Blue ▹ The Originals [2]

CHAPTER SIXTY

CHAPTER SIXTY
WE MADE A VOW

"The memories we make with our family is everything."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

     Henrik didn't know how long he wandered around the compound in an angry haze. Long enough for the anger to start to fade. Long enough for hurt to take its place, deep and aching in his chest. Long enough for the storm outside to get worse, and for him to realize that pouting and wallowing in his own self-pity was possibly the worst way he could spend his time. Scowling to himself, he paused to take in a few deep, calming breaths. They did nothing to really calm him, but they did help him settle his thoughts. Shaking his head, he looked around him, then spied the doorway with their locks keeping it shut. Huffing, he walked toward it and put his key into his own. It unlocked easily, and then, right before his eyes, the lock and the key disappeared entirely. Sighing in relief, he rose to his feet and resigned himself to helping everyone else find their keys. He wandered aimlessly until he heard boxes being moved, and then he peered through a door. Freya was searching Rebekah's old bedroom—which was Hope's now—but Rebekah was staring at an unfinished painting of Hayley, her head tilted. Henrik walked to her side and studied the painting for himself.

"Isn't that Hope's art style?" Henrik asked, reaching forward to trace the curve of Hayley's hair in the painting. It was unfinished, the hair barely colored, her face only half there, but he could tell who it was. Her crescent moon birthmark was on displayed on her shoulder, her head turned like she was looking over it.

"This is Hope's room," Rebekah noted, glancing around at the furniture. It was true. Gone was the classic embellishments Rebekah so loved to decorate in, and instead was Hope's more modern furniture. Henrik hummed in agreement and studied the painting of Hayley more closely. He hoped he could bring her back correctly, birthmark and all. While he worried over that, he noticed Rebekah turned to him once, pause, turn back, then repeat the process. Henrik sighed and looked at her expectantly. She hesitated once more, then said slowly, "That was...quite the fight."

Ten minutes. He hadn't even counted ten minutes. Sighing again, he reached up to rub at his temples.

"It happens," he said shortly. Freya hadn't looked away from her search, momentarily ignoring them, but she paused when a fight was mentioned. She crept forward slowly, saw the look that was forming on Henrik's face, and promptly turned to continue searching again. If only his other siblings took some notes from her. He'd have much more peace if that was the case.

"Did you mean it?" Rebekah asked, pushed, and Henrik closed his eyes and took a very deep breath through his nose, letting it out through his mouth. He did not want to talk about that awful fight. He did not want to answer if he had meant what he said or not. He just wanted to find the keys and get out. "When you said you two needed space. Well, that's what you implied, at least—"

"Hey, Beks, here's a novel idea," Henrik said snappishly, turning on her in annoyance. "Mind your fucking business. Jesus Christ. I'm not standing here nagging you about Marcel, am I? No." Rebekah leaned away from him a bit, so startled that her eyes widened. She didn't look hurt, just surprised. Henrik tried not to snap at her often, but then, she rarely gave him a reason to.

"I didn't mean any harm," Rebekah said quietly, in an effort to ease his annoyance, perhaps. It didn't help at all. Henrik rubbed at his temple, sighed heavily, and turned to leave. He ignored passing Kol on the stairs, despite his brother saying his name, and stormed off somewhere else. He found himself, once again, in the center of the courtyard. He took a moment to study the door, the spot where his lock had disappeared from, then he turned away. He saw Klaus standing there, shooting him side glances but ultimately keeping his distance. Klaus did nothing to warrant it, made no move toward him, didn't even open his mouth, but Henrik found himself going toward him anyway. He wanted to start something. He wanted to scream at anyone who would listen. Klaus saw all of that on his face and sighed, lowering the stack of letters he'd been reading.