“I just don’t get it, Hope.”

It was MG’s third attempt at starting a conversation with Hope who laid, uninterested, with an arm slung over her eyes.

“I don’t get why you would do something like that, unprovoked.”

I wasn’t unprovoked, Hope almost said. You wouldn’t snuggle with me. But how pathetic did that make her sound? She was a tribrid and a Mikaelson at that. It was time to start acting like it. 

“Keep asking. I’m sure it’ll come to you,” she said dryly instead. 

“Come on, talk to me, Hope. Please.” 

Hope turned her head to finally look at him. He thought for a brief moment that she might actually say something, but she just rolled her eyes. 

“Fine. I’ll talk then.” He settled in on the stone floor, as close to the barrier as he could get himself. “I thought I knew who you were. I know your humanity is off, but I thought there were some lines that even you wouldn’t cross.”

“Why would you think that?” Hope retorted.

“Because I love you, Hope, and I know who you really are, deep down.” 

“What? Good?” She was layering the sarcasm on thick. She knew. But he was being so embarrassing. 

“Alright. Enough about you. Listen to me talk about myself.”

“Not like I have a choice.” She didn’t need to say anything there, and yet …

“I really liked the Salvatore School. I liked my friends here. I liked the classes. I liked the teachers. I even liked the stupid bunny blood diet that everyone hates.” 

Hope chose silence this time when he paused, ready for her to crack a humorless joke. 

“Kaleb always loved the Mikaelson Academy, but as nice as it sounded, I wanted to stay here at SBS with Lizzie and Josie and Dr. S.” MG rested his head against the wall as he let a minute pass. “Go on. Ask me why I transferred then.”

“Why did you transfer then.”

“Because I wanted to stay by you.” 

There was something about the way Milton Greasley said nice things. He didn’t say them for the sake of being nice or making someone else feel good. He said them because he meant them. Hope could feel his meaning filling up her chest as much as she tried to fight any sort of feeling at all. 

“I knew I could always come back here to visit everyone, but I wanted to be with you.” 

Hope was gnawing at the inside of her lip now, sneakily enough that he couldn’t see but hard enough that she was drawing blood. 

“And I’m glad I did.”

She turned to meet his eye. How could he be glad after everything she’d put him through since then? He had almost died because of her. 

“I learned so much from you. About what I like and what I want. About control and cutting yourself some slack when you mess up. Maybe it makes me a terrible person, I don’t really know, but I love our nights at the club when you don’t care about anything except what makes you feel good. It’s … I don’t know, inspiring?” MG’s face was scrunching up tighter and tighter as he talked, trying to put his thoughts into words that actually did them justice. “But I wish you could’ve learned to do that the way I have: without turning off your humanity.” He drummed his fingers against his jeans. “Because I miss her, you know.”

“Who?” Hope finally spoke.

“The old you. The one who could actually care about me as much as I care about her.” MG couldn’t look at her as he spoke. “I wish you’d bring her back so that I could love her as much as I love you.”

Her voice felt heavy and strained, but she pushed it out as roughly as she could. “She’s long gone.”