Little White Lies | Klaus Mikaelson (1)

Expression

"No, Bonnie, I'm fine, I swear," I muttered into the phone once more, which was held securely between my shoulder and ear as I held a garbage bag. I grabbed a few from the drinks left over from the night before, throwing them into the industrial sized bag as I spoke about my passing out from last night. "I just wasn't getting enough sleep."

"Fine. I don't believe you, but fine," she said with an elongated sigh from the other end of the phone. "So let's go over this again. You were having really bad dreams about your past. What sort of dreams?"

I froze for a second, but quickly gathered my wits. "It's nothing important, just random childhood trauma. It's really no big deal,"

"Oh, come on, Emma-," she began before I interrupted her.

"Bonnie..." I muttered in a warning tone, telling her not to press the issues.

"Fine. I'll drop it," she assured me.

I nodded, though she couldn't see it, "thanks,"

"So anyways, they seem to follow a pattern, right? And they're really vivid and they're like the actual thing," she explained to herself.

"Right," I muttered, moving on to the living room and throwing a few red solo cups into the bag. God, how many people were here last night?

"I'm not really sure what that could be. And you're sure they're not just dreams?" She questioned.

I nodded. Without a doubt this was something that wasn't normal. "Positive," I assured her.

"Okay then, Em. I'm not really sure what that could be. I'll look through some of my Grams's grimoires, but I can't promise I'll find anything," she spoke.

I grinned, "thank you so much. You're the absolute best. Are you certain I can't help with anything?"

Bonnie sighed loudly from the other end, "you know Aztec?"

I chuckled, rolling my eyes at her sarcasm, "just a bit."

"Of course you do. I gotta go, I'm gonna try to see what's wrong. Love you," she said.

"I love you, too," I responded, hanging up with a long sigh. God, I was exhausted. I walked over to the piano, grabbing a few more drinks off of the table next to it.

I gripped one of them, bringing it up to my lips. I paused, sniffing it. What's the worst thing I could get? Cancer? Bet.

I heaved a long sigh, before I siping the drink gingerly, sighing contently as the Luke-warm liquid burnt its way down my throat.

I heard a series of footsteps, before someone spoke, "desperate times, I take it."

That damned accent.

I turned towards Klaus with a groan, "why are you here?"

"Not judging you, for starters,"

"How gracious of you."

"Although, if you are determined to get drunk, then perhaps I might recommend something a little more sanitary," he suggested with a smirk across his face.

I scoffed, staring him in the eyes, bringing the drink up to my lips and downing it, keeping my eyes on his over the rim. I threw the cup in the garbage bag forcefully.

"Well, then. You showed me," he said sarcastically.

"Shouldn't you be out chasing Tyler to the ends of the earth? Stealing candy from babies? Or are there some hopes and dreams you still want to crush around here?" I asked scornfully, throwing a few more cups into the trash.