A Question Of If | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter Two

 Jonathan Labonair was never the type to get out of bed early if he didn't have to. In fact, if there was no specific reason for him to get up, he could stay in bed until late into the morning.

 However, that wouldn't be one of those mornings. He was awoken by a continuous knocking on the door to his apartment.

 "Oh, I'm coming!" he shouted. "Who's there?"

 "It's Edmund."

 Jonathan groaned as he dragged himself out of bed. What was he doing back again? Had it really been that long since his last visit?

 Pulling on his robe, Jonathan went to answer the door, coming face-to-face with his brother.

 "Well?" Jonathan asked. "What is it this time?" 

 "Are you really still in bed at this time of the day?" Edmund Labonair asked, looking down at his brother's robe and the pajamas underneath. "Honestly, Jonathan, I doubt it's healthy to sleep so late."

 "Is that really what you came here to tell me?" Jonathan asked, leaning against the doorframe. "To tell me I'm being unhealthy?"

 "No. Is it so wrong for me to stop by to see you? It's been at least a week since the last time I was here? So, can I come in?"

 Jonathan sighed and stepped aside. "Go on, then."

 Edmund stepped into the apartment. "Looks like you're keeping everything in order. How have your performances been going?"

 "Very well, actually," Jonathan answered, standing up a little straighter. He never passed up the opportunity to boast about his work to his brother. "Everyone likes my Don Giovanni. You know, I think I'm a little old for the role, but the idea of him being an older man and more sexually experienced than a younger man is going very well."

 Jonathan could see from the look on his brother's face that he had no idea who Don Giovanni was, or what he was even talking about. 

 "Well, I suppose you being out performing," Edmund said, sitting down in a chair, "Is your reason for being up so late?"

 "No. You know I always sleep late. And besides, I'm upset. I was attacked last night."

 Edmund raised his eyebrows. "Attacked? By who?"

 "No one I've ever met before. Some man who came backstage. Sort of tall, blond hair, these piercing blue eyes, very well-dressed. He obviously thought I was someone else. He grabbed my arm and demanded to know 'how I found him'." Jonathan collapsed into a chair. "Can you believe it, Edmund? He just grabbed me like that and started yelling at me!"

 "Are you hurt?"

 "No, my arm's fine. But the nerve, Edmund! He was certainly a madman."

 "Wait, his description," said Edmund. "What sort of accent did he have?"

 Jonathan shrugged. "Wasn't American. European, I suppose."

 "Was there anyone with him?"

 "Yes. Another man, and a woman. Edmund, do you know him?"

 Edmund nodded. "I think I might know who it is. Trust me, he's not someone you want to mess with. If you ever see him at the opera house again, stay away from him."

 "Yes, yes, of course you would know these things. You're the one who's the pack leader."

 "Because you refused!"

 "Oh, Edmund, you know what kind of leader I would have been," Jonathan snapped. He rummaged around on the mantelpiece. "Oh, what did I do with my pipe?"

 "Jonathan, are you really still smoking? You told me it was messing with your voice."

 "I thought it was, but I'm not sure. I'm trying not to smoke too much, just in case. Now, do you have any other flaws you want to point out to me?"

 "Jonathan, I came here today because I'm worried about you. You haven't been the same since Lily died. When you're not at the opera house, you're locked up here with your pipe and your books. You don't even come to visit anymore."

 "Oh, everyone thinks I'm a disgrace, anyway. After we lost Dad, no one wanted a homosexual opera singer and his homosexual opera singer wife leading the pack. That's why I stepped aside and let you lead the pack, Edmund. And look at you. You've done so much better than I would have done."

 Jonathan saw a hint of a smile on his brother's face. Of course. A little flattery did the trick.

 "Well, if you're sure you're all right," he said. "Come visit, won't you? No one will mind."

 "Fine. I'll consider it. And I'll steer clear of this man you think you know."

 Edmund nodded. "Good. I'll try to come by again soon."

 After Edmund left, Jonathan sat down again and puffed at his pipe. He looked up at the photograph of himself and Lily on the mantelpiece. Poor Lily. The last three years hadn't been the same without her. If she were still here, she would have been his Donna Elvira, no doubt. Lily had never looked as old as she really was.

 Jonathan looked at his watch. Since Edmund had gotten him up, he supposed he ought to get dressed and eat. he had to be ready for his next performance.