#I haven’t posted in forever but bet your left nostril I’m coming back to act like a crybaby about this ❤️

[vestolian]

haha thanks past me for half jinxing it 😗

[orionwhispers]

Devil Like Me (Part IX)

(A/N I know its been a while but I hope you love this next part! Sort of a “filler” but big things are coming! Love you all, thank you for being so kind and patient) 

Then

Winter had slipped away, and the breath of spring was lingering in the air. You sighed, feeling content as the warmth of the sun bathed your limbs. You spread your fingers along the metal of the car, smiling at the heat radiating off it, sending shocks along your fingertips.

"That exam was hell."

"Tell me about it." You murmured, falling back into your comfortable position on the hood of Jasmine's yellow car.  You exhaled, glad for the fresh air, a welcome change from the stuffy classroom you had spent the past two hours in. Until the stench of smoke tainted your nostrils. You immediately recoiled up, grimacing at the stale smell, and stared blankly at Jasmine, her slender fingers grasping a lit cigarette.

"What?" She questions, pulling the rim of her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose.

"Since when do you smoke?"

She glances at the roll between her fingertips and shrugs, "I dunno. I just did."

You swivel your eyes and kick her lightly, "This wouldn't have anything to do with Greg would it?"

"Er - no."

"Good." You smirk, watching as she inhales, before breaking into a fit of deep coughs.

"Fuck it." She laughs still spluttering, dropping the smoke onto the floor and crushing it between the soles of her boots, "I thought I could get into it! But its so gross."

“Greg's gross." You childishly retort, giggling as she slaps you on the stomach, face pulled into a frown but her emerald eyes shining wildly.

You watch through hooded eyelids as she reaches into her bag and pulls out a stick of gum, then grabs her phone and checks the time, a photo of you both beaming widely set as the lock screen "About half an hour before we need to get back to school."

You tap your fingers in acknowledgement, feeling Jasmine's presence slink next to yours. Through the top of your sunglasses, you can see the view, the ocean in the distance, the light dancing on the top of the water. It was a relief to be out of the confinement of the classroom, the past few weeks had been hell. Studying for exams until your eyes felt sore, living on a diet of red bull and mac and cheese as you tried to cram your head with as many algebra equations as you could. Your bedroom was scattered with college leaflets and scholarship applications, left bare as you grew tired lying about how ecstatic you were about the laws of gravity.

The tops of the trees in the forest came into your line of sight, the bushy green needles protruding your thoughts. You directed your attention to a seagull perched atop of the post office, you didn’t need to think of him. But if you did - you'd think about how it had been months without a trace, not so much as a twig snapping in the distance as you drove to school. His absence had been strange, a relief at first. Finally, you could concentrate on your life without disturbance, but as the days turned into weeks you realised that you liked the distraction, the feeling of having someone watching from the sidelines. You couldn’t help wondering if maybe you had been too harsh with him on the night with James, but you shook away that thought as soon as it entered your brain, he was a monster, he didn't care about you.

“Greg's going to be 18 in a couple of weeks."

"Good for him."

Jasmine ignored your comment and turned to face you, cheekbones glossy from the heat of the sun, “His Uncle owns a cabin up in Ivywood.”

You nod, thinking of the small town a couple of hours from where you lived. You had spent a few odd summers there, it was beautiful and popular with campers.

“He says it’s right near the lake.”

“Lucky him.”

“He’s going to throw a party - a small get together - to celebrate, he wants you to come.”

“He wants me to come or you want me to come?”

Jasmine rises to her elbows, brows furrowed in distaste. “Y/N! I don’t get why you don’t like him?”

You sigh slightly, the truth was there wasn't much wrong with Greg, sure he was a bit arrogant, but he was harmless. Jasmine was far too good for him, and you found his failure to realise that irritating.

“It’s not that I don’t like him - it’s just I doubt I'd bring much to the party.”

“Well, it’s not like you’d be spending the weekend alone. There will be other people!”

“Like who?”

“Well, I'm not exactly sure on the numbers, but his Uncle says he can have it for the weekend! So it’ll probably be me, Greg obviously, Josh, Laura, Ashley, Mike and then you and Ren!”

You nod along recognising a few of Greg's best friends and fellow teammates but fall short at the last name.

“Ren?”

A smug smile grazes the corner of Jasmine's lips, “Oh yeah, I haven’t told you! Ren is Greg’s cousin, I told him all about you -”

“You told him about me?” You screech, shaking your head in disbelief, one of Jasmine's favourite hobbies was trying to set you up, usually with guys you had nothing in common with.

“Duh! You’re my best friend! It was only good things I promise!”

“Jesus Jasmine.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead and gazing out into the distance, partially hoping the ground would swallow you up.

“Cmon, Y/N.” Jasmine murmurs, crawling towards you, her voice soft. “You’ve had a really hard time..” she glances quickly at the fading bruise below your eye, now a muted grey colour. “-and I thought that maybe it would cheer you up!”

“I'm really not interested.”

“You always turn down the boys I suggest! Do you want to be single forever?”

A certain face flickers in your mind momentarily, but you blink, forcing it out of your head.

“He’s really nice. But even if you hate him, it doesn't matter! Imagine a weekend away, swimming in a lake, roasting marshmallows and just relaxing! Just think about it at least!” She holds out her hands and tilts her head, reminding you of a dog wanting to be thrown a ball.

“Fine. I’ll think about it! No promises!”

Jasmine squeals engulfing you in a hug, the scent of stale smoke and fruity perfume surrounding you both as she presses a kiss to your cheek. You settle backwards, gazing out into the distant town, rose-tinted from your glasses, memories of the past few months clambering over your brain. Who knows, maybe a weekend away could be fun?

Now

You pace around Rebekah’s spacious bedroom, bare feet padding against her luxurious fur rugs as you cradle a mug of steaming coffee. The faint lull of the radio is floating through the air and a few of her expensive candles are lit, making the air smell of sage and sea salt. The blonde is staring at you in anticipation, eyes wide like a tiger ready to strike.

“Well?”

“Well, what?” You ask, taking a sip of your syrupy brew, pretending you don't know whats coming.

She sighs dramatically, “Do I have to spell it out for you? What happened between you and my brother?”

You shrug, slouching onto her armchair and folding your legs. “Nothing, we talked - that's all.”

“Bullshit!”

You trace your finger along a drip of coffee trailing the side of the mug, watching Rebekah in the corner of your eye striking her hands on her hips, prodding you for more.

“We just.. talked. I mean you couldn’t even call it that, he’s not exactly happy to be speaking to me at the moment.”

She quirks a brow and tilts her head, watching you in a sceptical manner. You felt slightly bad lying to her, but whatever was happening between you and Klaus felt so private. Your relationship always had done. To onlookers it probably seemed beyond puzzling, you were destined to get hurt the minute you became involved, but nobody understood the connection you had - as cliche as it sounded. But now, things were different, the past two years had changed both of you, and you couldn't erase the past. You were handling him like a glass ball, determined not to shatter his fragile state.

"Oh sure. I bet you both had a lovely civil conversation, that sounds about right. "

You take a slurp of coffee, nodding along to Rebekah's story nonchalantly, but the blonde isn't taking the bait.

"Y/N! You were kidnapped! You practically vanished into thin air, Klaus went bloody mental. I haven't seen him act that psychotic since.." her voice trails off momentarily, eyes darting to yours before she falters and smooths out her dress. "Look never mind, but seriously, you can't possibly be telling me that he didn't go berserk when he found you? He used to try and stop you leaving the house to buy milk for Christ's sake. "

You snort remembering Klaus' overprotective melodramatics as you lean back against the plush furniture. You exhale loudly and push yourself up to Rebekah’s line of sight. “I'm not denying he went mad - he almost killed Damon.”

“He had it coming.” The blonde scoffed, venom in her voice. “You both must have been in quite a hurry to leave, I mean, you left behind your daylight ring. You never go anywhere without it.”

You trace the band around your finger, the weight of it comforting you. One of Klaus’ men had returned it to you this morning, you had no clue how he had acquired it but you weren't complaining. Leaning forward, you plucked at a feather sprouting from Rebekah’s pillow and rolled it between your fingertips.

“That girl... Elena.” You test the name on your tongue, watching as Rebekah's head momentarily picks up, a look of distaste on her crimson lips. “She said that Klaus wanted to hurt her and her friends.”

“Would that be so bad?” Rebekah asks, leaning forward and applying a coat of mascara to her full lashes, “The girl is a whiny bitch.”

You tut slightly, humoured at her annoyance. “What’s going on with these people? What has Klaus done?”

Rebekah places her mascara tube down, eyeing herself in her rose gold mirror as she runs her fingers over flyaway tresses sprouting from her hairline. “Katerina.”

You pause for a moment, the name is familiar but you can’t exactly place it. You squint, trying to focus as a thought pops into your mind. “Katerina? As in…“

“Crazy, psychotic Katerina who ruined Klaus’ plan and spent 500 years running from him? Yeah, Elena is her doppelgänger.”

You let out a low whistle, it feels strange being able to put a face to a name; well almost. You had once heard the brothers discussing a woman called Katherine, whispering in hushed tones about where she might be hiding. You had later managed to pry it out of Klaus - by sitting on his chest until he gave in - and he spun you a tale about a moonstone she had once run with.

“So - Klaus is extracting revenge on Elena because he can't get at Katherine?”

Rebekah snorts, “Something like that, another Petrova doppelganger…”

“Equals another shot at breaking the curse.”

“Bingo.” Rebekah finishes, turning to face you.

“So, Klaus is going to sacrifice the girl?”

The blonde meets your eye line momentarily, before smacking her lips and shrugging her shoulders. She clasps her hands together, delighted at how she has pulled herself together, “Shall we go and have some lunch? I bet its a relief to not be cooped up in that room.”

“Bekah..”

“Y/N.”

You roll onto your back, mumbling in contempt, frustrated at how much people pick and chose to tell you. It was exasperating that you were expected to stay in Mystic Falls without knowing what was going on around you.

“Look, I wish I could tell you but I hardly know myself. You know as well as I do that Klaus does whatever the bloody hell he wants, and I’m sure he doesn't want you involved and I don’t particularly feel like being in a coffin again.”

“How can he not want me involved but yet keep me here without so much as a conversation?”

Rebekah shoots you a sympathetic look, perching on the edge of her bed and offering a thin smile. You assume you aren't going to get much more out of her about Elena and the curse, and you try to act nonchalant as a particular question bubbles at the edge your lips.

“What about that other girl…” You pause, tapping slightly on the ceramic mug pretending to conjure her name as if it hadn't been at the tip of your tongue for hours. “…Caroline.”

“Oh, Caroline.” Rebekah tightens the strap of her stiletto heel, taking a cautious first step before steadying herself. “The blonde bimbo. She’s newly turned but she's harmless, more or less.” You raise a brow, egging her for more information, “She’s one of Elena’s best friends, oh so preppy and irritating, the poor little mite is terrified of me though.” She giggles and turns her head back towards you, flashing her pointed fangs and letting out a mock snarl. You laugh softly, rolling your eyes before diverting your attention back towards a loose thread on a plump pillow, mind whirring slightly, what she said shouldn't bother you, but it did.

“Whats the matter with you?” Bekah asks from the corner of the room, adjusting her belt and shooting you a quizzical look.  You wave a hand casually and take a sip, trying to mask your feelings. “It's rather hilarious to see her around me, I remember at the ball…”

She falters, spinning around as if on autopilot. Her azure eyes meeting yours, her brows furrowed in question. “The ball.” She finishes, murmuring to herself, you could almost see the gears turning in her brain as she pursed her red lips. “Klaus left so suddenly - ” Her face is sympathetic, eyes soft and kind “You saw them together didn't you?”

You exhale loudly, knocking your head back and running a palm through your hair, Rebekah’s mouth turns up slightly before spreading into a total grin. “I knew it!” Her voice is shrill and high pitched as she leaps towards you like a kitten. You stare back at her, bemused at her statement. “I knew there was a reason he left like that… Holy shit! Why didn’t you tell me?”

You push yourself off the armchair, suddenly feeling hot and overwhelmed with the situation. “I'm sorry, I was a bit busy being burnt alive by a stranger to tell you about my boyfriend dancing with another woman!”

Rebekah raises an arched brow towards you, mouth turned into a smirk. “What?” You ask feeling completely lost and bewildered at what you had gotten into.

“You said, boyfriend.”

You falter slightly, backtracking in your mind as you realise your mistake. “Yeah…  well, I meant.” You pause, exhaling loudly and flopping back into the furniture, head buried in your palms. “Shit! Fuck!”

You hear Rebekah lowly chuckle as she kneels before you, her hands are delicate as she places them over yours, folding them together in your lap. “She doesn’t mean anything to him. She's just a pawn in his game.”

“I don’t care.” You lie.

“I know. But if you did… I’d tell you that he doesn’t care about anyone, no one except you.”

You snort, “He has a funny way of showing it.”

You both still for a moment, the only noise is the trees whistling in the wind outside. Rebekah rubs comforting circles across your hands and you're so grateful for her presence. You suddenly begin feeling embarrassed, it seeps through your pores and insecurity is dripping in your mind.

“I'm being stupid.” You sniff, wiping the start of tears you had no idea were forming. “I left. It was my choice, he had a right to move on. I can't stop him.” Your voice is wavering but you remain firm.

“You still love him,” Rebekah says, its more of a statement than anything and you know its true, there's no point denying it.

“I never stopped.”

The blonde rises to her feet, mimicking your movements as you head towards the door. “Are you going to tell him?”

“No.”

“I think you should, I think you both have more to say than you realise.”

You take one step forward and then immediately move back. You purse your lips as if sucking on a lemon and point your toes as if you are going to take a leap, before pulling your leg backwards. You feel ridiculous but so many things are stopping you from moving across the hallway. The house is mostly empty, Rebekah left soon after your chat promising to catch up with you later to talk about your predicament - something you weren't looking forward to. Kol was long gone, probably off harassing an innocent civilian and you hadn't seen Klaus or Elijah since the previous day. You were used to being alone, and you found comfort in the presence of your own thoughts, the only noise being the occasional mumble from Klaus’ minions downstairs. You now had free reign of the house, but only stayed on the highest floor with the exception of Rebekah’s boudoir. You didn't feel comfortable roaming around the halls and felt safe in your own space. You couldn't risk trying the front door and even if it miraculously opened you didn't have the urge to run, there were still things to sort out here.

But here you were, stood still like a statue at the step leading to the second floor. Its large and open presence daunting but the secrets withheld behind the doors coaxing you towards them. You should feel guilty for even thinking about rummaging around someone else belongings, but you and the Mikaelsons were hardly strangers, and besides, there was only one person whose mysteries you wanted to find. You gave yourself a mini pep talk, basically telling yourself to grow some balls, as you took a feeble step forward. You smiled inwardly and curled your toes into the rug, watching as your feet carried you ahead. You slipped open the first few doors, to no avail. All were grand and extravagant, but not what you were looking for. You came to the last door, further back than the others, perched under an archway in solidarity. You scoffed at yourself, you should have chosen this one first. Even the wood was unwelcoming, a deep ebony - almost completely black, a sharp contrast to the light surrounding you.

Gingerly, you grasped the brass handle, cursing at your feebleness. You reluctantly pushed it open, listening as the door creaked in protest. Your feet prowled forward as you hit the hardwood floor and smiled to yourself at the comforting silence. You had almost expected an alarm to sound or to fall through a trap door into a lion pit, two things you wouldn't find that surprising from Klaus. You sigh as you peer around the room, a feeling anchoring in the pit of your stomach. The chamber is lavish, but not in an overwhelming way. The colours are deep and almost comforting, a mix of coppers and reds, the curtains are drawn, engulfing the room in darkness. You cautiously pace forward, taking in as much as you can manage, it smells familiar, in a way that makes your heart lurch in your chest.

The room looks entirely unlived in, the bed made and the drawers tidy and closed. The only sign that he was ever here is the lingering acrylic smell, and the art perched on the wall. You creep forward, your fingertips tracing along the edge of a mahogany dresser as you reach the edge of the large canvas.

It takes your breath away.

Once upon a time, mornings were a time for lounging in bed, covers draped over your cool form as you observed Klaus through sleepy eyes, his hands moving against his work, a small smirk on his lips when he realised he was being watched. The memory is unwelcome and you clench your fingernails into your palm to force yourself to forget, the instant pain shocking you into silence. The painting is of a forest, filled with lush trees, the bark twisted and gnarled reminding you of crashing waves against the shore. The sketch is dark and distant taking you back to a time long ago, you almost reach out and touch it, but stop yourself before your fingers disrupt the art.

Your hand brushes against an askew paintbrush sending it hurtling onto the floor, you curse lightly as you watch it roll underneath the bed. You bend down and clamber onto all fours, feeling the cool flooring under your palms. You scramble forward, heaving the great blankets grazing the ground, huffing at their excessive size in contrast to your small frame. You extend a palm, determined to find the missing apparatus before he notices its absence. You sigh as your fingers brush various specks of dust and a stray sock before you come into contact with something firm. You clasp your hands around the hard interior and tug it towards you, falling backwards into a more comfortable position. Your eyes graze over the object in question, its a kind of sketchbook bound in leather, you tease the front cover wanting desperately to prise it open but unsure of what you'll find. Its been well loved, dog-eared and creased along the dark spine. Curiosity gets the better of you and you rip apart the pages, the paper rough against your fingers.

Its a sketch of you.

You cant place the date, but your hands trace the pencil strokes, it's so similar to the first you received, capturing every essence of you, from the curve in your nose to the arch of your eyebrows. You turn the page and there's another, this one of you bundled up as you visited the beach one year, cheeks rosy and a wide smile as you stared at the open water. You flick the page, there's another, and then another. Each yellow page filled with sketches of you, all from the past, ones of you curled up reading a book, then side profile and smiling, trips from a time long passed. You feel tears trickle down your cheeks as you sniffle, a lump growing at the bottom of your throat.

You turn to the next page, and a small rectangle drops onto the floor. You unfold it slowly and realise its a map, slightly crinkled and worn with unmistakable scrawled handwriting across various regions. All sightings of you, possibilities of where you could be found. You exhale loudly as you come to terms with what you have discovered, you finger the creases in the map as you try to work out all of the words before you notice a small piece of paper sticking to the back of the journal.

You pluck it out, and your fingers trace the fine material, you know exactly what it is. Its a photo of the both of you, the only one you have. You had managed to sneakily take it of Klaus before he could protest, both of you in the reflection of a mirror. You grinning like a child at the camera, pleased with your hidden photo and Klaus in the background, attempting to control the fire roaring in the cabin you had rented for the night. You both looked so happy and utterly normal, not a care in the world as you enjoyed each others company. As soon as he heard the camera click, he pounced, demanding you tear it before you shoved it away with a laugh, distracting him and teasing him from the developing polaroid. You completely forgot about the photo that weekend, too caught up in bliss to remember where you had left it and your heart clenches as you realise he must have found it somewhere and kept it for himself.

A guttural moan escapes your lips before you can silence it, and the tears are flowing hard and fast, but before you can weep in peace the front door slams open and the house is filled with a chorus of voices. You wipe your damp face with the back of your sleeve and leap to your feet, returning everything to where you found it and leaving the room noiselessly. Avoiding all contact with people and not making a sound before you manage to lock yourself in the bathroom, running the taps to silence your deafening sniffles and looking at your weak form in the mirror. The day's events were clattering around your mind like a bowling bowl and you felt a surge of determination, you needed to see Klaus and talk to him - you needed to -

"Hey! You can't go up there!"

You turn towards the bathroom door, tuning into the voices rising from behind it. You edge forward, brows furrowed in concern before a knock jolts you from your mind.

"Y/N... It's Bonnie... I need your help."