Author's notes:
Hello! :) Here is chapter 6, which is basically the second part of last chapter.
Thank you for being part of the adventure. I'm always excited and happy to see that you're reading, following, commenting. Thank you for the support, all of you!
I wish I could respond to the guest comments. It frustrates me that I can't. Cassie, NikMik, Harmony, Amanda, Marina, ilovetvd, Inga, all of you Guests: THANK YOU!
The reviews for chapter 5 were overwhelming. I could not believe it. Thank you. Thank you!
Many of you were/ are frustrated with Caroline. I understand, I really do but, please, don't lose faith in her (or in the story). I'll leave notes at the end of the chapter.
As usual, this is unbeta'd. So, please forgive any mistakes.
Happy (yes, happy!) reading! ;)
Rain. She could smell it in the air. Warm and heavy. And unwelcome. The leaves shook in anticipation, but she just sat there, numb.
Sat on the little swing, in the park.
They had begun here. Had spent sunny moments of happiness together. She wanted to remember them, wanted to be enveloped in their warmth. Wanted them to chase away the feeling of emptiness that was taking root in her heart. But the emptiness took hold of her, spreading in her veins until she was left shivering.
There was nothing left for her now.
The sky began to shake in anger and she looked up, just in time to see silent streaks of light in the dark. Of course.
Of course. At the worst possible time. And laughter bubbled in her throat.
The immensity of what had just happened crashed down on her and her shoulders shook with desperate laughter. It turned into sobs and, soon, her whole body was shaking with them. She bent at the sudden realization, crossing her arms around her waist. Pain and fear burnt her insides and, for a long awful moment, she wished she could escape her own body and fly away from it all. And yet, she did not want it to stop, because if it did, it would mean the end.
And she was not ready to face the world alone. Not without him.
Without him.
She cried even harder. She wanted Nik, needed him. Only him.
But the elements did not care for her grief. No soothing touches and no comforting words. She only felt the rain falling down on her, only heard the angry whispers of the leaves, the sky scolding and growling and threatening.
She was alone.
Nothing lasted forever.
And she could not hide forever.
But she did not move. Only sat there, like a lost little girl.
~o~
He took a swig and looked at the blank canvas that lay by the wall. Bright and flawless. Pure and uncorrupted. No story. Nothing.
Nothing.
He went to the table where lay a jumble of brushes, tubes of paint and various other things. Left untouched.
A forgotten sketchbook.
It seemed so long ago.
He took a can of red paint, opened it and threw it at the immaculate canvas. He used his bare hands, his arms, to distribute the paint, to wound it.
He drenched it in blood.
He stopped, took a step back and stared at the bloodied mess.
Everything was a mess. His head. His heart.
His heart.
It burned. His skin burned. Everything burned. He took off his shirt and returned to the table to take tubes of paint. He used his hands and smeared the paint on the bloody canvas. Angry strokes of black, navy blue and white –
No light. Night. Only night.
A whirlwind of nothingness.
Light was fire and he wanted darkness. Anything to snuff the bloody fire that was consuming him. Anything. Everything.
Except her.
Everything but her. Never her.
His burning fire.
Black. More black.
Ashes of him.
He stopped, more exhausted than before, and closed his eyes. Let it engulf him.
The feeling of pure and infinite –
loneliness.
~o~
''Caroline,'' she heard someone say. She looked up and saw Carol Lockwood standing a few feet away from her, safe and dry under her umbrella. ''What are you doing here all alone?'' the woman asked, walking quickly towards her.
Her reprieve was over, it seemed.
She stood up and quickly brushed the tears away. ''I'm sorry, I needed some time alone. Is everything alright?''
''Of course. This evening is a success,'' Carol answered, shielding her from the rain. She looked down at her and handed her her clutch. ''Although it seems that the same could not be said for you. You look awful.''
Geez, thanks! You could always count on Carol Lockwood to make you feel better.
They walked in silence until they were in the safety of the building. ''Caroline.''
She looked at the older woman, tried not to look annoyed. As much as she did not care for her job, it was all that she had left. Better not to lose it too. ''Yes?''
''I called you a taxi.''
She frowned. ''I don't understand. Why?''
The woman looked at her intently. ''You are needed elsewhere.''
What was she talking about?
When she saw the puzzled look on her face, Carol elaborated. ''I was looking for you and I heard you, with Klaus. I didn't mean to.'' She had the decency to look embarrassed. ''Caroline –''
''No. You misunderstood. Nik – I mean Klaus. Klaus and I, we're...'' her voice trailed off, as if she did not know anymore.
''In love,'' her boss finished for her. ''You two are in love.'' She took her hand. ''Caroline, listen to me carefully. Regrets are an ugly thing to live with. And you are way too young to begin now.''
How could she know?
Carol Lockwood's life was perfect. Everybody knew that. What could she possibly regret?
''How would you know? Your life is perfect.'' She did not mean to sound so snide. Really she did not.
Well, maybe a little.
Carol chuckled. ''Oh Caroline. You are so naive.''
''But your career, your husband –''
''My career? A distraction. My husband? A man who looks at me but doesn't see me,'' Carol chuckled humorlessly. ''You want to wake up one day wondering where it all went wrong?''
''No,'' she said without looking at her.
''That's what I thought. You know what to do then.''
Of course she did. But would he listen?
She was pretty sure he would not.
Carol sensed her hesitation. ''Caroline, the people who break your heart are the ones who don't care. Trust me.''
It was so strange to have this conversation with her – of all people. It was the first time they talked. Really talked. She had never liked Carol, and she was pretty sure the feeling was mutual. And yet – the way the older woman was looking at her. The broken look on her face.
It meant something.
''I would trade the illusion of perfection for something real anytime, Caroline. Anything but these regrets.''
She had been wrong on so many things.
Oh God.
''I need to go,'' she said, running down the stairs.
''Caroline. Your coat!''
''I don't have time!'' She paused and turned toward her boss. ''Thank you!''
''Go!'
~o~
He looked hard at the painting as he mixed the fiery colors. Unfinished.
Incomplete. Forever damaged without its light. Undone. Broken.
Missing something. The good part. The better part.
Went back. Added color – fire. Even if it hurt.
It was all about her in the end.
It all went back to her.
Everything.
Caroline.
Only.
Her.
His.
Only.
Caroline.
Everything.
It all went back to her.
It was all about her in the end.
It would always be about her. Always.
Always and forever Caroline. His muse. His curse.
He added light to the darkness. Fire. He could not help himself.
Let it burn. Consume him. Caroline. His torment. Always and forever – her.
~o~
She looked through the window and sighed, exasperated. Twenty minutes. Twenty painfully long minutes. Might as well be a year.
Or a century.
The rain had not stopped falling – if anything, it fell harder than ever. And here she was, stuck, when she was needed elsewhere – unexpected, certainly. She stared morosely as the rain drops made a watery trail on the window and sighed again. She was so close.
''Can't we go faster?'' she asked the driver, catching his gaze in the rearview mirror.
''No.''
She bit her lip. She had wasted too much time already. And she could not bear the thought of him, alone and unloved. Did not want him to go on thinking that he did not matter. Because he did.
She was just a coward.
And maybe it was time to be brave.
What could be worse than losing him forever?
Nothing.
''Let me out,'' she said.
''In this weather?''
''Let me out,'' she repeated, her anxiety increasing tenfold.
''But it's raining.''
''Let me out!'' she exclaimed at the top of her lungs – hysterical. The driver jumped and turned toward her.
''Are you out of your damn mind? No need to throw a fit. Geez.'' The man shook his head. ''You have a plane to catch?'' She narrowed her eyes. ''Let me out,'' she repeated dangerously.
''Okay. Okay. Twenty-two dollars.'' She unbuckled the seat belt and opened her clutch to get the money. ''Why do I always fall on the crazy ones?'' she heard him say under his breath. ''I'm too old for this.''
She leaned and handed him two twenty-dollar bills and opened the door. ''And your change?'' the man called after her.
''You can keep it.'' She slammed the door and began to run.
Run. Run. Run.
Rain beat down on her, soaking her to the bone. But she ran, wet strands of hair clinging to her face and neck, dress hugging her to the point where she almost tripped with every step she took. But she did not let that stop her.
Nothing would stop her now.
Cars honked past her, and the dark sky mocked her – snarls, devilish grins of light that told her she was a fool.
Maybe she was. So what?
She ran, in spite of the warnings of the sky above her and the howling of the wind slapping her. The cold bit her skin and her lungs were on fire, but she continued to run.
She ran, in spite of everything. Grotesque faces and hollow cries. Childish fears. What was there to fear?
What was there to fear – other than herself?
Nothing.
She ran. Laughed, beaming. Embraced the rain and the wind. Stuck her tongue out at the fiery sky.
She ran. Prayed that he was home. Made it to their driveway. Saw that there was light.
And fell flat on her face.
Got up and took off her shoes, and limped to their door.
She fumbled with her small clutch and she cried in frustration. Cold numb fingers that would just not cooperate. Seriously?
She finally managed to get her keys out and opened the door with a bang. Threw her shoes and clutch, not particularly caring where they landed. She quickly surveyed the living room and the kitchen. And ran up the stairs.
Stopped.
The studio. A room that had not been opened in years.
There was light.
She walked slowly and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him. His back to her. Working on a painting.
The first in almost four years.
If he knew she was there, he did not acknowledge it. She did not dare move or say anything, she just watched him. Shirtless, arms covered in paint. A mess. And she ached for it.
He worked in a frenzy. Bold brushstrokes of yellow, orange and red. Consuming fire which swallowed everything around it. Leaving charred nothingness.
He stopped suddenly, his shoulders tense. ''Caroline.'' He did not turn, just said her name. Caroline. Like a curse. Caroline! Oh Caroline!
Caroline.
He put down the brush and palette on the wooden table and took a piece of cloth to wipe his hands. There was a half-empty bottle of scotch. A common occurrence lately. And she did not like it.
''You must wonder why I'm here.''
''Not particularly.'' He did not look at her as he wiped his hands with the dirty cloth. He looked worn out. Paint, like bruises and cuts all over his torso and face, arms and hands. A giant wound.
Her heart clenched achingly in her chest.
''I'm sorry.''
He chuckled darkly. ''Get your things and get out.''
''There is something I need to tell you first,'' she said as she came in the small room, penetrating his sanctuary. He finally looked at her.
A mask of unadulterated rage. Pure fury. Only for her. ''I frankly don't care. Get out.''
''No,'' she said defiantly.
''No?'' he repeated, in mock amusement. He smiled, staring at her, and tilted his head to the side. ''No?'' He took a few steps in her direction and stopped in front of her. He leaned forward. ''I don't want you here. Get out.''
''No,'' she said firmly, her heart beating furiously in her chest. She could smell the whisky on his breath and the paint on his skin. And she could taste his anger.
''Get out!'' he screamed in her face and she flinched. He would never hurt her, she knew that. But that did not mean that he did not terrify her. ''I need to tell you something first,'' she repeated, voice wavering. Her hands shook a little and she hid them behind her back. She was strong. And she would show him.
That she meant it.
That she did not doubt them. Not anymore.
''Then tell me. Tell me and leave.''
She tried to control her breathing, tried to will her hands to stop shaking. Tried to tell him. But he did not give her the time. ''Tell me,'' he said, pressing her against the wall, holding her by the upper arms. Her right hip hit the wooden table painfully, knocking over cans of paint; they dropped on the ground, splashing her feet with color, but she did not care.
''Tell me,'' he said, bringing his face closer to hers. ''Tell me, damn you,'' he said again, this time with desperation. There was a storm in his eyes – but she was not afraid anymore.
She wanted to touch him, soothe him but he held her too tightly. Still, she brought her hands to his chest. Felt his heart – strong and steady under her fingers. And maybe it was just what she needed. ''I love you,'' she told him. ''I love you,'' she said again, softly.
I love you.
He did not say anything, as if he had not heard her. Maybe it was too little, too late. Maybe he had realized that he was better off without her. Or maybe he had come to the conclusion that they could not work. Fear that he would not believe her, or that he would dismiss her love for him – like she had done so many times – seized her heart and crushed it painfully.
Poetic justice.
Long agonizing seconds. Silence.
Maybe she had lost him after all. Maybe –
He kissed her hard.
There was nothing gentle in his kiss; it was rough and urgent. And she could not breathe. And she wanted him.
And she loved him.
''I love you,'' she said once more. And he kissed her harder.
His paint-stained hands were everywhere; they ruined her dress, kneaded her flesh, caressed her breast through the soaked, dirtied fabric, kissed her exposed skin. She felt hot under his touch as his hands drew patterns all over her body, using her like a canvas. ''I love you,'' she kept repeating, between his harsh kisses. She could not breathe, she could not move. And she welcomed it somehow. He was a wall of possessiveness, pressing her against him, making her part of him.
Or maybe she had always been part of him. Just as she sometimes thought that she would not be Caroline without him.
''I hate it. I hate that I love you,'' he said against her skin. ''I wish that I did not love you. Anyone but you.'' His lips were on her mouth, her jaw. Impatient, hungry kisses. Everywhere on her face. ''You burn me. That's all you do.'' Her eyes filled with tears at his words. For all her fears and self-doubt, they were nothing compared to his.
''And yet I can't stay away from you.'' One hand on her collarbone, holding her against the wall, while the other cupped her breast through her dress – only his mouth moved. ''You consume me.''
And yet it felt like he was consuming her.
Her senses were full of him. His touch on her skin. His taste in her mouth. His voice, his scent, his eyes. She did not know anymore. Where she ended and where he began.
But she did know one thing.
''I love you. I love you,'' she said again under his mouth. The tears fell, like rain. ''I love you,'' she could not stop saying. ''I'm sorry. I love you.'' She would tell him, show him until he understood. Until he believed her. If it was the only thing she did. The very last thing she did. ''I love you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I love you.''
''Stop,'' he said.
''I'm sorry,'' she sobbed, not listening. ''I'm sorry. I –'' He stopped her from saying more, stifling her words with another quick kiss.
''Stop,'' he said again.
I'm sorry.
Meaningless words in the end. Only they were not.
But it seemed that they were – beyond repair. He did not believe her.
It was simply too late. She was too late.
And eventually, he would let her go.
Make her leave.
She did not know if she was crying for him or for herself but she was certain of one painful, terrifying thing. She would never heal from this. She would never be the same again.
Not without the best part of herself.
He loosened his hold on her. ''Caroline –'' he began to say, only she did not want to listen.
No. No. No. No.
Please, no.
''No,'' she said, shaking her head. ''No,'' she repeated and shut her eyes as if, in the comfort of darkness, nothing could happen. Not if she did not see it. If she did not see it, then – it would not be real.
But it was.
The end.
''Caroline, open your eyes,'' he said again and she felt his hands on her arms. She was going to lose it. If he said her name again, she was going to lose it. His voice hurt, his touch hurt. They chased away the illusion of safety.
''No, no, no,'' she said desperately, keeping her eyes tightly shut. ''Please believe me,'' she begged. She did not care if she was pathetic. She did not care if she sounded or looked like a fool.
She was a fool. Had been for too long.
''Believe me. Please.''
She was suffocating, felt more and more faint. As much as she tried to cling to the surface, the waves of despair crashed on her, drowning her.
Maybe it was hopeless.
Maybe.
And yet – she could not let go.
Open your eyes, Caroline.
No!
But look at him. And see.
''Don't cry. Please don't cry,'' he said, sounding pained. His warm lips travelled to her cheeks, tasting her grief, and his touch became more gentle, cautious almost. ''I don't like it when you cry.'' And he pressed a kiss on each eye, kissing her tears away. ''My Caroline,'' he said before he released her.
His Caroline.
His words hit her hard in the heart and it unclenched suddenly.
She was still his Caroline.
A rush of air filled her lungs – she had been under water for so long – and it did not hurt anymore. Incredulous, she opened her eyes to look at him.
He looked bruised and battered. But he was smiling. Reassuring and comforting. ''I know.''
He believed her.
Worn out and yet, here he was, comforting her, consoling her. When she was the one who had let him down.
Always the one to heal her.
Always.
He opened his arms and she smiled – laughed – through the tears. She threw herself at him with a shout. Held his face in her hands, peppering it with kisses, and he laughed.
A rare, genuine laugh.
She brought her lips to his, needed to feel him, taste him. Tell him. ''I want you. Only you.'' Always him. ''I need you. Only you.''
I love you. Only you.
Always and forever – him.
~o~
''Mine,'' he said, putting his hands over hers, and she smiled and nodded.
''Show me,'' she murmured. And without saying an other word, she released his face and turned, presenting her back to him, head tilted to the side.
She wore rain on her skin and it cooled the burning fire in him. Her skin, her hair – everything was rain. Cool and comforting and loving.
He lowered the straps of her dress over her shoulders, pressing soft kisses on her shoulder blade, the side of her neck. Opened her dress and ran his hands on her back, leaving a faint trail of red on her skin. A living watercolor. The dress fell at her feet, leaving her almost bare.
He encircled her waist, chest pressed against her back, and she intertwined her fingers in his, rocked against him. ''I will never let you go,'' he warned, against her ear.
''I'm yours,'' she acknowledged. Something feral in him was pleased, and it needed to taste her again. He lightly bit her shoulder and soothed the skin with an open-mouthed kiss. Her skin was so soft and it marked so easily.
His precious Caroline.
Who had torn out his heart with such ease.
Caroline.
Who was in his arms now.
Every time he was with her – every time he was not with her – he was filled with the same need. Constant need.
Desperate. Craving.
''I need you, Nik,'' she said and he smiled. She did feel what he felt.
She felt it too.
''I need you too.'' He kissed her hair, her shoulder.
She turned and faced him. ''Show me,'' she said again. And so, he did.
There was simplicity in their touch. And familiarity.
Smiles. Sunny and warm. Hands on his belt. A zipper opened. A clumsy dance. Snickers. His trousers flying. Her bra joining them. Softness under his hands. Moans and sighs. And kisses. Millions of them.
There was wonder too. And revelations.
He ran his hand between her breasts and she sighed. ''I remember that,'' she said, pressing her forehead on his chest. ''I remember your touch.''
This girl filled him with awe; she never failed to amaze him – when she did not drive him crazy.
To be in love with his best friend was terrifying.
To be in love with Caroline was exhausting.
But to be loved by her was –
It was like finding something long lost. Or maybe it was someone. Yes. Like being reunited with a long lost companion, someone you cherished but had to leave. In spite of yourself.
Her love – it reconciled him the world.
It was like – finding peace.
Peace.
Peace at last.
~o~
She gasped his name and fell back on the table, legs linked behind his back. He moved faster. ''Oh,'' she said again, arching tightly. She gripped the edge of the table with one hand. ''Nik.'' She was coming undone. Her arm hit a cup holding brushes and it fell on the floor with a crash.
''I know,'' he said, and he brushed her hair away from her face, held her tighter, wearing her like second skin. ''I know,'' he repeated as he grazed her tender lips with his fingertips; they travelled south, on her throat, retraced the lines of her collarbone, stopped over her chest.
He palmed her firm breast, soft and heavy in his paint-stained hand. Felt the melodic tempo of her beating heart. He looked at her face, beautiful and serene. Saw understanding in her cloudy, hooded eyes. ''Only for you,'' she said.
His only. Forever his. He would never let her go.
His lips on her nose, her lips – chapped from his kisses –, her collarbone. He held her closer, going deeper.
He watched as she tilted her head to the side. ''Oh.'' Her arm flew to the wall behind her and he gripped her hips tighter, leaving his imprint on her skin. ''Oh. Oh.'' Urgent movements. ''Nik.'' His hand left her hip, caressing her more intimately. A sob. Long, hard, experienced strokes that precipitated her over the edge and then –
And then – a descent. Long and sweet. His name on her lips. Blinding bliss. He had to hold on to her to stop from collapsing.
She lay limp, chest rising and falling under him, eyes closed. She turned her head and searched for his lips; nose brushing against his, she took his lips with hers.
He returned her kiss lazily and pressed his forehead against her neck. Capturing a moment of eternity.
.
.
.
.
.
She ran her fingers in his hair, while she held him with one arm, and he sighed. He did not attempt to untangle himself from her. They would have to move. Eventually.
But for now –
Quiet serenity.
~o~
''Your skin, it's so soft. I never realized,'' he said quietly, as they lay tangled in his bed, after their naughty shower. ''I didn't know,'' he continued, running the back of his hand up and down her arm.
She put her chin on his chest. ''You know what I did know?'' she asked him, serious.
''What?'' he asked, looking down at her.
''You've got one nice 'arse','' she said giggling.
He shook his head, seemingly disapproving. ''Caroline,'' he sighed.
Oh Caroline.
She continued to smile, feeling the rush of tenderness. She straddled his hips and leaned to kiss him, cradling his cheek in her hand, like he had done with her so many times. When she moved, he cupped her breasts teasing the rosy pebbles with his thumbs, eliciting an other delicious feeling in her. ''So, what happens tomorrow?'' he asked, looking up at her. His hands left her breasts and moved to her hips, her thighs.
She understood that he had to ask. She had made so many mistakes, had hurt him so badly. And she would never forgive herself.
''I think I'll spend the day with my boy. He's an artist, did you know? And he draws the most beautiful things.''
And sometimes the saddest too.
''Sounds like a catch,'' he snorted, caressing her thighs.
''He is,'' she replied tenderly, and leaned again to give him a kiss. ''He's the best. My boy.'' She went back to lie on her side, snuggling up to him. ''You do realize that I'm talking about you, right?''
Call her crazy, neurotic. She did not care. She just needed to make sure that he knew.
''Yes,'' he chuckled. ''I figured.''
''Good,'' she said seriously. ''I never want to be without you,'' she added.
''I know.'' He pressed a kiss on the top of her head. ''Me neither.''
They lay in complete silence – except for the sound of the falling rain. She was on the verge of falling asleep but still clung to consciousness.
''It's still raining,'' she said, yawning.
How could she ever be afraid?
''I'm proud of you,'' he said after a few seconds.
''What for?'' she asked.
''For defying thunder. I know how scary it is for you.''
''There are scarier things.''
''Like what?''
''Like being away from you. Losing you. And you were right.''
''About?''
''I'm not a child anymore,'' she said with a smile, looking up. ''But it doesn't mean that I won't sleep in your bed from time to time,'' she teased. ''If you don't mind, of course.''
''On the contrary, sweetheart. I'm counting on it.'' She laughed.
Good.
She pressed her cheek on his chest, her arm around his waist. ''Nik?''
''Yes?''
''I love you.''
~o~
''I love you.''
He closed his eyes and let the gentleness of her words wash over him.
''I love you,'' she said again to his heart and it soared once more.
I love you.
Such careless words.
And yet, the softest, for a tired, wounded heart.
I love you.
I love you.
Special note:
Yes! Finally! If you made it this far, congratulations! ;) I hope things made sense. Please share your thoughts.
We're moving to the second part of the story now, which will be lighter. Yay! :D
Until next time!