Note: Another brief Klaus/Ben piece, simply because there isn't enough out there. I figure if I post more, maybe even more people will start catching on and we'll have a whole load to read.

Ah, dreams.

Anyway, all characters and such are copyrighted to Gerard Way.

Once, Klaus would have mistaken Ben's paleness for lack of color. A white slate, blank. He himself has self-consciously struggled against such a thing, splattered his canvas with black, added by the auburn shock of his hair. If only to convince himself he is not invisible, he will never be invisible, like Hargreeves always says.

He would watch Ben with empty, thoughtless eyes, wondering how he managed to smile such grand smiles, or how his eyes managed to glow so brightly when they were so pale.

And one day, he thought, How is he more colorful than me?

It scared him so much, he locked himself in his room for three days, binging on alchohol and cigarettes and any other sinful thing he could scrounge up.

Three whole days, until Pogo unlocked the door and Hargreeves came in and said, "Stop moping around, insolent child, and do something useful for once." He said it with a sneer, or perhaps a grimace. Pogo followed him, eyes trailing the boy with something like pity. So Klaus threw his lamp against the wall and got dressed and went back to class under the scorching stares of his siblings.

Ben said something, leaning over 00.05's empty desk, eyes all wide and innocent. It made Klaus want to clear his headache enough to think of where he might find another bottle of vodka.

Because how does he manage to be so damn colorful?

When alcohol and cigs weren't enough, Klaus tried out some drugs. He's sure Hargreeves knew; he's also sure his adoptive trainer didn't give a second thought to it.

Ben did, though. Of course.

Ben came and asked him about it, confronted him, cried for a bit, begged him to try to get clean.

Of course.

It was almost silly how perfectly natural it was, really. Klaus and Ben, mismatched color schemes. Blank slate and beloved canvas. And, God, when Klaus pushed him down on his bed and kissed him it was just too fucking natural. Searching hands and locked eyes and invisible noises, and it was just so easy and for once, Klaus was sure of something.

He finally found out that Ben was colorful, and so was he.

'Cause Ben was the moon. A little piece of the moon, a broken shard or something. And maybe he was a little high, a little less than sober, but it made sense. For once, it just all clicked.

Pale skin and shadowed eyes and iridescent hair, it seemed so obvious to Klaus just then that Ben should be the moon. And as he tried to explain this, in hazy slurs and an excited, euphoria-induced whisper, Ben laughed lightly and smiled up at him.

"Well, Klaus, if I'm the moon, you must be the sky."

And Klaus was certain that this was what love felt like.