Companion piece to Eternity (Chapter 16). Unexpectedly smutty.
Klaus wondered sometimes if it would be easier to hate the girl who had stolen his heart. He had forgotten over the centuries why he had decided to close his heart to anyone and everyone, but the girl who had managed to slip in stood as a stark reminder.
Love only ever brought him pain.
It was easier to hide behind a mask of hate and anger—is was easier to feel the mask become something real. It was far easier to live in hate and anger than it was to live with being in love with someone and know that they would never return those feelings.
And he tried to hate her. Caroline. Somehow, that was worse though. His dead heart and his mind wanted two very separate things, but his heart—the emotions he had thought were long gone—was winning out.
He wanted to be where she was. He wanted her to want to be where he was. They seemed forever separated by something, though; Tyler, her friends, her actions, his actions, his choices, her choices. Klaus looked at the night sky from his window. He'd always been fascinated by the stars; so beautiful, so bright, but forever out of reach. "The stars looked like they were close together, when really they were millions of miles apart. In the end, maybe love just meant longing for something impossibly bright and forever out of reach," [1] He murmured gently.
Something was always drawing them apart, and he was forced to see how much of it was his own damned fault. All the more reason to move on and find someone knew. Start afresh as it were.
But he couldn't.
Strange, he mused, how once it had been easy to bury himself in lover after lover without a thought or care. And now whenever he took someone to bed, all he could see was Caroline.
So he pushed her to the back of his mind; he threw himself into his new life with gusto only brought on by his need to pretend that he was his old self. That he was unchanged by his time in a little town in the middle of Virginia.
It was harder than he would have ever thought, but he did it. He killed and plotted, closed his heart to everyone and everything, and relished in the chaos that came in his wake. It didn't matter where across the globe; he didn't settle down for more than a few months, and he always left a slew of bodies behind. But he never made friends or connections; less chance for betrayal or pain that way.
He avoided one place like the plague though, never getting anywhere even within the state of Virginia. It was foolish, he knew, and it was more than likely that she was no longer even there. She'd probably moved on to new cities and new places herself. There were too many memories there, though—good and bad—and the closer he got to the physical place, the more the memories fought to return.
He almost wished that he'd never known what her lips felt like against his, what her body felt like when it was pressed into him, that he had never known her body. But that would have been worse. Better to have had and lost than never to have had at all, right?
Ah, but the memories stung when he thought about how it was only a one time thing, how he would never know her like that again—indeed, he would probably be lucky if he ever even saw her again. She'd made it more than clear that she never wanted to see him again. He was not welcome in her life.
Klaus heard rumors though that all her friends had died. Most of the supernatural creatures from Mystic Falls met their ends. Except for Caroline. He admitted that he had a hand in that, though he did not admit it to anyone but himself.
Just because he couldn't be a figure in her life didn't mean he couldn't look out for her. He issued warnings and commands, all in the interest of keeping her safe. He could not lose her; it was better to not have her in his life and know that she was alive, safe, and relatively happy than to think that she could be lost from the world forever. And she would never know, so what was the harm?
He marveled that the passage of time had done nothing to cool the flames of his love and longing; that try as he might she always creped into his thoughts.
He wondered how she was, if she was truly happy. He regretted not being there for her when her mother died or when her friends died. He wasn't one for comforting, but he found he wanted to be able to comfort her. He would try if it were for her.
He kept moving though, sticking to his six-month rule for each town or city. He couldn't let his thoughts stay on her for too long, or he would go looking for her and be met only with the crushing disappointment of her ambivalence, if not her outright hatred.
Klaus never would have guessed that she had been looking for him, that she would be the one to seek him out in the end. That Caroline Forbes had been just as consumed by her thoughts of him as he had been with his thoughts of her.
And he certainly hadn't been expecting that when they were reunited once more, she would be angry. Fuming, really, and yet still stunning; his memory had not done her justice.
"How dare you." She said by way of greeting, stamping into his bedroom. "How dare you!"
"Caroline—" He managed to get out, but she went on as though he hadn't spoken.
"You don't get to disappear from my life and then interfere as though I belong to you, Klaus! God!" She stopped, breathing heavily. "Well?" She yelled, and he realized she was waiting for a response.
"I thought you wanted to never see me again, love." He admitted.
Caroline scoffed in response. "That was decades ago! I was a child. Do you really think I had any concept of eternity or what that meant? And that still doesn't explain why you had people 'protecting' me!"
"I have reason to believe that your friends were all killed by one person—or group, rather—and that they were coming for you next."
Her eyes widened in shock and surprise. "Why didn't you just tell me that yourself?"
"I thought—"
"That I never wanted to see you again, I know I know." She sighed, sitting down on his bed. "I did. Want to see you again, that is."
"You did?" He asked, fighting the smile that threatened to break out across his face.
"Yes, alright? I—I missed you, Klaus."
He liked that. He liked the way she said his name. "I did unforgiveable things." He cursed himself; he shouldn't be reminding her of why she had resisted him in the past.
"You did. But I've done unforgiveable things too. Everyone does. And it's been forever. I'm tired. I'm tired of pretending that you meant nothing to me when you did."
He fought his rising hope. "Can you ever love me in spite of who I am?"
Her eyes flew to his, softening, all traces of her earlier anger gone. "I won't love you in spite of who you are, Klaus."
It would have been better if she'd stabbed him with a white oak stake.
"Klaus! God, could you wait before jumping to conclusions? I won't love you in spite of who you are, because then I wouldn't love all of you. I'd only be loving a part of you. When I love you, I will love all of you—the good and the bad. I'll still tell you when you're being evil, but I like you. Every part of you, even the parts that scare me because it makes me wonder who I really am if I can be attracted to you despite your darkness."
Klaus' whole body was tense, tight, waiting for this wonderful dream to end and to wake up to a reality without her.
Caroline rose from the bed, walking to stand in front of him. "Klaus. Do you only love me because I'm good?"
"No, of course not." He said vehemently as he wondered how she was always so sure about his emotions when he could never quite get a read on hers. "I've seen you at your worst and your best," she was nodding at him, and the realization hit him of what she was trying to convey, "And I still—"
No matter how much he said it in his head, it was still hard to get those three simple words past his mouth. I love you.
"There, see? I care for you for all you are, and I've seen you do bad and good. It won't be easy but if I ever come to love you, it will be for all that you are, not in spite of who you are."
"Thank you," he got out before he could not deny himself the pleasure of touching her for another second. His lips crashed into hers, and she responded to him, eagerly. Her hands traced over his bear stomach, lowing to his belt as his hands went under her shirt, tugging it over her head as she tried to tug his pants down.
They were fervent, quickly undressing each other so that there was nothing between them. She broke away from his lips long enough to gasp out, "The bed please," and he was more than happy to acquiesce. He lifted her up and laid her down on the bed, giving himself a moment to gaze at her body. She was gorgeous, her hair fanned out around her, and he picked up a strand gently, relishing the silky smooth texture.
He couldn't hold back any more; he spread her legs and pushed into her, burying his face in her neck at the same time. She gasped at the sensation, hands digging into his shoulders. "I'm sorry," he ground out. "I should have—I should have thought of you first." He kissed her neck gently.
"It's fine," she got out. "You can make it up to me later."
Later. Hope surged. If there was a later, it meant she was staying. And if she was staying, maybe love wasn't so bad after all.
He went slowly that time, drawing out her pleasure. They did not rest much that night, "Just making up for lost time," Klaus said when he woke Caroline for the umpteenth time to have her once more.
Klaus found her the next day in the garden, dressed only in the sheet that had been missing from his bed. Her hair was delightfully mussed, and the smile on her face when she saw him caused a smile to form on his own lips. "I love you," he breathed, finally, and he felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
And her answering smile, the largest he had ever seen on her face—and it was for him—reaffirmed his belief.
She was worth everything.
[1] From Ruin and Rising by Leigh Bardago