There's something so definitive about that small action. The punctuation to the statement. A wax seal across an important letter. He means it, he's staying. And going out of his way to prove it.

Something in Klaus' chest swells, and it's a different kind of tightness than has been resting between the cage of his ribs for days he forgot to count. This isn't something borne of fear, but warmth, a feeling he doesn't know the name of, but has that distinct, familiarity of team, and of family. He wears a small, watery smile, not sure how else to show his appreciation besides a soft, "Thank you..."

He isn't sure he'll sleep, but with his brother right there, he can at least rest, and that's still more than he has had lately. He slowly eases down onto the bed, fixing the pillow to be under his head, which is precariously near Five's hip now, long legs curled half toward him, putting him in something of a ball. He's on his side, facing his brother and, idly without thinking about it (he can barely getting his muddled thoughts together at this point anyway), he reaches for Five's hand. He knows his brother has never been that big on physical affection (had any of them?) but Klaus is a tactile being, and maybe Five can put that side for the comfort it brings him right now.