All I want for Christmas
He sat in his living room. Alone. Angry. He tried blowing off steam by painting the turmoil inside him. It turned out hideous and he threw it into the fireplace. Klaus paced up and down the living room, the giant empty living room he had built as his home a hundred years ago.
This year it would be different, he had promised himself that much. Good resolutions, just like every year. Something always went wrong tough and he ended up in the same situation. It didn't matter where he was; how he had gotten there or how much time he had spent there before. This scenario was so familiarly painful it drove him insane.
It was Christmas Eve. And he was alone. Utterly and completely alone. He didn't have it in him to rage anymore. He had screamed his anger to the skies before and knew there was no answer to be found. Some sadistic feeling held him back from destroying the place. For a second he thought it felt like he was feeling hope that someone might return. Then he beat his chest with his claws until he bled, trying to tear out that heart that made him think that way.
So now he sat in the giant armchair, watching his artwork sizzle and crumble, consumed by the flames. A bottle of bourbon and a half empty glass were sitting on the table next to him. In an hour the bottle would be empty and another one would be opened. When he was drunk enough he could start wallowing in self-pity and be pathetic to his heart's content. It wouldn't matter.
Yet once more, that uncomfortable feeling tugged at his soul. Hope. He shook his head and downed some more alcohol. He couldn't deny he had thought this year would finally be different. Hayley. The baby. Elijah. Even Rebekah. He thought they would come and that they would celebrate Christmas together. Instead everyone had taken off. In the quietest corner of his heart, the one Klaus rarely listened to, he knew that it was mostly his fault. If he hadn't tried manipulating, exploiting, threatening each and every one of them they might still be around… If, that is. If. He never learnt. His Kingdom crumbled to dust before his eyes and he couldn't care less because all he wanted was for someone, anyone, to care enough to walk through that front door and bring solace to his wounded soul. Camille. The thought burnt in his head for a second, before he stomped it out. No. Not tonight. He didn't want the pity, the borrowed time of a puppet. He wanted family. After all, it was all he had had throughout the years.
As he drunkenly staggered to his feet, he walked across the room and stopped in front of the large mirror in the hallway. His reflection didn't surprise him. It was the same face he saw every day. He averted his gaze when he looked himself in the eyes. He walked through the empty house and stopped here and there. Reminiscing, thinking, considering. He lost track of time after a while.
Suddenly he found he was back in the living room, a dagger dipped in white oak dust in his hand. Two more bottles of whiskey lay at his feet. He stared att hem for a second, then swirled the dagger in his fingers, probing the tip against this thumb, casually pointing it at his chest, then at his heart. He wondered how long it would take until they removed the dagger from him. Would they ever wake him again? Did it matter? It didn't seem so at the moment. Then again nothing seemed relevant at the moment. The point of the dagger rested against his skin, right above his dead heart. Surely one jerk of his hand would be enough. Then he would only have to wake when they had returned to him. He wouldn't need to walk another day with the thought of having driven them away, all of them. It was too painful to bear. When he looked at the dagger resting against his chest, his vision blurred, he wasn't sure if his hands were shaking or not. He would have liked to think they weren't. He gripped the dagger with both hands. If someone were to come right now… He almost laughed. He should have given up on that hope a very long time ago… He was alone. Forever. Truly. Alone. Anything else was inconsequential.
He stared into the flames one last time. They would die down. There was no harm in fading out now. He tightened his grip on the hilt.
I cause my own downfall, he thought with bitterness.
A sharp pain, then the world went black.