Klaus can't remember the last time he felt loved. By his family, at least. Mother was always warm smiles and gentle hands, swiping the hair off his forehead or dressing wounds from missions... but he knows it wasn't real love. She was manufactured to care for them, a nurturing presence.
Sometimes he'll lie to himself, twist a memory to warm his chest. A soft kiss pressed to his cheek, his forehead, his mouth, warm body wrapped around him, sweet affection. Tries to tell himself that's how it went, that they meant something more than just the desperate fumblings of touch-starved teens. That's all he wanted, even then. To be kissed, and held, and loved. He's pretty sure all Ben wanted was another hand on his cock, a distraction.
All his life, all Klaus has ever wanted was something real. Flesh and connection, breath and bond. He searched for it anywhere he could. In all the wrong places, so it would seem. Figures the one place he'd find it would be somewhere he'd never considered an option, in a time when he could've been killed for it. Figures it was a dream so far away he couldn't keep it. And he swears he never told him, but he catches Ben looking at him sometimes, something like pity in his gaze. Something like guilt.
And when it's more than just stares, Klaus accepts it. He'll take love wherever he can get it. And he thinks maybe this time, Ben means it. Figures. Figures that the love, the bond he's been yearning for all his life, falls into his lap when it's no longer tangible. No longer warm, no longer real.
But it's his. It's his love; theirs. And maybe this was meant to be. Maybe he was always destined to walk the realm of the dead. The forgotten, the ignored. Connect with the loneliest of all. Someone left behind, in a distant past. Someone once close, gone too soon. Disconnected from the world around him. Someone only his. A love so strong it pulls him away from the living and into the dark. There's something so pretty about that image. Somewhere he belongs.
He'll take what he can get.