It was a foggy night, the mist in the air clinging to Klaus' skin. He sat on the bench outside the rehab center with his knees pulled up to his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the noise of people driving by and Ben talking in his ear.

"Just do it. You know he loves you," his brother's ghost insisted. Klaus scrubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. He was right, you did love him. But that's before he got sent to rehab again. Klaus wouldn't blame you if you'd blocked his number and found a better guy.

"Klaus," Ben said a little louder. He wasn't going to let his brother block him out. "Call him."

"Fine," Klaus snapped, though he immediately felt guilty for talking to Ben that way. But not guilty enough to apologize. He pulled out his phone that the receptionist had returned to him, trying to ignore the feeling of the plastic hospital band on his wrist.

The phone rang once. Then twice. Oh God he really isn't going to pick up-

"Hello?"

Klaus let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He wanted to say so many things. That he was sorry, he wanted to come home, he wanted you to yell at him and stop giving him what he doesn't deserve. But all he said was a broken, "Hey, baby. Just callin' to say I love you."