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Chapter I
" Those layers of threaded Egyptian cotton are comfortable, but your bedsheets are not a shield keeping the world out," Rebekah announces her arrival with a quiet reminder of the truth.
Klaus groans as an answer, and he sinks deeper in the warm cocoon of soft layers of cotton. The room bathes in a darkness that the rays of the sun, which bypass the heavy curtains, aim to disturb.
As usual, canvas lay by the bed, and acrylics paints stain the rug. Art is a consuming part of Klaus' life, but for the last three days, he has disavowed it. Rebekah pulls the curtains, and the bright yellow rays spill in the room to chase the darkness. She opens the windows, and the fresh air fills the room. Klaus has a difficult time breathing. He sighs and sinks under the suffocating sheets.
Rebekah picks the sketchbook on the floor, and Klaus tore the pages as if the act could undo what he did for Bonnie three days ago. Between the shredded pages, there is half of her smile, and on the next page, there is her stubborn chin, which he can't get right. Although, the details matter little when he wants to tear up the drawing as soon as he finishes.
"Move to the side," Rebekah demands as she lifts Klaus' bedsheets to expose his alabaster skin to the sun.
"Whatever you've to say, I assure you that I heard it from Elijah or Finn. I believe that Kol tried his luck last night," Klaus replies as he moves to the other side of his bed, and he creates a small space for Rebekah.
She does not reply, and she does not offer what Klaus wants. Rebekah settles for what Klaus needs. She wraps her arm around his waist, and she rests her chin in the crook of his neck. Rebekah tightens her hug, and Klaus relaxes. For a dozen of minutes, they remain silent. Their heartbeats synchronise, and like those childhood mornings when Rebekah's naughtiness cost her freedom, they become each other pillar.
Klaus would sacrifice an hour in the park, and he would lay in Rebekah's small pink bed with his body hardly fitting on it. His feet would be dangling, and Klaus would care very little for the discomfort as long as he eased Rebekah's punishment with jokes.
Beds are no longer small, and his long legs perfectly fit in this bed. Klaus' arms are not around Rebekah, but she securely wrapped her arms around his waist. Klaus' pre-pubescent voice with rusty grave tone is not telling her that her punishment would only last one day, but Rebekah' silence comforts Klaus while reminding him that his turmoil should come to a quiet end.
The punishment is self-flagellation, and without pressuring emotions and a heart somersaulting, the regrets have come rushing. The gravity of his action has shackled his ankles and thrown him in a sea of emotions where he should drown.
As per se, Klaus does not regret his escape. He does not regret clinging to a moment of insanity. His cowardice shamed him, and the moment of boldness, which shattered it, remains tainted by Caroline's heartbreak.
He does not deserve his fate, and she does not deserve the embarrassment. Although, she is complicit in the shame of a relationship they had. Shared blame and shared blindness, Klaus only has merits because he chose to be bold.
"Thank you," Klaus whispers.
He has not decided what won Rebekah his gratitude: her advice before his wedding or her silent support. In truth, it matters little. Klaus closes his eyes, and for once, the sleep comes without hours awake dreaming about Bonnie's delicate features.
It must be the fourth times that her phone rings, and Bonnie switches it off after a quick glance at the caller Id. She places the cup of warm chamomile in Caroline's hand. With a slight concern, she watches Caroline pass her tenth call of the day.
"Elijah, I simply need to talk to him," Caroline attempts to remain cordial.
The tears have wrecked her vocal cords, and she sounds like her pain and exhaustion. Bonnie puts her hand on her friend's shoulder. This little scene is turning in a routine. Caroline passes the call, Bonnie offers a cup of tea, and one of the Mikaelson siblings shields their brother.
Elijah and Finn are polite in their refusal to allow a conversation with Klaus. Kol does not bother with the polite excuses, and Rebekah hangs up after her short answer. In the ten calls so far, Bonnie has heard many variations of the same excuses.
"Perhaps, you should give him some space," Bonnie finally uses the Mikaelson siblings' excuse, and it sounds as empty as when they say it.
Caroline stares at Bonnie between blue orbs, which start to shine. She wipes the tears, and she holds on her wavering conviction. A mistake, it can be nothing else but a mistake. Klaus Mikaelson would never abandon her at the altar. Therefore, Caroline ignores Bonnie as she ignored Elijah, Finn, and Kol. Rebekah is hard to ignore because she does not bother with the excuses.
"I need to speak to Klaus," Caroline shouts her demand, "Elijah, I'm exhausted. I haven't slept for the last three days. I have tried to solve the mess, which he caused. I understand that he was scared, and we all know Klaus. I simply need to talk him down. He is impulsive…" Caroline rants and she offers the excuses to rationalise Klaus' act.
Without excuses, nothing makes sense. Without excuses, Caroline would have to admit the impossible. Twenty years have not prepared her to accept anything ludicrous. She draws a deep breath, and she continues to list those excuses, which have allowed her to remain sane.
"Klaus needs space, and I swear that he will call back as soon as he can face you," Elijah politely attempts to say that Klaus has asked that she leaves him alone.
His exit during the wedding ceremony is a statement, which Caroline should digest. Although there lies the problem, communication is not Klaus and Caroline forte. They can decide to ignore the blatant truth to favour the comforting narrative. How else could they make their wobbly relationship work?
"Elijah?" Caroline refuses to give up, "I need to reschedule everything," she wastes her energy on the wrong topic.
"Klaus will call," Elijah no longer has the decency to listen to another explanation about catering and the difficulty of planning a wedding, "Caroline, give him space. You both need it." He hangs up before she can't argue.
"I don't need space," Caroline shouts as she carefully places her phone on the table, and she pretends to be calm.
"I don't need space. I need this wedding to happen as it should have three days ago," Caroline repeats while she addresses a sceptical Bonnie.
"You don't know Klaus," Caroline insists, and she may need to convince herself with that statement, "He loves me too much for being that stupid, and he would not destroy this," her statement is an embellished summary of their relationship.
"Maybe he needs time to remember that he loves you," Bonnie says from experience, "Caroline…" her friend interrupts her.
"We fight a lot, and space never solved anything. Klaus Mikaelson does not need a reminder that he loves me," Caroline says with conviction, and she massages her temples, "Do you know since when he has known that he was in love with me?" She asks Bonnie, but Caroline needs the reassurance.
"Twenty years," Caroline says, and she does not always look at those twenty years with fondness, "he loved me so hard that it convinced me to love him." She continues to highlight the strength of Klaus' love, and there is very little to say about her love for Klaus, "It took me years to admit that it was my only chance to great love."
"I'm not saying that he no longer loves you," Bonnie takes a deep breath, and her thoughts chase after memories of Klaus Mikaelson, " I'm saying that marriage is a big step, and…" She knows what she saw in Klaus' eyes, and she remembers what she heard in his voice, "He may just need time." Her words ring like the convincing lies, which she loves to tell herself.
"Then you should talk to him. If he needs space from me, he can at least let me know for how long. I have to rework the wedding details." Caroline says as she decides to overlook Bonnie's unsaid.
"Care, please" Bonnie no longer knows how to be diplomatic with Caroline's emotion.
"You don't understand, Klaus," Caroline warns against a statement, "he has moments of impulsivity. Something about being an artist, and he can be dramatic. Look, a banter for a misplaced spoon can turn in a giant fight. He creates a storm in a glass of water. Once we talk about it, there will no longer be an issue," Caroline insists, and Bonnie bites her tongue not to share the truth, which she saw in his eyes.
Her conscience bathes in guilt, which she cannot explain. She also cannot explain why she thinks a lot of that flashing instant. Bonnie draws a deep breath to soothe the ache. She attempts to stop the palpitations of her heart.
"Then wait for when he wants to talk to you," She says with a hesitation.
"Bonnie…" The tears fall and draw sinuous paths on Caroline's cheeks, "We don't need space. I don't need space. I need my fiancé to act like the man, who loved me for twenty years, and he can't do that unless we talk." Caroline wipes her tears, and the last days were surreal.
"If he does not want to talk to me, he can talk to you." She insists, and Bonnie cannot explain her guilty reaction to those tears.
"I don't know him, Care," Bonnie replies with reservation, "What could I tell him that could change anything." She attempts to resonate with an emotionally distressed Caroline, " He might need time and space."
"We don't all have the perfect relationship.
We don't all have the ideal boyfriend, Bonnie. I know him, and you don't. As a friend, you should understand my pain." Caroline misdirects her frustration, and the entitlement, which comes with pain, resonates.
"Caroline, I..." Bonnie hesitates, and her modesty guards the truth, which she hides from.
" I am asking for your help because I need to understand. I deserve to know for how long. I want to know why. Bonnie, we don't all have the ideal boyfriend, but Klaus is close to perfect," Caroline insists, " He loves me."
"He loves you," Bonnie quietly repeats, and Klaus' soft voice echoes in her mind, " He loves you." She repeats while she squeezes Caroline's hand.
For twenty years, obstinacy blinded Klaus to the truth. He was in love with the idea of her, and he had his perception of Caroline, which was never the woman that he dated. She had layers, which he could not appreciate, and what he could notice appeared empty and hollow. Therefore, he clung on a delusional belief.
Klaus takes a deep breath, and Rebekah's warmth becomes oppressive. His mind rebels against comfort, and there is the need to unearth the ugliness. There is the compulsion to flay the layers of skin to bare the flesh scarred by three years of a broken dream. Somewhere, Klaus demands absolution for bravely shattering the distorted glasses, which allowed him to overlook the hints.
"She was perfect," He accuses himself of not holding onto the thought of perfection as he did for three years, "Not sure why I managed to find the flaws. Caroline was perfect, and I think she works hard for it. Every morning, I would lie down and watch her built that perfection. The golden curls and the red carefully applied to her lips, and I would think you won her," Klaus sighs.
This morning is different, and Caroline is not chatting about things while he simplistic nods. Klaus has not slept in the bed, which they bought together. He hated that bed, but he never said anything. Elijah has offered the guestroom after Klaus denied Finn's offer for a room because he would not be able to stand a picture of a happy family.
Klaus sits, and he drags his knee to his chest. The green of Bonnie's eyes stains his finger after he spent four hours mixing paint to obtain the specific shade with the golden freckles, which only the sun knows how to reveal. Klaus is a perfectionist, but he could not love perfection. He tried with Caroline, and he had done it for seventeen years.
"I had my flaws, and they started to stain her perfection. I don't know…" Klaus passes his hand in hair.
Rebekah sits by his side, and he rests his head on her shoulder. His dusty blond hair almost amber contrasts with her cream shirt, and she silently listens. The emesis of emotions is virulent. Klaus takes a quiet decision to remove the blindfold from the eyes, and he stares at the dysmorphic shape of a relationship glued with perception and complacency.
"It crashed and burned after two months. You remember, or I never told you," Klaus can't remember if Rebekah witnessed one break up in an endless sea of them,
"I don't know the why we broke up, but it was trivial. It was so trivial that I can't remember, but from there, I could tell. A flap of butterfly's wings, which was too small to matter."
"She missed your opening night at a small gallery, and it was not as trivial as you make it sound. It was nothing major for your career, but you're a perfectionist. You work harder when the project is small because the mistakes are visible." Rebekah bursts Klaus' bubble, and she has mastered the art of doing it.
There is something comforting about her bluntness. In addition, after favouring omission and white lies, Klaus needs the brittle safety of harsh truth. He smiles with slight embarrassment. The deep line of his smile remains long after his smile dies. Klaus further dishevels his hair, and he sighs to free his lungs from the weight of choking unsaid words.
"Here, I thought that it was for something as small as a misplaced spoon or a stain of paint on the new couch." He sincerely expresses a quiet melancholy with a chuckle, "Those little fights, which are healthy until they turn in a subtle way to say harmful truths."
"I have lost count of all the fights over trivial details, which we used as a way to communicate. If we did not shout, everything remained shallow and rampant below the surface. I think we became afraid of listening to the other." Klaus continues with sudden objectivity.
"Project after project, it involved long hours of work. that I didn't have to think about what to say. I didn't have to look at Caroline with pink glasses. I didn't need a random thought to remind me that I won and should be happy about it." There is a hesitation heard through words, which he refuses to believe.
The truth frightens Klaus, and it is a reminder that he might have made a mistake. What sets Bonnie apart? What happens if he is de nouveau running after a challenge?
"Don't get me wrong; I was happy about it most of the time. I was happy with Caroline. I would have been happy with her, but it would not be enough. It was not the type of happiness, which makes an argument about spoon a banter. It was a happiness that fades as soon as I or she found an excuse to point out that we are miserable together even below the layers of happiness." Klaus explains, and Rebekah has the decency not to point out that she witnessed their breakable happiness.
"Deep down, I must have known. I just could not handle it well, and I was happy," There is a wave of rampant anger, and Klaus' frustration never strays away from his thoughts regarding his choice, "I was happy," He repeats with a strong accusation thrown against his greedy heart.
"You were comfortable," Rebekah corrects Klaus, and with a word, she shatters the remaining delusion, which Klaus wants to use as a shield.
"There is little difference between both states." Klaus amends with a lie, which he needs to believe.
"If there was not a difference, you would not have left Caroline to pursue happiness." She squeezes Klaus' shoulders.
"I did not run because I wanted to pursue happiness. I lost a chance at a comfortable in a life with Caroline, and so I run," Klaus sincerely answers.
"And so you will not go after her?" Rebekah surprises Klaus with her certainty.
Klaus does not bother questioning Rebekah, and his younger sister is observant. He does not believe that he was subtle.
"Why would I?" He has attempted to answer that question for the last three days, "and please don't start with a tirade about love. I could be wrong this time too. I was wrong for twenty years," He remains disillusioned, and his decision wrecked what little faith, which he had about his ability to love.
"You know better than to exchange a form of cowardice for another," Rebekah patiently says, "You deserve to be happy," she kisses Klaus' cheek.
Rebekah could always senses when Klaus closed his mind to a conversation. The implicit mention of Bonnie has forced him to return to his shell. Rebekah leaves Klaus' room with the last concerned glance at her brother.
"I was happy before this," He no longer believes his lies, and so the words hyper-resonate in his crowded mind, "I was happy."
Bonnie turns on her phone, and it immediately rings. She can't continue to ignore the call. Bonnie draws a deep breath, and she buries her discomfort with reasonable thoughts.
"Hello," She answers with joviality, which does not sound as false as it tastes on her tongue.
Somewhere along the way, the smiles started to mask the frown, and Bonnie no longer knows how not to pretend.
"Babe, finally," The relief in his voice cuts through her heart, and the guilt pours out of the wound, "I was starting to worry." Enzo continues after Bonnie's silence.
"Sorry," Bonnie sounds sincere, and she might be sincere.
Bonnie draws a deep breath, and she twists her tongue to dig the words out of her throat. When she does not say what he expects to hear, speaking appears to be a challenging task.
"I called you a dozen times." Enzo continues, and she hears his frustration.
She almost cares for his anger, and Bonnie assumes that her radio silence could concern him. Guilt is heavy, and she feels that ghost sensation. A waltz of eyelids blinks the tears away.
"I was with Caroline, and…" She halts, and so far, words escape her.
Bonnie passes her hand in her hair, and the curls tangle around her freshly manicured nails. Another sigh fails to do what she expects. Bonnie stares at her childhood home, and the lights are bright to expose her shame. She sits on the porch while she searches for comfort.
"How is she doing?" Enzo asks as his frustration disappears with understanding.
"She is doing how Caroline always does. So far, she is planning another wedding," Bonnie talks with ease.
Her hand presses on her stomach, and she tightly grips the loose fabric of her summer dress. Silence infiltrates the conversation, and Bonnie fights the desire to hang up.
"Okay…" Enzo says as an incentive, and so she can say anything.
Although, he does not notice the distance in her silence, and he confuses it with comfortable silence.
"How was your day?" Bonnie forces the words out of her throat, and they taste like ashes.
"Long…" He answers
"Okay," She replies with exhaustion.
Her finger presses harder on her stomach. The ghost sensation has yet to disappear. Her voice will tremble if she dares to speak. If she dares to stray further into thoughts, her mind will shatter.
"I'm starting to miss you." Enzo belatedly speaks when the silence starts to deafen him.
"I miss you too, but it is only a month. I will be back soon." Bonnie replies, and she attempts to spot the sincerity in her words.
Perhaps, the pieces will fall in place. She needs to miss him again. Although, she suffocates and does not dare to say it.
"Yeah, it is a month without my beloved girlfriend, and I don't think that we have been this long apart in the four years that we have been dating," Enzo says with amusement.
Bonnie twists her tongue until she ties her words in a knot, which stops their escape. Fourteen months, she has counted. Bonnie stares at her hand with growing anxiety. Fourteen months, Enzo has not noticed the distance.
"I guess that it can't do any real harm," Bonnie hesitantly offers a piece of the truth.
The relationship suffocates her, and the guilt chokes her. Between the hammer and the hard place, Bonnie survives more than she dares to live. With slow breaths, her hand releases the grip around the coarse fabric of her blouse.
"I really don't know how to do anything without you. Yesterday, I noticed that I could not find my favourite sunglasses. You're the one who knows where I put them," Enzo continues to remain obvious, and he has mastered the ostrich's art.
Bonnie does not have the strength to dig his head out of the sand, and fourteen months ago, she wished that she could have hidden her head in a hole. She continues to wish it.
"In the bowl by the entry, you must have forgotten them," Bonnie says out of habit, and the same boring routine weights on her.
There is nothing comforting in their routine, and the routine is a sour reminder of what used to be. Bonnie rises from the porch, and with each thought, she pleads for a haven, which would keep the world out. Her childhood home sounds like a perfect refuge, and it has not witnessed what her apartment in Cape Town did. The memories do not ooze from the wall, and there is no room, which rips her heart out as she passes by the door.
"You see; I don't know how to function without you," Enzo says, and Bonnie feels the crushing weight of those words on her shoulders.
Frail and brittle, her shoulders have fissures. Bonnie opens the door of her childhood home. Abigail's voice echoes on the wall, and Bonnie wants to rush in her mother's arms. Although, she stops to take the sight of familiar suitcases, and she has packed them for him so many time.
"Yeah…" Bonnie whispers while her heart races.
Enzo's luggage stands in the entrance of the Bennett-Hopkins household. His voice crowds her ears, and she can't take another step. She suffocates, and Bonnie halts.
With a strange twist, her mind evades in memories, which she suppressed. Bonnie only wants refuge.
"I almost feel lost, and I could not wait to have you back," Enzo confirms Bonnie's fears.
"Enzo, can I call you back?" Bonnie manages to say, and her hand is on the entrance door's nob, "Caroline needs my help," for once, Bonnie's lies sound like what they are.
She hangs up before Enzo can argue. She stares at his suitcases, and the decision appears to be one, which she can easily make. Although, there is a routine. Somewhere, there is love for her boyfriend. Somewhere not completely buried, there is love. She passes her hand on her stomach. The deep breaths never manage to stop her suffocation.
"I think that someone came in," Abby says as she walks toward the entrance.
The steps loudly echo in Bonnie's ears, and they drown the sound of her galloping heart. Guilt almost glued her to the parquet. Every second of the fourteen months, she believes that she deserves her fate. The ghost sensation becomes stronger, and she finally glances at her stomach. Her flat stomach and how could she leave?
"Sorry, Enzo," Abby shouts from the empty entrance, "I thought Bonnie was back, but she will be so happy to see you," She says as she returns to the living room.
Bonnie takes the first cab, which she manages to stop. For once, she only strives to breathe. She needs a refuge. Bonnie wants to fix everything, and so her routine does not frighten her because what she cherished no longer matters. Her fingers dig in her blouses as if they want to tear through the fabric to access her stomach. Fourteen months, she continues to drown. For once, she needs to breathe and to cling on the soothing effect of that breath.
Impulses never result on anything great for Bonnie. A call follows another call. She can't forever avoid Enzo, but for once, the mask feels too heavy. The guilt and her love for duty do not glue her to a spot. She refuses to suffocate, but Bonnie does not know what she needs to breath
"Hello," Klaus says as the door open on Bonnie.
The words, which he so confidently told Rebekah, do not hold the same value. Perhaps, he has lost his mind. His grip around the door tightens because he helplessly wants to touch her. She should not be here. Again, there are not mountains, and only the mountains do not meet. Men are bound to cross path as long as they breathe the same air.
Klaus rests his forehead on the door, and he attempts to breathe. His tall frame intimidates Bonnie. She is unsure of the reason why she knocked for fifteen minutes at his door while she rejected all of Enzo calls. She does not question it much, and Bonnie intended to visit Caroline.
"Hi," she whispers with hesitation, and she remains polite.
She attempts politely to take in his dishevelled appearance with quick glances. From the golden loose hair, which almost looks deep brown, to the stain of green paint on his finger, Bonnie starts to believe that her timing is imperfect. She bites her lips, and she shifts on her heels, which does not change how small she is next to him.
He stares at Bonnie while the tension between them does not disturb the strange comforting silence. The air is warm and humid. Her skin glistens, and Klaus' mind clings on that detail. His thumb itches with the need to wipe the small pearls of sweat accumulating on her upper lip. Therefore, he simply stares at her while he struggles to understand the use of breathing.
"I'm Bonnie Bennett," Bonnie blurts as his intense stares prompt response, and she extends a hand, which Klaus watches with a sort of anxiety, "this is ridiculous, and I assume you know." Bonnie starts to withdraw her hand, but Klaus catches it, "and…" Her tongue dries, and the knot in her stomach feels very much like butterflies, "and…" Bonnie stutters, "And…" Words have no place in their conversation, and she feels as much when his smile digs lines on his sculpted face.
"I am Klaus Mikaelson," Klaus breathes, and he never felt so important in the use of his name.
Suddenly, it is a relief to be Niklaus Mikaelson because Niklaus Mikaelson leans by his door with Bonnie Bennett's hand in his hand. The green of her eyes no longer look like the paint on his finger, and he would have to try again to obtain the perfect undertone of gold.
Artificial lights have a delicate reflection in her eyes, and he remains mesmerized. A certainty emerges, and the moment at the church was not a fluke. His heart is serenely cruising, and it still feels more meaningful that every galloping beat for anyone else.
Bonnie carefully extracts her hand, and she closes her arm around her body. She has used words as her shield for the last fourteen months. Now, she feels bare, and his knowing eyes are intimately familiar. They wreck those layers of shielding walls.
"I know," She abrasively says to shatter the moment, "Caroline," Her tongue weaponises her best friend name although the victim of such attack could be her.
Klaus does not say much, and he acts against his better judgement. Klaus pulls the door, and he moves to the side to invite Bonnie inside the apartment, which serves as his sanctuary. She throws a quick glance at Klaus, and she should not.
"Caroline?" He asks because she wants him to do it.
"She needs to know why?"
