It was a perfect night.
There were sequined dresses and satin ties. Fresh flowers and pearl earrings. Lights and elegant streamers. There was even jazz, courtesy of the orchestra club and a moody lead singer in heavy eyeliner heavily channeling Lana Del Rey.
Tyler had shown up in a shiny new suit and hat, determined to charm the socks (and maybe more) off Caroline. The latter was now floating around the gym like a triumphant fuschia butterfly, flush with the success of the dance and with Tyler's eminent return. Elena was wrapped up in Stefan (literally) and swaying together in their own little world. Meanwhile Damon brooded in a corner, sipping from a hip flask and occasionally flirting with Rebekah. It was truly as perfect a night as Mystic Falls could provide.
So why did she feel like she was on the outside looking in?
Bonnie tried to dance, letting Matt twirl and dip her, shimmying her shoulders and tossing the black feather boa Caroline insisted on adding to her outfit. She could see all the faces glittering and smiling all around her, complimenting her on her dress, laughing with her as they spun and twirled.
It was nice. But that's all it was, nice.
No matter how many times she laughed at Matt's jokes or swished feathers at Elena or spun around in her black patent heels, something just didn't click.
She was holding up a wall and sipping punch when Jeremy Gilbert's quiet voice spoke her name.
"Hey Bonnie."
"Jeremy," she was surprised to see him there. He'd been judiciously avoiding her (and most people) since they found out about Anna's ghost. "You're a little under-dressed," she said lightly, gesturing to his worn jeans and khaki jacket. "Don't let Caroline see you."
He adjusted the backpack on his shoulder and reached for her elbow "Can I talk to you for a second?"
She followed him into a stairwell and closed the door. Jeremy surveyed her outfit and smiled with his eyes, "You look nice."
"Thanks," her reply was automatic, too much so. His smile faded a little.
"So what's up?"
"I wanted to see you before I left."
She shrugged. "Okay. I'll just see you in class next week."
"Bonnie, I'm leaving town."
She turned and blinked, waiting for the flurry of emotions and words that would surely rise inside of her. Instead there was only an echo of something she remembered feeling, quickly snuffed by the detachment at her core. It shocked her how little she felt and she blinked silently at him for a few moments, scrambling for something to say.
"I'm going to Denver for a while," he continued, shifting his weight nervously, "I wrote Elena a letter. I think she knows anyway. But I didn't wanna leave without seeing you."
"You didn't have to do that." As soon as the words left her mouth she realized how dismissive it sounded. She quickly added, "what I mean is, you don't owe me anything Jeremy. Nothing more than you owe anyone else."
"Bonnie," he reached for her but withdrew his hand at her stiffness, "I owe you everything. I'll never be able to repay you, or make up for what I did-,"
"We both made choices," she cut in firmly, "I didn't save your life so you could feel guilty. I did it because I wanted to."
Her words sat heavy between them. He gave a self-deprecating smile, "I really screwed things up didn't I? You and me, I really wanted things to work Bonnie," he lowered his voice, "I still do."
"So you're leaving town to work on our relationship?" she asked. She didn't expect the coldness she felt in her own voice. It was startling and precise as a whip.
"I'm really messing this up," Jeremy muttered up at the ceiling then looked at her again, "I don't know how long I'll be gone, and you're too amazing to be single for long. But if there's a chance somehow, if I can come back to you with a clear head and a heart that's ready to love you the way you deserve... I know it's crazy but, you brought me back from the dead, I dunno," he ran a hand through his hair and tried to crack a smile, "Guess it made me a believer."
"Jeremy...,"
"You don't have to say anything right now. Just...think about it, ok?"
He enveloped her in a hug and this time she let him. His embrace was warm and sturdy like it always was, yet she felt more unmoored than ever. He was the first boy she really loved, someone who saw her when she'd felt like a shadow, who'd made mistakes but remained good-hearted. And he was leaving. She knew she should want to hold on, but there was nothing but lightness where his heart was pressed against hers. It was like he was the shadow now, and she could only watch him fade.
"You ok Bon?" he peered into her face when they parted.
"Yeah. I just need some air. It's been a long night." She managed a smile that wasn't entirely forced. Without the attachment of hungry emotions she could at least wish him well and mean it. "I'll see you around, Jeremy."
"See you," his answering look was gentle and hopeful.
She didn't look back.
Someone had chosen to end their life here.
Bonnie contemplated the concrete ledge of the roof before sitting down to dangle her legs over the edge.
She remembered the school memorial for the sophomore - her name was Emma - who'd climbed to the roof one winter evening and jumped. Ever since that incident the school had barred access to the roof with a hefty locking system, but of course the simplest of spells had granted her entry, and now she sat swinging her legs, the night breeze undoing wisps of hair from her bun and ruffling the gauzy layers of her dress.
The music was a low, sweet hum in the distance, and the clear night sky twinkled down on her in soft brilliance. It was peaceful and quiet. She wondered if Emma felt some of that peace before she jumped, if she'd been scared or indecisive, or if everything had been simple and clear from climb to fall.
A part of her had jumped too, into death, into water, into uncertainty, and now there was no going back, no recovering whatever it was that had seemingly vanished into the air. She had jumped, and now what? There were moments she felt like a ghost, out of place and detached from everything around her that had once been so familiar and safe. Other times she came forcefully and almost painfully into her body, dizzy with strange longings and emotions. She was a witch whose center of gravity had fallen away, a keeper of balance with one foot in the past and another dangling perilously somewhere else. Who would she be, and what would the world look like when she found her footing again?
Someone had ended their life on this ledge, but hers felt like it was clamoring to begin. Demanding. Aching.
"Come up here often?" The now-familiar accent was a casual, unceremonious interruption.
"When I need some privacy," she said pointedly, her grip tightening on the ledge "what do you want, Klaus?"
"Well, to start, a reprieve from the musical stylings of Mystic Falls High."
She snorted, "I thought you loved the '20's," she mimicked his accent, " 'the style, the parties, the jaaazz."
"I'm surprised you remember such details from our little exchange that night."
"'Little exchange?'," she retorted, narrowing her eyes at him, "is that what we're calling it now?"
"Come on love, why argue?" he glanced around before resting a casual elbow on the ledge next to her like they were at a bar and he was settling in for a chat. "You know, I came up here dreading the prospect of interrupting any number of dreadful teenage trysts, of perhaps even surprising you in the arms of dear Jeremy Gilbert, and instead find you curiously alone," he smirked.
His words stung more than she cared to admit, but she schooled her face quickly before turning to him, "You know my Grams used to say, better alone than in bad company."
His eyebrows raised in mock-surprise and he leaned his head in, "Tsk tsk, and to think you snatched him from the jaws of death."
"I was talking about you," she said flatly.
"In that case," he gestured back at the door through which faint strains of music floated up, "hurry down. I have no intention of leaving this roof so I'm afraid you'll have to return to the dance if you want to escape me. Unless..." he drawled slyly, "unless there's something else you'd rather escape."
Bonnie really didn't need this. To be psychoanalyzed by Klaus Mikaelson of all people? It was annoying to say the least. She was perfectly capable of understanding her own emotions and feelings without his unsolicited insight.
Crossing her arms, she summoned as much dignity and aloofness as she could while sitting on a roof ledge in a costume party dress and heels. "You know what, there is something I wanted to escape. Self-centered boys who talk down to me like I'm some manic pixie dream girl. At least Jeremy's still a teenager, what's your excuse? And if you're so much better than all of us, why are you even here?"
It crossed her mind briefly that she was being bold, maybe even reckless. She'd known Klaus to kill people for far less than a few tart words. Still, it felt good, exhilarating even to speak her mind, to unleash on him the sharp irritation she'd spared Jeremy.
Fortunately Klaus made no move to put her in her place, but he did regard her with an inscrutable glint in his eyes, "I'm here to make sure Tyler behaves at his first dance. Bad form to leave him unchaperoned."
She didn't bother to keep the sarcasm out of her voice, "So you're just some dad driving his kid to prom?"
"The correct term is "sire", but semantics aside I didn't really care for a repeat performance of your encounter in the woods. Although I must say he's handling himself remarkably well. I suppose I should thank you for ensuring he'd be my first hybrid."
"You can keep the thanks. I'm just glad he's okay."
"He's going to be more than that, soon enough," he promised, a conspiratorial look in his eyes like she was in on his plan. Even worse, like she approved of it.
She shuddered, looking away from him into the indifferent sky "I know what you're doing, bringing him here, dangling his old life in front of him. It's cruel and wrong, but...," she paused, glancing at the indolent figure he made, "... that's you."
Her voice trailed off and she stared down at her legs, swinging in the empty air. There it was, the squirmy, elusive feeling she'd been chasing all night laid bare in her own words. Klaus was a cruel and selfish bastard, but he made no apologies for his behavior. His moral compass or lack thereof was clear and unfazed. He knew who he was while she was trapped in this frustrating limbo of self-doubt.
His voice sounded soft and precise beside her, "'When I was a child, I thought, spoke and understood as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things," there was a pause like he was musing on the words.
"New Testament? I thought Elijah was the priest in the family," she responded.
"I find organized religion surprisingly instructive. And ruthless."
There was a certain terrifying ruthlessness to the idea of simply putting away one's childhood, like stuffing a broken toy under the bed with the same grimness that someone might shove a dead body in a closet.
But maybe there was something to be said for cutting loose and letting go. Jeremy had done it. While she sat here on a rooftop wishing she knew what to jump into, he was already leaving Mystic Falls behind in a rear-view mirror.
"It's really easy for you isn't it?," she said, twisting the string of feathers around her neck. "You're an immortal, probably the most powerful on the planet. Anything you want, you get." Closing her fist around the softness of feathers, she gave a small, vicious tug and they came apart easily in her hands."Anything that stands in your way, you destroy."
Uncurling her fingers, she watched the dark feathers slip away. Just like that. So satisfying and so very, very simple.
Klaus leaned forward on his elbows so they were both looking out in the same direction, "You're not immortal, but you're powerful. I should know, I remember. All that magic at your fingertips," he lowered his voice for more emphasis, "So why can't you live the life you want?"
She glanced at him in surprise and confusion. His deep-set eyes were burning into hers, searching for an answer she didn't think she had.
"It's not that simple," she whispered.
His gaze never wavered, "You can't live on shadows and rooftops forever, love. Sooner or later, you'll have to plant your feet," he nodded his head at the drop below them, "and pick a side."
Suddenly it was all too much. The dance, the music, Jeremy's hollow promises, the loneliness and heartache that had been festering inside her for months now, eating away at her resolve and transforming her through its dark and powerful hunger.
"I should be getting ho-," she made to swing her legs back over the ledge but her right foot hit the concrete too low and her shoe came off, almost causing her to lose her balance in the process. Klaus leaned over and caught the falling shoe in his hand.
It took a second to right herself and calm her spiked heart-rate. "Thank you," she managed, still a little out of breath.
Before she could move, he deftly slid the shoe back on her bare foot. Like with all of his actions, it was swift and economical, and she would've missed it completely had his thumb not grazed her ankle. If his touch lingered a beat longer than entirely necessary, she didn't want to dwell on that. She couldn't.
He was standing very close to her, one hand hovering above her knee as if to steady her if she started falling. Gradually her breathing grew even again.
He slid a finger under her chin and gently aligned their gazes. "Shall I see you home, love?" he asked quietly.
Her grip on the ledge tightened once again, though this time for an entirely different reason. The slightest move and she could tumble back off the roof, or pitch forward into him. His eyes were dark with some unreadable emotion.
In the end she brushed his hand away and stood up hurriedly, dusting off her dress. "No thanks, I-I'm fine.."
His demeanor changed as suddenly and smoothly as if nothing had happened. He pulled a rueful face though his sardonic grin gave him away."You'd leave me skulking around a group of hapless teens on an empty stomach?"
She narrowed her eyes, "I'd tell you go to hell but I don't think they'd take you."
He flashed her another grin and held out a hand, inclining his head towards the ledge "Would you like to take the easy way down?"
"NO," she stepped away from him decisively, "I'm going to walk home." Her heels clicked hard on the concrete to emphasize her point.
Klaus shrugged and fell into step beside her.
It was a perfect night.
A purple sky with faint stars canopied them on their walk. Bonnie had tried to keep ahead of him but she was a) wearing heels and b) shorter than him, so she'd settled for just keeping a brisk pace. Unfortunately, her shoes weren't exactly made for walking, and by the time they reached her house she was trying not to wince each time she took a step.
She leaned slightly on the fence, resting one ankle then another against her calf, while Klaus moved to stand in front of her, his jacket slung over his shoulder. "That's too bad," he gestured at her throbbing ankle, "I did offer you a ride."
Bonnie thought back to the times he'd sped her home, holding tight in his arms while the world blurred around them. "So now you're a taxi," she muttered, shifting her weight.
"Yes, well I'd keep that to yourself, love. Don't want every witch in town making me their own personal broomstick."
"Oh yes, wouldn't want that," she deadpanned, rolling her eyes. She slipped off her offending shoes and almost sighed when soft grass cushioned her bare feet.
"Better?" he teased.
She picked up her shoes, unlatched the gate and slipped inside before closing it soundly between them. "Much better," she said cheerily over the barrier.
Klaus regarded her with amused interest before brushing her neck with his fingers. The gesture was direct and smooth, unconcerned with the gate separating them. She shivered involuntarily as something tickled her earlobe, and his hand came away with a single feather that he proceeded to tuck into his vest. "Thanks for the walk, love," he said casually, his eyes dwelling on her far longer than his touch.
She opened her mouth to say this was all his idea in the first place, that she'd been prepared to walk home alone, that she hadn't asked for his company. Somehow none of that seemed to matter just then. So she just bit her lip and turned to the house, digging in her purse for her keys.
She was almost at the steps when his voice made her pause. Glancing over her shoulder, she caught his hooded gaze. He said it without preamble or caprice, like a simple, absolute truth:
"Jeremy Gilbert's a fool."
Bonnie felt her mouth twitch and part in surprise.
He sauntered off down the block while she stood there, feeling the ground beneath her feet.
This one took forever! I seriously wrote and rewrote this like four times before it was ready to publish. Apologies for the longer wait time, I want to do two of these a week but life got in the way plus Bonnie and Klaus aren't exactly easy conversationalists. Anyways, hope you all enjoyed this one! Drop a line and lemme know if you did. Thanks to all the lovely klonnie shippers paddling our little ship. And as always, my beta Cait gets the credit for urging me to push these one shots beyond my comfort zone. xoxox