The sharp edges of his smile never quite faded. His jaw was forever set into a grim smirk.
It was not noticeable unless you paid attention to the lines of his face. They were stuck in a perverse and hollow grimace. He looked restless and dissatisfied all the time. His charm resided in his manners, which were a forcible attempt on his part to remain between the boundaries of courtesy. This natural inclination for pleasantry, combined with his violently contorted features made for a miserable, unbearable picture.
She hadn't had time to analyze it any further; it had only been a strong impression, arresting but fleeting. After tonight's events, though, his physiognomy would forever inspire respite and curiosity. Bonnie knew the first was a natural reaction to the discrepancy of his dual nature, and the latter a weakness, because whatever was hidden underneath that hardened skin, she should never wish to unravel.
Klaus had caught many looking at him with the semblance of revolt and fear in their eyes, but her stare had been particularly odd. He had caught contempt and anger, but he had also caught disappointment, as if she had expected something different from him, something less artificial and rehearsed. She had looked at him as if he were the jester, the entertainer, the simple fool who, all throughout the play strove to cheat honourable men and women out of their senses and make a mockery of them.
He had not been able to respond to her look in any other way than with his usual playful threats which had made him seem all the more comical and grotesque. Vampires are self-loathing by nature, but hybrids need self-loathing in order to keep themselves in check. And what he loathed more than anything about himself was this constant tendency of his to compensate aesthetically whatever felt ridiculous or foreign. He was a slave of appearances; not physical ones, but social and emotional. He felt the need to effuse a kind of ineffable charm, a sensuous and perfectly attuned affableness in order to feel he was living by his personal code. He filled empty, barren spaces of cruelty and silence with flattery and obsequiousness and he comforted his pressing solitude with grand gestures and eloquent speeches. It was the way of a man growing too old for his time.
Bonnie had barely traced part of his surface with her eyes, but as the late night cast its bleak, white shadows over the tree tops, he grew more and more convinced, standing alone in the woods, that he had been discovered, he had been taken for a fool.
And wasn't it justified in every possible way? Here he was, running away from his subordinates, letting the doppelganger in the hands of an unstable vampire, leaving his sister behind, lost and furious, standing on the edge of his life, waiting with dread the moment he would meet his foe again.
And all he could think of in those moments was how ridiculous he had been, how completely pointless he had seemed to her. Not only was the witch alive and strong, but she was also far above him, sensing in him something lowly and cheap. Why did he feel this way? Who knew. He was the slave of appearances.
Bonnie climbed up her stairs slowly, measuring every step with a frustrated sigh. She held onto the banister, swinging slightly in motion, hoping she could prolong this quiet time, this pause in events. She would have to speak to Jeremy tomorrow, to find a way to appease the ghosts that had resurfaced.
She felt a wall blocking her way, the wall of silence from her ancestors.
As she opened the door to her room she didn't even notice the figure standing by the window. She walked in absently and sat down on the bed, looking at her feet.
"Has the witch tired already?" a voice rang into her ears.
She jumped up terrified.
Klaus' lips curled up in disdain as she quickly raised her hands to protect herself.
"What are you doing here? Who let you in?"
"Myself actually. You're not entirely human, love, and I'm not entirely vampire."
"I don't care what you are or why you've come, but you are leaving right this moment. Leaving and never returning to this town."
"Now what kind of manners are these? A young lady like you should be more considerate. You wouldn't want me to take exception, would you?" he asked cordially.
"I would, actually. I'd rather have your contempt than your approval. It's all empty threats anyway," she stated boldly, stepping towards the door.
"Is that so? Tonight was just a game to you then? You think I will spare your loved ones every single time? Fortune has smiled on you twice already."
"It has nothing to do with luck. You're the one playing games with everyone, when you don't even know what you want. You act recklessly and then you expect things to work in your favour. But we all know you're actually weaker than you appear," she spat.
"What you all know amounts to nothing and you shall remain in the dark as long as you continue to belittle me. Sweet Elena thought she could trick me and get away with it, but she is under my control now, hanging onto her life because I allow it. Stefan himself misunderstood me for a weak-minded person, but he is now contemplating life without humanity. And you, Bonnie, are simply vexed that your own magic is limited and you are bound to your mortality," he replied curtly, advancing on her.
"Elena is not just a doppelganger and Stefan is not just a blood-thirsty vampire, they are both stronger and better than that, they are individuals and they are united above humanity and whatever you have done can't take that away from them. As for myself, my magic might not be enough to defeat you, but my mortality will. I have a soul, whereas you are empty," Bonnie replied acidly.
Klaus rolled his eyes in amusement. "How inspiring. You are a true mystic, Bonnie. I am surprised you haven't tried to vanquish me with the power of love. It seems like your choice of delusion."
"Don't mock me."
"Naiveté is barely worth mocking," he commented nonchalantly.
"Then why have you come here tonight?" Bonnie burst angrily. "To prove your point? To throw another performance? Are you afraid we weren't convinced?"
Klaus' nostrils flared. She was right. She was completely right. He had come looking for conviction.
The same flicker of disappointment and contempt crossed her eyes again.
"That must be it. You want to make sure we're all scared and powerless, that you've shut us up. Too bad you can't even convince yourself," she said, her body shaking from anger and fear.
Klaus' expression turned livid.
He knocked the dressing table next to him across the room and it smashed against the wall, the mirror breaking in half and all the bottles crashing around her as various objects landed at her feet.
She glared at him and started muttering a spell she knew would shield her.
The shame and disgust began to burn his eyes, turning his loathing onto himself like a fiery dagger, thrust right into his pride. If he reacted now, he knew whatever he did would be stupid and low, something base and hateful, self-destructive and pathetic. It would just prove her right.
Instead of grabbing her neck and yanking her on the bed to drain her life as his first instincts told him, he lowered his eyes in pain, his fingers trembling nervously, and he slowly collapsed, kneeling in front of her.
Bonnie was too shocked to move or speak. The spell died on her lips.
Klaus now stood with his head down, his arms hanging loosely by his sides, his fingers twitching every now and then in fury, his forehead brimming with sweat and fever. There was a kind of desperate arrogance about him, which clung to every inch of him.
"What are…what are you doing?" Bonnie asked in astonishment. She felt awe and terror. He looked like a demented young man in the midst of having a nervous breakdown or an outburst of uncontrollable hysteria.
He was too angry and too tired, tired of himself and the world, tired of running constantly and sleeping scared, waking more anxiously than before, feeling less powerful and more hateful. He sensed how everyone was leaving, everyone was drawing further away from him. Stefan and Rebekah would disappear, either by his hand or someone else's and he would meet his fate too and no one would approach him to give him a new life. He had to keep struggling aimlessly until his end, forever dissatisfied, forever alone.
But Bonnie did not run. Instead, she did something quite irrational and absurd. She somehow knew he would not do anything.
She stepped closer to him until his head reached her chest. She looked down at him with curiosity and resentment, tracing the same fixed jaw and scornful smirk.
She was about to use her magic on him to knock him out, when he suddenly took hold of her hand.
He didn't grip it roughly, he barely held it up in front of his face.
She stood frozen on the spot.
With one gentle move, he pressed his lips to her palm. He kissed her skin.
Bonnie was sure she was seeing things or that she had gone insane. Her heart was barely keeping up with what was happening. She felt so terrified and yet so miserable, he was so pitiful, so completely repulsive, but still noble and lost in his own way.
She shook her head. There was no room for mercy or for sympathy. But why was he bent on humiliating himself then? This was worse than punishment. This was worse than his violence.
He took her other hand just as before and pressed the same cold kiss on the skin of her palm.
"P-please…stop," she mumbled, tears welling up in her eyes.
Klaus then proceeded to draw the two hands together and hold them into his own.
Bonnie tried to pull away, but she felt glued to the spot, mesmerised and horrified, at the same time.
His grip tightened as she tried to move away.
"No," she said, to no one in particular, as she felt him dragging her down with him.
Once she had fallen down on her knees, it was too late to turn away.
His eyes found hers immediately. The look of dismay was too palpable to ignore.
"Here I am, without any feelings left in me. Entirely myself," he spoke blankly, surveying her face in hunger.
"Klaus…"
"Bonnie," he began, his eyes growing wider as his power enveloped her senses.
"You will forget my coming here, you will forget my words and my face. But until you do, we have some moments left. Look at me as if there was no hate, no anger, no disappointment. Look at me, just me," he compelled her.
A hazy film covered Bonnie's eyes as she blinked several times in confusion. Upon gazing at him once more, her face instantly softened and a warm, shy smile curled the corner of her lips.
She tried to say something, but words failed her as she kept looking at his beautiful features which were slowly coming apart, for the first time. The grimace was fading and she was seeing everything in a new light, less dreary, but just as heart-wrenching. There was nothing in his face to inspire love.
But the compulsion did its job. Her hands slowly travelled to his face. She cupped one of his cheeks with her hand. The hand he had kissed.
Klaus smiled bitterly and leant into her touch.
Her silly, absent smile widened as she grazed his cheeks.
"You're very strange," she finally spoke, her words coming out like lost remnants of a previous discussion.
"Strange and familiar," she added, searching his eyes.
Klaus nodded his head, chuckling. He had been around for so long, everyone was bound to find him familiar.
Her expression changed suddenly and a sharp pain jolted her entire body.
She blinked mystified.
She was kneeling on the floor of her room. The window was open. A soft breeze was coming through.
There was no one in sight. She looked around in amazement. Her dressing table was lying in pieces in the opposite corner of the room. Everything was broken. Shards of glass were spread over the smell of perfume made her dizzy.
She got up shakily and sat down on her bed, putting her head into her hands.
Fragments of memory melted into the image of a grim smirk.