klaus hargreeves wasn't one to hold onto a lot of things. from a young age, he'd learned what was his wasn't really that way. his name was but a number like six others, his birthday was but shared with them over fancy dinner and a stiff "congratulations, children" from their father.

hellos and goodbyes were normal to his wickedly nonchalant life to the point he had the words engraved in his soul, where he'd gone from door to door, body to body, life to death to life again without being really capable of figuring out why he struggled so damn hard to stay a little longer than he'd thought he could.

hell, even the cigarettes he smoked were gone at the blink of an eye. pack after pack without failure to see if they lasted a little longer, or just to watch the smoke disappear into the night air that seemed much too chilly for early spring. his eyes darted everywhere on the street as he strided it down in that peculiar, particular way of walking that was so distinctly his, one would be able to spot if from a mile away.

his eyes, as a matter of fact, were so unfocused he barely paid mind to where his feet met the ground. a horrible mistake, might he add, after falling into a crater in the pavement with nothing but a mysterious hand holding him up.

ironically, holding onto that as tightly as he could was probably the only way he'd make it out alive.

"heeeey, beautiful person," he creaked out in a sheepish voice crack, like he was a child caught doing something to get itself in trouble. "please, please hold on a little longer and pull me up, yeah?"