[ elena leaves, and there's just them. there's just this. there's only her.
the rage that had been boiling beneath his skin, emanating for his every pore, recedes. it drains from him in a single rush, unneeded and uncalled upon from the moment the door shuts, the moment they are alone and he witnesses the crest of her reaction. (he sees that anger, that hate, that guilt. he sees her fear, his own horror paralyzing him as he watches her for only that moment, only for a one-second space of that unravelling.
he wants to tear anyone or anything that could make her feel this way apart. he wants to take her in with these hands as if the will and tenderness of his love will make it all right.
it slices through him. revulsion for what could have transpired, for what did, for knowing a twisted version of a man with his face hurt her. to see her pained, to know it's for touching her life, to bear the same anger and terror of this invasion.
there was nothing they could do.
not yet.)
he goes to her. he gathers her into his arms, against his chest, the sound of her small, reedy whispers a stab to his heart. they did know. they waited. he— klaus pulls back, the taste of bile in the back of his throat, and smooths back her damp hair. ] What did he—? [ his voice is a breath between them; his rounded eyes search hers, his hand cradling her face. ] Did he—?
no subject
the rage that had been boiling beneath his skin, emanating for his every pore, recedes. it drains from him in a single rush, unneeded and uncalled upon from the moment the door shuts, the moment they are alone and he witnesses the crest of her reaction. (he sees that anger, that hate, that guilt. he sees her fear, his own horror paralyzing him as he watches her for only that moment, only for a one-second space of that unravelling.
he wants to tear anyone or anything that could make her feel this way apart. he wants to take her in with these hands as if the will and tenderness of his love will make it all right.
it slices through him. revulsion for what could have transpired, for what did, for knowing a twisted version of a man with his face hurt her. to see her pained, to know it's for touching her life, to bear the same anger and terror of this invasion.
there was nothing they could do.
not yet.)
he goes to her. he gathers her into his arms, against his chest, the sound of her small, reedy whispers a stab to his heart. they did know. they waited. he— klaus pulls back, the taste of bile in the back of his throat, and smooths back her damp hair. ] What did he—? [ his voice is a breath between them; his rounded eyes search hers, his hand cradling her face. ] Did he—?