Hi eveyone,
So this is my second attempt at this whole writing/fanfiction thing that I seem to have become obsessed with & once again it's a very short drabble about my favourite TVD couple - the lovely Klaroline!
I don't know how good this is considering it's one in the morning & I'm still very new to this whole creative process but I felt inspired to write something - so here it is!
Reviews/comments/messages are all greatly appreciated :)
Love
Nic xoxo
Touch
Ever since he could remember the only touch he had known was harsh. Whether it was the sting of his father's belt, the force of his fist, the kick of his boot all he had experienced was violence & fear. His mother of course did nothing to do this stop this - standing on the sidelines as her child trembled & bled, her eyes cold & uncaring.
His siblings were no better - if anything their effots to comfort him, console him were worse than the beatings. He could feel the sorrow flow through Rebekah's fingertips as she tended to him, filling him with shame & self-loathing. He would rather take a thousand lashing than feel the pitying stares of his brothesr, as they cut him deeper than any belt or blade ever could.
As a vampire this did not change. As a vampire the only touch he had known was cruel, again filled with nothing but violence & fear. Flesh was torn, bones were broken, blood was spilt, however this time he was not the one cowering in the dark. This time he was the monster with a thirst for misery & pain. Each of his victims would feel the hatred & torment that resided within him. They would be burned by it, be branded with it just as the man he called Father burned him,
branded him.
For a thousand year hatred was his constant companion, whether it was for himself or others it was always there, it never left him. Unlike his parents, his siblings, his so called "friends" hatred never deserted him. For a thousand years it was a faithful friend, the one to see him through - until he met her.
Beautiful, stong, full of light - that was what he called her, that was what she was. She wasn't harsh or cruel, she wasn't tainted with hatred or self-loathing as he was.
It had taken a thousand years but he finally knew what it was like to be touched, to be loved. Where he would have before cringed from her kindness he now sought it out. Where he would have before been replused by her embrace he now couldn't hold her close enough. The feeling of her fingers gently tugging his curls, her lips ghosting across his skin eased him in a way that a thousand years of bloodshed never could. She did not look at him cruel pitying eyes, even in his darkest of hours they were filled with nothing but love & compassion. She understood him, accepted the darkness that resided within him, loved him regardless of it & he in turn worshipped her, adored her, loved her. For the first time in a thousand years he let himself bask in her light, bathe in her warmth, drowned in her touch.