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He’s looking at her, and as the sun emerges from the fringe of the horizon, it casts a perfect glow of light around her, and he thinks she’s the most beautiful girl he has ever seen. Even more beautiful than Tatia, the girl who had had the ability to break apart the already fragile pieces of his family. He thinks about what he would have missed if he had stayed with Tatia, and believes that the loss would have been greater than he could imagine.
Autumn leaves dandle in Caroline’s fair hair and Klaus decides that they are more garnishing than they are shambolic. Her expressive blue eyes seem to reflect his own pleasure and fulfilment. As he continues to stare at her, she can’t help but smile.
“So… that’s what it’s like.”
“Nothing to brag about, I suppose.” Klaus smirks.
They stay in the woods until dawn. For a moment, Caroline lets herself forget about her friends and their problems, and she feels at ease. It’s almost effortless to feel comfortable around Klaus, especially right now when they’re both still recovering from the previous night—no, the entire previous day.
He traces her bare curves with the tip of his finger. His touch is so gentle it makes Caroline shudder, and she closes her eyes. She breathes in the sweet, charred smell of trees at dawn, the vibrance of the various flowers and fruits growing ripe from them, and the sound of his breathing. It’s low and even in contrast with her quick, short breaths. His finger reaches her hand and he rests his palm against hers.
“Come away to New Orleans with me.”
It’s such an offhand request, and he says it so casually that Caroline sighs in the usual routined manner. She wants to say no. She wants to tell him that he's crazy and storm off. She wants to tell him that she can’t, that the life she described to him—before they dug this hole for them to fall through so easily—doesn't include him and probably never will. She wants to run back to her friends and forget the whole thing ever happened.
But Caroline realises that lately, what she wants is often clouded by what her heart yearns for, so her tongue becomes still and she doesn’t. Instead, she tightens her grip on his hand before whispering, “Okay.”
Klaus doesn't hide his surprise. He waits for her to scoff at him or burst out laughing as though this is all a joke, but nothing happens.
“Caroline—”
“I’ll send you a text. You’ll know where to meet me, and you’ll come with a limo or a horse-drawn carriage. You’ll take my hand and offer me a ride but I’ll say no at first, and that's when you’ll plead and say that your life has become completely dull and meaningless without me. And maybe then I’ll reconsider.”
Klaus can’t suppress a quiet laughter. Caroline is being ridiculous and she knows it, too. She disentangles her fingers from his and strokes the side of his face. Then, she leans in for a kiss.
She wonders then if it’s the woods or just him; seaborne eyes staring through her flesh and bones and right into her darkest desires, but she doesn't regret every move she makes. This is what she truly wants, she’s sure of it. It’s becoming less of a guilty pleasure than it is a pursuit of bliss. She was made to live a life of perpetual thrill and excitement and adventure and, looking at Klaus, she realises that his eyes are a solid confirmation of such a life.
He takes his hand in hers again and impresses a kiss upon her tepid fingers, sending a tender warmth through her knuckles.
“As you wish, Caroline.”
He waits and, though he’s not one to be patient, doesn't push her. If he’s also known for something else, it’s that he doesn’t give in to nonfulfillment easily. He lives each day like he always does, but she never stops hovering in the back of his mind. He glances at his phone more often than not and scrolls back and forth through the contacts, always pausing briefly at ‘Caroline Forbes’. But he never calls, never leaves voice messages, never sends any texts.
Neither does she.
It arrives exactly five years from that day, and it arrives in brief.
Town Square. 11 PM.
No Love, Caroline or See you soon.
Klaus rereads the message a few more times, as though contemplating whether the message was really for him or if she’d just sent it to the wrong person. But when there’s no Oops or Shit, wrong number, he strides through the front door of what he regards as his home for what he hopes is the last time.
Caroline is sitting on one of the benches. She’s fiddling with her fingers and her eyes are closed. She feels the cutting breeze burn into her cheeks. There's no one around apart from the town's druggies lurking in back alleys. Her ears perk up when she hears a distant clop clop and when the sight of a horse appears, her hands fly to her mouth.
It looks like one of those old-timey carriages in 19th-century films. Klaus steps out of it and approaches her, but she’s still distracted by the coach.
“Your carriage awaits, love.”
“You brought a coach.” Caroline says. “With a horse and everything.”
“Well, you know I like to make a good impression.”
“You’re unbelievable. I’m not getting into that thing.”
“Of course you are, sweetheart. What’s stopping you?”
Caroline finally tears her gaze away from the coach, resting her eyes on him. He looks dishevelled; a complete mess, as though he had just jumped out of bed and ran all the way to Mystic Falls. His hair is a tussock of wild grass and dark rings hang below his tired eyes. Caroline doesn't see the brash and conceited Klaus; instead, someone who hasn't slept in weeks or maybe years.
“What happened to you?”
“Honestly, Caroline, my life has become utterly meaningless without you in it. I’ve waited truly long and hard for this moment.”
At the sight of the carriage and the line that Klaus recites so smoothly, Caroline has to bite back a laugh. It all seems so nonsensical, yet she doesn’t object to it like she normally would. She wonders if his appearance is merely an act or if he really had been miserable. But then she notices the familiar teasing glint in his eyes and she knows he hasn't changed one bit. She slips her arm through his and mutters, “Lead the way.”
“You know, I hadn’t expected your message to come so soon.”
“Well, I didn’t expect you to come at all.”
“Why not?” Klaus regards her with a vaguely hurt expression. He was hoping that she had been waiting for him just as he was for her.
“Because,” Caroline replies, “it’s been five years. Who knows what you've been up to? You could be waging war against a hundred witches for all I know.”
“Been there, love.” Klaus smiles at himself complacently. “I won, of course.”
“Of course,” Caroline echoes, rolling her eyes.
As soon as they’re in the coach, a hush of silence drops between them, calm and waveless. Klaus gazes at her while she gazes out the window to her life in Mystic Falls. She feels a slight tug in her chest at the thought of not returning—whether it was for a while or forever—and after a deep breath, she looks back at him.
“So, you lied,” Klaus says suddenly, his mouth twitching into a playful smile.
“About what?”
“About not including me in your life. Surely this life, the one you had planned to build for yourself, wouldn’t last only five years?”
“Things change.” Caroline averts her gaze back through the window, her lips a thin line. Klaus decides that there’s a story—or perhaps stories—to be told of the past five years, but he decides that he'll wait, just like he always has. “And to be fair, you lied, too.”
“Did I? I don’t recall.”
“You said you were never coming back to Mystic Falls. I could've asked you to meet me anywhere else in the world, but I picked Mystic Falls on purpose to see if you’d come.”
“Fair enough, love.” Klaus hates breaking promises, but Caroline has of late become an exception to many of his principles. He doesn't regret breaking it though, just as she doesn't regret sending him the text message in the first place.
“Still… I’m really glad you did,” she says—and she means it, too.