Over 100 Reveiws! What!? That's so cool, thank you all so much! (Think we can make it to 200? Is that a little over ambitious? Haha)
Anyway, here's the next chapter! Please review, let me know what you think! Your guys's opinions mean the world to me! -Cheers
There will always be secrets between people. It's in our nature to hide parts of ourselves from others; keeping small pieces of our worlds close to us, never letting another see into your heart, your soul, at least not entirely.
But what do you do, when your life is changed? By one person. Just one, who can touch you, and feels everything you feel. Can read you like a book...
I hate how happy this vulnerability makes me feel. Like even if we fight. Have a few fights, a hundred fights, things will always settle back the way they are meant to. Because they have to. Because if they didn't, we would fall, and never be able to get up.
XXX
"Is it gross?" I ask, wincing away from the drink he holds out to me, adjusting Klaus's ray ban sunglasses as they slip slightly down my nose.
"Yes," Klaus rolls his eyes, placing the warm mug into my hands. It smells like walnuts and sweet cream and rum. "It's disgusting. Now stop talking and try it."
The sweet old vender and Klaus, watch me as I bring the cup to my lips and taste the drink, leaving me with a prominent foam mustache. The sweet, milky substance is unbelievable.
"Holy shit!" I say, wiping my upper lip, staring at the drink wide-eyed.
Klaus chuckles and nods at the man at the stand.
Taking my free hand, he leads me further down the long street. Tables and booths set up all along the cobblestoned sidewalks. Venders and salesmen with jewelry and food and art set up on the hot streets of Lisbon.
I watch as a man sets fire to a sugary dessert, the smell of sweet dough fills the air around us.
"This is," I shake my head looking for the right words, "Perfect."
Klaus looks at me from the corner of his eye, a smile playing with his lips as I take another sip of the warm drink in my hand, the liquor in it heating me to the core, making me feel cozy in the windy Portugal streets.
"Better than Willy's pub?" Klaus raises and eyebrow at me, and I roll my eyes dramatically.
"If I never go back there, it will be too soon." I swirl my drink around in the large mug, looking at it instead of Klaus. "Isn't Elijah going to be angry that you left?" I my voice is smaller now, less confident than I'd hoped it would be.
"My brother is a reasonable man," Klaus takes an extra long look at a man spray painting a canvas, his hands working fast, the colours meshing together in a perfect medley. "And against all likelihood, he does trust me to a certain extent. I said I will go back, and I shall. In time."
"And Marcel? Is he a reasonable man too?" the doubt in my voice is obvious, but Klaus doesn't react to it. His tone stays even, as if he was still speaking of his brother in a casual conversation.
"I have said all I need to say to Marcel. If he's not satisfied with my decision, I dare him to say so."
There's one more thing that's itching in the back of my mind...
"You said you'd go back..." My pace slows, and so does his, "When?"
He doesn't say anything, and neither do I.
"A picture of you?" An older woman with a thick Portuguese accent and a Polaroid camera asks, a kind smile on her face, "Save the memory?"
Klaus glances at me briefly, with a crooked smile, before winding an arm around my waist, pulling me close to his side as the woman holds up her camera. I slide Klaus's glasses off my eyes and on top of my head; they push my hair out of my face as the wind attempts to do the opposite.
I lean into Klaus, feeling a little shy as I hide my face somewhat against his chest.
The picture is taken, and within seconds it prints out the front of the camera.
"Beautiful couple." She nods, waving the photo in the air a few times before handing it to me.
As I take in the image, my eyes fill with unexpected tears.
My shy smile against Klaus's chest looks almost natural and... Peaceful. Klaus isn't looking at the camera, he's glancing down at me. Not smiling, looking only content and happy as his arm is holding me against him, like that's what it's always been meant to do...
Something in his look reminds me of the gaze I caught Damon staring at Elena with when he saw her at prom. Like she was the only thing he wanted to look at in that moment. Like he couldn't bring himself to look away.
I pull the sunglasses back down over my eyes to hide the tears that rest there.
I nod to Klaus and he hands the woman twenty dollars, overpaying by a mile. I smile a little at his generosity, remembering it's near non-existence before.
"Desculpe-me, senhor, se você pudesse dar uma olhada em minhas pinturas..." A young man behind us catches Klaus's attention quickly, gesturing to an assortment of oil paintings set up along the curb. Though I can't understand a word he says, Klaus seems to comprehend flawlessly. Quickly looking at me, I smile, before he walks over to the man with the paintings.
"I can see you are in love." The old woman says, looking between the two of us as Klaus looks though multiple canvases and wrinkled pieces of painted parchment, "I see many people come down this street. Only a few I know, I can see, you will be with each other forever."
I smile a small smile at her, though I'm sure she says the same to each couple that walks past her booth, it is a nice thing to hear all the same.
"Forever is a long time," I say simply.
She looks at me for several seconds, a kind of seriousness in her eyes. For a moment, I sense that she can tell what I am. What we are. Like she knows just how long our forever may be...
"Forever is never long enough when you find the right person." She says, a bright smile breaking onto her lips.
I glance over my shoulder. Klaus is crouched on the street, speaking fluent Portuguese with the street artist. Flipping through piece after piece, speaking dramatically with his hands and fluent tongue. This man right here, good and bad, fighting and loving—forever really doesn't seem like that long.
XXX
"This is definitely illegal." I glance up and down the alleyway, removing my heels, the cool gravel on my bare feet tickles.
Klaus smiles down at my from the window above me, curling his index finger at me, tempting me to follow him into the building; before he disappears from my sight.
I roll my eyes, and jump easily into the second story window.
The studio is dark and deadly quiet; the only light comes from the moon just outside the window. It casts shadows across the floor and walls.
I squint into the dim light, finding his dark figure across the room, twisting a bottle opener into corked wine.
"Seriously, people do jail time for stuff like this," I whisper, flashing to his side, and gripping his arm anxiously.
"I think you'll find the vampire/hybrid convict list a little lower," Klaus chuckles, giving the cork one final tug before it makes an audible pop and the smell of sweet red wine fills the air.
"Where are we anyway?" I ask, looking around the large open space.
It's obvious it's an art gallery. Huge floor to ceiling paintings hang on the white walls, and there is a large table at the back of the room, with well used art supplies covering its surface.
"This is the first art studio Elijah took me to. Of course it looked nothing like this when we came years ago..." His voice seems to trail off with the memory as he takes my hand and leads me to the table in the back corner.
Handing me the bottle of wine, he removes a drop cloth from the table top; covered in dry paint of all different colours, he lays it on the floor.
I lean against the table and bring the bottle to my lips. The dry wine tasting good on my parched tongue.
"Yes actually, that is how a 1974 Quinta de la Rosa is supposed to be enjoyed," Klaus remarks, sitting down on the drop cloth and looking up at me with a sarcastic smirk.
I cover my mouth to suppress a giggle, and hand him back the bottle, dropping down beside him on the floor.
"Well Mr. Tortured artist slash wine enthusiast," I lay down, staring up at the high ceilings, "Why did you bring me here?"
It's quiet for a few seconds; the only sound is our breathing in this wide open space.
"I want to show you things," His voice is low, not sentimental or soft, but factual, honest. "Pieces of my past that... parts of myself I wouldn't share with someone else." I hear him take a drink from the bottle and smile.
"Well I'm glad you did." I breathe into the air, feeling myself become beautifully sleepy and buzzed with electricity all at the same time. "Hey can you do something for me?" I ask, sitting up on my elbows.
"What's that Love?" He asks, before taking another swig of wine.
"Can you draw something for me?"
His brow furrows the slightest bit as he looks at me from his seated position next to me. I smile encouragingly at him, and he shakes his head with the slightest laugh.
Leaning over me, he hands me the bottle of wine. Retrieving a ragged looking piece of paper and a black ink pen from the table next to me; his close proximity makes my heart stutter. He hears it, and I see a smile twitch at his lips.
"Don't start," I roll my eyes, playfully smacking his shoulder as he settles back into his place on my left.
"I didn't say anything," He smirks, scratching his eyebrow with the capped pen. I roll my eyes again.
I take a long drink as I watch him uncap the pen, and place it on the opposite end. His sudden concentration on his work is unexpectedly attractive as I watch him fall into the zone. Hiding the paper from my sight as his hand effortlessly guides the pen against it.
I sit there in silence, attempting to sneak peeks, but eventually give up and focus on the wine in my hand.
A few minutes later, his hand stops moving, and he lifts the pen.
I look up at him, sitting up a little more. I raise an eyebrow at him as I reach for the paper, wondering for a second if he's going to pull it away. But he doesn't, he lets me take it from him easily.
In the dim lights it's difficult to see, but as my eyes adjust, it see the simplest and more subtle portrait of myself, smoothed against the off white colour of the parchment.
I stare at it for what seems like far too long, and have a hard time pulling my eyes away.
"Now," He says, reaching around me from another piece of paper, and hands me the uncapped pen. "Your turn."
I scoff, and shake my head.
"It's only fair Sweetheart." Klaus shrugs, holding it out to me expectantly.
I blink at him another second, gauging if he is serious or not before I sit up completely, taking the pen and paper from him with a slight glare.
"Alright," I hand him the bottle and clear my throat, making a show of bringing the tip of the pen to the paper before I glance up at him, watching me. "Don't look," I scold.
He raises an eyebrow at me curiously.
I lift my left hand and cover his eyes dramatically, causing him to chuckle slightly.
"Fair is fair." I quickly draw my lines, bring careful to get the drawing exactly so, all the while keeping my hand over his eyes.
"Okay, one, two, three," I raise my hands in the air as I reveal my masterpiece.
Genuine laughter escapes his lips as he looks at the paper in my lap.
"Hey, I'm proud of it!" I say, signing the lower corning in my loopy signature, folding it up and handing it to him gingerly.
"Don't lose that, it's going to be worth a lot someday." I nod at him as he takes my picture of a stick man from me, and tucks it in his jacket pocket.
"Wouldn't dream of it," The joke in his voice is evident.
He suddenly stands up; I follow him with my eyes, only to find he's sitting back down directly behind me. His chest against my back, his legs beside mine as his arms engulf my arms. His heat spreading through him into me.
Interlacing his fingers with mine, he guides my hand back to the pen, manipulating my fingers with his own as he begins to control my hand with his own, as he begins careful pen strokes on the blank section of a page.
"How very 'Ghost' of you," I mumble.
He doesn't answer, he just silently guides my hand across the paper, leading my fingers to create shapes I don't even understand...
I lean my head back, against his shoulder, letting my eyes close as I feel myself drifting away. His other hand trailing up my arm, making my hand quiver in his a little.
When his hand stops moving mine, I open my eyes, and look down at the picture.
This tree is dying, but there's still life clinging to a few of the branches, a couple of leaves holding on, as if begging to be brought through the winter, until spring comes. The lines are shaky, and unprofessional, but to my they look stunning.
"Klaus?" I say, my voice is steady, quiet and completely sure.
"Mmm?" He hums against my neck, his breath tickling against my sensitive skin.
I take a deep breath in, never having asked this of him, or anyone for that matter, but feeling my lips yearn to say the words out loud... Say right now, exactly what it is I need to say...
"Make love to me."
XXX
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