ROAD TO RECOVERY | K. HARGREEVES

CHAPTER TWO

The next time Klaus showed up, Westley's heart dropped.

It was a couple years later. At 27, Westley didn't expect to see him again. People snickered behind him, when they heard the news.

"We told you so," They said, "Guess Westley isn't as great as he seems," And fire burns in his chest, an anger that he needs desperately to redirect.

Klaus didn't walk in half as energetically as he did last time. He had on a ridiculous fur coat, but there was blood on him and he was talking to the air beside him. Dark cirles were under his eyes, and Westley's heart ached just looking at him, more than looking at anyone else.

Coming back once more was fine, he assured himself, but he didn't understand why he cared so damn much about whether or not Klaus did come back. He couldn't figure it out.

Immediately, he went to his higher ups, asking to be assigned Klaus again, and they denied it. Kyle, instead, was assigned to him. Westley could just imagine how well that was going to go.

However, Westley wasn't one to argue, when the case would present itself soon enough. He could see the tour himself, how upset Kyle seemed, glaring at Klaus, who looked still incredibly high. Who laughed and rolled his eyes and spoke to whatever he saw beside him.

When the halls were silent, in the lounge, Kyle sat with his head in his hands. "I can't believe I got that weirdo! "

"He's really not that bad, Kyle," Westley hummed, grabbing a bottle of water from the little fridge they had. "You just gotta get used to him,"

"He looked at me once, then declared if I was a spice, I'd be flour. What the hell does that even mean?"

"It means you're boring as fuck, Kyle."

Kyle, in return, flipped him off, getting up from his spot on the couch. "I can't deal with him. I can't,"

Westley laughed. "You've literally had him for five hours. I can't believe it,"

"You can have him. I'm speaking to the director tomorrow. You're the only one who can deal with him,"

"Fine by me," And hope sparked in his chest again.

The next day, at seeing Westley, Klaus grinned. He had a bandage covering a good part of his face. "Good ol' cheery! Where is your friend, anyways? Did I make him quit?"

Westley held back a laugh, pleased to see that maybe that had been Klaus' goal. "Oh, not yet, no. However, I'm your problem now, not him,"

"Rats. He really is a terrible nurse. You're not too bad, though. Jesus, he spoke to me like I was eight. I'm high, not deaf," Klaus shook his head, hand going to his pocket. He looked like he was looking for something, but realizing that these were not his pants, and contained nothing that he want, he grimaced.

"Shut up, Ben," He suddenly hissed, turning to face something beside him.

Westley raised an eyebrow. "Klaus? What's up? Who ya speaking to, buddy?"

Klaus made another face. "You'll think I'm insane,"

"I promise I won't," Maybe he did, a little, but he wasn't going to judge. Especially not Klaus.

Klaus took a good look at him, before deciding him seemingly trustworthy. "My brother. His ghost, anyways," He turned to face something again, words pointed, "Who doesn't seem to leave me alone,"

Of all the things he could've said, that was the least worrying. "You had a brother?"

"Yeah, a bunch. Only one's dead," Klaus said. "Let's get breakfast,"

Their routine was usual, simple. The same as it was before. Until Westley decided to stay late one shift.

He was just going to grab some papers and leave, but then he passed Klaus' room, hearing distressed noises. While he was dressed in his normal clothes, he still stopped, carefully opening the door.

Klaus was crying, his sheets an absolute mess. He seemed to be asleep, a constant mantra of, "go away, go away, leave me alone, stop," leaving his lips.

Westley didn't even stop to think, rushing into the room, and closing the door behind him. Before he was even aware of it, he had a arm on Klaus and was trying to wake him up.

His eyes opened in a moment, tears still flowing freely, before he squeezed them shut again.

"Hey, its okay. You're okay, Klaus. Nothings -"

Klaus put his hands to his ears, looking like he was desperately trying to block out something. Then, in the most broken voice Westley had ever heard, he proclaimed, "They won't go away. Make them go away, please, please,"

It made Westley want to cry, for what could he do? His instincts told him to hold the man, but that was incredibly against policy and he had already pushed the rules. He ached to reassure him better, but there wasn't a way he could.

"Deep breaths, Klaus,"

"You're not real," Klaus declared.

Westley moved a hand to gently squeeze Klaus' wrist. "I'm real, I promise. Just breathe," And he swore that Klaus did his best, taking shaky, shaky breaths.

Eventually, he fell back asleep, and some strange part of Westley's mind told him to stay with him. To sleep next to him, to hold him. That couldn't be done, though. That was a one way ticket to getting fired.

He left silently, worry inching it's way into his mind, making a note to check his sleeping more often.

The next morning, Klaus didn't speak of it, and neither did Westley. There was no point, he was probably embarrassed.

"There's gonna be pudding for lunch for the nurses today. Want me to steal you some?" Westley asked, sitting opposite Klaus. He didn't know why he said it, but it felt right. Like a way of showing support, somehow.

And Klaus, who seemed a little more tired than usual glowed. "They give you pudding here? Absolutely. God, you must be an angel or something,"

Westley just laughed, glad to see him feeling better.