TWO―Imperfect Bonds.

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(𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗢𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝘀; 1x2, 𝗠𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻; 5x12)

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(𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗢𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝘀; 1x2, 𝗠𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻; 5x12)

..••°°°°••..

Her hand was skimming the rim of her glass, a thoughtful yet troubled expression on her features that made Niklaus Mikaelson unable to stop the intrigue and curiosity flow through him as he eyed her. She snatched an expensive scotch bottle from behind the counter and poured three fingers before downing it in a single gulp. A heavy sigh left her lips and her eyes fluttered shut as she went back to her thoughts.

To him, she looked as if the world was weighing her down, every atom turned against her, turned their back on her to which she was left backed into a corner of no escape. Despite years fighting, patience running on a thread, she looked ready to finally give in because the alternative couldn't possibly be worse.

Maybe it was because Klaus Mikaelson often resonated with those thoughts himself, or he was just a nosy bastard; he couldn't help but rise from his seat and slide into the one next to the raven-haired woman. "You look morbid."

She didn't spare him a glance. "If that is your approach to picking up women, I ought to inform you it isn't effective in any regard—rather rude, actually."

"Don't women enjoy honesty in a man these days?" he retorts, to which she lets out an almost inaudible snort. "Penny for your thoughts?"

She shakes her head and lets out a small, dry laugh. "No thoughts, just hoping for the ground to swallow me whole."

"Still technically a thought. And a morbid one too at that," he hummed. "Interesting."

She finally turns to him and tilts her head, blue eyes clashing with one another. "Do I know you?"

"Unfortunately for me, no." He breathes, entranced by the sight of those eyes and how easily captivating they were.

"Fortunately for me, then." The raven-haired woman snaps, downing her remaining scotch. She reaches over the counter, picking the first bottle, uncapping it in one swift motion, and pouring herself three fingers.

"Just looking for some conversation, love."

"Look elsewhere," she deadpans, then turns back to her drink, continuing to skim the rim of her glass with her finger.

Klaus' eyes darted around the empty pub; even the bartender had left. He could hear the steady beats of her heart. "I mean, you're the only other person in this pub at 10 am. I'm just wondering why."

"I could ask you the same."

"You could, but I asked first." Klaus rebuts.

"Then you can answer first. You seem like the type to finish quickly."

(𝐅𝐎𝐑) 𝐎𝐑 (𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑) 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄. niklaus mikaelsonWhere stories live. Discover now