The brunette jumped in surprise, removing her cold hand from his warm one when she felt something akin to an electric current travel through her. "Uh...sorry," Rosalie gestured behind her, maintaining eye contact with him, injured hand wrapped along the span of her stomach, "I should probably go."
"I don't think that's a good idea," the hybrid frowned. "It's the dead of night and I wouldn't wander around if I were you."
Truthfully, nothing bad would happen to Rosalie at any time of the dayㅡhe made sure of that, but he couldn't help himself. Klaus longed to be in her presence, even if she recalled none of their past. He was only...hybrid?
"Do you want to come inside?" Klaus noted the look of hesitation on her features and playfully added, "Don't worry, I'm not an axe murderer."
She burst out laughing, making him smile. Rosalie shook her head, grinning. "Gee, I sure hope not."
They made eye contact, eyes shining with joy as warmth coursed through their veins. It might be completely idiotic, to enter a stranger's house in the middle of the evening; but the brunette somehow knew she could trust him. Rosalie was seriously thinking of taking a personality test.
Klaus smiled, tilting his head towards the front door, "Come on."
Like an idiot, the brunette followed him to the steps of the mansion. A gentle smile was plastered on his lips, pinkish under the dim lighting. The Monet swallowed thickly, trying to force the lump that had formed in her throat down. Now that the distance between them was somewhat shorter, and nothing else held her attention, she could observe him a bit clearer.
The veins on his arms, blue and purple twists beneath the milky expanse of his skin, were visible. Every flexion of his muscles suddenly seemed like a vital thing to notice.
The creak of the front door opening snapped the brunette out of her daze and she walked inside when he held it open for her. The interior was, for the lack of better word, stunning. Nearly every surface was made of polished marble, faint cracks of onyx decorating the pearly surface. Gold leaves and vines were scattered beautifully on the ceiling. Paintings of lavender fields and waterfalls occupied fractions of the wall at spaced intervals.
Klaus cleared his throat from behind her, making her whirl around to face him. He was holding a black robe at the corners, eyes silently asking for her permission.
"Please," he muttered before averting his gaze from her build. Apart from his concern for her occasional shivers, the revealing fabric of her clothing was far too much for him to handle. "You must be freezing."
"Thank you." Rosalie smiled, turning her back and slipping her arms in, careful not to disturb her injury. "You have a wonderful home."
Klaus scratched the back of his neck, mumbling a small thanks. "Do you want some tea? Or milk?" he questioned nervously, unsure of what to do.
"Sure," she mumbled absentmindedly, looking at a painting of the seaside. Her hands, strained and competent alike, were tucked in the pockets of the robe.
"Rosalie?" Klaus called out after a few minutes. The brunette in question turned her head towards the direction of his voice, feet trudging across the threadbare carpet.
v. evening talks
Start from the beginning
