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Chapter II
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"Hello," Klaus says as the door open on Bonnie.
The words, which he assuredly told Rebekah, do not hold the same value. Perhaps, he has lost his mind. Klaus' grip around the door tightens, and he helplessly desires to touch Bonnie. She should not be here. Again, they 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. Bonnie's delicate scent fills the air. She is unsure of the reason, which led her to knock for fifteen minutes at his door while she rejected all of Enzo calls. She does not question it, and Bonnie intended to visit Caroline.
"Hi," Bonnie falteringly whispers, and she remains polite.
Bonnie gracefully notices Klaus' dishevelled appearance. From the look of Klaus' golden hair, which almost looks deep brown, to the stain of green paint on his fingers, 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 appears next to Klaus.
He stares at Bonnie, and the tension between them does not disturb the comforting silence. The air is warm and humid. Bonnie's skin glistens, and Klaus' mind clings on that detail. His thumb itches with the need to wipe the small pearls of sweat, which accumulate on Bonnie's upper lip. Therefore, Klaus solely stares at her while he struggles to understand the use of breathing.
"I'm Bonnie Bennett," Bonnie blurts as Klaus intense stares prompt her to respond, and she extends a hand, which Klaus watches with slight 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 when Klaus smile digs lines on his sculpted face, she understands it.
"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 Klaus' fingers, 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 mesmerised. A certainty emerges, and the moment in 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 arms around her body. She has used words as her shield for the last fourteen months. Now, she feels bare, and Klaus' 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's 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?" Bonnie replies, and Klaus appears unimpressed.
"I asked by politeness, and I wanted to save you from the clumsiness of such conversation," Klaus says between regretful sighs, and he walks away with a pace, which Bonnie hardly follows.
Her short legs hardly follow Klaus' long strolls. He eventually stops in a room basking in aggressive lights, and the led light's glow poorly reflects on her skin. Klaus takes note of the smallest detail.
"Ah, you should have thought of it before…" Bonnie stops, and Klaus' sudden stillness brings a quiet wave of emotions, "Sorry, I'm nervous." Her charming timid smile punctuates her statement.
A step taken to establish a safe distance turns into a rhythmic pace back and worth. Klaus stands still, and randomly he meets Bonnie's eyes when from the corner, she steals a glance at him.
"I'm defensive." Bonnie volunteers the information because the silence possesses hidden layers of comfort, which fester into a form of anxiety, "it is partially your fault, but still, I'm sorry for…" She stammers and remains hesitant.
Through the second that melted in minutes, which became long hours spent mirroring happiness, Bonnie has learned the art of a sharp tongue. Words are never an issue, and her truths pale compare to the lies, which she tells. Although in front of Klaus Mikaelson, she stands with a twisted tongue. Words are no longer easy to assemble, and subtle wrinkles on her forehead write the conversation. The click of her heels on his parquet whistles through the air and Bonnie looks at Klaus.
"I am sure that the intent of your visit is to insult me, and so your apology would be of bad taste." Klaus' anger is a bit vicious, and his frustrations are hard not to express.
Bonnie's entire existence is a conundrum. He wished that she never existed, and here, he can't imagine knowing how virulent love can be. Perhaps, her words remind him of what he has caused. Although, his anger is one, which he has to fuel with regrets that he has started to forget.
"No, I truly…" she stops mid-sentence.
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…
…
Bonnie looks at Klaus' clothes and her eyes are very talkative. All shades of green stain Klaus' dark jeans, and his shirt is a canvas of various colours. Bare feet and hand tainted with the shade of her eyes, Klaus is an odd sight, but he is more charming than what Bonnie wants to admit.
Klaus' stature becomes grand to her, and her heart palpitates. Perversely, her stress and anxiety are not the perpetrators. The strange joy and the rise of timidity, Bonnie brushes it off, but her heart clings to it.
"I was painting," Klaus offers an answer for the question in her eyes.
Embarrassment suddenly simmers in Bonnie's beautiful, piercing, and annoying eyes, which Klaus has relentlessly worked to bring alive. Klaus knows details about Bonnie's eyes, which she would never find out during a lifetime seeing through them.
"Sorry..." The shame of having Klaus being aware of her emotions rushes blood to her cheeks, "I will get it under control." Bonnie speaks aloud when she truly wants to think those words, "I need a minute to get rid of my nerves." Another round of pacing begins, and Klaus leans on the wall to wait.
"Calm down Bonnie. He is just the asshole who abandoned your best friend at the altar. Calm down, one, two, three." Her mind and tongue have decided to disconnect, and the words are loud and intelligible.
The woman in front of him is for lack of better words: a mess. She is all over the place, and she is very much like her laugh. Hard to contain, rustic on the edge, and the distinct imperfection. Nothing terrifies Klaus more than a lack of perfection. In a manner, Bonnie frightens him. Far away from his usual shield of comfort but he would not want it different.
"Interesting method," Klaus reacts to Bonnie's tirade.
"Fuck," She abruptly stops her pacing, and she remembers that he is in the room.
Bonnie forgetting a person's nearness is an oddity. In the last fourteen months, she has not been comfortable around anyone, and around people, she remains hyperaware. Often, she projects her raw and untampered emotions on the people around her. Her hand grazes her stomach, and she takes a deep breath.
"Please don't apologise," Klaus warns as if he knows the pattern of her mind, and he reads her body language better than most people do.
Her hand leaves her stomach, and she does not know what to do with it. Bonnie's entire body language is gauche and reveals her subconscious thoughts. Guarded, she manages to step back. Although Klaus has not attempted to close the distance between them, the intensity of his eyes renders the distance void.
"I didn't have the intention to apologise." Bonnie lies, and apologising is a terrible habit.
His smirk is fast and judging. Bonnie almost believes that she stretched his lips to put that smirk on them. Klaus' hair spreads on the wall, and she loves how the long strands are no longer curls. Bonnie loves intrinsic details. A professional habit, which continues to pursue her in daily life. She also loves rigidity and methodic organisation. The austerity of her job is a refuge.
Klaus Mikaelson with his stained pants, a mosaic of dry acrylic on his shirt, and his dishevelled mane with strands so long is the antithesis of comfort to Bonnie. Although, she is comfortable enough to speak her mind. An inconstant variable is the nightmare of a civil engineer.
"I guess I am the asshole who abandoned your friend at the altar." Klaus agrees, and with a stride of his long legs, he annuls Bonnie's effort.
The distance is small. Bonnie extended arm would fit in the space between them. She still does not know what to do of her hands. His hair and the disorganisation strangely is the safest place to look. Everything of him is too Klaus to Bonnie. Although she does not know him, Bonnie can tell what is cardinal to him. Instinctively, she decides to filter those details to remain detached.
"Yep," Bonnie distances herself from Klaus, and she breathes better.
Although, distance means a better view of him. The details, which make him, become harder to disregard, "You were painting."
Another smirk and Bonnie has never seen anyone weaponise a smirk. Klaus could hold a long hour conversation with a smirk, and the lines, which they dig around his sharp jaw, are as expressive as his eyes. Bonnie knows what she wants to do of her hand, but she intertwines her fingers together to remain safe.
"I asked for space," Klaus sighs, and he bypasses Bonnie, "and she sent you." He continues to speak aware that his efforts to get rid of her are futile.
He could not do it by running out of the church. He would not have done it by marrying Caroline. Bonnie Bennett is a haunting thought, and her presence is one that he may have conjured.
"It is difficult for Caroline," Bonnie follows his pace, and habits are easily formed, "She deserves an explanation," Bonnie demands that Klaus stops.
He can hear her in the church, and her polite remark has not left his mind. You can't walk away. Therefore, Klaus does not walk away. He sighs, and his hand combs his hair.
"She does, but it is odd that you are the one here to listen to my explanations." He appreciates the sarcasm of life.
How deep a knife should be twisted before a bone breaks it? He looks at Bonnie, and she is the needle, which sews his reasons. Another smirk and a new need for Bonnie to untwist her fingers to stretch his lip into a smile.
"You haven't picked her calls," Bonnie counters, and her heart continues to slow.
She leans on the corner of a sofa, and the edge pokes her back. Her fingers tightly locked together, and she waits for her thoughts to erase details about Klaus. Random variables, she hates them.
"I have not picked anyone calls," A statement, which continues to knock Caroline of a pedestal, which Klaus enjoyed building, "and when you run away from your wedding, you receive a lot of calls." He points out.
Cynicism, Bonnie is unimpressed. He irritates her in a way that she can't ignore. Something is visceral, and it bleeds on her thoughts. Klaus Mikaelson bothers her in the way that only flaying her skin would get him out of under it. Therefore, the distance does not help. Bonnie stops taking those step back.
"You receive as many calls when you're left at the altar." Bonnie rolls her eyes, "look…"He was already doing that, and she attempts to ignore those eyes, "You don't have to talk to me. I'm solely here to ask that you talk to Caroline," She says, and her body negates the statement.
She remains rooted in her spot. Klaus' smirk continues to taunt Bonnie. She leans on the sofa's edge to the point of painful discomfort
"I don't know how to talk to Caroline…" Klaus admits, and he has never known how to talk to her and not the woman, which he pieced together as her, "I know how to shout at her," He corrects himself, and his chuckle carries his cynic view of their relationship, "I know how to pretend that everything is fine, and we can move on."
"What would change this situation?" His question is not one, which Bonnie welcomes, and she hears what she does not wish Klaus to say, "A conversation? An excuse to justify everything? Something easier than a conversation?" He waits for Bonnie's answer.
Klaus places his hands on the sofa's corner, and his body turns into imprisoning walls. Bonnie continues to lean in the sofa, and the discomfort is sharper with the passing seconds. She can't avoid Klaus' eyes.
"I don't know," She honestly answers.
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…
For what is worth, Bonnie does not know why she came to Klaus' house. She does not know why she focuses so much on the intensity of Klaus' eyes. Ultimately, Bonnie would not be able to explain why she allows him to confine her in a space where she can't extend her arm without touching him.
" You don't know," Klaus' quiet frustration weights on them, and Bonnie rises her stubborn chin, "She does not know," He repeats as the bitter taste of irony coats his tongue.
"Caroline wants a chance to fix what went wrong," Bonnie repeats, and her statement is empty of all faith.
For once, she knows something. She does not believe Klaus' eyes can lie, and Bonnie knows the truth, which she saw simmering in them. He sighs, and his exhaustion resonates in that breath.
"It would not work," He smirks from bitter amusement at how quickly it all turned to dust, "There is nothing to fix. We taped what we could, and we overlooked what was beyond broken. She can still do that, but I can't." Klaus draws a picture, which Bonnie overlooks.
Taping gaping fissures and overlooking what is broken, Bonnie knows all of it. Everything is a bit dysmorphic, but Bonnie stares at a shattered mirror. Klaus' words revolt Bonnie, and his questions are the same one, which she avoids to answer.
"She doesn't think that way," Her voice is firm, and Bonnie is angry.
Anger is a comfort, which she avoids to seek. Although, she has nothing else now, and so on the rim of her eyes, the tears start to pool.
"She only wants to talk to you. She understands that marriage and its implication scared you." An eagerness to convince Klaus rises, "You don't just get to walk out because…because…because," the reason is on the tip of her tongue.
She stares at him for a second, and Klaus is not a reflection of her. Perhaps, she does not dare to admit it.
"She loves you," Bonnie says with a meagre delusion on how magical those words can be, "That should be a reason to listen to her and fix what is wrong."
"We can't fix what is wrong." Klaus' answer does not surprise Bonnie, and She feels many emotions, which she quickly disregards, "Marrying Caroline was a hopeless attempt 'to fix' us," He confesses, and Bonnie does not show any sign of offences, "I wish that we could, and I wish that I wanted to fix our relationship." Klaus' look punctuates the statement.
The choice to be blind is desperate. It is that ultimate moment of paralysis when the chaos is about to unfold. His mocking smirk is absent, and it no longer guards secrets, which Bonnie wants to bury for her sanity.
"She only needs a conversation," Bonnie's voice carries a plea.
Although, she knows better than to hope. Something about random variables, something about looking at the groom while the sun bleaches his hair, and something about having your heart galloping as he runs away from his bride.
"Nothing will change," Klaus replies, and Bonnie decides to be stubborn and blind to her truths.
"Give Caroline a chance," She insists with a certain desperation, "You love her, and she loves you."
Klaus smirks with a mocking cynicism. His eyes have that illusion of old age. Somehow, her naivety must be endearing. Her lies can't stand his truths. Bonnie hates the depth of his smirk. She hates how such nonchalance can become scorching to the person, who has to face it.
"Look..." She whispers, and she draws a deep breath, "It can't be that bad," Bonnie lies.
"It is not," Klaus lies too, and everything could have been easier, "A conversation with Caroline won't change anything."
"Why?" Bonnie has the hope that feigned ignorance can be bliss too, "Why?" a question to fate and a furious cry while facing the cruelty of it, "Listen, Caroline loves you, and…why?" Her finger stabs his abdomen.
Her restraint no longer exists, and if he dares to smirk, she will furiously claw it away until the truth fades. Klaus does not smirk, and his hand closes around Bonnie's forefinger. She attempts to pull her finger from his hold.
"I think…" Klaus hesitates, and he envies Bonnie's naïve hope, "I am certain…" He hovers above Bonnie, and she wants to focus on getting her finger back, "I don't believe that I could explain it…" Klaus grabs Bonnie's chin, and he forces her to look at him.
Her eyes are hard, and her stubbornness is beautiful. He rests his forehead on hers.
She stops reclaiming her finger, and the chaos finally starts to unfold. Her heart stops, and her shock is not the culprit. Her stomach is twisting, and she would like to pin it on everything but the actual cause of it.
"I fell in love with you, and tell me how a conversation can fix that," Klaus asks, and Bonnie does not move.
For a minute, she remains quiet. As if, her quietness will undo Klaus' confession. She ultimately pulls her finger from his grip.
The act is sudden, and Klaus' reflexes too slow to prevent the collision of Bonnie's palm with his cheek.
They both stand facing each other. Klaus' confession adds weight on their shoulders. Klaus moves to Bonnie side, and they both lean on the small sofa's back. Her shoulders graze his flank. A brief moment of comfort, which weirdly happens as Bonnie decides what to say.
"Caroline loves you," Bonnie breaks the silence, "talk to her." She ultimately decides to disregard Klaus' confession as she leaves his house.