Secrets (Hosie)

Hope Mikaelson was a mystery. Ever since the death of her parents, Hope had refused to interact or socialize with her peers. At first, everyone understood. They gave her their condolences and would give her sympathetic smiles. But no one was ever nice for too long, she had learned. Months passed, and when she continued to isolate herself, people would consider her a weirdo and a loner. A nobody.

Hope was fifteen when her parents passed. She was the Governor’s daughter, and with that kind of spotlight on her all of the time, she had learned to hide herself away from the world. There would be interviewers camped outside of her house, hoping to score an interview with the now orphaned Mikaelson heir. They would follow her to school and back. They pushed and they pushed, until her aunt Freya threatened to get the sheriff involved.

The bad press she and her family gained soon after that incident helped in the things she would be called at school. Hope wasn’t deaf, nor was she naive. She knew the kinds of things people would say about her. She simply didn’t care. She had lost the two most important people in her life; high school bullies were no match for that kind of trauma.

Hope is eighteen now. She was a year older than many of the seniors. She had spent the past three and a half years alone at school. She would no longer sit inside for lunch; instead, she would make her way to her little spot outside, under the bleachers of the football field, hidden away by a couple of trees.

It wasn’t until the middle of junior year that her lunch was spent accompanied by the one and only Josie Saltzman.

The Saltzmans were known. They were popular. Hope had heard their names at least a million times within just one class period. Everyone adored them and their friend group.

Everyone besides Hope.

Hope didn’t care for popularity; if anything, she thought it was stupid. It was something she didn’t understand. She didn’t get why the whole school was so obsessed and enthralled with the Saltzmans and their little friend group.

Sure, they were all good-looking, but so were many of the other Mystic High students.

Hope wouldn’t consider herself a hater. She didn’t care that much to hate on them.

Not that she cared about many things these days.

Hope still had her aunts and uncles, whom she loved dearly, and she had her best friend, Cleo, who unfortunately went to a private school thirty minutes away from Mystic Falls. She had her art, her music, and her mixed martial arts training. These were the things and people she loved, but if she were to be asked what she truly cared about, she would respond with nothing.

Hope Mikaelson refused to let herself care about things. Not anymore. After the two people she cared about most passed, she refused to let herself feel that kind of hurt again. She figured that if she didn’t care, she couldn’t get hurt again.

She vowed to never get hurt again.

So that Monday afternoon, when she found herself giving Josie Saltzman a ride home, she started to question everything.

Not only did Hope help this girl, she cared for her, and that was causing alarm bells to ring inside her head. She didn’t know why she did it, all she knew was that she felt like she had to.

That afternoon, Hope spent her time with Emma Tig. The art teacher. Since her freshman year, Ms. Tig has given Hope a safe space in her classroom. After school, Hope would go there to finish homework or help with whatever art piece the school needed for whatever event was going on. After her parents' deaths, Hope didn’t care enough to help the school, but she was a Mikaelson, and the Mikaelsons were all about keeping their word.

Hope had a responsibility to Ms. Tig and to the school when it came to her art, so she would hold herself accountable and would go in every few weeks after school and do what was expected of her. She would paint posters, banners, or murals. Whatever they needed, she would do it, but not because she cared about Mystic High, but because she had given her word.

She had finished the banner she had been working on for the school's football game that week. She headed outside and quickly ran to her car as the storm began to get worse. She checked her phone and saw three missed calls from her aunt Freya. Rolling her eyes, she called her aunt back as she made her way out of the parking lot.

“You rang?” Hope said as soon as Freya picked up.

“Are you on your way home? The weather is really bad outside.”

“I can see that.” Hope snarks as she makes a left.

“Hope.” Freya warns.

Hope lets out a sigh and brings her focus to the road as the rain makes her car swerve a little. “I’m sorry. I just had a long day. I’m driving home now. I’ll be careful, I promise.” She says, her voice softer now.

"Okay, thank you. I love you, Hope.” Freya says, patiently waiting for her niece to respond.

Hope groans a little before she responds. “I love you too, Aunt Freya. Bye.” It’s worth noting that Hope was also not the most affectionate person in the world. She hangs up the phone quickly and goes back to her thoughts.

Hope often spends her time thinking about those around her, but not in a caring way. No. Never in a caring way. It is always in more of an observing way, and right now, she’s thinking about the girl she’s grown to observe during her lunch time.

Over the course of the past year and a half, Hope had spent her lunch time with Josie in silence. Each in their own world. Hope knew Josie assumed she didn’t pay attention to her, but although Hope didn’t care, it didn’t mean she didn’t pay attention.

Hope took note of the books Josie would read at their spot. She noted how Josie would eat a red apple every day and how Josie always looked around the area before she crawled over to their spot.

Hope knew Josie would sneak glances at her from time to time throughout their lunch. She felt the brunette's gaze, and she could admit that it often made her a bit nervous. But what she wouldn’t admit was that when Josie wasn’t looking at her, Hope was sneaking glances of her own.

Josie was beautiful. That was just pure fact. But another thing Hope would never admit, was that she found herself sketching the Saltzman girl. It couldn’t have been more than four sketches of the girl, but that within itself was already four sketches too many.

Hope didn’t understand why. She could chalk it up to the fact that Josie was directly across from her at lunch, but then Hope had sketched Josie one night that summer while she was alone in her room. Cleo had teased her endlessly for it, and what Hope also didn’t know was that her best friend was waiting for her at home that night and would press for all the details of Hope’s brief afternoon with the brunette.

Hope didn’t know what prompted her to stop her car, get out, and offer the girl a ride. Maybe it could be that just because she didn’t care didn’t mean she was heartless.

She meant what she told Josie when she dropped her off; she shouldn’t have been out in that weather. There’s no doubt that their school would be closed tomorrow, and Hope was slightly thankful.

As she drove off after leaving the brown-eyed girl, she knew everything would soon change. She had spoken to the girl and cared for her like it was the easiest thing in the world.

When she reached her house and the front gates opened, she knew Freya had been sitting by the front window waiting for her to pull in.

"Oh, thank goodness. I called you once again and it went straight to voicemail. Why are you so late?” Freya asked as soon as Hope was through the front doors. She pulled her niece into a tight hug, not once minding the fact that Hope was cold and slightly wet.

“I had to run an errand.” Was Hope’s response as she wrapped her arms around her aunt, welcoming the warmth.

“Right.” Freya knows it’s not the truth, but her niece is home and in one piece and is allowing the physical affection, which rarely happens, so she doesn’t push her.

“You have a visitor upstairs. Rebekah and Marcel will be joining us for dinner, which should be ready shortly.” She smiles and quickly helps her niece out of her drenched jacket.

Hope nods, already knowing who could be upstairs. Hope doesn’t show her excitement, but deep down she couldn’t be more thankful for her best friend's surprise visit. She quickly runs up the stairs and opens the door of her room to find Cleo practically knocked out on her bed.

“Of course.” Hope laughs. She figures she’d wake the girl up once she showers and gets comfortable.

—-----

Once Hope is out of the shower, she sees that her best friend is still asleep, so she spends the next twenty minutes at her desk, finishing a sketch of an apple. A red apple.

“You could have woken me up.” Cleo’s voice comes through raspy and unexpectedly, causing Hope to jump a little.

"Well, if I did that, I wouldn’t be able to hear you talk in your sleep about your dear Kaleb,” Hope says with a smirk.

Cleo gasps and throws a pillow at the girl. “I did not talk about him in my sleep.” She defends.

“It’s good to see you,” Hope says. Hope was grateful for Cleo. They had been best friends since they were five years old, and although Cleo moved out of town and went to another school, she was thankful that they kept in touch and stayed close.

“Aw, I know you missed me.” The other girl beams. “What’re you sketching? Is it another drawing of Josie Saltzman?” She teases.

“No.” Hope rolls her eyes, but she can’t help the slight blush that colors her cheeks. “But something happened today…”

Another thing about Hope Mikaelson: she could never keep anything from Cleo. No matter how hard she tried.

“Tell me everything.” And that is exactly what Hope does.

Cleo couldn’t believe it. Hope Mikaelson had actually cared for someone else. She had willingly cared for someone else, and as much as Cleo is dying to tease her best friend about it, she knows that the blue-eyed girl must be having the worst internal battle right now.

“You must be going crazy in your head right now.”

“You have no idea.” Hope groans. “Why would I do that?

“Because you’re not a monster, Hope. You still have the capability to care.” Cleo points out.

“No. I don’t care about her.” Hope says firmly.

“But you could,” Cleo says carefully. She knows Hope has had her mind set on not caring for anyone, but she knew the girl on a deeper level.

When they were kids, Hope was the kindest person. She would smile and laugh all the time. She would care about everything and everyone. No matter how small. That was the kind of person Hope Mikaelson was. At least, that was who she used to be. But when her parents died, darkness took over her. Hope was still Hope, but she no longer showed who she truly was.

Cleo knew that Hope pushed people away and isolated herself. She knew that the girl was alone all day at school and kept herself locked in her room once she was home. And Cleo knew that on the inside, her best friend wanted more. She knew the older girl would never in a million years admit it, but she was lonely. She hated being alone. So Cleo wanted to use this as an opportunity to open her eyes.

But Hope Mikaelson was stubborn. And when she had her mind set, that was that.

“Cleo.” Hope warns. Hope was never harsh with her best friend. She was actually very soft when it came to the girl, but right now, she didn’t want to hear what she had to say.

“All I am saying is that you could try to get to know her.” She offers, already knowing Hope’s answer.

“I don’t want anything to do with her. I don’t care about her, and I never will.” She huffs.

She was so incredibly wrong.

—-----