This drabble was inspired spur of the moment by all the gifs of Steferine's goodbye (so many feels).

Characters- Katherine and Stefan

Pairings- Steferine/Kalijah

Setting- Katherine's first goodbye to Stefan before her coma.

"You'd never look at me the way you look at Elena, would you."

It was a statement, not a question, for she already knew the answer. And as much as it pained her to admit it, she was just tired, so tired of pretending. But she was still Katherine Pierce; she was a survivor. And the only way she would survive this with any part of her heart still intact was to leave. Now.

"Goodnight, Stefan." she said resolutely, moving to walk around him and leave, holding her head as high as she could manage.

"Hey." His voice was barely above a whisper and she was vaguely surprised she could even hear it until he grabbed her hand, interlacing his fingers with her own, and all other thoughts flew from her mind. "I'm sorry that you're dying," he said softly, as if he meant it. She wanted to believe he did.

"Trust me. I am too," she managed to say with a still unwavering voice, a tear escaping as she pulled away from his grip, away from him.

She packed her belongings in silence, her thoughts consuming her. She was dying, would be dead soon. And what did she have to show for it? She had spent her whole life running; from Klaus, from love, from happiness even. And as much as she wished to lay all the blame squarely on the hybrid's shoulders, she couldn't. No, she had chosen to love, to run from it when it became difficult, and that was no one's fault but her own.

And oh, how she had loved. Two great loves, Elijah and Stefan. She supposed she should be grateful, some people never even got to experience one. But grateful wasn't a word Katherine was very familiar with; especially since she had lost both loves. Twice. And why should she thank the fates for causing her double the heartache?

Elijah. The very thought of him made her sigh, made the tears fall faster. She had genuinely tried with him this time. After 500 years of pining, she had finally gotten a second chance. She had laid herself bare before him, stripped away the walls and defenses she had built over five centuries. But it had not been enough; it was never enough. He had left. Left her. She idly wondered if he was trying to repay her in kind for when she had left him, ran, when she was still human. But the situations were nowhere near similar, and she had too high of an opinion of Elijah to think he could honestly think such a thing. Then again, perhaps she had always given him too much credit; too much of her heart.

And then there was Stefan. She had played with him, toyed with the poor human boy. Yet she had let her heart out with him as well. She had let herself care, in her own twisted way. It had been real for her, their love. And it still was. And that made the pain even worse.

Why were the doppelgangers riddled with so many curses? To be the key piece in breaking the Hybrid Curse. To be eternally drawn to the other doppelganger line, to their match, only to never truly find peace together. And to be forced to swap or share happiness with their own doppelganger if their paths should ever meet.

She shook her head as she gathered up her bags; what did the doppelganger curses matter to her now? She would be gone soon, and Elena would be left to deal with them. She couldn't say she minded that part of death.

As she descended the stairs, phone in hand, she thought how she knew what the real cause of her death would be. It wouldn't be some side effect of the cure, rapid aging or whatnot. No, it would be heartbreak. Because as much as most people would like to say that Katherine Pierce didn't possess a heart, she knew better. Her heart was usually kept hidden, locked away where no one could reach it, covered in cracks and with great pieces missing, but it was still there. Now this latest fissure was rending it in two, threatening to shatter it into irreparable pieces. And she no longer had the strength to fight it.

Perhaps love truly was a weakness, and she had been a fool to keep hoping for it after all these years. The scars on her heart were proof enough of the dangers of love, of believing in it. Love was killing her as surely as the cure.

As she called her daughter, in one last vain attempt at survival, she felt the seams of her heart break, and she welcomed what was coming.

After all, if she ceased to believe in love, why would she want to live?