Devil's Angel ° {K.M}[Rewriting]

{025}

The End of The Affair/Disturbing Behaviour
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"You can stab a man with a knife, and say sorry later, but the wound will still remain forever."
—Anonymous
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In the week past since the failure in the mountains, Klaus was moody and Stefan was feeding off the man's anger and America was avoiding them both, making it worse in the long run as the buffer between them. Granted, her avoidance lasted all of three days into the six, given that Stefan's irritation made him restless and he was gone the first two nights, leaving her by herself and at the mercy of her nightmares. Klaus had been home, attentive and awaiting her call every time she had gasped awake but not once did she call.

She could barely look at him most days, lost in her own thoughts and confusion after what Anessa had revealed to her and he noticed in nearly the first hour she began distancing herself. It only worsened his mood, souring Stefan's as a result and looping back around to her as she remained sleep-deprived and cranky. It was on the night of the third that she, in her frustration at Anessa and herself, threw her blanket off and exited her room, all but barging into Klaus' with a frown. 

"You can't ignore me very well in my own room, Eleanora." Her frown deepened as she swayed where she stood, uncertain how to even begin to explain why. The man had every right to know but given how she had processed it. . . she thought it only right to wait and America was selfish enough to think she knew best in this scenario. "I," she bit down hard on her bottom lip, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have, there was. . . I just shouldn't have. I was frustrated by something else and you didn't deserve to get the brunt of it." 

The plea to stay got stuck on her tongue, the woman swallowing past the lump in her throat. "Um, goodnight." No part of her wanted to return to an empty bed and ruthless dreams but America didn't feel it was fair of her to ask to stay after how she had been pushing the man away so despite her reluctance, she stepped back past the room's threshold only to pause at a put upon sigh. "Wrong way, Eleanora," the woman blinked in confusion, glancing up at Klaus to see him propped up on his elbow, watching her intently, "come."

Frankly, she didn't need to be told twice, all too happy to burrow beneath the covers and all but latch onto the man and his warmth despite his huff. "I don't recall you being this clingy," Klaus murmured as he laid back down. America buried her face in his chest, exhaling a soft sound as his fingers carded through her loose, twin braids, massaging her scalp. "If you're talking in general, trauma. If you mean when Stefan sleeps with me, 'cause I'm not," she covered a yawn, "'t'd be weird if I did." 

Klaus huffed, glancing down at her slightly amused. "Oh, would it now?" America hummed drowsily, "Mhm, yup, super weird. There's nothing platonic about that." The man made a quiet sound of agreement as the woman's breathing evened out and three days of missed sleep caught up with her.