It's the middle of the night. I'm very tired, and I apologize if the editing isn't superb.
Hope you like this chapter, and would love to hear some feedback from you guys :) -Cheers
The gym is sparkling.
Every spare inch covered in twinkle lights; lining the ceiling, and around doors. The large red and white center pieces actually give the room a nice romantic look—though I'm not sure I'm ready to let Rebekah know that most of her ideas actually work—not better—they just work.
The drinks bar and the dance floor are already filling up, a semi-upbeat background song plays loudly, getting a few people in the dancing mood—though I'm sure many of them haven't had near enough to drink yet.
"Well this place doesn't look half bad." Rebekah comes up beside me, still holding her stolen champagne flute from the limo, surveying the place with a careful eye. "Of course that's because I helped with half of it."
I look around one more time, a smile creeping onto my lips.
"You know, it does look really good. I think—and this is just the party planning adrenaline talking—we actually make a good team."
She stares straight ahead, wordlessly, until she finally rolls hers eyes and sighs loudly.
"Alright maybe the white table clothes don't look that bad..." Her minor, veiled complement shocks me, and I raise an eyebrow at her.
"Oh shut up." She shoots at me, downing the rest of the drink in her hand and passing it to the nearest eleventh-grader.
"Hey, I didn't say anything," I hold up my hands in mock surrender. And she glares at me half-heartedly before hastening towards Matt, grabbing his hand, and quite literally dragging him onto the dance floor.
I can't help but laugh out loud at his expression of shock and awe.
As the music slows, and the couples pare off, my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. I pull my phone from my clutch and check for any messages. None.
The unshakable threat of Klaus leaving Mystic Falls without saying goodbye looms over me, a deep, dark cloud over my enchanting evening.
I'm on good terms with my friends as we get to graduate high school together, I'm wearing the most beautiful dress I've ever worn, and planned an exceptionally successful prom, nearly singlehandedly. Yet all I can think of is this morbid sort of feeling, like this could be the best night of my life and the worst all at once.
I shake my head, pushing the thoughts of Klaus out of my mind.
"Doing' alright?" Stefan comes to my side, eyeing me with a smirk.
"Fine," I shake my head once again, "just... Thinking."
"Here," He holds up a light red drink, the smell of cranberries and vodka wafting from the glass, "It'll take the edge off."
I take the drink from him, and empty in one long pull, the alcohol burning on the way down.
"Thanks," I say, my voice a little raspy from the strength of the drink.
"Would you like to dance?" Stefan holds his hand out to me like on old-fashioned gentleman.
I stare at his open hand for a second, before smiling and taking it, letting him lead me to the dance floor as Bruno Mars plays through the speakers, vibrating through the room.
We dance in silence for over half the song, Stefan spinning me multiple times, making an effort to keep focused on us instead of Elena and Damon who seem to be off in their own world—dancing at half the pace of the song, swaying in the corning of the dance floor.
I appreciate his effort, but feel weird as we both stand here, both of us wanting to be in someone else's arms.
"So is your prom everything you wanted it to be?" He breaks the silence, pulling my mind back to the present.
I sigh, taking another glance around the gym.
"Absolutely," I nod, swallowing the other words that threaten to bubble up. Would be perfect if...
He seems to sense my hesitation.
"Where's Klaus tonight?"
I blink, taken off guard by his forthrightness.
"He's... I don't know," I say quietly, avoiding his eyes. "Why do you ask?"
"I've just seen you so happy these past couple of weeks... Like something's changed in you." He shrugs a little as we turn to the music. "And tonight, it's your prom, and you look like you're on the verge of tears." He says this last part hushed, careful.
I stare to the side, at the high hanging lights, at his chest, anywhere except into his pity-filled eyes.
I hadn't realised I'd been so obvious with my disappointment, I hate how transparent Klaus makes me, how his absence rubs me raw. How even the thought of his leaving sends me into a spiral.
"I'm fine," I abruptly drop my hands from his shoulder, the song coming to a slow and heartfelt close; and loud club beat takes its place—and I step away.
"Caroline," Stefan says, apology in his voice.
"Don't worry about it," I shake my head, "I'm going to go find Elena," turning around and moving through the crowd of pulsing bodies. As I try to look over the heads of the mass of students, I bump into a strange man's chest.
"Sorry," I mumble as I steady myself and try to move away. But he grasps my arms eagerly, giving me a big smile. I smell liquor in his blood, on his breath.
"Hey, don't worry abo't 't goorgrous," He pulls me uncomfortably close, as he attempts to dance against me, he hand falling on my waist.
I grab it and twist his fingers easily, hearing one of two make an audible popping noise.
"Thanks but no thanks," I snap, pushing myself away from him, he whimpers as he holds his broken finger.
"Bitch!" I hear him call, before his voice gets stolen by the music.
"Hey, Care come dance with us!" Elena calls from near the back of the dance floor, holding her hand out to me without stopping moving to the music.
I put on a quick smile, "I'll be right back," I say—hurrying to the exit, pushing the heavy door to the gym open, the cool night air hitting me as soon as I step outside.
I walk over to the metal railing, grasping it with both hands as I lean into it, taking long deep breaths through my nose. In... and out.
This night is supposed to be perfect. This night was what I've looked forward to since my first day I stepped foot in high school. This is a milestone. And it's shit.
"Your beauty is wasted out here alone."
The sound of his voice sends shivers up my spine, and my blood instantly pumps faster through my veins. I turn around, and my heart skips, one or five beats.
"You came," I breathe, staring in disbelief, taking in his dark jeans, suit jacket and white dress shirt, loose at the collar.
"I came," He nods once, taking a few steps forward gauging me.
I watch his tentative stance, his mellow demeanor, and my heart sinks. Past my feet, into the ground below me.
"You came to say goodbye," I whisper, watching his reaction to my words.
"You know that's not what I want," He matches my hushed volume—as if we speak too loudly; the fragile moment will shatter into pieces.
I will the tears to leave, push them out of my mind, away from myself. Emotions flooding against a sealed door, desperate to get through the barriers I've put in their way.
I reach up, touching the collar or his white dress shirt, skimming my hand down the line of buttons, concentrating on the soft material as opposed to the awful scene playing out in front of me.
As my hand touches the last button, he catches it in both of his, lifting it to his lips, and pressing a kiss into my palm.
"Come with me," He says again, breath against my wrist, his eyes close as an unidentifiable emotion fills them, taking control of him like they're taking control of me.
I find it difficult to watch him like this. Vulnerable, quiet, sad. I hate and love that I can be the cause of so much feeling in him.
I grab hold of his collar, pulling him to me, burying my face in his neck, breathing him in. Memorising his scent.
"Stay," I sigh into him, his arms winding around my waist, holding my body against his, "Nic," I try out this name on my lips, it feels foreign and familiar at the same time. "Stay..."
Both of our requests going unanswered, as they are unanswerable. Both of us, hating ourselves, hating each other, loving each other...
We don't break the embrace. It feels like an eternity, and the shortest minutes of my life wrapped up in one passionate moment.
"You're coming back though," I say. Not a question. Not even a request.
He pulls back, taking my face in his hands, looking me in the eyes with the kind of certainty that becomes almost impossible to doubt.
"I am coming back," He repeats my words with honesty that makes my heart break. Leaning into me, our kiss is like an electric shock, a hot metal rob placed in cold water, freeing—epic. "I am coming back for you." He says against my lips.
"Caroline?" Bonnie's voice comes from inside the school, though I can hear her footsteps making their way towards the doors, towards us.
"This town is too small for you Caroline," his hand slides to the side of my neck, his thumb drawing an invisible line to my chin, down my throat. "Let me show you music, and beauty... passion. Let me show you everything..."
And then he's gone.
My body is cold without his touch, freezing actually.
"There you are, they're announcing King and Queen, thought you might want to see it," Bonnie smiles, gesturing to doors.
"Yeah, I do," I nod, hoping my expression doesn't give away the passion that boils in me, burning me up from the inside out. "Thanks," I smile at her and follow her back into the gym.
And this time, when Elena asks me if I'm okay; I open my mouth, and no words come out.
One month later
Missing someone is exhausting. I feel drained. I've become reliant on the sporadic phone call, listening to his voice, and his words about his favorite city in the world. But mostly in the things he doesn't say—like when I will see him again. When things are alright again. When I will stop missing him...
He doesn't know.
"Hey your mail box was really full," Matt comes into my living room, holding a small stack of envelopes.
"Thank you," I smile, gesturing to the coffee table.
"Oooh, any acceptance letters in there," Elena sits up from her slunched position in front of the TV, briefly peeking at the pile of mail.
"Doubt it," I mumble, standing up from my comfy spot on the floor beside Bonnie and Stefan. Wandering into the kitchen to refill my water glass.
"Where'd you apply?" Stephan calls after me as I leave the room.
"Stanford, UCLA, Berkeley..."
"Impressive,"
"Only if I get in." I answer, replacing the water to the fridge I take long drink.
"Who do you know from New Orleans?" Matt interjects.
Almost spitting my water across the kitchen, I suppress the need to choke and force myself to swallow before answering.
"What?" I ask, walking out of the kitchen, poking my head into the living room.
Matt holds up a long skinny white envelope with easy handwriting scrawled across the front.
I'm frozen for a second before I walk over, taking the letter from him, and examine the face of it.
Miss. Caroline Forbes
There's no return address, but the large stamp of importance says in clear, bold blue letters, New Orleans.
I blink a few times, re-reading it a few more before tearing the seal, sliding the paper halfway out, before my hands freeze once again.
I'm not sure how long I stand there, staring at the contents of the parcel—but I'm only brought back when someone clears their throat loudly, causing me to jump slightly, the postage almost slipping from my hand.
"What is it?" Elena stands, coming to my side, and looking over my shoulder.
She reaches for it, pausing for permission before I hand it over, and she pulls the ticket out the rest of the way, reading it curiously.
One.
First-Class ticket.
To New Orleans.
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