The radio was playing a calming piece of classical music from it's corner of the room, though the (apparent) teenage girl sitting on the couch may as well have been none the wiser.
Anneli Holten had been stuck in the same position with her neck hunched forwards for the last hour; a sketchbook sat in her lap with a strange portrait of a person whose she had plucked deep from her mind. Like she always did, Anneli allowed her mind to do all the work and her unfocused eyes took in absolutely nothing from the drawing - they would continue to do so until she had finished and the thing controlling her mind would let her out of her mental cage.
She would draw what her mind forced her to, and until she completed it she would never really see it.
(And of course it was always a toss of the dice if she understood the message or not.)
Staring unblinking at the page, her hand moving rapidly over the sketch, she completely forgot that she was expecting a knock at the door.
Too focussed on what was in front of her, her short and choppy platinum hair covering some of her face and legs criss-crossed underneath her, the sound (when it did come) fell upon deaf ears as she forgot about it a second later.
The flat she sat in was moderately clean, bare of most things except the necessities and a shabby looking couch. The springs dug into her thighs no matter how many times she changed position. She had learnt to ignore it. She had been forced into uncomfortable situations since she was a child.
She should have gotten up to change out of the clothes she had slept in, but it was early in the morning and she was preoccupied.
Her head snapped up after a few minutes as she realised it was the door she was hearing, and not jusr her mind playing tricks on her.
A tug at the back of her mind made her go back to the drawing. Distractedly, she called out, "let yourself in."
The lanky figure who shut the door behind him couldn't have been more happy to see his dearest friend. "My dearest Anneli, how are you doing this fine evening?"
"It is nine in the morning," she said blankly back, too focussed to lift her gaze from the paper.
Klaus grinned.
"Lovely as ever, I see," he approached and flopped down on the other side of the couch, sprawling his limbs out to take up most of the space.
She wordlessly readjusted, turning her body away so that he could not see her drawing as she brought her knees up.
"I need a favour."
"You're shitfaced," she deduced, not having to look up to notice the strong smell of weed and probably a concoction of other illegal substances in the air. "Rehab went well, I see."
"Can you really blame me?" he leant back and sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I haven't had anything in weeks."
Choosing not to comment further, Anneli shaded a part of the paper carefully and was very much aware of him watching her movements. He opened his mouth to say something when she cut him off.
"What's the favour?" She asked plainly, getting right to the point.
"I... may or may not need you to accompany me back home." He rushed out, trying to gaige her reaction while drumming his fingers along the couch cushions.
"We are home." She responded lightly, a tiny smirk forming as she knew her sarcastic naivety would only frustrate him.
"My childhood home. You know what I meant."
She hummed. "Because you want me to attend your fathers funeral."
He threw his head back and chuckled at her bluntness. "You know I'm never going to get used to you and your little tricks," he leant his head down to see her face better, half covered by her choppy bangs. "But yes. That's exactly what I was going to say."
She hummed again.
Anneli was aware of his movements as he got down on the floor in front of where she sat, on his knees. He clasped his hands together in a praying position. "Please come with me," he begged. "I won't survive without you!"
An eyebrow raised a fraction. "You would survive just fine," she pressed down to get harsher lines across the paper. "Providing there was enough alcohol and drugs to numb the pain of being around your siblings for so long."
He chuckled. "You know me so well. So?"
"So what?" She asked calmly, just to irritate him.
"So, will you accompany me to my childhood hell so I don't have to go alone?"
She met his eyes for a brief second before they darted back down to the drawing. She finally exhaled through her nose and pulled the pencil away, rubbing her eyes tiredly with the other hand. She saw Klaus still on the ground in front of her sat with a pleading smile, and threw her sketchbook to the side before standing.
Her knees clicked as they straightened and the man scrunched his nose up at the sound.
She stretched her arms up above her head, hearing a satisfying pop in her shoulder. "Why do you want me there? I did not know your father, it would be too personal."
"Hey, we barely knew him either!" he waved it off. She rolled her neck back and to the side to ease out the stiffness and soreness in her muscles. "Come on, you know you want to take the walk down memory lane with me."
She threw him a look. "I really do not."
Klaus grinned expectantly up at her. "But..." he trailed off.
She took one last look at his pleading face before sighing and turning to walk into her bedroom.
"Fine!" She relented. Deep down something was telling her she should go anyways, despite her not wanting to meet the rest at such a personal and awkward event. "Just know I am less than enthusiastic about seeing your siblings again."
Klaus threw his fist in the air in success before scrambling up yo follow her to her room. "They love you, you're just like us. I thought you guys used to get along?"
She slid the black backpack out from under her bed and gathered some clothes to throw inside.
They did, sort of, but time had changed a lot of things and from what she heard from Klauses stories they were all misguided adults with ptsd and authority problems.
"Have you met me?" She murmured lightly back, throwing a look over her shoulder as he stood against the door frame.
"You're an acquired taste!" he exclaimed, and if it was supposed to give her any comfort, it did not.
She ignored him and listened to his footsteps as he headed back into the bare living room, folding up a jumper and placing it in the bag. It wasn't until she heard a turn of a page that she finally snapped out of her thought process.
"What's your latest artistic vision, Picasso?"
"Hey." She held her hand out. An invisible force sent the sketchbook flying out of his grasp and into her own. She frowned at him. "I told you not to look at those," she scolded in a slight whine, zipping up the bag after sliding in some pens and pencils.
Klaus slumped in defeat. "But they're good," he whined back. "And I'm curious what goes on in that crazy brain of yours! Who knows what you'll predict next - maybe you'll write out the code to some safe that dad has hidden and I'll be rich. Or maybe you'll draw yourself as a thirty year old and finally wake up as an adult!"
Anneli shook her head at the man child that she had to deal with, heading towards the shower with a faint smile.
Klaus muffled voice shouted out from behind the door as she turned the water on.
"Stop stressing, they like you! Even Ben thinks they'll be happy to see you!"
"No he doesnt!" she called back knowingly.
Ben's ghost spoke up from beside Klaus to tell him, "yeah, not really," a second later.