#s06e22 tvd

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Never Let Me Go (pt.1)

kai parker x reader | heretic!kai | part 1/3

summary: you're getting used to the coldness in your apartment. the chill that lingers in the air, the absence of his presence. for four months you wait for him, willing for the past and cursing those who've altered your future; wishing for the way things used to be, and hoping they wouldn't be lost beyond repair. but the next time you see him, out on your doorstep, you realize you can't just pick up the pieces, you have to restart the whole puzzle.

tags: post s06e22, heartache, emotional hurt / mild comfort, angst, arguing

word count: 2k

a/n: it's been one of the worst weeks of my life, so here's a little angst. i hope to have more out soon, and aside from the other two parts of this (well, one, bc the third part is smutty), some softer things!

You sigh deeply as you climb into bed, alone, for the billionth time. Your bed used to be warm, full, and safe, and now it’s just cold. For a while, you couldn’t even stand the feeling and had to sleep on the couch, but then one month turned into four, and you had to go back to the bed at some point. 

For four months, your boyfriend was trapped in a prison world by one of your best friends. When he finally got out, he brought chaos along with him in the form of one curse and a hundred deaths. One of those, being his own. Luckily, he had drunk the blood of a vampire, which brought him back, but not quite as the same boy he used to be. 

The first night after his transformation, he returned to bed with you. By morning, he was gone. When asked what happened, he couldn’t really say. His emotions, already confusing, were even more out of place, and he couldn’t predict even his own usually sporadic actions. A taste for blood and a ringing in his ear kept him up all night, and the sight of you made him afraid. If he’d hurt you, he would never forgive himself. 

So, for the last three weeks, your bed has been empty just as it had when he was gone. Frankly, you have no idea where Kai sleeps, or if he even does. The rest of the heretics have taken to an old abandoned house on the town’s border, but you doubt he’s there. Worry keeps you awake most nights, and the only reason you fall asleep is out of pure exhaustion. You love him, but lately you feel like he loves you less. 

Tonight’s like any other in your new routine. Watch an episode and drink down a glass of wine. Or bourbon. Or even vodka, on worse days. Curl yourself into a ball when you finally do go up to bed. Cuddle into the stuffed bat that Caroline gifted you after she found out what happened after the 1903 visit. She knew it hurt you, what Bonnie did. Even if it was “for the better”, she knew it broke your heart. 

You kiss the head of the little animal, then heave a heavy sigh. Sleep could overtake you in five minutes or five hours, depending on what your body demands. After three minutes, you start counting sheep, calling on the help of more animals to guide you to REM. 

Forty-six sheep have jumped the fence when there’s suddenly a bold knock at your door. You scramble in anxiety, but then freeze in an attempt to hear better. 

Maybe you imagined it. Maybe you had finally fallen asleep. 

But then there’s another knock. 

It’s probably Damon, you think. He’s disturbed you several times in the middle of the night. He probably lost a hold of his mother and is wondering if you’ve seen her. Or it’s Caroline, seeking advice whilst forgetting the time on the clock. Or maybe it’s your upstairs neighbor, angry about you taking his usual parking spot, since he took yours the day before. 

Your head runs rampant with possibilities as you urge yourself to answer the door. Your blanket is still wrapped around your body, though you leave your bat in bed.

When you open the door, you’re stunned to see none other than Kai Parker standing there, smiling, despite pain clouding in his eyes. 

“Kai?” You ask, voice quieter than you intended.

“Hi.”

“What are you doing here? It’s late.”

It’s weird to see him. Honestly, you had to run back your memory and try to think if your last conversation ended in a break-up. It hadn’t. 

“Can I come in?”

He’s been invited in; he was on the first night. Still, he asks now.

“Okay.”

You shut the door as he enters. Then, pulling the blanket closer to you, you nod to the couch. He follows, but you sit on separate ends.

“You look warm,” he says. 

You bite back a reply to say you feel the opposite. In fact, your whole apartment feels cold without him. “What brings you here?” You repeat instead. 

“I miss you.” He shrugs off his boots, but leaves the jacket on. “And I’m sorry.”

You furrow your eyebrows and he immediately sighs.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. The only time we’ve talked in weeks is at the grill, and even then, I’ve been distant.”

“Mhm. So why now? What changed?”

“I promised you I’d be the best boyfriend I could be when we started dating, and I know for a fact that I haven’t been. And things have been difficult lately, y’know, since 1903, and the wedding, and the… everything. There’s been a lot of change. A lot of adjustments.” He’s stalling and you both know it. 

“Make your point, Parker,” you say coldly.

“I was sitting at the grill, just now, watching this couple. They were both drunk off their asses and being all handsy, and the bartender kicked them out for it, and everyone in that bar knows what they’re doing right now. But on their way out, they had to pass me, and heard them both tell the other they loved them, and it made me think of you. The first time you told me you loved me. The first time I said it back, and the first time I recognized I felt it, even if I didn’t understand it. Made me think of you, and our relationship, and what I’ve seemingly abandoned, but I promise, I never wanted this to become of us.” Tears well in his eyes as he rambles. You’ve never seen him cry. “Everything I said, that night after I left, was true. I’m so scared to hurt you that I don’t even want to put you in a position where I could. And on top of that… don’t you hate me?! I ruined your life, Y/N. I ruined your best friends’ lives, I killed my whole family. Why don’t you fucking hate me?!”

“Do you want me to hate you?”

“No! I love you, and you’re the only person who has ever loved me, but I’m a fucking horrible person.”

“Everyone in this town is fucking horrible, have you seen it? People, in general, are flawed and vicious, and yet most people have at least a few to whom they stick, and love, and are loved back.”

“You’re not like that.”

“But I still have flaws.”

“Your only flaw is loving me.”

“Kai-”

“Don’t-”

“Don’t fucking interrupt me,” you snap, getting upset. “If I want to fucking love you, I will. I don’t see it as a flaw, no matter what you’ve done. I’m so pissed off at you right now, how you come here and act like loving you is a chore, when you’ve been the absent one. I haven’t slept well in five fucking months because I’ve been worried about you. I don’t care what fears you have about hurting me. If you feel that way, then let us work through it. I’d rather have at least been given the chance to help you than for you to just block me out. I do love you, and while I have to convince myself every day that you still love me, it doesn’t make me love you less. I fucking wish I could. If I could, I’d turn off my fucking humanity and not give a shit, but I can’t do that, so I sit in this apartment and rot.”

He opens his mouth, but then stops and bites his tongue. Smart. 

“I can’t take this anymore, emotionally.” You finally say. “I need you here or I need you out.”

To avoid his gaze any longer, you stand up and head to the kitchen. He watches you turn on the Keurig and retrieve a cup, but doesn’t say anything. You turn your back for two seconds to grab the creamer from the fridge, and when you turn around again, he’s there, pulling sugar from your cupboard. You jump, not used to seeing him move so fast, and for a moment, forgetting heretics could. He swallows hard, seemingly taking it as a sign you’re afraid of him. 

“Give me that,” he gestures to the carton in your hand. His tone is gentle, there’s nothing demanding about it. 

For some reason, you do. You stand there, watching, as he crafts your cup of coffee in the way he always would. He has a way in the kitchen that you’d never understand. 

He snaps his fingers, and immediately you bring him the cinnamon from your spice rack. It’s muscle memory, part of your routine. 

He then puts the cup under the stream of hot coffee as the Keurig works its own magic. Eye contact is avoided at all costs. He stares down at your marble cabinet. Your eyes are trained on his arm. 

When the coffee is done pouring, he sets it in front of you to cool. For a minute, you won’t touch it. For a minute, he can explain. 

“I still love you. And in an attempt to not hurt you, I hurt you worse than I could’ve imagined. It’s not an excuse, but 1903 did something to me. I shut down, emotionally, I think. It felt hopeless, any chance of escaping, or of seeing you again. My only company were the heretics that had been there for a century and had no idea, whatsoever, of how to escape.” He’s running out of time. You watch the steam cool off the top of your cup.

“I told them about you, and how much I loved you… because I was feeding them. I woke them all up and let them drink from me. Those scars all healed when I turned, but my arms and neck were littered with bites. God, I’m glad you didn’t see it. But I was so bored, and lonely, and wanted to know if they had any idea of how to get out. Again, they didn’t. But then, one day that we were plotting an escape, I remembered how we got Bonnie out, and realized it would be applicable to that time, considering Quetsi-what died in the days of the Greeks.”

You almost chuckle at that.

“But when I got out, I was so hellbent on revenge, that I did what I did, and I know I did everything wrong, and I should’ve just come to you, but my brain isn't… wired that way.” He hesitates to say that detail. At the end of the day, he’s still a sociopath. If revenge is on his mind, it’s the only thing on his mind. 

“And so I’m sorry about all of it. I swore I would protect you, and that included protecting you emotionally, and I’ve failed at that. I don’t want out, I want to be here, if you’ll have me back.”

You take a sip of the coffee, now cool. The flavors are perfect and warm your cold soul up just the way you’ve needed it for months. 

“I’d rather have you with me than anywhere else,” you admit.

“Every day without you has been a living hell.”

“Where have you been sleeping?”

“Sometimes with the heretics. Sometimes in the old Lockwood cellar, or just the woods. A couple times…” he stops himself.

“A couple times?”

“Outside your apartment. In the bushes. Where I could hear your heartbeat, but could keep a safe distance.”

“Kai…”

“I really hope you watched a lot of sad movies, and that they were the reason for your tears.”

You bite your lip. You both know you didn’t. 

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.” In half a second, he’s in front of you, rubbing his thumb along your chin. 

You still don’t look at him. “Please don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t. I swear-” he stops. He swore to you last time. “I promise I won’t. I won’t leave you, ever.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Tears flood your eyes once more as you wrap your arms around his body. You bury your face in his chest, and he pulls you close. Hands find their way to your hair, massaging your head comfortingly. With time, you find your way back to the couch, coffee in hand. But despite the strength of the coffee, you’re asleep in no time. You’re finally back in the warmth and safety of his arms. 

[jamiedornaniseverything]

[jamiedornaniseverything]

[jamiedornaniseverything]

Delena Parallels (3.22||6.22)