Short Conversations
by poopaw
(Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries)
She's calling him.
Her name appears on his screen and he's reluctant to answer.
It's been months since he's contacted her. She hasn't given effort either. So, the call from nowhere means either two things.
The first can mean that she's in trouble. He refuses to even think about that because the thought of her life in danger makes him want to massacre the entire population of New Orleans.
And the second can mean that she's finally found out about his indiscretion. Therefore, he concludes that it's the second option. Without a doubt, she definitely knows.
She calls once. He can't seem to find the courage to pick it up. It stops soon enough.
She calls twice. He hates himself for acknowledging the fear he suddenly feels. He is the Original Hybrid. He brings fear, not experiences it.
Besides, what's the worst thing a baby vampire can do to him anyway?
The ringing stops again. However, she sends a text message after that.
"Answer the damn phone, Klaus."
He finally answers when she calls again. He refuses to think about why he followed her demand when his family has been trying to do the same thing each century and they all end up daggered for a decade.
Klaus hears a shaky breath from across the line. He hasn't heard her voice in so, so long.
"Is it true?"
Silence meets her question.
He's supposed to answer. He knows that. She's asked a question and it's only reasonable to answer her. But he can't because he feels something stuck in his throat, practically choking him.
(It's his heart, if only he could be honest with himself.)
He can't find his voice. All he can think about is her voice, her smile, and how much he's missed everything about her.
"You know," she whispers quietly. "Your silence is more of an answer than anything you could've ever said to defend yourself."
Klaus closes his eyes. He sees her.
Beautiful and luscious blonde hair.
The most radiant smile he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.
And eyes that are full of light, of hopes, and of dreams.
Of everything he has given up on.
"Caroline," he croaks. He hates himself for sounding so weak.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I couldn't –"
"Why did I have to find out from another person?"
Anybody else who would dare cut him off would be dead by now. Too bad she's not like any other.
He flares. "Who told you?"
"That is besides the point, Klaus," she murmurs. "Of all the people you could've . . ."
He finds the need to defend himself. "I do not need to explain myself, sweetheart."
She doesn't answer for a while. He wants to take it back. He didn't mean to snap at her. He doesn't want her to hang up.
His life is so, so dark right now. He needs her light.
Please don't hang up. Please don't let go. Please don't give up. "Caroline –"
"No!"
She cuts him off again. She's angry now. He can tell.
"No."
Klaus wants to leave. This fight for power with Marcel doesn't seem worth it anymore. He doesn't want the responsibility Elijah is shoving at him regarding his indiscretion with the werewolf. It wasn't supposed to be like this.
Anybody capable of love is capable of being saved. She said that. He wants to remind her of that.
"You're right, Klaus. We don't have an obligation to tell each other anything. It's not like we're friends or anything."
The glass he was clutching in his hand breaks. A particularly sharp part pierces through his flesh. He hisses quietly. She doesn't seem to care. He doesn't know which hurts more - the glass or her ignorance.
"I can't take it back, Caroline."
She keeps quiet and he takes it as a sign to continue. A drop of blood trickles down his palm. "I wish I could. I don't want this. I wanted a family. But not – not like this. I want to take it back."
"No take backs this time," she whispers.
"It wasn't supposed to be anything more. I wasn't supposed to lose you."
She takes a sharp breath and laughs quietly from the other line. It's so empty, he can't imagine placing the laugh on such a bright creature. "How could you lose something you've never even had?"
It would've been incredibly spiteful if he hadn't heard the pain in her voice. Surely, she didn't mean it. Right?
"Good luck, Klaus."
And then, she's gone.
What's the worst thing a baby vampire can do to him?
Author's Note: To the Klaroline that never was. *sighs* Goddamnit, Julie Plec.