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The sound of Ben's voice is so familiar that he almost doesn't think twice about hearing it, but that's the thing, isn't it? He hears Ben's voice and the way to reverberates off the walls of the empty shop instead of in the space between his own ears. It brings him to a stop almost immediately, frozen in the doorway just staring at Ben.

Something deep in his chest aches, but he thinks it could just be the gunshot wound. It has nothing to do with the fact that he's now standing opposite the very brother he never got to say goodbye to, that he never had the chance to really mourn. A brother he has a thousand apologies for and double the insults.

He opts to disregard the apologetic look on Ben's face. "Surprise, Benerino, to your great surprise I've actually managed to die for real this time, and I'll have you know it was not my fault and no, heavy drugs and alcohol were not involved." Raising one hand as if to make a point, he tilts his head, scrunching up his face in thought. "Well, alcohol, but it stands. Not my fault. Definitely dead. Real shit show, let me tell you."

The words stream out in a fit of nerves as he makes his way to the counter, taking up the space between the stool Ben sits on and the empty one beside it. The lady slaps down a cup of coffee in front of him and the liquid burns. He draws his hand back, giving it a shake and a little hiss for show.

"Ooh, someone woke up on the wrong side of the grave this morning, shit," he breathes, waggling his eyebrows in Ben's direction. It's so good to see him, and yet those words die on his lips. Instead, his expression finally softens and he looks back down at the steaming cup.

"You didn't even say goodbye, you little shitheel. Very rude."

Time is something that's hard to decipher here. He doesn't know the last time he saw Klaus. It feels as if it could've been yesterday, or a hundred years ago. Either way, it's both painfully familiar and maddening to hear him talk of his death so flippantly. He knows most of it is bravado for his or Klaus's own benefit, but it doesn't make it sting any less that his brother is so accepting of this fate.

"Shit show," Ben agrees,turning towards him as the waitress sets down a cup of coffee. He can't help but chuckle a little when Klaus hisses. "Not her," he says, watching the waitress disappear. Though, she doesn't seem to feel very hospitable towards Klaus either. "God."

At Klaus's final words, Ben feels some of his frustration ebb away. "I didn't want to go, Klaus," he says, meeting his brother's eyes and trying to hold them. "It just happened when I was trying to help Vanya." He pauses, looking down at his hands. "But I think it was time."

Klaus doesn't want to talk about this. Doesn't want to talk about the fact that Ben left, that he didn't choose to leave, and that there was nothing Klaus could do to keep him rooted to the world. Maybe more than a decade was more than enough.

He looks across at Ben, one corner of his mouth ticking down into a slight frown. "You saved the day, you know. Stormed right in like an undead Superman and stopped the whole shebang. Shit went sideways anyway, but Vanya's controlling her powers now and I got shot by an angry Swede with a receding hairline. I guess we all go when we go."

Pressing his palms around the mug he draws it closer, raising one of his scalded fingers to his lips when a drop runs down the side of the ceramic mug. He rolls his shoulders, his head, as though trying work through the aftershocks of dying, of the nerves misfiring. "Last time I wound up in this place, I met Dad. And now there's you. Wanna tell me what's really going on, then, Ghostman. I'm definitely dead. Saw the blood, felt the old ticker give out. Then there's the little bitch with the bike. So." He could use a cigarette right about now.

"I heard," he says, his eyes softening as he looks Klaus over. He takes a deep breath. "Did it hurt?"

His death had, in ways that he still couldn't describe or really even think about, but maybe that was part of why it had taken him so long to let go. The thought of Klaus having to go through that, though is painful to think about.

"Well," he says, dragging out the word and looking away from him. "That's the catch. You are dead. It's just, she doesn't want you here."

"Nah, nothing can hurt me," he snorts and takes another sip of the coffee. It's scalding hot and as it hits the back of his throat he grimaces. It's burnt, too. But in actuality the gunshot had hurt like hell and when he's not focused on his brother, he's sure he can feel the searing pain in his chest. He doesn't want to worry Ben.

"But never you mind, I've felt much worse in my time. Like the absolute heartbreak over Bitter Biker Betty out there not wanting me to come around anymore. Joke's on her, I'm dead as a doornail this time, Benny-boy. But better me than one of the others, I guess."

Dying doesn't scare him, really. Not if it looks like this in the end. It's not been long since Ben truly left but hearing his voice even on the air around him feels a little more like normalcy, a little more like home. "Now I can haunt you for not saying goodbye. Even steven."

Ben's about to say that Bitter Biker Betty out there isn't the kind of person that Klaus should mess with, but his last comment makes the thought fly out of his mind as quickly as it came.

Hurt flashes across his face before he speaks. "You think I didn't want to say goodbye?"

There'd been no time for goodbyes. Only Vanya and the world about to fall apart around her. He wouldn't give up being able to help her for anything, but if he had known he wouldn't come out of that room, he would've at least tried to say goodbye.

Klaus half expects Ben to make some snide remark, to lecture him on his treatment of Bitter Biker Betty, on the after life, on the newly inherited drinking habit, but no. Instead, Klaus catches the flash of hurt and his expression sobers, his fingers curling tight around the coffee mug, however burnt.

"Well, I didn't say that..." Ben's the only one capable of drawing out a timbre so vulnerable, and it shows in the slight widening his eyes, the nervous huff, the fidget of his fingers around his mug. Pale eyes drop to the coffee, staring it down as if it has answers.

"But you had to run off and save the day, be all heroic, jeez," he huffs, but there's no heat behind it, not like there might be. Now, it's his turn. He doesn't meet his eyes. "... Did it hurt?"

"No," Ben says, giving him a soft smile. "Vanya held me as I went." He wants Klaus to know he wasn't alone in those final seconds. Because despite what he says or how he acts, he knows he's felt guilty for holding him back all those years. It had never been Klaus's decision, but his own that had kept him there. "It felt like letting go. I didn't realize how hard I'd been fighting to stay until I didn't have to."

He reaches out and puts a hand on Klaus's arm. "It's okay, Klaus. I'm okay."
He pauses, willing Klaus to look back up at him and squeezing his arm. "And you're going to be okay too."

"She doesn't want you here, so she's sending you back."

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oh man im so rusty sorry

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