Hello dear readers,
As usual I find myself having writer's block but this came to my mind so I fought to write it out.
My apologies for not updating my other fics. I'm just not inspired at the moment but I promise I won't give up on them.
Until then I hope you enjoy this drabble; it was a relief to write.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to TVD; I just love its characters.
He takes one last look at his house. The one that was meant to bring his family together. The one that was supposed to be guarded with his over population of hybrids. The one that he hoped would have more visitors, or at least a certain blonde he can't seem to rid from his thoughts.
His hand glides along the glossed stone banister as he descends a staircase, the one that his mother stood on the night of the ball. The mother he killed. With that he decides it's the reason he doesn't want to stay. His house is filled with unwanted memories so it only adds further reason why he's leaving town.
He can't seem to stomach the notion because in his mind he thought he would have won her over by now. He, the Original Hybrid, never considered the possibility that he could be rejected.
He scoffs as he wanders down one the hallways, taking in his last look because surely he'll never return to this godforsaken town. He has what he needs; himself and his sketchbook. The rest of his art was already sent away to storage to add to his depressing collection but he hopes his latest additions shed some light into that dusty warehouse.
A light tapping sounds at his door and for all reasons he can't describe he knows it's her. So he stalks toward the sound, hating how she is the one thing he cannot predict. He's never one step ahead of her, try as he might.
"Hi," she says to him shyly as he opens the door. They're both a little surprised at her tone. It's unsure as is her footing because she's shifting her weight under his scrutiny.
"Hello, Caroline." He sees the hurt on her face when he doesn't call her Love. Good, he tells himself. She has to know that he could move on too.
"So I heard you're leaving town?" she asks and he still can't predict her motives.
"Yes," he steps outside and shuts the door with a sharp tug, "Right this minute actually so whatever message they sent you to deliver I suggest you get on with it."
"You weren't going to say goodbye?"
He's in her personal space now, telling himself it's to intimidate her but really he just wants to breathe in her scent for the last time. When he doesn't say anything but instead just watch a scale of emotions flicker across her features she speaks again.
"I couldn't let you leave without you knowing," she begins, "That night when you saved me again you asked if I could ever forget all the horrible things you've done…"
His heart is hammering in his chest like the sound of a wild native drum but he's schooled his features to suggest otherwise.
"…I'll never forget them," she goes on, "But I know I can forgive you."
"Caroline," and he loves and hates how extraordinary her name feels when they tumble from his lips.
"No, wait, please let me just get this out. I don't know when or if I'm ever going to see you again, okay?" She sucks in a deep breath. "You get me. You always have and you're right, we are the same and that scares the hell out of me."
He's fighting to remain alert. Her words are numbing him, putting him to shock because this is her confessing and he thought this day would never exist.
"I do like being a vampire. I used to hate it but then you kind of gave me hope about it so thank you." She shakes her head and puts her hands up as if fending off something. "But that's not what I wanted to say to you. My human life is still not over. I still have my mother and my human friends and I know one day I won't have that. I can't just leave with you now because I only have one lifetime with them."
He's eyes widen slightly at her statement. With you, she had said.
She laughs a little at his expression because he knows he looks shocked. "Do you know how it feels when an Original offers to show you the world?" She's not really asking him, she's just pointing out the enormity of his actions. "It's really scary but it's the best offer I've gotten ever since I was turned."
He warms at her admittance because now he truly understands how intimidating he came off to her. His respect for her is even stronger now because, with him, she was never not a challenge.
"I still love Tyler," she says cautiously but she also moves a little closer to him. "I don't care what you think; he doesn't deserve to live a life on the run. But." Her eyes roam the features of his face and linger on his mouth and then lock with his own blues.
He thinks his chest is going to burst from the anticipation because here and now he can finally predict what she is about to do.
"But," she whispers, "I need you to know that I care about you. Because, because," Her hands carefully slide up his chest to rest on his shoulders and he instinctively holds her hips to his. "I still believe you can be saved. Because I see the man that you really are. Because anyone who can love—"
He cuts her off because he just can't take it anymore. His mouth is on hers and she's kissing him back and he's never felt so much warmth in a kiss and his eyes are closed but the light is overwhelming but he doesn't let go of her.
She's afraid of what she's doing in this moment. He can tell by the way she stiffens when his hands roam her back and pull her closer. Still, he can't seem to care because if this is the only time he gets to kiss her he's going to kiss her the way he wants, because bloody hell he needs this more than she'll ever understand.
It's over far sooner than he likes because her cell phone vibrates in her pocket and makes her jump away from him. He already misses her and hates her for making him feel that way.
Tyler's name is on the screen and for a split second he watches her debate with herself, deciding if she should answer her phone.
But he doesn't want to see who she chooses in that moment. He doesn't want to see that she's not in love with him like he is with her so instead he disappears before her phone stops ringing.
He's in the High Museum of Art in Atlanta playing tourist and admirer of art. He's honest with himself when he notes that he's created far more interesting pieces. But he can't seem to enjoy that fact because ever since he met her, all of his drawings and paintings, and now even his few sculptures, are only of her.
He scolds himself for falling in love. He tells himself he's just curious about her, that she's only a mere mystery and once he's figured her for what she is he would simply move on.
Catch and Release, he calls it. He only wants a close up look of her. To stroke her soft skin, breathe in her commercial shampoo hair, tear into her neck to taste her crimson essence and then finally release her because he would be satisfied.
In the end he knows he's lying to himself. He knows that he would do anything to have her in his arms just so he could never let her go.
He remains in the States for the next four and half years while she works to gain a college degree. He doesn't show himself to her not once. There are nights that he is furious because she has lessened him, caged him within one continent. He knows how to bide his time and how to entertain himself but he'd much rather have the entire world as his backyard instead of a single country that lacks architectural history and his favorite wine.
He doesn't leave the country because he's fearful of putting too great a distance between him and her. Terrified that if she were to get hurt, bitten by a godforsaken werewolf, he would be too far from her to bring her back to life. He won't have it. He refuses to allow that possibility so instead he watches over her from a distance.
He refrains from killing her college boyfriend and goes on a killing spree instead. He does this as often as she kisses the other guy and some mornings his attacks make the town's headline news.
He watches her look at the screen and read the headlines. He knows that she understands the descriptions of the murders as an immortal's doing. He notices she looks over her shoulder as if trying to look for someone.
The next day he watches her break up with her boyfriend and only then do the massacres stop.
Rebekah has finally forgiven him for what he put her through in Mystic Falls. She's at his side again, giving him company with her cruel remarks and her annoying gullible heart. He never says it aloud but he loves her and he's thankful he's not alone anymore.
Elijah calls from time to time, checking in with them as they roam from country to country. He's being a distant sibling but his concern is heard over the phone.
His sister knows why he was hesitant to leave the States but she doesn't voice the reason. He knows that she knows but it was never in their relationship to discuss such matters.
It's been another five years since he last saw her. He's in London with Rebekah and as they round the corner at the end of a street, he comes face to face with his favorite hybrid.
"Hello Tyler," Rebekah smirks. It's obvious she's excited for what's about to unfold.
"Rebekah," he replies and then he turns his face to him, "Klaus."
"Tyler," he mockingly sings out while clasping his hands behind his back. "Where've you been, mate?"
The familiar question isn't lost on either hybrid. It reminds them of the night of the decade dance but the younger one is more sure of himself now; he stopped running years ago. "Around," he coolly replies.
For a moment the two regard each other silently; Rebekah huffs with impatience. "And where is the lovely, Caroline?"
"I wouldn't know," Tyler responds and then looks annoyed.
Klaus can tell he's uncomfortable now. "So you mean to tell me that you don't know where your true love is?" And he is loving every bit of this conversation because even though he intended to kill the pup he figures that letting him live is worse punishment.
"What do you want, Klaus?"
Klaus takes his sister's elbow and begins to walk around and past Tyler. "Nothing anymore," he replies. "At least, nothing that you have." He can't contain his smirk as they walk away.
Two years later he's in Beijing at a casino with Elijah when he gets the call. It's been seventeen years since he last seen or even spoke to the younger Salvatore.
"Stefan, care to join me at a game of Blackjack?" He's in a good mood, dressed to the nines while also wearing an excellent poker face. His brother Elijah is actually laughing at something the dealer said.
"Caroline is dying."
He listens to Stefan say something about a pack of wolves and he feels like he's being daggered, not that he knows from experience, but the weight in his chest is excruciating and there's not even a hint of blood to prove it.
"Where is she?" He keeps his voice flat but he's screaming inside his head. Furious that she is yet again on her deathbed.
"We're in Maui." The rest of the address is barely comprehended as he flashes out of the casino.
Elijah doesn't need to ask why.
After the car finishes pulling up the gravel path, he steps out and sees Stefan walk out of the small house. The Hawaiian air is warm but he doesn't feel it. He wants to hold her and bleed his life into her again because he thinks a world without light is not worth forever. She can't not be a part of his world.
She's white as the sheet she wrapped up in and her skin is shiny from fear and pain. Her eyes flutter open and when she finally recognizes him she actually smiles.
He can't help but return her smile even when she's on the cusp of death. He's overwhelmed at the sight of her smiling at him, like he means something to her.
"You came," she says, her voice raspy.
He strides over to her and sits on her bed, one knee propped up so he could face her. "Of course I came, love." Briefly he wonders why she would doubt his arrival.
"You look the same."
He widens his smile, "I don't age, sweetheart."
She chuckles at his reply but then winces from the pain felt on her neck and her arm.
At her torn expression he scowls and all of sudden he remembers that's he furious. Sincerely raging that she is hurt. He reaches for her and cradles her to his chest. She's not really given a choice when he tells her to bite because he is all but shoving his wrist to her mouth; he exhales, relieved that she drinks from him without hesitation.
There's a pang in his heart that is overtaking his senses and all he can think about is how he almost lost her, not that he's ever had her but for him even the notion of the impossibility of trying to win her twists his insides into knots. In this moment he knows that he loves her so intensely that there is no getting over her.
She sighs as she drinks her fill and then drifts into sleep from exhaustion. He doesn't care that Stefan is waiting in the room next to them. He crawls under the sheets and joins her, nestles her into his chest and body and breathes in deeply.
For hours he remains awake, holding her to him, questioning how Love crept under his skin. He can hear it leak into his voice whenever he speaks to her.
He feels whole with her in his arms. He's astounded that just a girl could hold such power over him but then he remembers she's so much more than just a girl. She's a spitfire. A whirlwind of emotions that is constantly giving him a mental whiplash. She is him, he thinks. If he had remained human, if he didn't have such neglectful parents, he knows he would have been like her, wearing his heart on his sleeve for all to see and enjoy. But that's just it. The exact thing about her, the reason why he is drawn to her. When he was changed he became hard and any emotion he could have expressed henceforth would only flow from the tip of his pencil, the bristle of his paintbrush. She somehow found a balance. When she became a vampire she continued to love openly.
He's already seen all the amazement the world has to offer but she has managed to amaze him.
He hears Stefan leave the house while Caroline clutches at his shirt as she sleeps. He brushes her hair from her face and runs his thumb across her bottom lip. Without a second thought he presses his lips to hers; he can't help is actions. She is as sweet as he remembers and he doesn't know how he's managed to stay away from her this long.
His eyes are open so when hers flutter awake he can see the surprise and then something else he can't quite pinpoint in them. Her hand is warm at his neck and when she responds to his kiss he becomes lost in the moment, rolling himself onto her and pressing her into the mattress.
It's wrong what he's doing and he is fully of aware of it. She's still weak from the bites but he can't stop himself. He doesn't want to. Over a thousand years and he's never whispered a prayer to a single god, but Christ!— her name keeps flowing from him like she's a holy river and he feels redeemed. Saved. He can feel her love.
She moans underneath his aggression. He is insistent with his mouth, begging her and slanting over her lips again and again until she tears her mouth away to gasp for air to reassure her lungs. But he, Klaus Mikaelson, Original Hybrid, inventor of Patience, cannot stop. With hands that roam over the sides of her body and he's kissing her neck and remembering the time when she kissed him all those years ago.
"Stop," she breathes.
She smells like sunlight to him when he kisses her shoulder, his nose in her golden hair.
He's vaguely aware that his name doesn't sound like a prayer coming from her but his hand heads south and catches under her knee, bringing her leg up to twine around his hip.
His head hits the wall harshly and when he gives it a hard shake he realizes that he's been tossed across the room and is now standing in front of the bed. She's frightened; he's scared her and he hates himself for it. She's clutching the bed sheet to her chest under her chin and her hair is wild because his hands were unforgiving.
They're both panting and she's wide-eyed. There's a fire in his loins. He still wants her.
But he can't have her.
"I'm sorry," she says.
He doesn't hear her because all he sees is Rejection. Refusal.
There are no words he can offer her, none that she wants to hear right now because all he wants to say is I love you. Don't you see? I need you. But he doesn't utter a word of it. He's a Mikaelson. He is Niklaus. Feared and respected. And Loathed.
"My apologies, Caroline. I didn't realize you were a Tease."
He hates himself for saying it. Really he does but she hurt him first and he doesn't have a mother to scold him for acting so childish.
A year later he and his siblings are somewhere in Russia, underground. It's Elijah's birthday and Rebekah couldn't resist planning a party. A very elite, vampiric and very secret ball that he's now overlooking as he sits in his chair. He feels like King Henry, drinking wine and lounging in his throne.
Ancient vampires swirl around on the dance floor to classical music that's been lost in time. He is bored.
The details of the party are not to be overlooked though so he admires them. He's a little proud of his baby sister but all her planning and joy over the appearance of the invitations make him think of one woman he is longing for.
He's about to disappear, rising and stalking away from his chair when he sees her enter with Damon by her side. She spots him immediately and doesn't tear her eyes away from him the entire length she journeys to stand in front of him.
"You didn't even let me thank you!"
He's smiling like an idiot; she looks so beautiful right now and she's here in front of him. Her champagne colored gown makes him think of all the times they shared those drinks together.
"Hello? Are you even listening?"
He is. "You look ravishing, love."
Time teaches a man how to read a woman. Those small details that some females think remain secret are simply unspoken words to him, words etched into her soft skin he so badly wants to touch. At his compliment he hears her breath hitch and her lips part slightly, her eyes grow a little wider but the raging fire in them simmers into something warm and welcoming.
But he can feel someone watching them and as if on cue, Damon comes into view, standing across the room eyeing them.
He assumes that she can read his thoughts and that, while infuriates him, also pleases him. "I'm not involved with Damon so don't worry."
He smiles and chuckles softly because now he is watching her berate herself silently; she is nervous around him. So without a word he takes her hand and leads her until they're in the middle of the dance floor and he has his arms around her in a classic waltz stance.
Vanilla Chai Tea, he thinks. She smells delicious and his mouth his watering at just the thought of kissing her again.
She's stiff in his arms and it makes him angry so he shakes her, not physically, but instead rattles her with his words. "You expect me to believe you're not involved with Damon?"
"How—how can you say that?"
It's a small mission accomplished for him. Accusing her, making her upset, makes her instinctively tighten her hold on him and he relishes under her touch. Even if it is aggressive.
"Forget it," she scoffs. "I came here to thank you for saving my life and you're just being difficult…"
He enjoys watching her when she speaks to him and perhaps that is why she is angry.
"…I mean you called me a Tease. Well you're a control freak…"
He's only half listening because he is also intent on memorizing every feature, every emotion of her face. He thinks that while he has all the time in world, with her it's always limited.
"…I mean do you know how hard it was to find you? Damon just happened to know some vampires who were invited to this shindig…"
The rise and fall of her voice is melodic to him. He isn't obsessed even though he appears that way. He really does love her but he doesn't know how to show her; she hasn't given him the chance to.
"…And then you kissed me and I'm sorry I pushed you away it's just—it's just you scare me sometimes. Are you even hearing me?"
"Yes, love. I am." He can't take it anymore. He's done being a gentleman because he really isn't a gentle man. He's rough and straight to the point and his chest is about to explode because he knows that she's meant to be with him, make him whole, meant to be kissed by him every day for the rest of eternity because they understand each other in ways no one ever would. And god he just wants to kiss her now until she is senseless, until she only knows him that makes sense.
He's tugged her off the dance floor until they're in some corridor away from the party and the guests and he is pinning her against the wall, the silk of dress rubbing against the material of lavish jacket.
"I'm going to kiss you now, Caroline. Don't push me away." He delivers as powerfully as his words sound, slanting his mouth over hers back and forth with a hunger even a starved man couldn't comprehend. "Caroline," he breathes her name when he feels her arms wrap around him, pulling him closer to her.
He slips his tongue into her mouth and then catches her, holds her up because her knees have gone weak. But he continues to kiss her. Ravaging her mouth with his insistent one and then he feels himself being slammed against the wall opposite of them.
For a moment he thinks that she's done it again. Pushed him away. But when he opens his eyes she's right in front of him and then she is kissing him with blind lust.
They're both panting in between kisses while his hands slowly slide down her back, cupping her, squeezing her until she is moaning in his arms, putty beneath his grasp.
She's stronger now; he can feel it in her touch. But he'll always be stronger than her so he chuckles when he sees the surprise in her eyes when he has her pinned against the wall again.
Finally he pulls his mouth away from her but only as so far that his forehead is against hers. They're tangled in each other as they lean against the wall and he wants the feeling to last forever.
"Stay." He doesn't even want to ask her. Old habits die hard and he's Niklaus Mikaelson; requests do not roll off his tongue.
"You're the one who keeps leaving," she playfully points out, still trying to catch her breath.
He finds it irritating and adorable that she could be humorous in this moment. He's trying to be serious and she's looking up at him with muted laughter.
So he kisses her again and then gently bites her bottom lip, earning him a low moan. "I'm being serious, love. Stay with me. Let me show you the world."
His arms become empty again as she slides to the side and away from him. "Klaus, I—"
"Sweetheart, what's stopping you?" He's trying to understand her; her happiness is essential to his own now.
"I only have one lifetime with my mom, and with Bonnie, and even with Matt. I can't just leave with you and forget about them."
Finally he smirks because he realizes that all she needs is clarification. "I do not wish to keep you away from them. You mistake my intentions, love."
She frowns at him and turns away to look at nothing particular, obviously deep in thought. A whole minute passes by and it feels like a century to him because he's been holding his breath, praying she would not run away without even a reason. So when she turns around to face him again he's clutching his hands, his own nails digging into his palms.
He doesn't know what face to put on. Should he school his face to one of nonchalance or should he be open and sincere and therefore let the agony he feels pour down his cheeks? He doesn't know so whatever face she is looking at in that moment he cannot label. Just like he cannot label them. He calls her the love of his existence but he's terrified to assume what she thinks of him.
"Then what are your intentions?" she finally asks in a small voice. Her eyes cast down.
Again he doesn't really know how he should answer the question because Love is the only thing he can't control. For the briefest moment he battles if he should tell her what she needs to her, so he won't scare her, or if he should tell her, answer her, the way he needs to.
Their distance is closed again with his finger under her chin, raising her face to meet his. She is frightened but unlike before she isn't afraid of him; she is afraid of what she wants. They both know it so he chooses the latter and confesses like a sinner in church because, for him, to love her is really a sin in his world. Even monsters have commandments and none of them express worshipping an angel.
"To make you unbelievably happy," he begins his answer. "I wish to show you the world because I know that would give you true joy. I want to see your breath catch," he says as he pulls her closer, "I want to be the one who gives you everything you've every wanted, turn your dreams into realities," he says and kisses her cheek, "and never let your hope die out."
He pauses as he watches her breath quicken and he swears he can hear a hummingbird; its heart pattering like a machinegun. But he knows it's just her and that hummingbird within her is just her humanity that refuses to fade away, fighting to remain alive within the undead. Her song. Her light.
He cups her face gently but then turns his face serious. "I want to make you mine. Truly. So that I can keep you to myself because I don't like to share." He kisses her long and deep, savoring the softness of her lips. "My intent was never and will always never be to cage you, love, I just need to be able to call you mine. All this because I'm in love with you, Caroline. You must know that."
She tries to pull herself away but he won't let her. He sees the anger flare up in her eyes. "And what if I'm not enough?" she shouts, "What then?"
"Caroline!" he shouts back, shaking her roughly because Jesus he just poured out his feelings and she's still questioning him. "Just stay with me!"
"Fine! Jeez," she huffs out and then mutters, "You don't have to be so bossy about it."
She makes him laugh and his stomach has never hurt so much because of it. It's been a month since she's agreed to stay with him and he has never been happier.
They're in Paris because he knows the city will make her smile. And really that's what he genuinely wants: to make her happy. He whisks her around the beloved city, twirling her under the Eiffel tower and kissing her on every bridge.
Eventually they return to the States. He hates the witch and is ridiculously jealous of the attention she showers on the human boy. He ignores the doppelganger and the Salvatore fanclub but he does his best to gain the Sheriff's approval.
Soon enough they're in a different country. And then in another one after that. And another one after that.
Sometimes his siblings act as company but most times it's just him and her and it's really what he prefers.
She's everything he expected her to be. Full of life. Corky. Witty. Naïve. Caring and Curious. She hates that he refuses the blood bags but that doesn't surprise him either.
He never touches her but only ever kisses her. He never pushes her, never wants to. The choice has to be hers, he says. He still tells her he loves her though.
He protects her, almost annoyingly until sometimes she threatens to leave him.
Twice she did. Leave him, that is. But it was twice as fast he found her both times, reminding her that he's fully committed and he can see past her childish antics.
Eventually she would never consider leaving him. He can sense the moment when she finally falls in love him but he never presses her.
He learns from her and she from him. The century gap between them becomes irrelevant because neither of them can define their love. They just know it's there.
Two years later they're in Brazil, in a mansion, and he's in one of the many rooms working on a painting when suddenly he feels the heat of her kiss on the back of his neck.
When he turns to face her his chest finally explodes because the sight of her naked before him is utterly beautiful and her smile and her passionate gaze speaks volumes that even the heavens can hear.
"Make love to me," she says.
And while he wants nothing more than to make her wish his command, he needs to hear the words first.
"Caroline. Do you finally love me?"
The after shocks of his earlier chest explosion continue to ripple through out his body as he waits for her response because while she's been with him for the past seven years, he's eager for her to stop being such a whirlwind so that he can just bask in her warmth.
"I think I've always loved you, Klaus." She's still smiling at him and then begins to inch closer. "But you made me fall in love with you and," she begins to cry and he wipes away her tears, "I'm so glad you did because I finally feel whole. It's like, all my life I've been surrounded by darkness and I've tried so hard to make the best of everything but you make it better. You always remind me you're showing me the world but you're really just showing me yourself. And you're beautiful. Really you are." She kisses him then, presses her body against the cotton of his shirt and the jean of his pants. "Make love to me. I love you."
He doesn't believe all that she says only because he's never thought of himself as wonderful as she describes him to be but he wastes no time carrying her to bed.
He lingers over her for hours on end, caressing her body with lover's whispers and an immortal's stamina.
He enjoys making her arch against him blindly because the heat of her skin against his own is something he will always be addicted to.
He tells her he loves her over and over again and in every language he has ever known, promising it will always be this way; he promises that she will never know sorrow as long as she is with him.
It's only when the sun begins to rise does he finally collapse on top of her. She's still quivering beneath him and he smiles against her neck.
The way they met was unpleasant. The years she hated him were even more so.
Sometimes he can't believe that he's actually won her heart, that he'll somehow wake up and be in some horrible reality.
But when she kisses him he knows that he can show her the world for the rest of eternity because she isn't his hope anymore or even some distant dream, she's his world.
A monster and his angel, he decides. It's how he thinks of them. He would never know anything more beautiful.
**You know what else is beautiful? Reviews. They make me so happy so please leave me one if you can. Much love and appreciation for them. :]