Firstly, thanks to all the nice & positive reviews. I was going to write a paragraph calling someone out for their negative one but to be honest I don't really care.
Sorry this story hasn't been updated much, I've let the side down but life has been hectic and whenever I get a chance to chill I'm usually reading so watching Jessica Jones which I am currently obsessed with.
Caroline jumped at his voice, he looked furious and for the first time she was scared of him. She had broken his rule and invaded his privacy, trying not to let her voice shake and without being able to look him in the eye, 'they're all so sad' she repeated.
'Yes' he replied walking into the room slowly. He didn't like anyone in here, this was his space, but she looks small against the high paintings that covered his walls. She stood out against the darkness, neat and tidy in the mess. Her blonde hair bright and contrasting, there was something strange about see her in there, so opposite to what the room symbolized to him. The darkness that rested inside.
'Why? Why do you paint them like that?'
'I paint how I feel. When I feel sad I paint sadness, when I feel happy my pieces are happy. My last collection was happier, this one is darker. Deeper, artists are shallow. Begging for scraps at the table of investors but I don't need their money. I don't need their approval Caroline. I paint for myself.'
She hadn't expected such an honest answer, he was closer to her now and her senses became super aware of him. He fitted the room, his brown eyes swimming with emotions she couldn't place, his dark t-shirt helping him blend in. Even his creamy skin seems to mate the start contrasts of colour.
'You shouldn't go through life trying to find sorrow'
'So I should try to be happy?'
'Well why not?'
'Is that what you do Caroline? Do you try and be happy? Do you ignore that ache when you think about home, the home you miss? Maybe you smile fondly at the memories of that ex…Tyler wasn't it? Are you always so happy?'
'Not always, no' she was stung by his words. In truth she hadn't been happy in a long time, not even back in Mystic Falls. Her mother's sickness had delayed her departure and she didn't want to leave but the Sheriff has practically forced her out. Leave your life Caroline her mum had told her. So she had tried. 'I can be sad. But I don't look for sadness, there is enough of that already. So yes I find reasons to be happy and cling onto them'
'Foolish' he said, he hasn't meant to speak allowed, he saw a flash of anger in her eyes.
'I might be foolish Klaus, but at least I can see the good in people. You don't even try. You want everyone to hate you and everyone to fear you and then when they do you act like some outcast but you do it to yourself. You want to paint something sad to annoy the dealers and the gallery owners then go ahead. But don't act like you've a lifetime of pain behind each painting, that's false.'
'You know nothing about me pain'
'And you know nothing of my happiness' she said walking towards the door. She was done with him.
He threw a blank canvas on his easel. Happiness, he thought, was easy to come by, it took a real person to reach into their sorrow and pull it out and that is what he would to. He would get rid of it, throw it all on a canvas. He reached for the black paint and began, and once it was done, once everything was out it would be okay. Except it wouldn't. Of course it wouldn't be okay, nothing ever would.
He painted furiously as he thought, voices in his head talked over each other, contradicting every thought that passed through him. Eventually he stood back, he had painted the room, and Caroline stood in all her white, pink and blonde glory. It was the moment before he had spoken. It wasn't easy to see, a viewer might easily miss it, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes. Seeing it was what had made him speak, it wasn't sadness. Not it was recognition. He hadn't recognized it before now, but on the canvas it was easy to see, Caroline was just as lost and alone as he was.
He smiled. Good he thought to himself.