your last | klaroline

genuine beauty

                                your last
                      chapter twenty one
                          genuine beauty

"What are you doing?"

My words come out as a breathless giggle instead of a question, much to my surprise. From the corner of my eye, Klaus glares at me, looking up from his pencil and paper.

We're taking a relaxing day- a change of pace from yesterday- seated in a national park, even though it's still very busy. I'm reading a good book that I've read one hundred times over, and he's been scribbling something in his notepad casually, stealing glances at me. I've pretended like I didn't notice for a while now, but the curiosity bugging me.

"Drawing you. Now, please return to how you were seated before."

It's an awkward situation; pretending that I don't know he's drawing me. I turn my head to face my book, plastering an innocent smile on my lips and reading my book. After a good half an hour, I turn my head again, trying to peek at the paper he holds.

"Can I see it?"

He narrows his eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"All in good time, love."

With that, he continues sketching, his expression solid. I can spot a slight hint of amusement twitching at his lips as he sketches what appears to be my eyes.

We sit in silence for what feels like hours, his hand flying expertly across the paper. I feel so statuesque, lying still in the grass, pretending to be absorbed in my book. In reality, I'm sneaking wistful glances in his direction, not entirely sure that he doesn't notice.

After a long minute, though, I become fidgety, eager to see the sketch he's so carefully taken the time to draw of me.

"Can I see it now?"

Klaus looks up from his sketch pad, exasperated, raising his eyebrows.

"Really, love? You couldn't wait a minute?"

Sheepishly, I nod, trying to peek around his fingers to see the drawing. I'd like to know what he's drawing me as.

"Please? I promise I won't judge you."

He arches an eyebrow, a sly smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. Reluctantly, he agrees- a rare occasion for him- and hesitantly hands over his sketchbook.

My jaw drops in awe.

There's a girl on the page.

The first thing you notice about her is her splitting grin, stretching across her entire face, lighting up the page. Her eyes are narrowed slightly, locks of hair bouncing down her cheeks dramatically. A book rests peacefully in her hands, buried in grass, but she does not seem like she's reading it.

She is the picture of innocence.

I look again, my eyes wide. That girl is me.

Something warm spills in my chest. Is this how he sees me? How he chooses to portray me? The girl on the paper represents beauty, light, innocence, a ray of sunshine. I can't possibly be all those things at once.

Still, I let myself believe for a second that the girl on the page is me.

"This is..." I whisper, breathless. I've never been at loss for words. Ive always had something to say. But words fail me. "Beautiful."

Beautiful is one word for it. Perfect. Stunning. Gorgeous. The list goes on.

He smiles genuinely, taking the notebook from between my fingers.

"Thank you, love."

He doesn't deny the fact that it's beautiful. He shouldn't. I admire the pride he takes in his work, though it deserves so much more.

"Really, though." I swallow, my eyes following the drawing of me to his lap. "It's perfect."

He nods, traces of a smile hinting at his lips.

"Thank you, love," he repeats.

I grin, suddenly caught in a dream-like state of mind, floating thoughtlessly through the crowded city park. Abruptly, though, the citizens and tourists disappear, and it's me and him. A boy and a girl.

And for a moment, I wonder what it would be like if we had met today. Each human, seeking something extraordinary out of life. The soul-searching artist, moody and temperamental but romantic and charming. The control-obsessed cheerleader, stubborn and impulsive but kind-hearted and willing. Each searching what the other has.

And together, they fill in one another's cracks.

It's a shame we didn't meet today, then. I knew him before I met him. An Original vampire. Pure evil, they told me.

It took me awhile to realize that there's more to him than evil. But now that I do know, I can't ever imagine thinking that.

He has a half side that he hides from everyone but me. He's kind. He's trustworthy- to me, at least. As two-faced as he can be, recently, he's only shown me his soft side. And I know how much courage it takes for him to open up to me.

I feel incredibly guilty for stringing him along all this time. But yet, now, I'm ready.

I'm ready for you.

Selfish, maybe. I'm naturally trusting until you do something to break my trust. It took me a long time to regain my respect for him.

I respect him more than ever.

I have feelings for Klaus Mikaelson.

It's a relief to even think. Like a weight lifted off my shoulders. For years, I've been trying to suppress the side of me that cares for him. Forget about it completely. But I don't have to pretend anymore.

I like you, Klaus Mikaelson.

I want to scream that at the top of my lungs. Childish, maybe, but I feel giddy like a child.

Instead, though, I lean forwards.
And my lips meet his.

I haven't kissed him since dinner at New Orleans. A magical night. But it feels like such a relief to finally have his lips on mine again.

He seems surprised at first, but immediately moulds into the kiss, his hand reaching to pull my head closer to his. My hands crawl up his spine, up his neck, burning into his skin.

I pull back, breathing heavily. His eyes shine a liquid topaz, awe and wonder in his pupils.

And his lips are on mine again. And once we start, we can't stop.
                                      +++
a/n: they are so cute tbh. sorry this chapter took seventeen years to finally finish & it's super short but here you go ? :) also (again) they didn't have sex I'll make it very clear if they do