Waking up, I groaned and felt the bed dip next to me.

"If you aren't Elijah Mikaelson or Harry Styles I want nothing to do with you and I will light you on fire." I mumbled, not opening my eyes.

"I don't know who 'Harry Styles' is, but I can assure you, I am Elijah." The voice chuckled, getting me to crack my eyes open.

"What dost thou want-ith, Shakespeare?"

"I want to see if you're alright."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because of last night, Ophelia." He answered, looking at me with concern. "Don't you remember?"

Then it all came back. The dream, Elijah yelling, my pain, my tears, everything.

"Oh yeah," I mumbled, sitting up. "That's been happening to me lately."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Elijah asked.

"Because I didn't trust you. But now I do, because we napped together. See?" I responded, lightening the mood a bit. "Plus they're just dreams."

"Dreams aren't 'just dreams' in our world, Ophelia." Elijah argued, standing up. "Dreams are the harbingers of fate. Dreams are omens. Dreams are anything but dreams."

"What's that quote again?" I asked rhetorically, looking up at him. "'Dreams are just fucking dreams?' Besides, I thought you can't trust a witch. I could have been faking it."

"We napped together, remember?" He fired back. "We now trust each other."

I scoffed at his annoyingly successful attempts at using my own words against me.

"Look, it was nothing. Just go back to whatever you do when you're not lurking around in my apartment." I said standing up and walking into my living room, rolling my eyes as he followed.

"I would hardly call waking up screaming and crying, clutching your head and chest 'nothing', Ophelia!"

"Well I do, so just leave it!" I yelled, snapping. "In fact, leave me! Get out! I-I'm done! I'm done with you, with magic, with everything! In fact, I'm starting to feel like you're the one using me, Elijah. That you're going to be the one that uses me to their advantage like some pawn in a stupid game of chess. I mean, why else would you insist on making me learn all of this?!"

I picked up one of the grimoirs he brought and he immediately stepped forward, holding one hand up in caution.

"Ophelia," he said in a warning tone. "Put the book down."

"Why?!" I scoffed. "So you can make me learn more dumb spells so you can use me like everyone else is?!"

"No, because it is a thousand years old, and was my mother's!" He shouted. "Now put it down!"

I slammed the book down and pushed past him, only for him to grab my arm.

"I have no intention on using you, young Ophelia." He said, a lot calmer now. "I would never use you. I am trying to help you. This city has seen too much death and destruction thanks to the hands of my brother and I will let him get to you. You are the brightest soul in the sea of sound and I refuse to let some corruption ruin you. And I believe that you know good and well that I would never betray you in such a way. You're overwhelmed and obviously sensitive to the topic of your dreams. So fine. I won't bring it up if you stop this madness!"

I sighed and nodded, realizing that I was the one in the wrong. All he wanted to do was help me, and I respond with lashing out.

"I'm sorry, Shakespeare," I mumbled, giving him a hug. "I really am. I should have never-"

"It's alright, Ophelia," he cut me off, hugging me back tentatively. "Everyone has a breaking point. It's normal."

"Nothing in our world is normal."

"Nothing in anyone's world ever is."