[closed] maybe we're trying, trying too hard

[persevere]

Who: Caroline Forbes and Klaus Mikaelson
Where: Their Room
When: 10/16
Rating: Eh...we'll see? PG-13 for now.
Summary: Klaus has been falling apart since the Tartarus event. A concerned Caroline tries to figure out what's going on.
The Story:

[It's been...a long week.

After her birthday party, she'd lost her best means of distraction, which meant obsessive cleaning of her bedroom. When that had finished, she tried to meet up with her friends and get out as much as possible, which resulted in spending time with Elena and finding out that her best friend had died during the event. Again. And she'd dragged her to a party the next day unaware of what Elena had been dealing with. Damon, too.

To say the least, that hadn't helped, so now she had guilt to go along with those horrible memories.

To make matters worse, Klaus was...not very present. They slept in the same bed but he didn't touch her. He spent more time with a brush and his paints than talking to her. She felt like a stranger sometimes, and she didn't know if it was simply him dealing with the event or if she'd done something to make him like this. Events didn't usually bother him, not like this. This was...something else.

After a week of waiting for something to change, of hoping he would just come talk to her, she took matters into her own hands, stepping into the doorway and blocking his exit as he sat at his easel.]

You're painting again.

Comments

[poppycock]

I want my brother. ( the confession leaves him, not in spite of her comfort but in light of it. his hands lift to grip her arms as she cradles his face, his voice gruff. the words are as lost as they are longing.

he knows she is here for him. that is all she has ever been. despite everything, when it mattered, he has trusted her. he trusts her now.

his eyes stay on hers. he beseeches her forgiveness without words. as much as he trusts her, as much as he needs her, he needs elijah too. he needs his family.

he leans into her touch, his eyes falling downcast before they fall shut. he head shakes as to dispel the burgeoning despair building in him. his lashes flutter open. ) If I could speak to him just for a moment...

[persevere]

[She doesn't need to forgive him because, to her, there's nothing to forgive in the first place.

She would give anything to be able to talk to her Mom for just one more minute, for her to help make sense of this place and how to get out, to cry with when it got to be too much. She needs Elena to be the sister she doesn't have when she needs to talk about things that only she would understand.

Of course, he'd want his family.]

I know. [There's nothing wrong with wanting things.] I wish you could talk to him, too.

[poppycock]

( his fingers grasp and re-grasp her wrists. he holds to them for a quiet spell, his thumbs caressing her skin. there is nothing to forgive. she is here with him as he is with her, and though she may not be able to fix these breaks or fill these empty spaces, she holds a space of her own. she fills it.

he wishes he could see his brother, too.

his eyes lift to hers. there is nothing to forgive, but there is something to give to her. something owed, deserved — and wanted. he wants to give it to her. he promises her with fierce decision, ) When I need space I'll tell you. I'll talk to you. I promise.

[persevere]

[She leans in, kisses his mouth briefly before pulling back. A small, bittersweet smile graces her lips.]

Thanks.

[She means it, but it's sad that they're having this conversation at all. That it took so long to have, that it had to happen like this.]

I know I can get kind of crazy. Something happens and no matter what I do my head just goes to all these places I don't want it to when I don't know what's going on and then I do something stupid because I don't know how to fix it.

[Which is what she'd started to do, blaming herself, getting frustrated with him for something she didn't know the reason behind. Her self-esteem still isn't at a place where she can just look at things completely objectively. She's just glad she's come far enough to know that doing something about it is better than stewing in it until it explodes.

It almost did explode.]

I just want you to be okay. And I don't want to be the reason you aren't.

[poppycock]

( his lips press with the same tenderness to hers. he doesn't realize in all his anguish and fear just exactly what thoughts were turning over themselves in her mind, but he realizes now. he realizes and he promises himself he will not be blind or deaf to them again.

he doesn't want to be the reason for her insecurities. he doesn't want her stressing over something so constant to him, no matter his foolishness. his lips part and he sucks in a breath; his eyes are soft and saddening with a touch of remorse:

it is sad they had to have this conversation at all. but he is glad they had it. that they will continue to have it. he lifts a hand to cradle her cheek, to thread his fingers into her hair. ) First of all, never doubt that you, that this, is one of the very best things in my life. No matter where we are, when we are, that will always be true. ( his other hand reaches to cup her opposite cheek. he lightens further, and is smiling by the last word. ) Second of all, I happen to find your desire to understand and control each and every aspect of your life quite alluring.

( his thumb follows the line of her jaw to her chin. his voice softens with sincerity. ) I don't mind that you need to know. I prefer it.

[persevere]

[She looks down with an almost bashful grin. It never gets easier to hear such things, because they seem so outside what she's used to that they hit something almost painful inside her with how much she needs to hear them.]

I guess I'm just used to being the burden. Or the complication. The last two times I fell for someone they chose hate and grief over me. They didn't want space. They just...left.

Letting myself love you means I don't have control anymore and it scares the crap out of me.

[It's something she hates to admit, that she's in some ways scared of this. Scared of getting hurt again, even if through no fault of either of their own.

Her hand reaches up to lay against the back of his hand, holding it against her face.]

This, though...I feel a lot better now. So, thank you for helping me understand. For realizing that I need this and being okay with it.

[poppycock]

( the idea that anyone could choose such petty grievances over her, over the love of her, over the love and regard she gives in turn — he has made those mistakes. he has been on the brink of them, time and time again. he looks down as well, but with a sudden surge of shame. (he is the reason one of those loves of her life spiraled to such lengths.

he does not regret it. he cannot regret it in the case of tyler, and he will not be that way in the case of stefan; it's all the more reason to be a better man for her today.)

one of his hands reaches to curl into hers. he swallows thickly, sliding closer in his earnestness. ) You're not the burden, or a complication. ( far from it. ) When you were gone, I barely slept. I couldn't bear to be in our bed, knowing you might never again be there with me. I painted and I drank and only Rebekah succeeded in pulling me from some of my foulest of moods. ( he was lost without her. his hand, beneath hers, caresses her cheek. ) This frightens me too.

I need you, ( he does ) I need you to understand. I need as much as you.

[persevere]

['Our' bed. Even when she was gone, maybe even after she was back, he'd still thought of it as theirs, not his.

Only Rebekah could pull him out of his misery. Just as she seems to be the only one that can do the same in Rebekah's absence.

He's scared. They both are. Once again, they're the same.]

Good. [The words is soft and yet firm all at once. She feels intense relief, followed quickly by a touch of guilty, and she finds herself laughing in her embarrassment.] I wanted to get you to talk to me and I ended up talking about myself. Good job, me.

[poppycock]

( he is terrified. he is terrified not only of confessing these things and of letting go of that control; he is terrified of losing her through his own fear and inadequacies, of not saying what is in his heart out of folly or ignorance in the hour she needs them most. of not saying what he needs to say, for them both. in that way they are the easiest truths in the world. his heart quiets, comforted, unburdened, at least in this.

it unburdens, hearing her assent, seeing even a rueful smile.

his fingers card through her hair; his arm slides around her waist. ) It's hardly a topic of conversation to which I'm opposed. ( the words are low and sweet. )

[persevere]

Yeah, well you ask me to talk about myself too much.

[It's clear that she's teasing, even if it's not entirely false. He's always been the one trying to find out more about her, and she'd always been the one pushing him away as hard as she can, as if finding out more was too dangerous.

She hadn't been entirely wrong.

Still, things were different here. Instead of deflecting to talk about her, he'd gone out of his way to make her understand him, and it's made all the difference.]

I FORGOT THIS ONE SO WE'RE EVEN

[poppycock]

( it's not false. she has pushed him away as much as he had deflected the vulnerability of being seen and being loved by her. he has done it now, extracting himself from her to hide in his own loneliness and troubles and anger. klaus shifts closer, as if in proximity he can bridge the gap. he means to, his hand falling from her hair to caress over her shoulder, his forehead leaning into hers.

he speaks with a teasing and low tone, but it is a promise too. a promise that scares him, but one he makes all the same. ) From now on I'll be certain to be a bit more selfish.