You Don't Know What I'd Do For You (Love you like oxygen)

eleven

*A/N* Ahhhh! Sorry! This chapter took actually foreverrrrrr! But I am still alive, fear not. I've been struggling a bit recently, you know, it's March so, time to completely burn out and not have enough energy for anything, yayyyy! Updates might be a bit slow, I promise I don't mean to torture anyone who's really into this book, I am trying my best but school and well being come first. Anyway, last chapter was kinda dark so, to lighten it up a bit before it all goes down hill again, I humbly present to you, fluff! (ft. Marcel and Elijah) To make up for your woes, I have conjured up an extra long chapter for you to entertain yourselves with. Enjoy!

Marcel POV

I'm not sure I could even really describe the feeling if I tried. Some horrible mix of loneliness, anger, and guilt, I suppose. Cami always said that feelings were just that, feelings, they owed you no explanation, they had no reason, they just rolled over you in waves and came boiling up to the surface and demanded to be felt. And as much as that was reasonable and rational, I hated it. I wanted them to make sense, to be justified, to be able to explain them, even if it was just to myself. But, I just...couldn't.

For almost the past two hundred years, I had hated the Mikaelsons, each one for their own particular reason and in a different way, but I had detested them all some way or another. I won't say that I hated Elijah most, that was difficult to measure, but the damage that he had left behind was certainly different to that of Kol, or Rebekah, or even Klaus. True, Klaus was my actual sire, what you would have called a "father-figure," similar to what I was for Davina. But Elijah had well and truly been a parent, it was an emotional bond.

Don't get me wrong, I had a bond with Klaus as well, but it was often a bit strained, just like all of his relationships are. His need for control left me feeling suffocated, my new situation that he had put me in hadn't felt like the promises he had made. Klaus was quick to anger, always vicious. I had never been the recipient of his attacks but he made no effort to hide them from me, the killings, the tortures, the fights, the daggering, none of it. It was like a silent threat, not spoken, but it was clear what would happen if I got on the wrong side of him, if I crossed that invisible line that often moved around depending on his mood that day. I didn't hate him as a child, in fact, I held the hybrid very dear to me, but it wasn't what I had always hoped for.

Elijah, on the other hand, had been pretty much my everything. From the writing lessons, to the stories before bed, to the quiet walks in the forest. From the endless praise, to the bandages on scraped knees, to the purposefully lost fencing sessions. Tears welled up suddenly in my eyes as the years and years of memories came rushing back to me after having been long buried. They were all the things that I had previously dreamed of having, then they were all the things that I had treasured more than the whole world, and now they were all the things that I had tried to forget. He honestly was everything that I had always heard of a dad being.

Flashback

I woke abruptly from my dream, shuddering, breaths coming in quiet, choked, repressed sobs and hiccups as the tears rolled down my face. Thunder crashed outside paired with bright flashes of lightning and the roar of the wind as the rain slammed against the windows and roof. Images flashed through my mind of the nightmare, I couldn't explain why they were scary, now that I was awake it all seemed so distant and faded and far away. But the feeling of terror still remained, explainable or not, even though the dream itself was gone.

Shaking my head to try and clear it, I attempted to focus on calming my breathing. Pushing the covers down the bed, I rose into a sitting position then carefully shifted my legs off the side until my feet hit the floor. This new bed was much, much larger than my other one, a little bit daunting for my little, 8-year-old-self to handle. Once I was on the floor, I tiptoed across my room, trying to be as quiet as possible to not disturb anyone else.