Devil's Angel ° {K.M}[Rewriting]

{024}

The Hybrid
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"It is often while travelling through the dark that you find the ones who shine brightest in your life. For they are the ones who remind you of your own beautiful light. They show up without a second thought, in your pain...as well as your glory."
—Anna Taylor
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-

There was a reason she scarcely drank and it seemed every time, she forgot until all she had were the consequences to remind her. The hangovers were the worst for all of a few hours but that was all America needed to remember that for the times he got her drunk, Damon would make her pancakes and Jenna pretended not to know she'd been drinking and put together the most pungent hangover cure that actually worked. Her aunt was mean enough to make her take a few unsavoury sips before suddenly, she'd find the honey previously lost.

Her sleep was more restless after a night of drinking and had she the forethought that Stefan would be gone for the night, she would've never taken a sip but, when the woman opened her eyes that morning, she found she hadn't so much as stirred in the night. It would've been a wonder if she hadn't rolled over, itching to let her eyes close again as her head pounded rather unpleasantly and felt the vacated warm spot as an indicator someone had been laying there less than an hour before.

Blinking slightly in surprise at the lingering scent of Klaus' cologne, she furrowed her brows at the slightly ajar door and the sounds of movement from downstairs. "Why is it that the guy who was in a committed relationship is the only one who doesn't sneak out of my bed in the morning." She murmured, groaning softly as she sat up, the discomfort worsening considerably. When Stefan appeared in the doorway, a plate of food in hand with a deadpanned expression, she made grabby hands towards him, urging for him to wander closer.

"Because every time it's us and you say the word 'platonic', it's not a bald-faced lie?" He'd brought her French toast and bacon and eggs, the scent of bacon, cinnamon and syrup flooding the room. "It's too early for you to be this mean to me," she pouted even as he set the hot plate down in her lap, settling down beside her. "So, we're not acknowledging the elephant in the room?" She scowled around a mouthful of good, trying to frown despite the heavenly taste of syrupy French toast. 

"What? My perfectly normal and effortless ability to be friends with the men I used to be in love with?" Stefan arched an eyebrow at her, his expression speaking volumes on what he didn't say aloud but America merely smiled. "Nope, we're not talking about it."

-

"Can't you smell them yet?" Hiking up a mountain on a trail that was overgrown and eroded with a raging headache in the hot sun and too-bright sunlight with a man lugging a limp body and shooting her mean looks and the other leading the way and all but ignoring her was not on her bucket list. Frankly, Klaus could pretend the previous night didn't happen, America had zero problems with that because she would be doing the same if Stefan would leave her alone but what she didn't want to be was ignored.

There was only so much keeping her from a mental breakdown and the two men were it although Stefan's none-too-subtle pushing was not helping in the slightest. The worst thing was, he wasn't even doing it because he cared about her well-being but purely because he didn't. He had fed recently, and he was always at his meanest when he had. He bonded well with Klaus and often poked at her repeatedly just to see what her reaction would be which was precisely what he was doing now.

Between the two, the woman wanted nothing more than to fall to the ground and just dissolve into the energy buzzing around her. "I swear to God I'm not making it off this mountain," she muttered bitterly in Klaus' pointed silence, yanking her ankle from a tangle of branches, "I am going to lay down and become a part of the forest, and haunt the hikers." Silence. She huffed, rubbing a frustrated hand down her face as she was genuinely nearing tears and angry at herself for it. The raw vulnerability of being hungover was never her favourite.