Author's Note: As always, no beta, none of this is mine. blablablahh zzz
"If Stefan had said the right thing earlier, would that have changed your mind?"
It doesn't surprise her that Elena can read her the way she can. She reasons that that that's because they've been best friends far longer than she's been with Stefan. She tells herself she isn't bothered at all that Stefan can't see just how much she needed him to tell her whatever it was he wanted to say. Because more than the hurt from losing her mother, more than the unfathomable prospect of waking up tomorrow to an empty apartment, she was scared of losing him too.
And the look he gave her made it feel like he was already halfway through the process.
She tries to deny it, she wants to argue - no, this didn't have anything to do with that stupid conversation that was so far from what she'd hoped it would be that it was almost funny.
But the humor dies in her as she fights to keep the tears from falling. Lets herself feel the emotions she's been bottling up since the kiss, feel her chest crack open at the realization that it was all over before it even started.
"Well, he didn't so it doesn't really matter."
A stubborn tear runs down her face and she hates it. Hates that she's crying over him. Because she's not even sure she has the right to shed a tear. There's nothing to mourn between them.
She hears a shuffle on the carpet and an unmistakable voice breaks the loaded silence.
"It does matter."
She feels the hope bubble up in her breast but she kills with a shake of her head, eyes turning to Elena in question. But the brunette is looking at the source of the interruption and ducks in silent agreement.
Elena's lips turn up a little at the corners, looking to Caroline as if to say it's going to be okay as she turns to leave.
Left with nothing to do, she proceeds to continue her earlier attempts at tidying up, fluffing the pillows on the couch.
His sigh is carried over to her by a harsh, cool breeze. She can almost hear the apology in them, but she knows better now than to assume.
"Care."
She continues to rearrange the cushions on the furniture, determined to carry out her plans and ignore anyone who attempts to talk her out of it.
Besides, didn't he get his chance earlier?
"I'm sorry. I was stupid. I'm an idiot and I'm sorry."
She wants to answer "No. I'm the idiot." but that would defeat the whole point of not talking. It would draw her out into an argument she doesn't have the time or patience to participate in.
She convinces herself that those are her reasons. That she isn't ignoring him because she's realized how much of her heart she's already given.
And the idiot doesn't even know it.
Her internal monologue screeches to a halt when his face comes into focus so close to hers.
His hands suddenly wrap around hers, steering them away from their failed distraction and resting them on her lap. He's kneeling beside the couch, eyes trained on the floor like he's ashamed.
When he looks up, she hears her breath catch in her throat.
His face is doing that thing that makes it hard for her to keep her hands to herself, to keep her arms from wrapping around his shoulders. It's crumpled in all the wrong places and there are lines and creases and the one thing that registers in her mind is pain.
"I got scared and I'm sorry."
And she wants so much to laugh because Stefan being scared is so foreign an idea it almost comes out as a joke but one look at him and she knows it's not. In fact, it's the precise opposite of a joke.
In his voice she hears a plea.
She knows she's probably expected to hold out for more than 2 minutes but she lets her palms smooth out his face and tilts his chin up so his eyes are meeting hers.
In them are the same things she thinks she has reflected in her own blue orbs: a big helping of grief and pain and helplessness. More importantly a glaring flash of fear.
She watches him try to recollect himself, sighing in an effort to regain some semblance of composure.
"I don't know how to do this, Care," he says with a defeated shake of his head.
"You're the only one, Care. You're the only one left who hasn't ripped my heart out, you're the only one I'm sure wouldn't and I'm not…"
He drops his forehead to rest on her shoulder, his breath tickling the skin on her chest. It makes him feel so small, bent over like that so she joins her hands on his back, tucking him under her chin.
"I'm not sure I know how not to screw this up."
"I can't understand how I could have missed something like this. I'm sorry." The last part comes out as a whisper.
When he lifts his head again, there's a new found determination in his features that scares Caroline even more.
"You're different." He starts to move from the carpeted floor to the couch, not once breaking eye contact.
"For some reason, with you, I never know where I stand, what I am, what I'm supposed to do."
"Back there, earlier, I thought I was doing you a favor. I thought I was letting you mourn your mom and deal with things one at a time."
He sucks in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut and tilting his head back a little.
"I didn't realize how it sounded like. I didn't realize that it felt like I was abandoning you, like I was leaving you behind to deal with it alone."
"I watched every emotion swim in your eyes and I thought it was because of your mom: the abandonment, the grief. I'm so stupid and I'm sorry."
It amazes her how not an hour ago she was convinced he didn't care enough to see.
"Hey," she says, rearranging their hands so that hers are wrapping his.
"We're both stupid," she says with a laugh.
"I didn't think it could ever be me, Care. Look at me. Look at this mess. We haven't even started and I'm already ruining it. And I'm sorry."
"Okay, you have to stop okay? Stop apologizing. Okay?"
He takes another deep breath.
"Let me just…" he trails away, wanting to find the right words to mend whatever he broke earlier.
"I'm sorry okay? For ever making you think that I could ever abandon you like that? For ever making you feel like you were losing me when you needed me the most. It was so stupid. Why did I do that?"
She bobs her head in understanding.
"Damon, he said...'
"Jesus. We should really stop going to him for advice."
She tries to shake a laugh out of him and is relieved to find that he's at least no longer looking like his world is about to fall down on him.
"He told me to pull the plug," he feels her stiffen at this revelation and he rubs soothing arches on the back of her knuckles to let her know it's okay.
"He said to pull the ripcord and he said it like it was the most natural thing to do, the most logical course of action. And I was standing there trying to wrap my head around that and it sounded so absurd and scary and so incredibly stupid."
She finds the same feeling of hope rising in her chest and she fights and fights to push it back down her gut because if this conversation doesn't go the way she hopes it would, she'd be worse than a vampire without humanity. She'd be bare and broken and she's sure there's no going back. She'll be ripped into tiny jagged pieces not even herself will be willing to put her back together.
"That's when I knew what I needed to do," she's pulled out of her musings when she feels him pull a strand of her curl and to the tip, tucking it behind her ear.
"Earlier, before your mom's service, I thought I was allowing you to grieve for one of the greatest losses of your life. I didn't expect you to think I was handing you a new one."
Another round of I'm sorry dies in his chest and he's surprised to realize he isn't done.
"And as I was watching you through the ceremony, I was convincing myself that I made the right choice by choosing to stay away today."
He pulls their linked hands so they rest on the cloth of his black slacks.
"But every moment, every minute in that service, all I wanted to do was wrap my arms around you, or hold your hand or pull you to my chest. All I could think about was my promise to Liz and how I'd failed."
Caroline's eyes drop to a close at the mention of her mother and instinctively, Stefan's thumb reaches out to touch the curve of her cheek.
"Normally, I'm surprisingly good at reading what people want from me and it frustrates me that I can't do that with you. You're different. You don't make me feel like I have to compete with anyone, not even with myself."
"You make me feel like I'm all you need."
Slowly, she draws her lids open, watching the same intensity in his eyes, never wavering, brimming with so much certainty.
"And maybe, I can handle that. Maybe I can be that for you. I can be all you need."
There's a question in his eyes and she feels her heart swell with the unmistakable answer.
"You're right. You're stupid," she says, the shine returning to her eyes.
"You already are."
And when they kiss, she no longer feels the need for someone to say something. She's already heard all she needed to hear.
AAN: Thank you once again for reading.
I'm might do another chapter with her humanity switched off just because I want to write jealous Stefan. What do you think? Should I? :)
This is probably the angst-y-est, most dramatic one yet and there's a long dialogue that's either the best or worst part of the plot. Let me know which one? Review!