your last | klaroline

wrong with me

                                  your last
                             chapter nine
                             wrong with me

  I've been so absorbed in what's happening with me that I forgot about telling Klaus altogether. For the time being, the only Mikaelson I talked to was Rebekah, given that she denied Klaus's every request to see me.
 
Everything has accelerated; I can barely make fifteen minutes without throwing up. Again. I'm sensitive to smells; the smell of blood sends me into yet another puking fit; despite Rebekah's desperate attempts to get me to feed.
 
Don't get me wrong. I'm starving. But the thought of human blood, at the moment, makes me wonder how I ever had issues with temptation as a human in the first place.
It's too... salty. And chunky. Bleh.

I'm almost positive I resemble a living train wreck. Dark eye bags from lack of sleep, ghostly pale skin, hair that I've almost considered chopping off a few times this hour.
I wrinkle my nose at the thought.

Interrupting my thoughts is a heavy knock at the door, and accelerated, nervous breathing. Rebekah? Hardly. I doubt she'd be nervous or even knock at my door.
 
But when I hear a masculine, frustrated grunt at my lack of response, I know immediately who's behind the thin piece of wood separating us.

I sit up, patting down my hair and trying to appear healthy. I clear my throat.

  "Come in."

How come, no matter how hard I try, my words always come out raspy and broken? I push past it, suddenly frightened when the door creaks open a centimetre.

Where's Rebekah when you need her? Come on, come on. I don't want to risk Klaus being here. I don't want him to see me like this.

  His gaze meets mine, and worry glazes over his pupils, which dilate upon sight. He does not look like he has slept in days. Neither have I.

  He doesn't say anything, and I start to worry that he's figured out that I'm pregnant. Did Rebekah tell him? That sneaky son of a-

  But Klaus's eyes distract me.
He takes a cautious step in my direction, looking into my eyes for permission. I nod, and he seats himself at the edge of my bed, slowly, as if I'll break upon contact.

I expect him to ask the usual. I haven't been sick for a while, given that I'm a vampire, but from what I can remember, it usually is something around the lines of; how are you feeling? are you okay? do you need something? But, given that he is Klaus Mikaelson, his words are a little different.

He looks down, and up, before finally meeting my gaze.

"I'm sorry."

I quirk an eyebrow, leaning forward in my seat. I'm not sure if I can believe my ears. Klaus Mikaelson is apologizing?

"Over the last few days, we've been attempting to find out what's happening to you, and..." he shakes his head, clearly frustrated. "We haven't found anything."

  What's happening to you. I listen to his voice say those words over and over in my head. Rebekah has been saying what's wrong with you, like there's something gone horribly wrong with my body. This baby is not wrong. It's right. So right.
 
  He blinks, and repeats the two words I've never heard him say before.