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Warning :talk of scars All in Klaus's pov
I stood infront of her the scars on my body still yet to be hidden. The scars of a family that's been torn to shreds. It's not like I were comparing my scars to the rest of the family. But she made my scars feel special that's why I fancy her. The scars from the dagger. The invisible scars that were brought upon me.
Her eyes wondered my chest the scar that implanted. She walked closer to me her hand reached out. I backed away. I had no idea why maybe I am scared of her thoughts. I'd never been the one to judge myself from others opinions hers was diffrent. She'd step closer to me again. I stood still.
I let her hand trace the scar. "Do you still think about it?" Of course I do. Always did. I looked at her. I cant say I didnt deserve it but the feeling of it was foul. Maybe that's why my sibling hated me so much for when I had did it to them.
"Yes" I had whispered we were so close she heard me I knew it. A look of pity flooded her. I know the look I'd seen it on Camille. I hated that look. That stupid look of pity. I don't need her pity nor do I need anyone else's.
"Dont look at me like that" I demanded I grabbed her wrist. She didnt flinch but that look in her eye changed. Fear. I'd seen it once before. I hated it. On her eyes anyhow.
Id let her wrist go quickly. "What look" was she playing stupid? She knew the look because she felt the look in her eyes. The pity in her eyes she felt wash over her body.
"The look of fucking pity" I'd yelled it so she'd flinched. I couldn't take the look but I'd felt bad. I didn't mean to yell at something so pretty like a devil in the body of a angel. She walked over to our shared door and she closed it.
"Dont you understand I'm trying to be nice to you nik" she whispered it to me. She tried to remain calm. I couldn't. Even though I'd felt bad for yelling at her the words that felt coming from my mouth wouldnt stop.
"I dont want it" the tone in my voice was so unclear to me but to her it was like a glass window. "Your hurt klaus dont deny it you dont want to admit it that's the problem" and that word it seemed to set me off. Maybe its because my "father" used to tell me the such things. He'd once called me a problem.
"I dont have a fucking problem your the problem" I had done it again I had shouted at her. I hope she can read threw me i hadn't meant it. I wouldnt say that out loud though I had to much pride.
She walked closer to me. There was a voice in the back of my head telling me to tell her to stop. To walk away. My scars were out for display. Display to her. I'd enjoyed it at first to feel her touch what was sacred to me and my thoughts. She touched me again. She traced my scar again.
"I love you klaus... you love me you've once told me" she leaned down and she kissed the scar placed over my heart. I had once told her. I did. I loved her with everything. I once brought her a painting I glanced behind her. It still sat out in the open. She liked that painting why else put it on display.
