( for a moment, klaus' only answer is the clutching and clinging of his embrace, the pulling and holding of stefan close and closer, as if any moment he might slip away. he thinks of elijah, his wet lashes lifting, and the disappointed ruin in his brother's dark eyes before klaus turned and walked away. so much is slipping through his grasp; he is lost, unmoored and without anchor.
between the tears and stefan's skin so close, a light sheen of sweat cools his body. he forces his breathing to steady. he wants to believe him, that all will be all right, when it so rarely has. whatever hope he carries is bitter, and the confessions he offers are ones he cannot hold back. like sacrifices of truth, bleeding out on the altar of his fear. )
I am a bastard. ( his voices is barely above a whisper. ) You would think my father would be relieved.
no subject
between the tears and stefan's skin so close, a light sheen of sweat cools his body. he forces his breathing to steady. he wants to believe him, that all will be all right, when it so rarely has. whatever hope he carries is bitter, and the confessions he offers are ones he cannot hold back. like sacrifices of truth, bleeding out on the altar of his fear. )
I am a bastard. ( his voices is barely above a whisper. ) You would think my father would be relieved.