Kol Mikaelson [Narrative] More musings. Really, people should not give the boy time to sit & think! Thursday afternoon, October 17, 2013; Crowley's place PG (which is weird but whatever)/Complete
There were thoughts. Ideas. Things he didn't want to think about. And they all involved him. It was ridiculous. This wasn't him. The repeat visits, actually wondering if Bekah's insinuations had merit, even just for a second. The whole bloody thought process was ridiculous. But there it was. And it kept coming back, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.
So maybe he should figure it out.
Except he still didn't want to, not really. But maybe if he faced it, it would go away. That made sense, right?
So maybe Kol didn't not care about Crowley. But why did it even matter so much anyway? Why could he not even admit it without the ridiculous double negative that had recently become a regular part of his vocabulary when dealing with him. He cared about people, even those without the Mikaelson surname. A very few, specially selected group of people, but they existed. And he had no real issue owning that about them, did he? He could freely admit he cared about Rose, about Caroline, about a few of the others he'd met here. No weird qualms, no immediate and rather desperate need to deny it or label it differently. So what was the difference?
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew. He knew, but facing it? That wasn't really something he was ready for. So instead, he just poured himself another bourbon and shot a smirk at Crowley over the top of the glass.