𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔬𝔣 ℑ𝔪𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔰 x Klaus Mikaelson

Seventy-Six

But a part of me thought...a part of me knew he would not want to come when he found out.

And it was not because of the severity of what I'd done. Not because I'd cost him what he wanted. But because he would wonder if I would do it again. His endless paranoia would eat at him for this perceived betrayal no matter what it was. No matter what I did.

Klaus had spent his entire life scared that all those around him would eventually leave him. Hate him.

All because of the terrible things his wretched father instilled within him.

And I would become just another person who disappointed him.

It hurt to think about.

So, I continued walking, trailing my hands along the walls and basking in this finite moment that would end in a matter of days. Of hours.

The house was...familiar now.

It was home now.

I loved the iron setting of the large staircase. I loved the bed-the bed in which Klaus would wrap me up in his arms and not let me go until the early morning sun rose from the horizon. I loved the paintings adorning the walls. The art that littered every inch of the house.

It was odd for a house to have such sentimental value. I'd only had that once before. In a city I had left behind to come here. To help my traitorous family.

A city-a home I would return to when this was over and done.

A broken piece of me hoped Klaus would come with.

I didn't know how long I wandered the mansion's halls, committing it to memory. It was only when I entered the living room that I truly came back to myself.

A glass cup of amber liquor hung from the hand of a motionless body. Klaus stared aimlessly into the crackling fireplace, the flames licking the top of the setting. His knuckles were white where he gripped the glass, and though I knew he felt my presence he didn't turn.

The air was tense and my body froze on instinct.

And I just...knew. Knew this was what I had been gearing for since they all left for the island. Since Kol died.

I thought I'd had more time. I thought that maybe it would be days from now.

I wasn't ready.

"Katerina has the cure." Klaus mumbled in that monotonous voice of his, still staring absently into the fire. He brought his cup up to his lips, taking a heavy sip before he allowed it to dangle in his grip again.

And though I could not see his face from the angle he was sitting, I could tell I would find absent eyes and a heavy face.

"I know." I whispered back, my heart sinking in my chest. Drowning.

I'd known this moment was coming.

And I was still not ready for it to begin.

I needed more time. I wanted more time.

There was a moment of silence. "You've spoken to Rebekah." Klaus surmised.

"No."

He turned then, confusedly and in slow movements. He placed his whiskey down on the coffee table. "Then how, praytell, did you know that we have lost the cure to the enemy?" he furrowed his brows. For the first time in his eyes I saw something akin to paranoia. Suspicion.

I knew it was because he was angry. Not at me.

Not yet.

But at the entire situation. The fact he had lost something he wanted to the woman he despised. And I didn't doubt that was manifesting in other ways.