A/N: Forgive me for all the many mistakes you will find. I'm terrified of prompts, so I'm trying to get better at this writing upon request thing. Also, your feedback is very welcome!


All along it was a fever
A cold sweat hot-headed believer
I threw my hands in the air, said "Show me something"
He said, "If you dare, come a little closer"

Not really sure how to feel about it
Something in the way you move
Makes me feel like I can't live without you
It takes me all the way
I want you to stay


Caroline knocks once, twice, and then on the third time she starts punching the door until someone answers. It's Marcel, with his cheek colored in shades of blue and purple.

"What...?" she starts to ask before she realizes she doesn't really have to. She knows exactly what's happened, and the look on Marcel's face is enough confirmation. "Where is he?"

"Not here," Marcel says, curtly. "I don't know where he fucked off to"

Caroline sighs, defeated. Marcel looks awful and pissed off, but there's a hint of concern in his eyes. "I'm sorry," she says.

"It's not your fault."

No, it's not. She knows it's not. But she can't help but feel responsible anyway. Klaus never needed her to act like a crazy person, to be mercurial and over the top and completely out of his mind, but he's worse than ever since they broke up. And apparently not even his roommate has been spared.

"If you find him, don't let him come back here," Marcel says. "I don't wanna have to kick his ass and I will if I see that motherfucker, so don't let him near me."

Caroline opens her mouth to protest, ask Well, where the hell am I supposed to take him?, but she can't really argue with him.

"Ok," is all she says.

Marcel shuts the door and she stares at the wood for a while. Lost. She doesn't know where else to look.

Klaus has completely lost it. He's been picking fights with whomever looks at him funny for weeks now, but when Caroline heard of his brawl with Marcel, she knew things had gotten out of control. He's in one of his self-destructive moods, probably begging for someone to smash his head against a wall until he can't remember his own name, and it's not Caroline's fault, not at all, he's not even her boyfriend anymore, but if she does nothing he might actually get what he's seeking. She shouldn't care, but she does.

She'll just - drive around for a while. He can't have gone too far from campus. If she doesn't get to him before the police does, he might get expelled. Maybe that's exactly what he's out to do tonight.

"Caroline," someone calls out behind her.

It's Genevieve.

"There's a bar on Pine Road," she says. "It's awful, but he goes there a lot. I think he's been there almost every night this week."

Caroline watches her quietly for a moment. She can't remember a single time when Genevieve has spoken to her and not sounded angry or waspy, has looked at her without shooting daggers. She's been in love with Klaus since always, went out with him all through their freshman year, before Caroline came along and then Klaus had eyes for no one else. Caroline's heard they'd been hanging out ever since they broke up, that Genevieve was seen leaving Klaus and Marcel's dorm room early in the morning a few times. She wishes the fact didn't rile her up, but it does. She used to feel sorry for Genevieve, now she just straight-out dislikes her.

But in spite of all the resentment Genevieve obviously harbors, even she knows that Caroline is the only one that can more or less appease Klaus' destructiveness. She must really love him.

"Thanks," Caroline says, and means it.

After a moment, Genevieve goes back to her room.

Finding Klaus turns out to be far easier than she imagined. Genevieve's tip was good; they must really be spending a lot of time together lately. Caroline feels weird about it but she's going to have to put the thought on hold for further analysis later because when she parks the car, Klaus is already outside the bar. Bleeding.

He's got a hand on his face, blood gushing out of his nose, surrounded by three guys who are clearly much bigger than him. Klaus has never shied away from a fist fight, but his brain has always been bigger than his muscles and he would never get into a brawl he couldn't win. Not until recently. Not until they broke up. Now that's all he seems to do.

Everyone seems to be mad out of their minds, but Klaus won't stop talking and the guys won't stop getting closer. He should be backing down and yet he seems to be almost daring them to come at him.

One of them shoves, and that's when Caroline gets out of the car.

She realizes in the split second that it takes for her to come between the three dudes and Klaus that, in that moment, she doesn't really care what he's done. It's probably his fault. He likely started it. She doesn't care.

The momentum is hers when everyone seems a little stunned by the intervention, even Klaus, who shuts his mouth and stares at her with a look she cannot read with that much red on his face. The guys take a step back, uncertain.

"Back. Off. Now." she says measuredly through gritted teeth, one hand on Klaus' chest to keep him back, the other stretched towards the guys.

For a moment there she thinks they won't, that they'll just beat her up as well, but then they exchange a glance and one of them raises his hand in the air.

"You should watch your boyfriend," he tells her, murderous eyes on Klaus. "He won't get so lucky next time."

She senses a response rising in Klaus and silences him with a look. When the guys leave, she grabs Klaus by the jacket and drags him to the car. To her surprise, he doesn't offer much resistance, just climbs into the passenger side and slams the door.

Caroline starts the car and drives off. The silence only lasts for ten seconds.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she snaps, white-knuckled grip on the wheels. The adrenaline is running high and somehow all the fear she had a minute ago has morphed into anger. "You're welcome, by the way."

"I don't recall asking for your help."

"You're lucky you didn't have to. They would've killed you, Klaus!"

He tsks, spitting a little blood in the process. The coppery smell in the car is suffocating. She's gonna need to have her car washed. Klaus should pay for it.

Caroline hits the brakes and blares the horn at the person in front of her even though it was her fault she didn't realize they were stopping.

Caroline takes him back to her room. Klaus doesn't ask why she hasn't taken him to his, so she gathers he knows Marcel doesn't want to see his face. They fight like a married couple, those two, always have, but lately... Klaus has gone unhinged, and Marcel made the silly mistake of trying to hold him back. It got ugly. Uglier than Caroline thinks she's ever seen. All she can hope for is that it will blow over and Marcel will take him back, as he always does. Otherwise, Klaus will have serious issues trying to find a new roommate.

Klaus' nose is dripping all over her floor. She grunts, goes into the bathroom and returns with a towel.

"Let me see," she demands. Klaus tries to push her away, flinches when she cups the back of his head, tries to turn his face when she touches his nose. "Stop it! I have to see if it's broken!"

Reluctantly, he gives up and stills a little. Caroline can smell alcohol and blood. She wipes some of it away so she can have a better look. There's a nasty cut on the bridge of his nose and some damage on the inside, but it's not broken. She shoves the towel on his face and makes him hold it there. "You'll live," she states drily.

It's ironic that she still has his stuff on the back of her closet, she thinks as she rummages through the box of belongings she should've given back already, but keeps postponing for some reason. Bonnie says she's stalling because she's hoping for a miracle - "He's not going to get fixed overnight, Care. Just let him go already." Caroline would like to disagree, but she can't think of an excuse.

"Take off your shirt," she says, grabbing one from the pile she hasn't given back.

Klaus looks at her, not defiantly, not exactly, but he doesn't move either.

"Take it off," she repeats. "You're not getting anywhere near my couch wearing that."

Klaus hesitates a moment longer, but he realizes there's not much to do, his shirt is ruined, so he pulls it over his head. And Caroline gasps.

She's been hearing the stories all over campus. About how Klaus has been taking tackles too hard during soccer practice, how he's been getting into stupid fights for no reason, drinking too much, too fast. Marcel roughed him up as well - and it was probably well deserved. She doesn't know what she was expecting, but it was not... this.

His torso is covered in bruises. An awful rainbow of purple, green and yellow, the colors making it clear that he's been at it for a while and is not backing down.

She looks up at him, still mad, her head hurting, but also heartbroken.

Klaus looks angry, almost daring her to say something, anything, like he can't wait to spit something vile back at her. But he doesn't move when she presses a wet tissue to his chest, wiping some of the residual blood there. Barely flinches as her hand touches the more tender spots She wonders if Marcel gave him some of those. She will kill him. Klaus is impossible, but Marcel should know better.

She is as gentle as possible, and the gentler she is, the more Klaus' anger seems to dwindle. He avoids eye contact at all costs, his expression unreadable, but when she finishes cleaning the area and covers the bruise on his ribcage with the palm of her hand, Klaus' impassiveness wavers.

"Why are you doing this?" she asks quietly.

"Why not?"

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"No."

No, of course not. That's not like Klaus. He wants to hurt, to self-destruct, but he wants to feel everything. Death is not painful.

Caroline came up with a vague plan when the tales of Klaus' short-fused brawls started getting to her. She tried to stay away from him, thought that it was best for both of them if they severed all connections as though ripping off a Band-Aid. And at first people spared her, understanding of the situation. But then it became too much to be avoided. She was going to back him up against the wall, use her stern voice, the one she saves for particularly incompetent and lazy colleagues. If that failed, she'd call Rebekah.

Klaus' younger sister was never a fan of hers, but they had at least one thing in common, which was how much they loved him. Rebekah would blame her for every bad decision Klaus' twenty something face did since they stopped seeing each other, but she might be able to punch some sense into him. And if she failed, she'd get Elijah. Caroline could skip the middle man and go straight for the older brother, the one Klaus talked about so reverently, who'd taken care of all the others when their parents failed. But the Mikaelsons are a strange bunch. The line between love and hate with them is blurrier than normal. Klaus would be furious at whoever summons Elijah. Caroline would rather leave it to someone else. Although, at the rate this is going, he can't seriously expect no one to. She's surprised Marcel hasn't done it yet.

Klaus watches her trying to process everything with sharp eyes and pursed lips, and in the end he reads it all wrong, sees flirtation where there's nothing but conflict and pain. He thinks they're making up.

She loves him, but there are fundamental things that pull them apart. Life's like that sometimes. You don't always end up with the person who makes your knees weak and your heart race, the one your eyes can't stop following whenever they're around, with the magnetic field that seems to pull you in and render you defenseless.

Maybe one day, she keeps telling herself, if it's meant to be. But Caroline doesn't really believe in meant to be.

They had to break up. It was the only way. They were making each other miserable and they both had important things they should be focusing on. Her way of coping with the end of their relationship was to bury her face in books, spend all her free time at the library, write and re-write every essay. Not healthy, probably, but productive at least. Klaus, on the other hand... Well.

He scoots closer to her and starts kissing her neck with his split lips, wincing when he bumps his nose, and she doesn't really want to push him off because the last thing she wants is for him to run out and do something idiotic again. And she's missed this. Him. But it's selfish, because it won't last. It can't last.

"Klaus," she places a hand on his chest, accidently touching on a raw spot, and he flinches, pulling away, his eyes searching her face for a second before he realizes he got it all wrong. "I'm worried about you," she says.

"Don't be," he replies, curtly.

"Don't be? I don't choose to be worried. I wouldn't if I could, because you're being an idiot, but it's not up to me. I see you going around trying to ruin your life and I can't help but feel responsible."

"What do you want me to say? That I absolve you? I don't blame you, Caroline. If that's what's keeping you awake at night, then by all means. Let it go."

She stares at him in disbelief. "I don't need absolution. I know it's not my fault. But I care anyway."

"Sounds like it's your problem, then. Not mine."

It stings. It shouldn't, but it does.

Something about her face, the way she looks at him just then, must get to him, because he suddenly can't meet her gaze anymore, turns his back on her and takes a few unsteady steps toward the door. Caroline doesn't want him to leave, not like this, not when there's no one else out there who'll take care of him, but she isn't sure if she'll stop him if he tries, and the thought scares her.

"Why did you even go after me, anyway?" he asks after a moment. "Shouldn't you be with him?"

"Him?"

"The Salvatore lad. The boring one. I saw you with him this morning."

Caroline frowns. "What -" This morning. She met Stefan for lunch and then they went together to the library. Stefan's also pre-med and he has a photographic memory, but very messy and inefficient methods, while Caroline is diligent and extremely organized, color-coded systems and everything. They make the perfect studying partnership. They mostly go to the library, but sometimes to her room, or to his room, or to refill their caffeine necessities at a café or to grab late night burgers and fries when their stomachs won't let them concentrate anymore. They've been hanging out. A lot.

And it suddenly hits her.

"Is that what this is all about? You went crazy on Marcel and then tried to get yourself beat up at that bar because you saw me with Stefan?"

Klaus lets out a shuddery breath that might be a laugh but sounds more like a bark. He doesn't deny it, though.

"Stefan and I are just friends. We've been studying together."

"Of course."

"It's true. But what if it wasn't? What if I'd been seeing him? You've been seeing Genevieve. Everyone knows. Are you the only one who's allowed to move on?"

"I have not moved on!" he roars, his voice cracking like a whip as he turns around to face her again with such vivid pain in his eyes that it knocks the air off of Caroline's lungs. "I never wanted to move on and now I can't."

Caroline opens her mouth to reply, several objections rising to her mouth only to fall away until she realizes she doesn't know what to say. There's a quietness that seems to stretch, and Caroline is suddenly struck by how familiar this is. They've been here so many times before. It's not quiet at all. She can hear the sound of Klaus' unabashed anger, the blood that pounds in her years. It tugs at something deep inside of her.

He thinks it's been easy, that she doesn't miss him, doesn't roll over in bed in the mornings still expecting him to be there. Stefan has been distracting her, and he's great at it, occupying every hour of her day with anecdotes and biology and physics and the tales of his insane brother. But there's a Klaus-shaped hole in her chest that nothing could ever fill. Does he know that? Does he know how much she misses him? How much it hurts to see him all bruised and broken?

Caroline takes a tentative step toward him, lifts a hand to his face expecting him to move away. When he doesn't, she cups his cheek, caressing his rough-bearded skin with the tip of her fingers. "I haven't moved on either," she says, voice full of strained warmth. And then she pulls him into an embrace, burying her face on the curve of his neck.

It takes him a second, but then he wraps his arms around her like he's afraid she isn't real. Like he's going to blink and she won't be there anymore, just a figment of his messed up imagination.

"I don't know what to do with myself without you," he mumbles under his breath. "I was screwed up long before you found me. It's not your fault. You don't have to do this. You don't have to worry about me."

Caroline pulls away slightly, enough to look him in the eye again. They're dark blue and filled with anguish, dried blood still ringing the inside of his nose.

"That's a stupid thing to ask of me," she says. I've been doing it since the day we met, she thinks. Since the first time you kissed me. It's what I do.

"I'm sorry," Klaus says, and for once he sounds earnest.

Caroline touches his face again. "I know." And at this Klaus finally seems to relax. "Can you stay?"

Klaus frowns a little, confused. "Just so I know that you're ok," she adds. "Marcel said he'll kick your ass if you go back to your room."

He snorts. "I'd like to see him try."

"No, you wouldn't. And neither would I. I don't want to have to run out in the middle of the night again because you've been beat up by someone, somewhere. So... Stay here. Just for the night."

He regards her for a beat, then nods.

"Go take a shower, then," she says, taking a step back. "I still have some of your stuff in the closet."

Klaus goes into the bathroom and she changes into her pajamas, climbing into bed. When he comes out a while later, wearing his old clothes, he goes straight for the couch, but Caroline lifts the covers and pats the empty side of her bed. Klaus looks questioningly at her, but she just rolls her eyes. "Just come here."

He does, still unsure. She doesn't know what she means either, just that she feels better when he's there, like she can protect him if he's close. They lie on their sides, staring at each other. He smells like soap.

The purple bruise on the bridge of his nose looks darker now that he's cleaned up. There's a tiny yellowish mark on his cheek she hadn't noticed before. He looks scruffy, his eyes bloodshot and tired.

"You look like shit," she says.

Klaus smiles. "I feel like shit."

"This will stop," she says, though with less certainty than she would've liked.

"Maybe," Klaus mumbles, closing his eyes. Self-destructing must really be exhausting. Caroline puts a hand on his head, her fingers combing gently through his wet hair. It always sooths him when she does that. Soon enough he's fast asleep.

Caroline has no idea what she's doing, how they're going to fix this, fix Klaus. All she knows is that, in that moment, she can't imagine him being hundreds of miles away from her. Can't imagine him being a couple of inches away. His demons will still be out to get him when he wakes up, but for now, he can rest.