Kol knew that there was nothing left to be done. He had felt it coming on for some time now; the pain had been so raw and all in composing, as if a wildfire raged within his veins, and it had slowly become stronger and stronger as the days had passed. Slowly – he was doing everything much more slowly lately – he made his way down through the streets of the Quarter, following the music and happy cheers of wedding festivities. He knew that she would be there, waiting for him, and the thought of her reaction to his words only slowed his steps even more-so. He was dying and, this time, there wasn't enough power in the world to bring him back.
When the wedding parade finally came into view, he kept to the alleyway and waited. He heard the sound of her laugh before she saw her. She was twirling, a bright grin painted onto her lips as Josh said something to brighten her mood. He felt it in his chest the moment that she noticed him - her eyes flicking up to meet his instantly and locking on to every single one of his heartstrings with a vice grip that pulled so tightly he had to cough.
He had always loved loved watching her. Even when it had been under his mother's orders to get closer to her, he had never viewed it as a very taxing duty. She was so young, and vibrant, and just... human. In the days before he had even spoken to her, he'd find himself completely transfixed in the way that she moved, or how when her hair was tied up it would swing from side to side when she walked, and how she would glow brighter than the sunlight had ever even imagined when she was around her friends. He imagined that, if given the chance, he might have spent forever watching her, memorizing her. Kol had never truly feared death until he had been forced to face it. Now, it wasn't death that he feared so much as what he would be leaving behind.
"Kol," She she said as she broke away from her friends and joined him in the shadows, her smile quickly dissolving into concern when she got a good look at him. "What's wrong?"
"Well, aren't you a sight?" He smiled, his eyes moving over her and committing every centimeter to memory. He caught a glimpse of himself in her worried eyes and pulled on an easy grin. After hundreds of years of manipulation and games, he considered himself an expert in playing pretend and in orchestrating falsities, but none of that expertise seemed to pay off in the presence of Davina Claire. Now, there wasn't anything that he wouldn't trade for a veil over his secrets - any excuse or way to hide from the emotion that his words would surely bring to Davina's eyes. He reached out to take her hand and she looked up at him in alarm.
"You're ice cold," she said, concern filling her voice as she covered his icy appendages with hers, rubbing his skin in an attempt to warm him.
"Now you listen to me, okay," he whispered, his accent thicker than normal in his upset state. He licked his lips before continuing, "Finn, he got a bit perturbed when we went to rescue Josh, and, uh... I thought I was gonna be okay, but, well, I'm running out of time." His voice broke as his eyes moved between their linked hands and her eyes.
She shook her head stubbornly, unwilling to accept the thought of his death, with unshed tears already forming behind her lashes.
It wasn't until later, when they were quietly swaying between raised graves that the reality of it all truly began to settle. He had explained what was happening, how he could feel the hex that Finn had placed on him eating away at his insides, and she'd listened intently before she and Rebekah had torn through every spell book and artifact that they had been able to get their hands on. He waited patiently for her to stop, to call him a moron and curse him to hell and back for not coming to her sooner. Part of him wanted her to yell at him, to hate him. At least if she hated him she wouldn't mourn him. Instead, she had thrown herself into research and, slowly, the time kept ticking away.
"Davina," Kol finally breathed, his words soft and his touch even softer as he brought his hands to her cheeks, his thumbs brushing away her tears, "I believe I owe you a dance." He pulled her into his chest and wound his arms tightly around her small frame. Her warmth seeped into him and his breaths came easier in their closeness. He pressed his lips to her hair as he slowly began to shift his weight back and forth until they swayed in a slow circle. Kol had never been much of a dancer, but using his last moments to fulfill a promise didn't seem like such a waste.
With the starlight dancing in her hair and the sweet honeysuckle smell of her skin, he allowed himself a moment of reflection. For a few short months he had been granted a second chance – the ability to walk the Earth and use magic and to touch and to feel without the burden of vampirism hanging over his head – and now it was all being ripped away from him again much too soon. He was suddenly very aware of all the words that remained unsaid, all the emotions that he had thus far denied himself the opportunity to feel out of fear, and the opportunities that he had overlooked and the chances that he would never again be granted.
Ever since the moment that he had first allowed himself to care for Davina, his world had been changed drastically. Where he had once been selfish, caring for nothing other than what he could achieve for himself, he now held a sense of worry and hope of wellbeing for another. As the weeks passed, that general fondness had grown into a blossoming friendship, then a passing fancy, and finally, so slowly that it surprised even himself, he had found himself caring for her with an intensity that shook him to his very core. He wasn't in love with her, but he was very well on his way.
"I know that we're in the middle of a cemetery right now, and that I'm terminal, but you've got to admit that the stars are lovely," he said, his blue eyes glancing up at the night sky as he did his best to reign in the tears that threatened to spill.
"How can you joke right now?" She whimpered weakly, too pained by the impending loss to bother mustering any real sort of anger.
"I'm not. But, under the same stars there is some guy," he began without bothering to mask the emotion that filled his words, "and he's with his girl and he thinks he's got all the time in the world, and he's right." He swallowed, pulling her face from the hidden crook in his chest so that he could look at her – really look at her one last time, and pressed his forehead against hers, "And I hate him."