your last | klaroline

your friend

your last
chapter twenty nine
      your friend

I think it's safe to say the whole pregnancy announcement thing didn't go so well.

It ended with Elena on the floor, gasping for breath. Not that I regret any aspect of that. The deepest, twisted parts of me enjoyed seeing her come to terms with the fact that she gets everything. But I have to constantly remind myself that she's my friend, and not my enemy.

I cried for a while. I don't care about Elena's opinion so much as the rest of my friends', such as Stefan, Bonnie, even Alaric. It was important to me- and still is- that they see me for who I am and not who I've slept with. I haven't quite gotten to hear their opinion yet, seeing as Elena hogged the spotlight for most of the confrontation.

After getting back to the mansion, I fell asleep almost immediately, though it was just after noon. I was exhausted from the day's events, and slept for what seemed like forever.

And here I am. Awake at two am, fully rested, seated in the unfamiliar, dark kitchen, sipping coffee and pondering recent situations.

The worst is over with, that's for sure. I just need to give them time to come to terms with everything. Time. I've got time. I've got an eternity, in fact.

Then there's that snarky comment Klaus made. Moreover, it was simply an answer that is partially true. But I'm most definitely not ready to admit that to myself yet.

He said we're together. As in dating.

I don't know what I expected. We kissed, multiple times. But I assumed he thought nothing of it. He's kissed an endless number of girls over the centuries. Why would I think myself to be special?

But, according to him, I am different. Because we're together. The thought is still strange. I'll confront him about it later.

On queue, a tall figure walks in through the kitchen door, dressed in only sweatpants and a beaded necklace. I feel my heart pulsing in the back of my throat. Speak of the devil.

How is it that he's even more angelic in reality than in my brain? It doesn't quite make sense.

I clear my throat as his silhouette moves to sit next to me, a ghostly aura floating around his entire figure.

"Good morning."

I mentally kick myself. It's not the morning. You just went to bed at noon. Luckily, though, he says nothing of it.

"Good morning."

I look down at my fingers, intertwined on my lap, and he blinks, his face coming into view.

His eyes are almost black in this lighting. Mysterious. It's both intriguing and alluring.

"How did you sleep?" I try, and fail miserably, to provoke conversation. He lets out a breathy chuckle.

"It could have been better," he says, and his eyes meet mine. If I was next to you, maybe it would have been.

I nod, my cheeks burning.