This is currently planned as a two-shots. Takes place after the S4 prom where Caroline borrowed that gorgeous dress from Klaus. Everything after that point is AU, so no NOLA plot.
The first part is Klaus POV.
Enjoy!
Side A
You could be my poison my cross my razor blade
I can love you more than life
If I wasn't so afraid
Of what it all could be
-Damien Rice, My Favorite Faded Fantasy
Morning has become his most detested favorite time of the day. It's such a paradox-Klaus is perfectly aware of that. But it's not like his life has ever been short of those since he acknowledged the existence of Caroline Forbes, who is now resting her head on his chest, right above his stagnant heart, her soft hair tickling his skin like some unbidden new grass after a long hard winter.
At this time of day she seems the most beautiful. Maybe it's the sleep still lingering in her limp body, or the lack of cosmetics. Or it's just because Klaus hasn't been able to look at her face in the last four or five hours since he was lured into a dreamless sleep.
Klaus rarely dreams in her presence. He doesn't really feel like delving into the rationale.
She isn't asleep anymore, though the morning light has yet to claim the part of her room beyond the windowsill. In Klaus' knowledge Caroline has always been an early riser. She doesn't get out of bed right away, preferring to go over her schedule for the day in her head. And that is when Klaus usually interrupts her with a searing kiss or a sensual caress, depending on his mood.
But today he isn't in the mood for either of those. He lays stonily still under her warm body, his mind running wild with all the fragments of image swerving and swirling like a kaleidoscope, only to scatter into tiny little pieces of color and light once his heart clenches at the first sign of overload. Yet not a breath away they start to rise and gather as if called upon by some bloody spell, seamlessly blending into each other. And the image is back.
The image he saw from her dream.
To say it was an accident was a pathetic excuse on Klaus' part, but it wasn't his intention either. He woke up startled at just the break of dawn, clearly from a sound she made. But unlike what Klaus originally surmised-nightmares were quite commonplace for them after all-it wasn't from tears or terror.
She was actually laughing. That brisk, pure, melodious laugh that is so characteristically Caroline. It was all the invitation Klaus needed.
He doesn't know if he regrets that one moment of impulsiveness that left him restless till now.
He can feel Caroline's delicate hand idly drawing circles on his chest, curling his chest hair around her fingers. After a while, as if sensing his unusual silence, her hand gently moves up to his neck, and finally settles where it joins the jaw line, leaving a trail of simmering flames. Her fingers resume their slow teasing move in his stubble, the gesture too innocent to not be evil.
Caroline is a very tactile person. It never ceases to amaze Klaus just how much she's willing to initiate or prolong skin contact. He's seen women, countless of them, desperate for attention or fear of abandonment, clinging to him as if they are drowning; others touching him in a more seductive and manipulative manner, high on their laughable illusion of taking some kind of claim. The former he exploited, while the latter he outmaneuvered. But Caroline isn't like that.
Caroline's touches always leans more to a certain type of communication. Expressive in every possible way. Like now she's tentatively tracing the outline of his face, each time the tip of her finger grazes the scruffy surface it lingers just a bit longer than the last. It feels almost as if she's painting him, stroke after stroke, all the concealed longings and soundless sighs and unaddressed turmoil seeping through, clear as daylight in her mind's eye.
It sounds funny actually, considering how she clamps up or deflects whenever their conversation crosses a line. And yet here she is, bearing her heart out under her treacherous palm.
An uneasy feeling suddenly befalls Klaus, the image from earlier resurfacing to the front of his mind in synchronization with Caroline's touch. He finds himself getting angry for no obvious reason, the fingers on his jaw now grazing on his nerves.
He is about to push Caroline's hand away when she asks out of the blue, "why does vampires' body hair keep growing?"
"What?" Klaus responds a bit gruffly, but he can't help finding the curiosity in her voice endearing.
"Well I mean…vampires are practically dead, and we'll always look the same, right? No weight-gaining or muscle-toning that sort of thing. " She looks up at Klaus, all blue eyes and lifted brows, "Then why does our body hair still grow? My hair's definitely longer since last I cut it, I can tell. And you can't tell me you haven't shaved once or twice in a thousand years."
His anger dissipates as unpredictably as it builds up, a low chuckle taking its place.
"I guess that's just one of the more cryptic mysteries in life."
"Wow there's actually something you don't know. That's a first." The slight sarcastic tone of her voice barely translates into her touch, which feels gentler than ever against Klaus' abrasive stubble. The nameless agitation he felt just moments ago comes back in full force. He reaches out to grab Caroline's hand, firmly enveloping her fingers in his palm, preventing any further movement.
"Well I'd like to present a second then-I'm not quite sure why you're still in bed with me. If I recall correctly the Bennett witch should be arriving in about two hours. Aren't you supposed to be busy getting ready, getting breakfast and getting me out of your house?" What was intended to be acidic comes out more on the bitter end. Klaus tries to ignore the slip-up, keeping his facial expression stoic.
Caroline seems too taken aback to notice it anyway. Her whole body freezes, but Klaus can practically feel her fingernails digging into her own flesh, the muscles of her hand straining against his palm. He can't help but add more pressure, somewhat sickly desiring to smell the blood seeping from her wound.
To his surprise, Caroline doesn't struggle this time. She silently sits up against the headboard, not withdrawing her hand, but not meeting his icy gaze either. "You know, you really are a volatile son of a bitch." Her voice is low and tenuous, without much venom.
Klaus keeps his hold on her hand with the same force, with her hand pliant now the hostility seeming more towards himself. Not that he would admit, but sometimes he can't for the life of him figure out the puzzle that is Caroline Forbes. One day she's all defiant and in denial, kicking him out at the first ray of sunlight like he's some kind of dirty secret. And one day she's here, in bed, only inches from him, quietly bearing his accusation, lost like a little child in the dark.
Klaus lets out a frustrated sigh, releasing her hand. He checks her upturned palm with a stealthy glance. It's already healed, the little spots of blood stains barely visible. Merely seconds ago he craves the sweet and rusty smell, but now the sight of it makes him a little bit uncomfortable, like an unexpected jab from the tiny thorn of a thistle while he was running in the woods.
Just a nuisance, Klaus decides. But he still tilts his head to the side, staring at Caroline's downcast face.
Before he opens his mouth, Caroline beats him to the punch, "I'm sorry." She inhales sharply, and then continues in a staggering haste, "I know I was being a jerk the other day. I was in a bad mood because of Elena, who, by the way, is still stuck in bitch-mode thank you very much, and I took it out on you, which was totally uncalled for and childish and mean and..."
She steals a glance towards him under her long eyelashes, suddenly biting her lips nervously, "And I know you were upset. Even if you chose to be the bigger person and never demanded an apology."
A warm rush floods Klaus' chest, the feeling so strange to him he instinctively squints as if under attack. But he quickly composes himself, sitting up beside Caroline with a slight smile, "Well, considering what I just spit out, I apparently am not that much bigger of a person."
"Admitting to not being big? You are full of surprises this morning." Caroline slyly smiles back at him, no doubt trying to lighten the mood with a nice dose of innuendo. And she calls him the sexmaniac.
"He who is truly well-endowed needs flaunting not." He resumes his hold on her hand without noticing it himself, this time in a more tender gesture, drawing circles under her thumb.
She laughs a little, her golden lashes trembling in the morning light like a figurative demonstration of her laughter. "Who said that?"
"You are smart enough, love. I'm sure you can figure it out." He lifts her hand to his lips, kissing where the tiny moon-shaped wounds were moments ago, then licking the blood stains. The rich sweet taste hits the tip of his tongue, bringing a seductive smile to his lips, "and you can attest to it, after some personal experience."
He catches her inconcealable shudder in the corner of his eyes, satisfied that his lips and tongue and warm breath combined against the tender flesh of her palm have the expected effect on her.
Caroline withdraws her hand in a swift move, swatting him on his bare chest playfully. Klaus just smiles, the taste of her blood still on his tongue. He knows that Caroline has made plans with Bonnie this morning and they hardly have the time to indulge in another sexcapade. He sits up further, moving to leave the bed, only to be stopped by a soft touch on his shoulder.
"Actually…I canceled with Bonnie last night." Klaus looks back at her, brows lifting in surprise. It's not like Caroline to go back on her words-not with her friends anyway.
She pulls on his wrist, and he silently obliges, settling back against the headboard.
Caroline is biting her lips again, "It's probably more Silas stuff and I just don't feel like it today." She sounds unsure and defeated, her blonde curls falling down hiding her profile in the shadow. Klaus reaches out to cast them behind her ear, his fingers lingering there while he intently watches her revealed face, "what's wrong, sweetheart?"
She doesn't look back at him, but gives a little smile, "nothing, really. I just need a break, you know? It's been such a mess lately. Everything's happening so fast, what with the prom and graduation and Elena turning off her switch and Bonnie becoming so distant and…you."
The last word is barely a whisper, but Klaus hears it perfectly clear. He immediately bites out a cold response, "well I'm sorry our little arrangement serves as an inconvenience to you."
The word 'arrangement' tastes foul in his mouth.
His mind shortly reverts to the first time he was called into Caroline's bedroom. How her lips crushed into his in silent determination. How a million emotions seemed to whirl in her eyes, simultaneously revealing and deceiving in the moonlight. How she asked him to keep this a secret with the same silent determination from the night before. How he had to sneak into her room almost every night ever since and leave like a shadow under the sun.
He isn't complaining. He just doesn't want to play her games. Each day less than the last.
"I don't mean it like that! God you are frustrating." Caroline's voice raises considerably, yet still lacking its usual sting. The aberrance of her behavior only fuels his suspicion. The flitting images he banished from his mind this morning resurrects in an ominous haze like a ghost summoned by some frenetic witch, the same images he stole from her defenseless dream.
Klaus has always been fascinated with the perverted side of human nature. He remembers spending several years studying his fellow creatures of the night, ones not by force but by choice. Thieves, burglars, smugglers, prostitutes-their seedy deeds committed in the accomplice of darkness.
And like the thieves he has once witnessed, he brazenly finds fault in his victim.
"Then do kindly enlighten me of your intentions, sweet Caroline." He meticulously lines his every word with malice, a weapon he has sharpened through his thousand years of antagonism, "Other than your belated realization that I don't fit into your poorly conjured illusions of sweet, carefree young love."
Caroline visibly cringes under his words, her eyes set ablaze only a second later, "what are you even talking about?" Her furious gaze burns into him relentlessly, shutting his next words with a vengeance, "you know Klaus, instead of talking in riddles and poking me just because you feel like it, you could just listen to my explanation for once."
He's transfixed with her fiery eyes, those bright blue flames like copper recklessly burning in pure overabundant oxygen. But unlike so many others he has crossed paths with and induced rage in, her fire is so warm and inviting. Even in her most angered state it never implies impending doom or deadly ruins-not to him-but rather life and catharsis.
"By all means, explain. I'm all ears." How he loves to see those flames flicker.
Caroline somehow detects the frivolity of his words like she so frequently does. She points her index finger right at his face, "You are the most unbearable dick I've ever seen in my life, Klaus Mikaelson."
"Now you are just boosting my ego, love."
She concedes in a derisive laugh, "yeah I walked right into that one, didn't I?" Her face softens after that, her eyes now pools of liquid sapphire. She slowly lays down without breaking eye contact, her head once again resting on his chest.
"I know we have all these unresolved issues, like, a ton of them. It's not all bad, it's just complicated and I need a little more time to get my bearings and sort them all out." Caroline's hand wanders to his neck with such familiarity, "so I called Bonnie and rescheduled. It's a weekend and I can't even remember when was the last time I had a supernatural emergency-free weekend all to myself."
Her eyes had a faraway look in them, "sometimes I just think my life shouldn't be like this."
"It shouldn't."
Caroline's eyes widened. She probably didn't expect him to respond to her sentiment, but Klaus has the sudden urge to reassure her, "it should be so much more." He gently cups her cheek in his hand, his tone almost pious with sincerity, "you deserve happiness. Freedom. All your ghosts and demons exorcised. All your desires and curiosity satiated. You deserve to live your dream, sweetheart."
His own words startles him. He wonders briefly which category he will fit into, demons or desires, but he dares not think about her dream. For a few moments he just sits there, his eyes filled with the sight of a stunned Caroline, yet his mind blank. She eventually averts her gaze without a reply, but her fingers never stop their silent murmuring.
"I actually had a dream this morning."
Klaus freezes imperceptibly.
Caroline continues, not noticing his reaction, "I know it was a nice dream. I have this lingering warm feeling, like, all's well under the sun, you know? But as soon as I opened my eyes, I can't remember even one bit of it. It just goes 'poof', and that's that." She sighs exasperatedly, "The good ones never stick. It sucks."
Klaus doesn't reply, just runs his hand through her curls, and Caroline purrs in content. There's a hollow feeling in his heart, but Klaus can't decide whether it's relief or disappointment.
Caroline's fingers find their way back to his jaw line, her touch now tentative with a hint of adventure, "how often do you shave exactly?"
Klaus can barely hold back his laughter, "and we're back to the not so civilian subject of body hair."
"Hey! It's a total legit question." Caroline jumps up, her hair bouncing in the sudden movement, "laugh at me all you want, but you still have to give me an answer."
Klaus bursts out into a fresh bout of laughter under her death glare, "OK, OK, I'll be true and honest with her ladyship. I don't keep track of it. Whenever the need arises I guess."
"I've never really seen you clean-shaved before." Caroline runs her fingers through his stubble, tracing down to his throat.
His voice becomes husky under her touch, "well, apparently the rough side of me has certain charms."
"Can I do it?" Caroline meets his eyes with a shadow of uncertainty, "I mean, can I shave you?"
Klaus lifts one side of his lips, his eyes unreadable, "sounds kinky. Why the sudden interest, love?"
"I want to see it…see you." Caroline draws out the words in a whisper, leaning into him until her lips graze the side of his face.
Klaus considers her request. He has had countless men or women doing countless acts on or to him, some explicitly sexual, some with a veiled sensual context, but shaving him was never one of them. It seems too intimate and personal. Plus he can't recall the last time he appeared before others clean-shaved. Just thinking about it makes him feel vulnerable somehow.
And yet there's also an insidious need lurking inside the corner of his heart, surging forward in an almost masochistic way, clamoring to be exposed and examined. In modern terms it could be compared to a truth-or-dare moment, treading into grave danger fully aware of the imminent undoing, but not quite acknowledging it.
Klaus is never one to back down from a challenge, even one presented by himself.
He looks into Caroline's blue eyes, the songs of sirens resonating in his ears, "then have at it."
Caroline's hot breath scorches the skin above his artery almost as if she were going to puncture him with her fangs, but the next second she's gone in a whirlwind of vampire speed.
She's flashing more in his presence, no longer unconsciously suppressing her abilities in her childhood home, something Klaus finds delight, and oddly enough, takes pride in whenever he thinks about it.
Caroline comes back in a few minutes, by which time Klaus has already got out of bed and seated himself in a large chair by the window. She comes over with a razor and a towel in hand, along with two bottles, which Klaus assumes are the cream and after-shave.
"I'm guessing you are quite experienced from shaving your legs." Klaus teases, index finger under his chin.
"Yes, I am. But these were my father's, if you must know. He had some left-over when he last visited." If there's a pause in the last sentence Klaus can't tell. Caroline's getting really good at this. "And I'm definitely not spoiling you with mine. They are way too expensive." She adds in a more chipper tone.
Klaus reclines in the chair, watching Caroline's studious moves. She's clearly under project mode, treating everything with great precision and resolution, which Klaus usually finds hot. But now he's too distracted, busy roaming his eyes over her black lacy bra and panties.
"So we're doing this in our underwear. A perfect call of judgment, sweetheart. I'm glad."
Caroline rolls her eyes, "now who's kinky? It's just a precaution, in case we spill anything." She throws the towel towards him aiming to hit him in the face, but he catches it with two fingers and a smug smile.
"And if you dare to utter one joke about the word 'spill' I swear I'm cutting you beyond repair, vampire healing be damned." She rubs his face with the soaked towel roughly, before applying the shaving cream.
Klaus looks up into her eyes and winks, "scary threat indeed. I'm trembling all over." He lays on his accent extra thick for the effect.
But Caroline starts laughing so hard she's basically in tears, "you better stop that, Casanova. Oh what I wouldn't give to shoot a video of you trying to be seductive in this foam up your cheek and put it on YouTube. It'd probably go viral." She draws a little pattern in the foam with her finger, then laughs some more, her curls dancing in golden waves.
Curious Klaus glances behind her in the mirror above her vanity. It's a little crooked heart, lying ostentatiously on the left side of his face. His jaw slightly clenches, ineffable panic charging at him in ridiculous heart-shaped spears. "You can do anything love, as long as I have this great view of your cheeks." He tries hard to keep the rigidity out of his tone, wiggling his brows to get his true meaning through.
"You are impossible." Caroline seems unaware of his mood change, brushing off the remark as one of his patent sex lines with an annoyed smile. She leans back and grabs the razor, lifting one knee to kneel on the edge of the chair, her body hovering over his in close proximity.
Her sweet floral scent floods Klaus' senses. He feels slightly dizzy, not sure whether from her overwhelming smell or hypnotizing eyes.
"Here goes." He hears her quiet voice, her breath a fine breeze he dares not inhale fully, for fear that he may drown.
The cold blade of the razor glides along his jaw line like ice, and yet Caroline's fingers holding his face in place feels so warm they might actually leave marks. Klaus groans uncontrollably in his throat, the juxtaposition of the two senses almost two much to bear.
"Am I hurting you?" Caroline stops her move immediately.
Hurt me along, he wants to say. Instead he opts for the over dramatic approach, lifting his eyebrow, "you are very presumptuous to question my invincibility."
"I'm literally holding a razor to your throat. Show some respect, your majesty." She resumes her work while retorting, this time deliberately running the blade all the way down to his Adam's apple. She stops on the spot, adding a bit of pressure to emphasize the last two words.
Klaus merely chuckles, the bobbing of his throat shaking the blade, startling Caroline. She swiftly moves the razor away from his flesh, pointing a finger to the tip of his nose, "hey! Hey! Behave, mister. Unlike you, I don't exactly like to see bloodshed on a daily basis."
"A vampire who claims not partial to the sight of blood. Either hypocritical, or self-flagellating. In other words, doppelganger or ripper. Take your pick, Caroline." He smiles darkly, glancing at her under his eyelashes.
"There's a third choice. It's called 'there are better things in life'. You should try it some time." She answers bitingly, her whole body taking on a rosy hue due to her indignation, "but for now, just shut up. I have work to do. And wipe that smirk off your face. I can't shave you with all those crinkles."
The razor comes back into contact with his face and the room is instantly pregnant with silence. Klaus focuses solely on Caroline's face, the rhythmic touching of the blade fading into the silence like so many other trivial things in life.
He really could do this all day.
It's funny how he keeps humoring these notions, like when he told Caroline about the hummingbird. The impossibility only justifies, and even amplifies the temptation. Death, freedom, peace, love-they are all the same. The ones who actually get to the other side of these concepts are never here to tell the tale. And deep down Klaus doesn't see himself stand among them at the end of the day.
He could, but he wouldn't. Not if he wants to come out on top in this life-long war.
Klaus suddenly realizes that Caroline has been still for quite a few minutes, her hand with the razor suspending midair, her eyes widened and mouth agape. The sticky feeling on his left cheek is already gone, leaving that side of his face cool and somewhat empty. Klaus doesn't have to look in the mirror to know what he looks like.
"Not expecting what you see, love?" He breathes out his words like stalking a prey, quiet and menacing.
Caroline stutters a little, her eyes trained on his bare face, "well…kind of, I mean I didn't think you'd look so…"
"Strange? Evil? Heartless?"
Human. Inept. Weak.
"No! Just…" She trails a finger carefully down his cheekbone like he's some kind of fragile artifact, her eyes burning with intrigue and longing so intense that her voice trembles along with her lashes, "young…and beautiful." She chuckles a little awkwardly before clearing her throat, "god now I sound like a Lana Del Ray song."
Klaus sucks in a breath, but his chest still constricts painfully, "Your imagination knows no bounds, Caroline. Clearly I'm neither of those things."
But she doesn't respond, her scrutiny now deep and pondering, the look she occasionally gets when she's searching for answers in a borrowed grimore. Though she never looks at a grimore with myriads of emotions pouring out of her in waves, and Klaus again feels like drowning.
He grabs her hand with the razor, directing it firmly to his right cheek, "you'd better finish this, sweetheart."
Caroline completes her work in a sort of trance. Klaus can't decipher the look on her face, but he knows not to distract her further. At this point he just needs this morning to be over.
"There. It's done." Caroline puts the razor aside and wipes his face clean with the towel, her motions slow and silent. When she finishes she lingers in her position above him, taking in his features once again.
Klaus isn't used to anything like this. He's always been the prudent observer, both as a predator and an artist. The whole world runs along before his eyes without a suspicion and everything is but a piece of information filed into his organized brain for later use. Sure he's been under others' gaze before, but without exception they only see what he wants them to see. Because he always knows exactly what to dole out.
But this is different. Caroline is different. He can't figure out what she's looking for. He can't help but resent her a little for being so innocently greedy, coveting what he himself doesn't even know exists. His defiant gaze slowly turns to a glare, but before he says anything, her lips are on his.
The kiss starts out like another unvoiced question, one Klaus hasn't the answer to, but isn't able to deny. He can feel her lips hot against his own, pressing and nudging, the softness melting him inch by inch. And then she leans into him with more force, her tongue tracing his lips-not just the outlines, but every line and spot she can reach, over and over again.
Klaus moans opening his mouth, the last of his resolve dissipating. Caroline's tongue slides into him, intertwining with his but not stopping there. She keeps going further, the connection of lips and tongues not nearly enough. She licks all the lies he has uttered, grazes all the prayers he has swallowed, and replaces them with equal amount of secrets and desire.
He can see colors and light dancing behind his eyelids, not an unusual occurrence for him. Thoughts and emotions tend to take the shape of artistic elements in his mind during throes of passion. But this time it isn't just a recollection of something he did in the past or an inspiration he may explore in the future. The tiny fragments of images blend into each other, inconspicuously yet irrevocably forming the borderlines of a dream.
One that has haunted him at the back of his consciousness despite his attempt to exile it since he trespassed Caroline's dream world.
He didn't expect to see himself in her dream, let alone a happier, more contented version. They were lying alongside each other in Caroline's bed, not unlike what happened regularly these days, but they seemed different somehow. For one, they weren't in the process of having sex, nor were they in any steps before or after it.
They were just lying there, with their pajamas on, chattering idly.
"Of all the places we've been to, which one's your favorite?" He heard himself ask.
"Here." Caroline answered without a second thought, her eyes shining with smile.
The Klaus from the dream appeared not so surprised, but teased her nonetheless, "not Paris? Rome? Tokyo?"
She laughed like the first time she heard those words from his mouth, but without the derision, "nice as they may have been…"
"Nice? Just nice? Caroline love, obviously we are not doing this world traveling thing right."
"OK, fine, they were magnificent and splendid and majestic and all the big words in the world." She shakes her head slightly, "and I know it sounds cheesy as hell but I really like here the best because…"
"Because…?" Dream Klaus drew out the word playfully.
She looked at him, the affection and sincerity palpable even to Klaus standing on the fringe of their imaginary confines. "Because this place holds the most memories of me and…" She sucks in a deep breath, "and the person I love."
"Caroline…"
To his utter shock Caroline replied without hesitation, "I love you, Klaus."
And to his world-shattering horror, after a silent moment filled with dread and consternation, dream him said it back.
Klaus retreats from the memory brusquely as he did from the dream. He tries not to think about the irony of drawing on conjured illusions of him and Caroline when they are kissing in real life, or that of Caroline's dream so conveniently becoming his memory.
He just throws himself into their kiss until Caroline finally breaks away. Her hands that have crept into his hair now rests on each side of his face, caressing the smooth surface with her knuckles. And her blue eyes so intently follow, like an unspoken promise, or just a foolhardy excursion.
Klaus averts his eyes, self-consciously rubbing his own chin, "as much as I enjoy this, I'm afraid I have to leave for now. Victims to terrorize, massacres to commit, world domination to plot."
Caroline is slightly taken aback, but she covers it well, "yeah, sure…If only you were Samson and your stubble the origin of all your powers. I could have won the Nobel Peace Prize."
"I'd hardly compare you to Delilah, love. You're much more beautiful, and deadly might I add." He winks to her while putting on his clothes.
She rolls her eyes with a little huff, "you should know."
"One of these days I'll grow tired of your jokes about my age." He stiffens upon his own words, but Caroline saves him with another light-hearted repartee, "nah, unlike you they never grow old." She holds her arms around her midriff, now a little embarrassed with him fully dressed and her still in underwear, "so…I'll see you tonight?"
"About that…" Klaus runs a hand through his hair, frustrated at the inexplicable urge to lie to her, "I, uh, actually have to run some errands. So I'll be out of town for a few days."
He doesn't spare a glance at her expression, already opening the window of her room.
"Well then…" her voice sounds behind him quietly, "let's wait until your stubble grows back."
Klaus can't help but look back at her one more time, a smile surfacing on his stubble-less face, "yeah, let's do that." And then he blurs into thin air, into another day that the world doesn't recognize him.