Rebekah is the first to notice that today, Klaus is wearing his favorite jacket.
It’s the one with the navy striped pattern inside - the outside is dark brown. It’s so unlike the usual clothes he’d pick for himself. Ripped jeans, black leather, gray sweaters, he was one step up from his highschool teenage self.
This jacket though was different. It used to belong to Finn, he got it back when he first met the love of his life, Sage. Then, he outgrew it the summer Elijah turned seventeen and it was his turn to inherit the jacket.
Klaus knew that at some point, he’d have to give this jacket to Kol.
It’s a tradition between brothers, one that they all hold dear - so of course, he wears this article of clothing the day Freya, Elijah and Finn are leaving town again.
Rebekah, Klaus and Kol arrive to see them off at the airport.
“Well,” Kol sighs, waving them away as the three of them pass through border security. “There they go, off to who knows where,” he grumpily says.
His sister places a warm hand over his shoulder, realizing that Kol was still mourning Davina’s rejection. And, in turn, he was not ready to say goodbye to the rest of his siblings, as of yet.
“Kol,” she whispers, “they’ll be back soon, they just have some work to do, that’s all,” her attempts to soothe her dear brother fails as he continues to pout.
He then notices the big smile plastered on Klaus’ face.
“And what’s got you so chipper?” He asks.
Klaus raises a brow. “What ever do you mean?”
Kol rolls his eyes. “You’ve been grinning like a damned fool all morning,” he says. “Meanwhile, Bekah and I are heartbroken, betrayed…turned away by people whom we love dearly.”
He reminds him, as he recalls Marcel’s haste behavior at the party last night and who could forget Kol’s embarrassing antic of trying to get engaged.
“Oh my God.” And just then, Rebekah puts the pieces together. “Something happened with Hayley, didn’t it?”
Her brother’s blushing cheeks gives him away.
“I knew it!” She exclaims, throwing her arms around Klaus. “Oh, I’m so glad, I knew you two would patch things up!”
Klaus doesn’t say much else, he rubs his sister’s back as she holds him closer.
Kol doesn’t add a word either - he’s much too busy continuing to sulk and burn a jealous stare into his sibling.
(Although, somewhere, underneath all that envy, he is happy for Klaus).
-
Back at the Marshall residence - time to daydream is rather rare.
Between getting Hope ready for school, packing lunch, and getting herself ready for work - Hayley is almost caught off-guard by the fleeting memories of last night’s kiss with Klaus.
At first, she thought she would regret it.
She was supposed to never forgive him.
But, to her dismay, Klaus had indeed grown as a person since the last time she had seen him. She can’t help but think that she doesn’t want to hold on to her anger anymore.
It’s so…exhausting. Fighting her feelings, her attraction to him, her love for him -
Knock knock!
“Hey there stranger.”
And then, there is Marcel.
She can’t pretend she hasn’t noticed him either. Even though Hayley is swept off her damned feet by Klaus’ affection, Marcel’s presence is…unwavering.
“I wasn’t expecting you this morning,” she tells him. “Donuts again?” she notices.
He nods, raising the box and walking into her home like he lives there. “Fresh from Josh’s Bakery,” he knows where everything is - the place where she puts all the snacks to keep away from Hope, where she hides her cigarettes, where the bananas go -
“We’re just about to leave, Hope is still watching cartoons upstairs,” it sounds like she’s rushing him out, like she knows what’s about to come.
He’s thought about her for so long.
“I wanted to tell you this last night, at the party,” Marcel confesses. “But something else came up - anyway, the point is…” His hands shake and her eyes avert his gaze. She can’t even look at him right now. “After the Mikaelsons left town and we only had each other, I grew really close to you,” he recalls to her. “I remember helping you during your pregnancy, being in the hospital when you gave birth, Hope’s first words-”
“Marcel-”
“Hayley Marshall,” He gets closer, almost too close. “I think…I’m in love with you.”
And she wishes her heart hadn’t wavered, that it hadn’t, for one second, just thought about it.
For if she hadn’t, things would be so clear. Her answer would be Klaus - but, when she looks into Marcel’ eyes…she can’t help but imagine.
She can’t help but dream.
-
After his short trip to the airport, Kol’s mind is still wrapped around Davina’s rejection.
He continues to be cooped up in the same hotel room as Rebekah and Klaus - refusing to be alone for even a second. As long as he has his siblings, he weirdly feels invincible.
Like he can even get through this - as long as his sister’s hand continues to ruffle his curls and his brother’s smile haunts his mind…he is alright.
Better even, he is good.
“Hey. I’m outside your hotel. Let’s talk”
Until he isn’t.
Kol stares at the text from Davina for over a minute, just to check if it’s real. And then, he rushes down to the lobby.
(He has this entire speech prepared - in his mind, he is brave, he is strong, he is smooth with his words and assertive. However, as soon as he sees her and she’s wearing that scrunchie he gave her on their fourth date - he loses it).
“I thought I’d never see you again,” he exhales.
“Kol,” she laughs as he runs into her arms. “You’re so dramatic,” she sighs, patting his hair down while he softly sobs into her touch.
“First, you reject my proposal and now, you’re making fun of me?” he whines.
She wipes his tears away, trying to hold him even closer. “I’m sorry,” Davina finally tells him. “I never meant to hurt you with my decision, you know you have my heart - just marriage, it’s a big deal you know? We’re just kids, are we even ready for something like that? And you never even talked about it with me-”
“I know,” he cuts her off, finally done with the crying, done with moping around. “I just…I was swept up in the passion of it all. You know how we Mikaelsons are?”
Davina smiles widely. “Yes, I’m aware. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”
He breathes easy as she softly places her smooth fingers against his cheeks. She pulls his face close and they are nose to nose. “I guess I could wait…just a little longer for you. Actually, you know I’d wait for you forever, Davina.”
She quietly giggles. “Oh Kol,” Davina sings. “I promise I won’t make you wait that long.”
-
So he wears his brother’s jacket.
The jacket that smells like old pine, wood and faded cologne.
Klaus spends his evening reading poetry books, while Rebekah softly plays her reality shows in the background - it’s a kind of night he hasn’t had in a while.
Between his feelings for Hayley and his dramatic family…and his daughter. Klaus hasn’t had much time for himself.
And that reality is sure to fade the minute Hayley asks him to see her.
With an instant, he is jumping out of bed, grabbing his shoes and running out the door.
“Here to continue what we started?” He says, in the smoothest way possible.
He’s disappointed when he’s met with her frown - she takes a step towards him, her tone is somber.
If you are still requesting drabbles, can you do something like Klayley mates or something like that?
WHEN THE MOON WOULDN’T COME OUT -
(a/n: I assume you meant soulmates? Unless I’m wrong? Anyway this is kinda au/or what if Mystic Falls has a soulmates curse put on it and Hayley gets paired up with the last person she expects).
―
Her love is a waterlily resting in a pond - calm, tranquil and quiet.
She watches from the sidelines: a girl who hides behind words and a blue eyed boy. He’d been introduced to her as a teacher of the fine arts who spent his summers in Paris, in Venice, in New York City. He was a wealthy man with a large family. Four brothers, two sisters. He lived a full life - of adventure, love, loss.
Hayley took note of all of this before she walks into their new home.
“Hello,” he says, in a smooth voice, “I’m Klaus Mikaelson, your soulmate,” he holds his hand our for her to take.
She watches him carefully, and hesitates to slip her fingers into his palm.
―
She doesn’t talk to Klaus for three days.
Hayley hates him for not crawling after her - like a lost boy. That’s what your soulmate is supposed to do, love you unconditionally. Tyler Lockwood was supposed to be hers, she was sure of it. That’s what the wolves had told her, that’s why she came all the way to dreary old Mystic Falls.
But, this blasted curse and then - Tyler committed the ultimate act of betrayal as a wolf.
He fell in love with a vampire.
And that was that.
―
Hayley chooses Kol’s old bedroom because it has a fireplace.
Klaus’ mansion becomes a house full of ghosts to her. She learns that they are haunted by siblings he once daggered and others who ran off because of his crazy antics. She hates it here - where everything is so sad and gone. This home is so empty, she thinks.
“Hayley,” he whispers, walking in as her door remains open. Klaus was strangely kind to her, she doesn’t question it. After all, he could just be lonely, all cooped up in this giant house, all by himself.
As his soulmate, she’s forced to be with him, so now, at least he has someone to talk to.
“What do you want?” She quips, sounding on edge.
“Come with me,” he orders, and it doesn’t surprise him that she refuses to comply. Hayley pulls the covers closer, all cooped up in Kol’s old bed.
“Why?” The she-wolf asks instead.
Klaus clears his throat, adjusting his tone to fit her fragility. He supposes that he could try and be softer towards her. “Please,” he whispers quietly. “I want to show you something,” he says, leading her out the door.
She walks after him and he brings her to the left wing of his mansion - where she was forbidden to venture out to. Klaus hadn’t told her the reason for it was that it was under-construction. She had just assumed he was hiding the worst of things back there.
But instead, he brings her to a large chamber.
The room is crafted beautifully - with old werewolf symbols and statues carved into the wood. The walls are covered in books about old folklore, histories of numerous packs and traditions. There are ancient werewolf heirlooms trapped in glass boxes, like exhibit pieces in a museum, with scripts about them written on plaques.
“I made this for you,” Klaus finally tells her. “I hope you like it,” he says, as he leaves her alone to enjoy the place.
―
She spends all her days cooped up in that same room.
Klaus slides in a few additions every now and then - pictures of his siblings, a portrait of Hayley he had done while she was sleeping, old scrolls about werewolf birthmarks to help her find out more about her family.
Each and every day, she got more and more comfortable.
And she realizes that maybe, this could be her home after all.
It’s not long before the ballroom becomes a battlefield.
Well, a few things happen just before then actually.
“I’ve fallen in love,” Kol declares.
His expression is soft - devoid of the boastfulness of his ego (that he gets from Klaus) and the loudness of his pride (that he gets from Rebekah).
His hand is soft too - as he gestures it towards Davina, who is sitting before the stage.
She stares at his open palm, wondering if she should take it.
Then, Kol takes this as his golden opportunity.
He reaches his other hand into his pocket, pulling out a small box as he gets down on one knee.
“Davina Claire,” he begins. “Among my siblings, I’ve always been known as the impatient one,” he admits, a smile forming on his lips. “Even worse than Niklaus, on some days,” the whole room chuckles, “but, the one thing I’ve been able to wait for is you.”
“The truth is, I’ve been wanting to do this since the day we first met - at that old record store.”
She watches as he opens the blue box, revealing a dainty golden ring with a white diamond at the center.
“My love,” he says again. “Will you marry me?”
-
He remembers the day after Davina had stolen his heart much better than the day of, if he’s quite honest.
Finn congratulated him, Klaus teased him.
Rebekah envied him. Elijah supported him.
By the time their second encounter comes around, it’s already summer. She’s at the local occult club meeting, sitting there, looking like something the wind blew in.
“Hello again,” he had said, “is this seat taken?”
She recognizes him, almost immediately. “Nope,” Davina chirps, eventually meeting his longing gaze. “Fancy seeing you here,” she finally addresses.
There is nothing else there, just a boy catching the eye of a girl.
“I’m surprised you remembered me,” Kol adds.
She offers him a kind smile. “A handsome man with impeccable taste in music,” she says. “How could I forget someone like that?”
He’s surprised.
Flirting.
He didn’t think she’d be so bold.
“I could say the same about you - pretty girl and all,” Kol tells, offering the same type of smile back.
Minutes pass, their instructor is still late.
“Why are you interested in witchcraft?” She suddenly asks.
“All things dark and mysterious, they’ve always piqued my curiosity,” he sings, and that’s how they begin.
-
So, where did we leave off?
Will you marry me?
Oh - right.
And then she said:
“No.”
Kol inhales a sharp breath.
No.
No?
No!
Davina furrows her brows, she approaches the man with the box. Softly, she places her fingers around it and slowly closes it shut.
“I’m sorry Kol,” she sobs. “It’s just too soon for me, I love you…so much. But I just need more time,” she watches him as he hangs on her every word.
Jaw dropping at her tone.
“Davina,” he sighs. “I don’t understand, if you know you love me…and I love you…then, why is there a need for more time?”
Eventually, she just gives up.
The man before her is such a romantic, how could he understand the simplicity as well as the complexities of a woman who just wanted to find herself?
“I just can’t do this,” Davina uncomfortably releases. “I have to go.”
-
It’s always odd, the way things go.
Almost as if the fates had something else in store for him.
Marcel has to choose.
Confess to Hayley or comfort Davina.
“Marcel.”
Humbly, he chooses the latter.
“Please don’t scold me right now, this is already hard enough,” the young girl sobs (woman but child in his eyes - as he leans outside the car with her, hand on her shoulder).
“I wasn’t going to,” Marcel whispers. “I came to see if you’re okay.”
“Of course I’m okay!” she shouts, and immediate regret surrounds her when she realizes that she was taking her anger out on him. “Kol is the one who’s heartbroken…I hurt him, I even ran away! God, he’s all alone, he must be feeling so awful-”
“Davina,” he cuts in, locking eyes with her. “He has his family, he’ll be okay,” Marcel assures her.
She finally leans into him, collapsing against his chest.
“I guess,” she cries, feeling his warm hand on her back this time. “I do love him, you know that right?” she reminds him (reminds herself).
He nods, thinking of Hayley. “I know,” he acknowledges. “To be honest, I’m probably the only one…but I’m glad you said no.”
She actually releases a laugh.
“Not ready to lose me yet?”
“Never.”
It’s a touching moment, found family meant more to them that they could say in so many words.
“Don’t worry,” for once, he allows her to comfort him too. “I’ll always be there for you, Marcel.”
He misses his chance to say it back - but she knows he has and he always will give up the world for her.
-
Backstage, Kol is inconsolable.
He goes off on Finn for the flowers again and this time, the older brother just takes it, knowing that maybe this will offer the little one some semblance of relief.
“This is just like that time he wanted to buy that yacht,” Elijah sighs
“Or when he lost those golden golf clubs at that auction we went to in Berlin,” Rebekah comments, as they are both out of reach of Kol’s hearing.
“He’ll get over it,” Freya whispers “He’s a Mikaelson, Mikael made sure we were all put through much worse.”
One by one, they all try their best
Hayley watches as Klaus returns Hope to her and makes his way to his brother’s side.
“Kol.”
“Nik, not now.”
He observes as the other continues to fiddle with the plants - pricking off the dried ends, trimming the sides, placing them in all different kinds of arrangements -
“The flowers look fine,” Klaus breaks the silence.
He feels something warm at the center of his back - his brother’s touch, radiating through his jacket. Unexpectedly, it’s enough to offer him a small sense of relief.
“She said no,” Kol sighs. “I threw this dumb party, and she said no,” he whines, arms crossing and huffing loudly, just like when they were children.
Klaus laughs, he could be such a brat sometimes.
“So what?”
The other drops his jaw. “So what?” He repeats, immediately shoving his brother off of him. “Do you know how much money I spent on these glass swans?”
Klaus tilts his head - thinking of what Elijah would say to him, if he were in this exact predicament.
“You are a Mikaelson,” he reminds Kol. “And we are known for one thing,” he pursues. “Never giving up.”
It takes Kol exactly two seconds before his entire face breaks into laughter.
His other siblings stare in awe - who knew that all it took was some crazy words from their most unexpected brother to do the trick.
“Did you think that would actually work on me?” Kol asks, seriously.
Klaus shakes his head. “You’re smiling, aren’t you?”
His younger sibling exhales in disbelief - was this actually happening right now?
“Well, I can’t help it,” Kol offers. “Seeing you with that weird glimmer in your eyes, dancing around with a toddler,” he loses himself in those images. “It’s so unlike the brother I’ve known, all these years.”
“And,” Klaus says. “The little brother I knew used to have a different girl in his bed every other week,” he recalls. “Now, you want to get married?”
Both brothers smile at each other, in awe.
“Love. It’s a strange thing, isn’t it?”
“And so it is, Nik.”
-
After the party, the Mikaelson siblings squeeze into a limo.
Hayley carries a sleeping Hope as they make their way outside only to find Klaus waving them off.
She silently observes him as he’s making his way back to her. This whole event, that’s all she’s been, quiet and calculating.
Waiting for the right moment.
“You’re not going with them?” she questions him.
He notices her hip swung to one side in order to support their daughter’s sleeping body - her soft hand on her back, carefully lulling Hope to stay dormant.
He bites - she’s a good mother, he thinks.
“They’ll be alright,” Klaus tells her. “You know my siblings, such a handful, but in the end, they have each other,” he reminds her.
“I’ve always been jealous of that,” Hayley quips. “Big happy family,” she cheers.
“Big, sure…happy? Eh,” he chuckles.
She giggles.
Hayley Marshall? Giggle?
What was happening here?
“I was really impressed with the way you cheered Kol up,” she surprises herself with her next words. She wonders why it took her so long to see that he has indeed actually become a family man. “I didn’t think anyone could get him out of that slump,” Hayley says.
“Well, I did what I could,” he shrugs. “The rest is up to him.”
She’s lost in her thoughts again - she looks beyond who he is, who she knew him as. All she sees is a chance, an opportunity before her.
“I never noticed,” she whispers quietly. “The hint of yellow in your eyes.”
He takes a step back as she lunges forward.
“Sweetheart,” Klaus raises a brow. “What is all this about?”
And maybe, it happens because she’s inspired by Kol’s brave confession.
Maybe, those impulsive romantic actions that are just so Mikaelson in nature are rubbing off on her.
Can you do something about Klaus despair and sadness after Hayley's death?and how he felt like he truly lost his heart the moment she died?
(a/n: au after Hayley's death - mostly because I can't exactly remember everything that happens after that :')
-
He asks the void -
If she'd like it if he wrote her an ode.
(Can you imagine such a thing?
One night - she's in his home with her feet on the table, ginger cookie crumbs left on his desk, the scent of cinnamon still fresh on his office chair -
She used to love his bedroom - secretly of course.
He had the biggest windows in the Mikaelson manor, obviously, the brightest room was reserved for the king. And, to her surprise, Klaus never shooed her away.
They were family, after all.
His room was her room too).
And then - suddenly, she's gone.
The girl who twirled her finger in her hair, who pouted when mad, who bit her lip -
Was no more.
"So void," he rings again, hand over his heart. "I'll do it, I'll write you a poem."
About death, about sadness, about despair -
About the moment he truly lost his heart.
Klaus writes and writes until he swears he thinks he'll start to bleed out her name.
For no matter how many words he pours out of himself - he still cannot fill the emptiness she left behind.
-
Notably, he has his daughter to answer to.
Hope is supposed to be all grief-stricken, endless rage and chaos and yet - she is silent.
Instead, she looks to her father and asks him:
"Do you know what happens after death?"
Ah, and so there it is, the only question that can strike fear within Niklaus Mikaelson.
She is in a better place - he wants to say - she is away from all the demons that taunt their family, from all the pain, the sense of never-ending danger surrounding this cursed place -
That's what he wishes he could say.
He wonders why the following words slip out of his mouth in its place:
"I don't know," he sighs, not even able to muster up a small tear to roll down his face.
I don't know - the truest words he had ever spoken
-
Sometimes, at night, he hears her laughter.
He dares to say that it's worse than hearing her cries.
Hayley's laugh always sounded so eerie - almost too real - like she was still alive or something.
But, she can't be, right?
She bursted into flames right before him - (he wishes he could forget that, he wishes he could stop replaying that scene, in his memory, over and over, again and again).
Now, he only sees her in his dreams.
(Secretly, he feels relieved, realizing that, at least he is able to see her still).
-
In one dream -
She is in a meadow, wearing a white sundress, lying on the grass.
In the same dream -
He is there too.
They talk. They smile. They even kiss.
There is even a point where Klaus is lifting her dress, hands slowly making their way up her creamy legs, feeling the softness of her skin.
And then, just before he can slip his fingers inside of her -
He wakes up.
He feels faint, knowing that he had just dreamt of making love to a dead woman.
Without a doubt, Klaus feels sick.
-
In another dream -
Things are softer.
They hold hands. Talk about Hope's future. Fight over the dishes.
This version of events - he thinks he prefers.
For it is one that lies untouched by his evil.
-
(Much to his dismay - he experiences more nightmares than dreams.
roommates au or the one where Sang-Woo and Gi-Hun are fighting like an old married couple and collecting strays along the way (featuring Saebyuk, Ji-yeong, Ali, Mi-Nyeo and even that slimy old man - Il-Nam)
-
When Sang-Woo signed up to live with his childhood friend Gi-Hun, his goal was always this: saving money.
Sure, this guy was, at times, unreliable, a total flake and even absentminded but - he had good intentions. Gi-Hun somehow made just enough every month through picking up a couple customers to chauffeur around and that dreaded gambling scheme while Sang-Woo did things like help his mom at her stall, do odd cleaning jobs, maybe even sell some of his old paintings -
And yeah - they weren’t in the nicest of areas or in the nicest of apartments but, one thing was for sure, they had each other.
If anything could raise Sang-Woo’s spirits, it would always be Gi-Hun’s wide toothy smile (though he’d never admit that). So, it’s no surprise that that’s exactly the sweet expression his friend has on his face when he comes home from driving around his last customer…only for a strange curly haired man to appear behind him.
“Gi-Hun,” Sang-Woo sighs, opening the door and staring in shock. “Who is this?”
“My last customer, Ali,” Gi-Hun responds. “He couldn’t pay me and has no place to stay, so I told him he can stay with us.”
“Hi there!” Ali excitedly sings, offering his hand towards Sang-Woo.
And, expectedly, the other man avoids him and instead, takes his roommate aside.
“Why didn’t you ask me about this beforehand?” He whispers. “This man is a stranger, he could rob us!” Sang-Woo goes on to say.
“I didn’t ask you because I know a heartless fool like you would say no,” Gi-Hun offers. “Besides, he’s a total softie, couldn’t hurt a fly - when I picked him up, he was hiding from a mouse!” He laughs.
Sang-Woo takes another look at Ali - he’s not sure what it is but, perhaps something about his shy, mild-manner appearance somehow persuades him.
At least it be an extra helping hand around the house, he thinks.
“Fine,” Sang-Woo breathes. “But only for tonight and - he’s staying in your room.”
“But then, where will I stay?” Gi-Hun wonders, moments before his friend points to their living room couch.
-
(In a faithful twist of events, Sang-Woo begins to grow fond of Ali.
He has to admit that, his cooking is divine and that it sure is nice to have someone to make all their meals for them.
Another great thing about Ali is that he is hardworking and, as it stands, splitting your rent three ways is a lot cheaper than splitting it two ways.
A deal this good is something Sang-Woo definitely could not and would not pass up on.
And so, he lets Ali stay).
-
The next poor unfortunate souls Gi-Hun brings home are two young girls named Sae-Byuk and Ji-Yeong.
Sang-Woo takes one look at them and begs to differ.
“Absolutely not,” he scoffs.
“Sang-Woo,”Gi-Hun pleads. “I found them out on the streets, on their own,” he explains. “They’re girls, it’s dangerous for them!”
“Gi-Hun,” The other sighs, with a hand on his shoulder. “We already have Ali staying in your room and you’re in the living room - even if I let them, where will they stay? You can’t possibly expect them to share a room with a man!”
The two girls stammer behind him, one like a lost puppy and the other, like a wild mutt ready for the attack.
“They don’t have to,” Gi-Hun says. “Ali can move into the living room that way, the girls can have my room!” He smiles, feeling like he has it all figured out.
Of course, there is one crucial detail that he has yet to discuss with Sang-Woo.
“And then,” he sighs. “Where will you sleep?” He wonders.
“Well,” Gi-Hun shrugs. “Remember when we used to have sleepovers as children? It could be like that, but every night!”
Sang-Woo can’t believe what he’s hearing.
But, once again, one more look towards the two girls and he couldn’t help it. They are so young and vulnerable - easy targets for any poachers or traffickers. He’d hate to be part of something like that.
Plus, they seem able-bodied, energetic, maybe they could contribute to the household as well.
“I swear to God,” Sang-Woo exhales. “If you still have that bad habit of sleep talking, I’m tossing you out into the streets!”
“Oh Sang-Woo,” Gi-Hun whines, following him into his room. “Underneath all that hard-armour, you’re just a teddy bear, aren’t you?”
-
(The girls stay prove to be short, after all.
Sae-Byuk is quiet and Ji Yeong is resourceful.
They quickly find work, save up just enough to run off to Jeju island to drink margaritas.
Their next destination remains unknown).
-
Later that night, his mother hands him bags filled with fresh vegetables.
“Here,” she chides. “Give them to Ali, he’ll make something good for you,” she nods as her son eagerly wraps his fingers around the bags.
“Thank you, mom,” Sang-Woo replies. “I really appreciate it,” he honestly says, the most honest he’s been lately anyway.
“And how’s Gi-Hun doing?” She asks. “When his mother passed, he seemed so down in his spirits, I know he’s a slacker but, I think after the shock of losing her, he really tried to turn things around, you know?”
“I guess so,” Sang-Woo realizes, feeling so much fondness in his heart for his good friend. “He still a handful though,” he shrugs.
“You tell him that I said to give you a break,” she scolds.
-
And, as predicted, Sang-Woo comes home to yet another visitor.
“You won’t believe it!”
“That’s enough! We can’t do this anymore!”
“But wait! Just listen to me.”
“Look-”
Finally, Sang-Woo puts his foot down.
“I appreciate your good-hearted nature, Gi-Hun, in fact, it’s what I admire most about you. But, an old man? Really? At least with Ali, and even the girls, they were young, they were able to get jobs and help out a bit. What good is this old man to us?”
Gi-Hun looks at his friend - really looks at him.
Sadly, he fails to recognize him.
“You’re so awful Sang-Woo,” he says. “You judge everyone around you, before you even meet them,” he insists. “Can’t you just trust someone, for once in your life?”
His finger is pointed at the other man’s chest and, if Sang-Woo weren’t such a fool, wasn’t such a damn coward, he would be able to take just a few steps forward and close the short gap between them.
“Excuse me,” the old man suddenly says. “I’m sorry, I seem to be interrupting your evening,” he apologizes softly, with a voice so faint that both men decide to end their quarrelling.
“No old man,” Gi-Hun starts. “It’s okay, I wanted you to stay for dinner - especially after such an amazing tip,” He pulls out the huge wads of cash the old man had left him as a thanks for keeping him company and playing a few childhood games with him.
“C’mon, Ali made us an unforgettable feast.”
Sang-Woo stares at all the money in awe - it look like enough to pay rent for the rest of the year.
-
(And for the rest of the week, Gi-Hun’s words never leave his mind.
He can’t trust anyone - was that true? Was that really what he was like? What everyone saw him as?
“Hey there handsome, you looking for some fun tonight?”
He figured that, if he was going to prove his friend wrong, he’s gotta take a risk).
-
“Ga-yong,” Gi-Hun excitedly leads his daughter down the sidewalk. “Did you enjoy our time with Sae-byuk and her little brother?” He asks.
“Yes,” the little girl nods. “I liked it when we flied paper airplanes together, and my plane won,” she cheers.
“That’s right,” he says. “Because my little girl is a winner,” he believes, with a huge grin plastered on his face.
His daughter can’t help but smile too. “I’m really happy I can have dinner with you and your friends, dad,” she tells him. “You seem…better now,” she comments, looking relieved.
“I am better now,” he offers.
Sang-Woo will be glad, he thinks, for once the visitor he brings is someone his friend already knows very well.
“Well, what do you know? This place is a total sausage fest.”
Gi-Hun confusedly walks passed the strange woman opening his door.
“What is going on here?” He asks Sang-Woo.
“I picked her up on my way home,” he sings, sounding so unlike himself. “She was hitting on me - I think she wanted me to sleep with her for money.”
“I did,” the long, wild haired woman says, eyes-wide and round. “But who would’ve thought a hot guy like you - ended up playing for the other team,” she rolls her eyes and both men.
“So anyway,” Sang-Woo begins again. “I said no - but I told her that if she wanted, she could have dinner with us.”
“What?” Gi-Hun exclaims. “Why in the world would you do that?”
“To prove you wrong,” the other man insists. “You said I can’t trust anyone - so, here I am, trusting a totally stupid and annoying stranger."
“Hey!” The woman shouts. “I’m right here, you know?”
Then, Ga-Yeoung tugs at her father’s sleeve.
“Dad, can we eat now? I’m starving!”
She pulls him out of shock, like always.
“Sure sweetie,” he says. “Sang-Woo, we will discuss this later.”
Sure enough, Sang-Woo gets to have the last laugh that night.
-
And that woman, Han Minyeo, actually ends up staying in Gi-Hun’s room, as predicted.
“At this rate, we should just make your room into a guest room.” Sang-Woo mentions, turning to his side to lock eyes with his friend, who was also sharing his bed.
“Or move into a three bedroom, we can finally afford it now. Hopefully this woman doesn’t continue to stay with us, until then.” He responds with, hands clutching his sheets close.
“Gi-Hun - well I never thought, your benevolent soul would turn away a stray!” The other man begins to laugh, in disbelief no less.
“God, she’s just so annoying, why does she keep flirting with us? We’re fucking gay!” Gi-Hun admits.
“Eh well, you know people in this town, so uneducated,” his friend rings.
And then, both their hands are under the covers, slowly they begin to hold hands.
It’s so warm, too warm even.
“I was thinking,” Gi-Hun breathes. “You and I, we could just share this room, give Ali my room, get our living room back…”
“I guess that could work,” Sang-Woo squeezes his fingers tighter. “You’re here most of the time now anyway - I suppose it’s no different really,” he recalls.
Finally, they tilt their heads, quickly their lips meet like two starved hearts.
“Wow,” Gi-Hun sighs, pulling away. “I finally got-through it, that steal fortress you built around your heart - I’ve finally broken it down.”
Sang-Woo offers him an eye-roll. “Just, get some sleep, would ya?”
a/n: I have so many feels about this show :'( so it translated into this arumika/eremika/eremin fic, I've watched until aot s4 pt 1 so that's all the info I have to base on for this fic
-
Contrary to popular belief, Eren is not Mikasa's first kiss.
Back in their training days, the group got up to all kinds of mischief. Starting with Sasha stealing whatever food rations she could find, Reiner and Berthlot getting into the top secret liquor cabinets, Ymir sneaking into Historia's bed - they were all such trouble makers.
Of course, Connie is always putting everyone in the most uncomfortable situations.
They're all reluctantly huddled together, playing a game of spin the bottle and suddenly, it's Armin's turn.
"Eh?" He blushes, as there is so much laughter in the air when the bottle is flicked and ends up pointing to Mikasa.
Connie can't help but release a chuckle, "well Armin," he releases, swinging an arm around his shoulder. "You either get beat up by Jean for doing this or Eren - I wonder which fate you'll pick," he scoffs.
Armin avoids Jean's angry gaze and spots Mikasa's rosy cheeks.
He then turns to Eren - who is as red as a cherry. "Can I?" He wonders.
Eren widens his eyes. "You idiot, why the hell are you asking me for?" He asks, turning away .
It's unexpected and yet, it works.
He leans across the circle and softly pecks Mikasa on the cheek.
Strangely, she doesn't feel any discomfort towards this.
Hey, they hear Sasha yell, that's cheating! she wines, wanting a real kiss from them.
Mikasa and Armin don't comply and it's only later they realized that this gives Eren some relief.
-
Mikasa hurts her arm during battle and it is quite surprising that she even let this happen to her in the first place. Even more surprising is the fact that Eren happens to be the one to dress her wounds.
"Armin is much more gentle at this," he says, as Mikasa winces at the slight pain. "His hands are...softer, aren't they?" He looks up at her and it's only then she realizes how similar his eyes are to Armin's.
So youthful and full of hope and emotion.
Nothing like hers.
"It's fine," Mikasa quietly releases, allowing herself to relax her shoulder and unclench her jaw a bit.
Eren is not taken aback by the fact that she is always trying so hard to be so strong.
-
(They are eight when the three of them have their first sleepover.
It's all about Mikasa's hair in his face and Eren's snoring - Armin kind of hates it all, he barely sleeps that night.
It's weird - he's never been invited to a sleepover before, he's never actually had friends before, truth be told. He's not sure if this is how it's supposed to be.
"What's wrong?" Grisha asks, as he stumbles out from his basement with a little candlelight on. "Why are you still awake, Armin?" He asks, placing a kind hand on his shoulder.
Armin meets his gaze, all wonder-eyed and starry-viewed. "It's so noisy here," he murmurs softly, "I'm not used to it."
Grisha laughs, "I've lived in silence for most of my life," he sighs, "one day, you'll see, you won't be able to live without the noise," he says, pointing to Eren and Mikasa as they slept.
It's only years later that Armin is finally able to understand what Grisha actually meant).
-
Eren can be a bit of an airhead, at times.
Armin thinks, Mikasa knows.
They have their talks - one on one, like parents do, about how to take best care of Eren, what is the outcome for Eren, how to help Eren get better.
Eren. Eren. Eren.
"He doesn't know, does he?" Armin suddenly asks, as he's mid-way to flipping a page in his book. "About your feelings for him, I mean," he asks, sincerely.
Mikasa tenses up, biting her bottom lip. "Don't speak such nonsense," she tells him, swallowing hard.
He places a hand on her shoulder and this time, makes direct eye-contact with her. "It's obvious, to everyone, you know?" he says.
"Why are you saying this now?" she wonders, flustered. And then, it hits her like a ton of bricks. "Are you afraid we'll leave you behind?" Mikasa questions.
"I didn't say that," Armin sighs.
Their relationship remains strange - she's able to read him so well sometimes, it's almost scary.
"You don't have to," Mikasa whispers. "You should know, we never would anyway, leave you that is," she offers.
And she pretends not to notice the tremble in his voice.
-
Of all things - it is Eren who comes back first with gifts.
His training with Hange could be better - predictably. But, he still makes the time to sneak a visit or two in-between sessions with Mikasa and Armin.
"I got these for you," He gives Armin a pile of books - some on titan history, others just filled with drawings and sketches done by different members of the squad.
Not everyone knows how to appreciate art but, Armin does. Eren is sure of it.
He offers Mikasa some flowers he picked on his way to see her. "I thought it would match your scarf," he murmurs and she takes a moment before taking them in.
They were devoid of their natural scent since he'd been walking with them for so long - but they still smelled like Eren.
-
It seems that, at night, they tend to have the same dreams.
Playing in the meadow as kids, Carla calling them to get back soon and home-made meals.
Armin always wakes up first.
Only this time, he's holding both their hands. Mikasa on his right, Eren on his left - it must've been an accident, just something he unconsciously did in his sleep, he swears.
(He keeps remembering Grisha's words - he is truly never alone, not even in his sleep, there is always, always noise).
-
Eren is the first to realize he loves them both.
Consequently, he is also the first to leave. But truly, he is always leaving them - when he first died, diving head first into that damn titan and pulling Armin out.
When he was assigned to Levi Squad.
When he left for Marley.
It's always him - first to run, first to be the most afraid, a coward, through and through.
(He wonders if they'll ever forgive him).
-
Mikasa doesn't like to dwell on it, not too much - of how estranged they've become, of how he no longer looks at them with care and affection.
"The real Eren is in there somewhere," Armin tells her, the night they're both thrown in a prison cell together. "I just know it," he says, all beat up by his best friend and full of tears.
"You're always the one to bring him back," she still thinks true. "I believe in you - you always find a way," Mikasa hopes.
Armin doesn't know what to think - Eren just seems so far gone at this point, so beyond his reach.
It's hard to imagine him coming back.
"Ah well," he shrugs. "It's like you said, we won't leave any of us behind," Armin tells her, to comfort her at least.
They're going to be together forever, even if they must come between death.
-
And there once was a time where they were all there - the sea, the usurper and the fawn.
It was her hand in his hair, and his lips reading them bed time stories, and the other's laughter ringing in both their ears. It was a litany of things - of memories between them that they all hold dear, that they'll never forget.
"Eren," that one day, after all is said and done, they'd find him in the ruins, and reach their hands out towards him. "Let's go home," they'd say, in unison.
And he'd smile and follow them both out of the dust.
(Later on, Flock would hover him when he woke up, the Jaegerists not too far behind him).
a/n: au after AJLT episode 5, or the real reason why Samantha only texts Carrie back is because she’s madly in love with her.
-
It’s like she’s left her with nothing but a series of disconnected love letters -
Flowers at Big’s funeral.
The occasional text back.
That old picture of the two of them, still plastered on her fridge.
There are remnants of Samantha Jones everywhere she looks.
Meanwhile, the name Carrie Bradshaw seems to be completely eradicated from the other’s vocabulary.
-
“So,” Stanford had said, one morning, over coffee. “What really happened between you two?”
Carrie cocks a brow, tilting her head to one side. “What do you mean, Stanny?”
He rolls his eyes. “Oh c’mon, Carrie,” Stanford sighs, with a dramatic hand on the table. “I know Miranda and Charlotte will believe whatever you tell them,” he says, waving his finger around. “But this is me you’re talking to! You can be honest here, this is a safe space.” He smiles.
Carrie shrugs, burying her truth deeper inside of herself. “I was honest,” she tells him. “Samantha doesn’t want anything to do with me,” she continues, taking a big sip from her drink.
She wonders if it’s too early to order a cocktail.
“Liar, liar, liar,” he sings. “You’re keeping something from me, it’s written all over your face!”
“I’m not,” She insists. “I’m just as hurt by this as the rest of us, why would I make any of this worse by lying about it?”
It’s her tone - it just seems very off.
“I don’t know,” he finally admits. “Maybe, this is something you’re ashamed of,” Stanford adds on. “So ashamed that you can’t even admit it to yourself,” he could have a point, she thinks.
But she’s too full of self-hated to say so.
-
(Next time, of course, she finds out that he’s the one keeping secrets after all. As Stanford Blatch packs a bag and flies off to Japan).
-
How was she supposed to tell him?
How was she supposed to tell anyone?
Would anyone even believe her?
That, after all this time, Samantha Jones finally realized she’d just been madly in love with Carrie Bradshaw and, after her confession, her best friend just decided that no - in fact - she will not leave her loving husband of many years for her.
She won’t.
She can’t.
She couldn’t.
Until, that is, Big died.
And then, everything changed.
-
“Wait a minute,” Charlotte whines, shaking her head. “You mean to tell me that not only did I miss Miranda going at it with Che in your kitchen while you peed yourself but…Samantha has been texting you back?”
The bar they chose seems oddly fitting for this type of conversation - just a bunch of young people all over each other - Carrie laughs, charmed by how much this place reminded her of her time with all three of her girls.
“You know somehow,” she chuckles. “The latter seems more of a shock to me too.”
Charlotte shakes her head. “What does this mean? Does she wanna be our friend again?”
“I don’t think so,” Carrie responds. “I told her I missed her and that’s when… poof, no more texts back,” she honestly tells her friend.
(It’s the most honest she’s been in a while).
“Oh, she’ll come around,” Charlotte surprisingly takes it a lot better than she thought she would. “You know Samantha, always so afraid of talking about her feelings.” Carrie doesn’t say that she is afraid of talking about hers as well.
That maybe, a small part of her, loves Samantha back.
In the same crazy way that she loves Big.
“What did she say anyway?” Her friend wonders. “Any hints as to if she’s coming back? If we can do anything to get her back?”
“No, nothing like that,” She sighs, staring down at her gin and tonic. “Just regular stuff, the occasional joke here and there,” Carrie stumbles. “Nothing serious-”
Except I love you and I wanna be with you forever and please leave John, he’s not good enough, not for you, he never has been -
“Oh,” Charlotte sighs “Well, I guess that’s that.”
And that was that.
-
Sometimes, she likes to talk as if Big is right there, watching her or by her side.
It’s not so hard to understand - she was with him for so long, after all. She was so deeply in love with him.
Still is.
“John,” she sighs, staring at herself in the mirror, imagining him behind her with his hand on her shoulder. “You’re the only person I told about her, you know.”
He would shake his head, throw it back in laughter - the way he usually does, the way he used to.
“And you kept my secret,” Carrie whispers to him (to herself). “You kept it for so long and so well - I wonder if it was unfair of me to ask that of you.” She goes on to say. “I wonder if shouldn’t have told you at all.”
“You might’ve gone more peacefully, more softly.”
She blames herself, because part of her falls asleep to the thought of being with her husband again - the other, dreams of waking up to a text back from Samantha.
-
So Miranda and Che become a thing - but not like in a I’m-cheating-on-sweet-Steve type of way. More in a we’re-in-an-open-relationship-right-now-and-Steve-is-sort-of-okay-with-it type of way.
Oh, and of course, Carrie and Miranda make up, as usual.
“Well, you outdid us once again,” her girlfriend cheers, over her now sober margarita. “I can’t even come out as queer without you showing me up with these replies from Samantha bullshit,” she seems a bit grumpy.
Must be the lack of alcohol, Carrie presumes.
“Calm down Miranda,” she orders. “It’s not like we had a whole back and forth - it was a few texts over several days, barely enough to make up a whole conversation,” Carrie scoffs, over her sparkling apple juice.
God, it was awful - just not the same as wine at all.
“Yeah well, it’s still more than she gave any of us,” Miranda shrugs. “And we’re not even the ones she’s mad at,” she points out.
Carrie hates lying to Miranda the most - but she does so anyway, to save face. To keep herself from the real questions.
“So,” she whispers. “You’re queer now?” She catches, carefully.
The other woman takes a long pause, scanning the room for any semblance of someone else she might know. “To be honest,” she begins. “I’ve probably always been, just never had the guts to admit it,” Miranda quietly tells her.
Carrie shrugs again, feeling nervous. “How did you know then?” she asks.
“I mean, before I met Che?” her friend questions, and the other offers her a firm nod. “Probably the first time I cut my hair super short and started dressing like a boy - but it’s not like that for everyone of course.”
“Oh,” Carrie says, realizing something about herself. “Right.”
And then, Miranda hits the nail on the head.
“Have you ever felt queer?”
She wants to laugh.
She wants to cry.
“I mean, aren’t we all a little queer, especially nowadays?”
Miranda gives her the solace of her smile and doesn’t pester her about her identity further than that.
It gives Carrie some relief to know that despite the change of relationship status, Miranda Hobbes is still Miranda Hobbes.
-
(As it turns out, Samantha does in fact pick up the phone -
But, to Carrie’s dismay, it’s on a night where she’s very very drunk.
“Hey Sammy.”
She rolls her eyes at the old nicknames they once called each other while getting high one evening.
“Hey Carebear.”
She sends her a longing gaze she wishes the blonde could see.
“Do you remember that time on my 28th birthday?” Carrie hums. “When those guys at the club were pestering us to make out?”
“Yeah,” Samantha calmly says on the other line. “I remember,” she admits. “I was clumsy and awful-”
“You were good,” Carrie interrupts. “I remember thinking that I liked kissing you, and I wondered if it meant something,” she confesses without hesitation.
But, Samantha wants to scream. She wants to sob softly into her arms. “Carrie,” she exhales sharply. “I’ve already been rejected once, I don’t want to have this conversation again,” she insists.
“What if I’m not rejecting you?” Carrie suddenly offers.
“Tough luck kid,” Samantha sings. “You’ve broken my heart, I’ve left the country, it’s too late now,” she sums up - legs crossed, a cigarette in hand.
Just like the way she used to.
“Then,” Carrie stammers. “Why did you pick up?”
“I have no fucking idea,” Samantha finally responds, exasperated. “Look, I miss you too, okay?”
“There,” Carrie grins. “You said it, was that so hard?”
She can practically hear Samantha scowling on the other line.
-
Months pass before she calls again.
Stanford’s death was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
“He told me once,” Carrie replies to Samantha over the phone, “that he always wished to leave New York,” she remembers. “He didn’t wanna die here.”
“I can understand that,” Samantha swiftly offers. “I didn’t want to die there either, maybe that’s why I came here,” she thinks.
“So, it’s not all my fault then?”
Samantha reluctantly admits her next words. “Not entirely,” she supposes. “Do you want to do that?” She wonders. “Die in New York, that is?”
“What a morbid thing to say,” Carrie says instead.
It takes her a few moments to understand that her best friend is avoiding the question.
“We’re getting old, Carebear,” she chuckles. “We have to ask ourselves these things,” it’s a confession to her misery to a life without her - a life without meaning.
“Maybe I do,” Carrie tells her. “Big died here, I should be with him, right?” she shouldn’t be asking that, it should just be as clear as day.
But, for some reason, things are just so hard to read.
“He died there yes,” Samantha says. “Doesn’t mean you have to as well,” she informs.
Her words make her think of a time so fickle, so lost, where their youth had meant something, their time together had meant something.
Their life together had meant something too.
-
(The next day, Carrie outdoes herself once again and buys a one-way ticket to London.
As it turns out, she’s always been one to keep him on his toes -
When they were kids and everyone was asked to bring something interesting about themselves for show and tell, most of the girls brought toys - Rebekah with her pink Barbie doll, Freya with their mother’s favourite set of pearls.
But not Hayley.
She brought an ant farm she stole from her foster father.
Oddly though, that wasn’t when Klaus had first noticed her.
Actually, maybe it was that time they went on their eight grade camping trip and she was the only one who knew how to make a fire.
Or perhaps, it was when she had art class with him in tenth grade - she wore that tiny red dress and got sent to the principal’s office for breaking the dress code...again.
Either, she’s managed to surprise him, time and time again.
Especially tonight, as she walks into the ballroom, hand-in-hand with no one other than Marcel Gerard.
-
“What the bloody hell is going on?”
Klaus thought he’d be the one saying it, heck, or maybe the words would even come out of Rebekah’s mouth -
But, it’s actually Kol who ends up being tonight’s drama queen.
“Niklaus, Bekah,” he calls them, dragging them into a corner. “I don’t know what she’s doing here with him but, I can’t have your whole lovesquare, weird, incestuous highschool drama tonight!”
Klaus and Rebekah looked at eachother with raised brows and shrugged.
“We’ll take care of it,” they decide to say, in unison.
-
The backdrop of the event is grand - Kol sure pulls all the stops.
It’s just like the Mikaelson parties she went to back in highschool.
All perfect, pristine...in every way.
“So,” Marcel finally says, as he finds her and Hope’s spot at the table. “I guess we made quite the entrance,” he says.
Hayley sighs, seating Hope and softly kissing her forehead for comfort. “You should probably go ahead and find out where they placed you. Hopefully we’re not too far from each other,” she smiles.
He finds it so comforting - after all, she agreed to come here with him, that must surely mean something, shouldn’t it?
“Looks like troubles coming our way,” Hayley then sighs, noticing Klaus and Rebekah marching towards them.
“Well,” Marcel shrugs. “Our time together is short-lived then.”
“Ah, that it is.”
And so, the two almost-lovers part ways, once again.
-
“Klaus,” she starts with, “I can explain.”
He crosses his arms around his chest, one foot tapping against the ground, the other is rigid and still.
Strangely, he’s not jealous - not at all, in fact - he’s just…confused.
“I came here for a dance,” he says instead, with an open hand, back slightly bent.
Hayley raises a brow, unable to comprehend the odd man before her.
“I don’t understand,” she says, “you’re not upset?”
She wonders, as just as she’s about to ask him even more questions, he swiftly takes Hope’s hand and pulls her away.
“I was talking to your daughter.”
And with that, they’re both on the dance floor.
-
(Maybe - it’s his way of avoiding the truth - Hayley ponders, as she watches her daughter share her first dance with her father.
Maybe - it’s his way of showing how much he’s grown. He’s not that possessive, jealous, little highschool boy anymore.
Maybe - tonight wouldn’t be a total disaster after all).
-
Or maybe, it totally would be.
Depending on how things between Rebekah and Marcel played out.
“So,” she begins, twirling a finger into her hair.
“So,” he repeats, shoving his hands into his pockets.
They finally share a look - and with just a glance, it’s obvious.
“This is the end of us,” she sighs, “isn’t it?” Rebekah smiles.
He wants to run, so badly, so fast. But, his feet feel glued to the ground.
“Rebekah,” Marcel breathes out. “I know I should’ve been more honest with you - I cared about you, a lot. But all these years with Hayley…I couldn’t help it.” He fumbles with his words, a man with all his armor down, not even a shield stands between them.
“I fell in love with her,” he finally admits to her (to himself).
To his surprise, she doesn’t throw her glass of champagne in his face.
She already knew about this truth - in truth, she’s probably known for a long time now.
“Have you told her yet?” Rebekah asks. “Have you confessed your feelings to Hayley?”
He shrugs. “Not in so many words.”
Yet another surprise comes his way in the form of her laughter.
“Marcel,” she exhales. “You’re better not to wait another few years - after all, you’re up against Niklaus Mikaelson - and goodness knows, my brother’s love is one of the most destructive types there is to exist.”
Her advice is unexpected, he wonders if this means they’re on better terms now then perhaps back when they were together.
“Chin up lover,” she suddenly tells him, noticing his lack of confidence. “No reason to give up before you’ve even tried.”
Afterwards, she’s off -
Still with that small smile plastered on her lips.
-
Hope’s feet are swift on the dance floor.
She’s got such a liveliness to her - all laughter and warmth - everything about her screams Marshall and not Mikaelson. Something about that has Klaus mesmerized.
It’s probably the same reason he fell for Hayley.
They’re both from totally different worlds - his all prim and proper and hers all raw and spontaneous…devoid of anything soiled by the Mikaelson name.
Even his own daughter carries her mother’s title.
Hope Marshall.
“You’re perfect,” he accidentally releases, holding his daughter in his arms, realizing that this is all he wants. To be with her, to be with them, forever.
“I think my mommy wants to dance with you too.”
“Really?”
“She keeps staring at us.”
Klaus’ gaze finally falls on Hayley.
Hope then releases his hand.
-
He’s watched this game of cat and mouse for years -
Marcel knows the jazz he hears coming from the inside of his head is the tune that plays when he sees Klaus and Hayley together.
He wishes he could hear something rougher, something that would anger him, that would cause his jealousy to boil up.
But instead, he just feels defeated.
How could he compete with a love like that?
“Excuse me,” Kol announces, stepping to the stage with a silver spoon and glass in hand, tapping them together. “May I have everyone’s attention, please.”
Everyone in the room turns to him.
“I suppose you’re all wondering why I’ve asked you to come here,” he starts. “Well, besides the fact that I’m back in town, and you all know how much I love to make a fabulous entrance.”
There is laughter in the room, happiness, and even joy.
“The truth is…I have an announcement to make.”
Kol swallows hard, stammering his next words.
“I’ve fallen in love.”
And that’s when things took the most surprising turn.
