Hellooo~ I know you are all looking forward to the Dance (it'll be coming soon), but DO enjoy this chapter! And enjoy your weekend everyone~
I licked my lips nervously. Klaus was being an angry, study wrecker again and for the strangest moment I feared he would lash out at me as I'd witnessed him do to others just moments before. It was terrifying, but I didn't let myself flinch, that would give it away and would more than likely spur him to act against me if he didn't want to already.
My heart was beating too fast in my chest, but that was something I couldn't do anything about. Then again, it probably didn't mean much to him, my heart was always beating too fast around him. I liked to think that the cause was his ferocious attitude and cold displeasure that made me uncomfortable, it wasn't though. He made my heart beat too fast because, regardless of his hobby of making people miserable, he was damn gorgeous. My heart and head clearly didn't like each other. Head always insisted falling in love with a psychopath was a bad idea, heart crooned that Klaus was broken and lonely and thereby needed my love. The bloody imprint didn't care for heart or head, all it wanted was for me to be close to him, protect him. Not that I minded too much. Klaus was decidedly entertaining to be around, sometimes annoying, but mostly amusing. Maybe.
Contrary to that, this time my heart was beating for an entirely different reason: that damned vision-thingamabob. It made my skin crawl and a piece of me wanted to run away, far, far away.
I didn't want to fall in love with him, believe it or not. In spite of the war that constantly raged in me, I didn't actually love Klaus, until just recently. No, my feelings in the beginning were more the urge to be around him, make him happy, and be there for him when he needed someone. I think when I started liking him, it was the kind of like I reserved for Seth and mom, the kind of feeling that clung to me for people who mattered beyond casual friendship.
Yet the strangest thing was, even though he was a complete dunce, I had started to care for him a little – lot – more. I'm not sure how it came to be, one moment I enjoyed him for the sake of being his friend and companion. Before I could decipher it, my stomach would flutter with butterflies and my knees would feel weak if his gaze linger on me. My mouth would be a little too dry and my hands would be self-conscious of the state of my hair.
I didn't want to fall. I didn't want to care for another man who would end up not giving two thoughts about me. Yet this wasn't my decision in the end. I was fated to be with him even if he wasn't fated to be with me.
So it hurt. Hurt, like I don't remember anything ever hurting before when he went off on his rages about Caroline. She was lucky, she didn't realise it, but she was lucky. The vampire had won Klaus's heart and affection so easily, without trying, without wanting to.
It killed me to see him like this; longing and pining over a girl who didn't want him, when I was right there. I swear I could make him forget for a moment, just a moment, if he would only accept my embrace. It was not going to happen though. Klaus was so deeply captivated with the blonde that the idea of anyone except her truly helping him through his pain seemed like a betrayal most possibly.
Not that he was infatuated to put it into context, no. Klaus merely believed that if he waited long enough she would come to care and it was during his little rages that he unintentionally sought her comfort. On some level, I believed he knew it was a fruitless obsession, not that it stopped him. Klaus was such a stranger to true, tender love and affection that he probably wouldn't notice it if Caroline did have any for him.
So I recognised that my own budding feelings were futile, I quelled the need to make myself pretty in the mornings when I woke. I shoved off the urge to eat less than the mountain of food wolves usually ate, in front of him. I pushed aside the desire to be more feminine just for him. If anything, my efforts would be wasted, it would be better to just act as his shadow, an intimidating, unwanted right hand willing to do quite a bit to please my master. At least in this role I could somehow gratify him.
I could act as Hayley for a while…
I kept my eyes wide and unblinking as he smashed yet another desk into an unrecognisable wooden pile. It is a good thing, I thought, that he is rich and can afford to do this whenever he flies into frenzy. The day would come, I assumed, that smashing wood would no longer be enough, it was the only thing I feared after seeing what he did to his hybrids.
A short moment ago I had witnessed Klaus truly livid, saw how he was merciless and cruel when he wanted to be. It's a difficult thing to get out of my head, the blood, the screams, the way his eyes seemed to turn blank in their pleasure driven torture.
And I had been in his head, I was the one to cause the screams, the pools of blood...
That Klaus I didn't want to know. That Klaus made me cower in horror. It wasn't the man my heart sought to comfort.
A growl of frustration sounded and I focused on the Original. He stood where the desk used to be, his feet planted wide, his bloodied hands stretched out in front of himself as if he couldn't comprehend where the desk had gone. His beautiful eyes were wide and wild, darting from side to side, cherry lips parted revealing clenched teeth. Klaus had a beauty that was reserved for comic book villains and sadistic horror film predators. He managed to make it look worth the pain.
I sighed and stepped closer, many discarded objects blocked my path, although my chest pained and my stomach lurched, I skirted around them and stepped over their debris without a glance. I only had one objective and that was to help Klaus in any way I could.
He didn't move as I approached, didn't even look at me when I was near enough to touch him. I hummed low in my throat as my hand stretched out as if cautioning myself around a rabid dog. Klaus's eyes finally slowed their nervous searching and he observed me with those cool blue depths for a full minute in which my face burnt red but I didn't back away from my mission.
When my fingers settled on his shoulder, he heaved a harsh breath and closed his eyes, furrowing his brow, all in an attempt to 'ward off the demons' as he once told me and now I understood as the blood thirsty shadows in his mind. I'm not too sure how long the demons needed to be fought before he wouldn't try to rip out my throat, so I gave him a minute before I dared speak or even move.
"Can I clean you up?" the question would have sounded strange to me if I hadn't asked it several times before. I waited for his nod before I gripped his arm and began to lead him past the chaos. His eyes remained closed and although my throat grew thick with silent worry, I led him with utmost caution from the room.
We settled in his room, me being insistent that he should lie down for a minute as I looked over his wounds. I scurried out the room and back in with a bowl of warm water, cotton swabs and a reliable tweezer.
"I can do it myself," he grouses and I just shake my head when I settled down next to him, because he always acts like he doesn't need my help. Well, maybe he doesn't, but I know for a fact that if I left him to do it himself he'd only end up hurting himself more, which I discovered he didn't mind doing all to much.
"And I can do it better," my grumble right back, biting my inner cheek to keep myself from fussing over him more than what is necessary.
His brow furrows and he gives me a cold glare, "I'm not a child, Leah,"
The air stalls in my lungs for a moment, he so rarely calls me by name that I've come to cherish its use. My lips twitched into a barely there smile and I allow myself to meet his eyes. "Oh, I know," Far the briefest, sweetest moment we are looking at each other, our staring only broken when he rolls his eyes and turns his face away to signal the end of the conversation.
"Just hurry up,"
I could swear I could hear amusement in his voice, but I couldn't be sure, Klaus was a complex puzzle of mixed emotions that I couldn't sort through. So I comply with his command and feel somewhat proud of myself for not getting attacked or being a thorough pain in his ass.
With the cotton in my fingers I dip it in the water before dabbing at his bloodied fingers, carefully, gently cleaning off smudges of red. The cotton balls come away from his hand as pink cotton candy clouds. I drop the used ones in a plastic packet and collect another to clear off the last oozing vestiges of blood.
In my mind I ignore the lingering images of more blood, soaking his face, his hands, his neck – everywhere. That's something for a different time.
Once his fingers are returned to their former pale, powdery appearance, I lift his hand closer to my face. I can see the splinters and glass shards in his skin pretty easily from a distance but it's nicer to cradle the limb in my hand and hold it close, as if he would brush my cheek with the long appendages. It makes me feel like the monster in my dream-vision was just that, an illusion, a figment of my imagination – Klaus couldn't possibly have done all of that.
"I'm starting now," I warn as I find the tweezers, gripping them delicately between two fingers. He grunts in response and I lower the metal to his skin, the bigger splinters slip from his skin easily and he never flinches or makes a sound. That, I admit, makes me feel uncomfortable, it goes to show me how much he has endured and how this is literally nothing to him – nothing like ripping out a heart or drowning a defenseless woman. I try not to slap myself.
More wood leaves his skin than should be possible in such a small square area, but once I'm done with his hands, I search as much of his visible skin for scattered shards as I can and examine his clothes for blood splotches or breaks in the cloth.
When I'm positive there's nothing left, I gather up the supplies and struggle to a stand. Klaus still hasn't moved from his position lying with his face away from me, but I don't question it. The Hybrid has enough habits that seem weird already; I don't plan to add to the insane range just yet. Whatever his reason is for hiding his face from me, he clearly doesn't want to share the details.
I clear my throat, "I'll warm up the soup I brought from the Grill for you, it is butternut." I give his still form one last wistful gaze before leaving him in silence.
"Wait," I freeze by the door, only half-turning back to look him over once more. He still doesn't face me, but I hear his words loud and clear, I hear the soft edge and the sorrowful undertones. "Thank you…for everything."
I bite my lip. No, this isn't the vengeful man who slaughtered his pack. This is the sad man who wishes they were still alive.