Centuries // [klaus mikaelson]

January 1972

1972, Los Angeles, California.

"Luke!" I scream, catching the attention of my boyfriend. My humanity has been on, and Luke has been someone to help me keep it on. He's an aspiring musician, but can't do anything big, because he has eternal life, like me. He won't tell me who he was turned by, though. Which is weird.

"Vi!" He shouts, a wide smile on his lips. "Here." He passes me a joint.

"Thank you." I sit down next to him, and take a drag off it. "How are you?"

"Good." He links our fingers. "How are you?"

"Good. Went grocery shopping, like a normal human. Weird." I keep the smoke in my lungs.

"Fuck that." He laughs, and takes the joint.

"That shit is strong." I say, blowing it out, coughing a little.

"That is true. I put a little hash oil in."

"That's brilliant." I laugh, as he connects our lips and blows the smoke into my lungs.

"I love you." He whispers, looking into my eyes.

"I-Luke, you know my past and-"

"I know. You won't love me back, but- I love you, and I want to help you keep your humanity on. Okay? Believe me."

"I do." I kiss him. "Thank you." I smile.