"I hate you."
Klaus smirks, sucking more fumes from his cigarette. It floods his lungs, coating them in a thin layer of comfort, before exhaling. The calming chemicals linger, though, and that's what he's after.
"Love you too," he replies, sarcastic, obviously not thinking about what Ben is really saying; not thinking, or just not caring.
"I mean it," Ben says, voice heightening slightly from Klaus' nonchalance.
Klaus rolls his eyes and flicks his dying cig off the roof. He doesn't need to look to see the thin, glowing trail as it falls; it's a brief thing, and he doesn't care for those things any longer.
He leans back against the roof, lingering warmth of the tiles against his back. Ben is diagonal to him, on his left side, sitting huddled by one of the many chimneys. Klaus can just make out his figure, cloaked in his dark uniform; his hair, though, catches the moonlight, making it easier to distinguish.
"And why, pray tell me, do you hate me now?" Klaus drawls out, remnants of smoke floating around in the night air.
"You - you're selfish," Ben stammers, trying to string together words. "You're rude, and mean, and you don't care, and - and disloyal - and -" He's rambling now. Klaus closes his eyes, hearing the tears prickling their way along Ben's eyelids as he chokes and falls silent.
"I hate you," he finishes, in a whisper.
Klaus lifts himself with hardly a grunt of exertion. He turns himself, if a bit awkwardly, onto his hands and knees, slowly crawling along the still-warm rooftop shingles. Ben isn't very far, it doesn't take very long to reach him, their faces hovering ever-so-close.
"I hate you," Ben warns, whisper wavering. Klaus reaches forward, plucks the mask off Ben's face, drops it in his lap.
"I love you too," Klaus repeats in his own hoarse whisper, without the sarcastic edge this time. He kisses Ben, then, or at least presses his lips where a kiss should be. Ben is stiff, stubbornly so, so Klaus insists further.
It doesn't work. He pulls away. Their faces are so close, and Ben's eyes are squeezed tightly closed; tears seep from the creases.
Long arms, shaking and uncertain, are then wrapping their way around Klaus' shoulders, looping around his neck and violently tugging him back, lips against each other in an sloppy clash. It's movement, and warmth, and passion and violence and love and all these emotions Klaus usually hates, but he just can't hate the way Ben kisses, so he gives in.
And this time, when Ben pulls away, he gasps a little, "I love you." And Klaus has no choice but to believe him.