Work Text:
The feel of the sun against pale, porcelain skin inspires a tinge of nostalgia that Caroline tries not to dwell upon. Memories of summer camps in Virginia, going on picnics with her mom on the sheriff’s rare days off, and aiming hoses during water fights with her best friends try to seep into her mind, and she lets them in with a slight smile. There’s been minimal contact over the past few years since she moved to London, but she knows the kind of bond they shared since she was in first grade doesn’t let up that easily.
It’s rarely hot in London, and even now with the sun directly in contact with her face and gleaming against the diamond bracelet she hasn’t taken off in five years, it’s only barely warm. There are still dark, looming clouds on the horizon, and Caroline knows better than to leave her handy umbrella at home, even if it occupies most of the space in her handbag. There’s a slight skip to her steps, hands wrapped securely around the coffee she bought for her and her roommate. She briefly wonders if she should stop to drink it before heading to work or if she’s already running late as it is, but shrugs the thought off. Coffee first. Bitch boss later.
Cami’s quick to open the door upon the less than graceful banging she did with her foot, bright smile in place and already in her work uniform. She met the blonde almost six months ago at the pub where she’s working at as a bartender when Caroline was new to London. Camille (who goes by Cami) had been delighted to meet another American so far from home and their conversation brought them to Caroline asking whether the girl knew anyone in need of a place to stay since she’s short of a roommate. The bartender turns out to be the perfect candidate with her lease almost up and they hit it off pretty quickly afterwards. In two weeks time, the bedroom opposite hers is occupied and they’ve been living together since.
“We’re out of coffee,” Cami greets her sheepishly.
Caroline rolls her eyes and moves past her to place the steaming paper cups on the counter. “No shit. It was your turn to do the groceries, remember?”
“I’m sorry!” The blonde pleads. “You know I’ve been seeing someone and he’s just…”
“I know. He’s hot, rich, very British, duh, and totally out of your league.” Caroline recites the words like clockwork before perking up. “Maybe he can accompany you to the store, make it a grocery shopping date! That’d be fun. Make sure he brings his card, too.”
Cami just gives her a look that makes her crack up.
“Fine, fine. I’ll try to stop by the store sometime this week, but you owe me! You know I need my coffee in the mornings and so do you.”
“Thank you, Care,” Cami grins before sighing. “I really can’t wait for you to meet him. He’s perfect. I mean, there’s a lot of baggage there, sure, but nothing I can’t handle. I really, really, like him.”
Caroline can’t help but smile at the slightly dazed look on her roommate’s face. “That’s great. I’m happy for you, Cami, I truly am, but I am also running late. I’ll see you later?”
“I’ll grab dinner,” she calls out to Caroline right before she makes it out the door.
“Good!”
-
Caroline admits that she’s having a shitty day. First, waking up to no coffee and having to buy one from the nearest café which is, like, five blocks away so is it really near? Second, running late to work because of said emergency coffee run. Third, getting a half hour lecture about punctuality from her boss and barely concealing the urge to bitch slap her. And now, as said boss thought it was a perfect punishment to drown her in paper works for the day, missing the tube and having to either walk home or catch a cab. Both options are, well, crap.
Now, phone pressed to her ear and trying her hardest to swallow the lump in her throat as she watches the taxi’s meter go up by the minute (she lasted ten minutes walking before the sky poured, so now she’s a shivering, wet mess who’s about to have an unnecessary dent in her wallet), she fights back a frustrated scream at Cami’s words on the other end of the line.
“I know it’s like, totally last minute, but we had dinner and he dropped me off and I invited him for tea because he hates coffee and now he’s here and I think I’m going to ask him to stay the night. Care?”
Caroline closes her eyes tight before sighing. “Fine. I’m going to need to pick up my things, though, and call my friend to ask if I can stay over.”
“Right, Bethany something–“
“Bekah,” she corrects.
“Bekah, yes! Anyways, Caroline, you’re literally an angel. Thank you so much. I will owe you so much after this. And I can introduce you guys without it being awkward ‘cause you’ll only be here for like, fifteen minutes!”
Caroline finally cracks a smile at her friend’s thrilled tone, bidding her goodbye before hanging up. She rarely witnesses Cami become an overexcited fool, especially over a guy, and she truly is happy for the other blonde–even if she is kicking her out on one of the worst bad days of Caroline’s life since she moved to London.
She hears the accented voice before she can even push her key in, and she almost starts at how familiar it sounds. Alas, she’s in Britain, and how many men with the same accent will unnerve her before she gets used to it? Trying to brush a few clumpy strands of hair from her face so she could at least try to look presentable, Caroline pushes the door open.
The sight that greets her leaves her trapped at the doorway, bag hitting the floor with a loud thud and breath leaving her parted lips. Instantly she’s assaulted with memories she’s tried so hard to bury and forget; fingertips tracing deep dimples on stubbled cheeks, hands clutching dark blonde curls, the heat of a palm in stark contrast to the coldness of the bracelet clasped securely on her wrist, the best kisses and nights of her life, whispered ‘I love you’s’ against plump red lips, and then the hurt–mind-numbing, crippling hurt, pain that makes her throat close up even now, almost two years later, pain that she’s so sure she’ll carry heavily on her chest until she dies.
“Nik,” she breathes out.
He’s frozen on his spot, too, standing rigidly in the middle of her living room in a dark blue Henley and jeans, hands clenched in fists at his sides, jaw tensed and barely breathing. His hair is shorter, but the curls are still there, sitting atop his head in sinful swirls. He looks good–better, even, than the last time she saw him (angry eyes gleaming with traitorous tears, pale cheeks and pain, pain, pain).
“Caroline,” he says her name the same, like it’s a prayer, like every letter is made to come out from his lips and only his, like nothing has changed and they both do not have invisible yet permanent scars from the last time they saw each other.
The urge is still there, to launch herself at him, feel the hard lines of his body against hers again after so long, to claim his mouth if only to test if he still tastes the same. He lets his tongue slip out right then, to trace on his lower lip, and she knows he’s thinking the same.
“You guys already know each other?” Cami’s voice breaks the haziness of seeing him again, and it’s only then that Caroline realizes the implication of the sight in front of her: Klaus, still unmoving behind the coffee table with blueberry eyes darting between her own and on the shiny glint of diamonds wrapped around her left wrist and Cami, walking towards him to hook her arm around his.
“I’m–“ she heaves, and she knows it’s only a matter of seconds before her vision blurs with tears, she knows it, and she’ll not allow it to happen, not in front of him, not in front of Cami. God. “I’m just going to get my things, I–“
And then she practically ran towards her bedroom, shutting the door and sinking down to her knees immediately, face buried in her hands to readily muffle her stormy cries.
-
They met when Caroline was barely eighteen, trying to man the cheer squad, beautification committee and prom committee all at once. He’s Rebekah’s brother, 21 and in a college near the event’s venue, and she only knows this because the junior cannot keep her mouth shut about him. He goes to one of their cheering competitions once and he’s there for his sister, of course he is, but his eyes also didn’t leave her the whole day.
“He’s my favorite brother,” Rebekah beams at her, tying her white sneakers with her feet up the bench in the changing rooms. “You have to come to our celebration dinner afterwards. It’ll just be you, me and him, and he’s promised to drive us home.”
“Sure,” she replies with a steady smile of her own, because she likes Rebekah, thinks the girl is talented if at times bratty, and Caroline’s looking to name her captain when she graduates in five months. “I’m sure it’ll be fun.”
Klaus asks her out before they even cross the ‘Wecome to Mystic Falls’ sign after dinner, unbothered by Rebekah slapping his arm with a sharp glare and smirking at her through the rearview mirror.
“No,” she smiles back sharply, and his grin only widens.
-
“I’m going to head out,” she announces as soon as she leaves her room, trying to smile reassuringly at Cami while simultaneously ignoring the man standing beside her. “Bekah’s waiting for me and I already called a cab.”
Klaus tenses at his sister’s name, eyes narrowing at her in confusion, but she avoids his stare long enough to listen to Cami.
“Wait, you haven’t even–“
“I’ll tell you everything tomorrow, alright?” She promises. “Bye!”
She can’t head out any quicker, but she still hears him talking: “I’m going to go get something from my car, I’ll–“
Caroline walks faster.
He catches her just as she steps outside the building, wrapping a hand around her upper arm to pull her back and she almost starts at the contact, the touch searing her skin like it’s been burned.
“Caroline–“
“Don’t,” she whips around and finally their eyes meet, barely a space between their faces and god, she missed him. When they broke up, she’s left hollowed, a huge space in her chest empty and aching and still now she’s barely just beginning to be okay. He looks at her the same, too, and it’s enough to make her eyes well up no matter how hard she fights it. “Please don’t.”
His grip only tightens. “I–“
“I’ll come up with something tomorrow to tell her,” she rushes out. “Don’t say anything to Cami, alright? I’ll handle it.”
“We need to talk, love.”
“Don’t–” she says again, pleads. “–call me that. And not now, okay? I really need to go.”
He stands his ground, and Caroline flinches at the feel of his fingers tracing the bracelet on her left hand. “You’re still wearing it.”
“I need to go.” She pulls her arm out of his hold and he looks conflicted but he lets her, the same way he did two years ago, and Caroline leaves.