
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although, that's a decent way to describe it if they were using less serious terms-- which is exactly how klaus handles situations like these, so yes, he does have a whole helluva lot of it. possibly more than he lets on most times, even.]
The blind leading the blind, [he chuckles between them, drawing away after a moment, but not without drifting his lips across quentin's head in what he's hoping is an absentminded (hopefully a hardly noticeable one) kiss while he straightens.] Then I know exactly what we can practice during our last week.
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Thanks.
[ He means it, too, even though it's one syllable it's filled with as much emotion as he can muster. ]
You know, it's not my first time in a place like this, but.. It is my first time with a bunkmate who gave a shit.
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You're welcome.
[it makes klaus's heart flutter yet again. being under the influence made it harder to conceal (don't feel), although he manages to cover with a small smile, gestures offhandedly toward nothing in particular.]
Sounds like a douchebag, [he admits, shoulders rolling nonchalantly as possible, his mouth downturned into a pout.] But you won't have to think about them anymore and soon enough, neither of us will be worrying about this place at all.
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[ Mostly. There had been a few others and--well, Klaus is his bunkmate, and he isn't a douche. Just broken. It's meant more for him. Quentin smiles, half but soft, and sits up after a second. ]
Here: copy me.
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he almost inclines his head as an excuse to look away, but then quentin's smiling again and there's no way he can't let his own lips curve higher while straightening his posture.]
Alright, boss, I'll follow your lead.