( he wants to hurt him. there is no victory in the anguish or the blood. his words should have torn stefan in two, just as they rended through him; he wanted them to spear and slaughter whatever softness was between them. to damage the sanctuary and sanctity of their love beyond repair.
what useless heartbreak. his despair is a deafening rage. stefan finds it in himself to pour them drinks, to spout off such ridiculous, unending, undying vows. his vision blurs with tears that he attempts to hide away, to blink away, lowering his gaze to the floor when he cannot, and they fall.
he hates this, too. not being able to hold fast to the malice and the savagery that might save him from his weaknesses. he aches, thinking of the life he has never dared to dream, to want: slow mornings and warm nights. an artist's studio and a large library. a peaceful, dreamy life.
his voice is watery. klaus cannot meet stefan's eyes. ) Save your poetry and promises. There was never going to be a happy ending with me. Surely you know... I am not fit. ( worthless. spineless. dangerous. a curse.
stefan has not deserved him. he never has. ) In any regard.
( that second skin shatters as he sees the pulsating emotion, tears. despair.
and there it is. some, anyway. not enough. it was never enough, but stefan is not heartless. the very opposite. his heart beats deep and raw and it aches in his chest as he crosses the divide between them and embraces his oldest friend. his one-time love, lets him bury his face in his shoulder if he needs it. he hopes he lets himself. he hopes he saves himself.
he is worth everything.
stefan has always always believed this. he pressed his face against the side of klaus' head, speaking into it, as if he could will those words to drill down. to be heard.
( for a moment, between the steadying force of stefan's arms and breathing in the familiar salt and scent of his skin, klaus wonders if he might shatter. wouldn't he, if stefan were not holding him together, as he's done countless times? for a moment, he believes he might sob like a child; like the boy he once was before his father hardened him. these past weeks and the entirety of his life's agony condensed to the unraveling of this very moment.
he shakes instead, his chest heaving with stunted, shallow breaths, the tears an unbidden stream.
he does not need to divulge the secret that he has trapped beneath his tongue with fear and shame to be seen; to be known. stefan has always seen him, known him, despite everything. his exhale is a shudder as his arms finally lift to accept the embrace with desperation, to sink into it; to hold to stefan tight and firm to him. to grasp and keep him is the sweetest and most terrible relief. tears smear against stefan's neck as klaus turns his nose into the hot pulse beneath his skin. they are cheek to cheek and heart to heart. ) I want to live with you. ( wanting, needful. ) I want to grow old, with you. But I am-
( he loses his words, his voice. ) I am lost. Stefan.
( stefano has shattered in his lover's arms more times than he can count and only then. not even when his father had died. but weeks later, when he learned of a tape that was distributed, and he reckoned the kind of father he himself had become. he is here for klaus and always we bad, schoolboy or full blown adult. he gives him the permission he needs, even if this is the very end.
his eyes close, letting his breath steady with his lover's. they have always been in lock-step even on different sides of the world. )
I'm right here with you.
( in a dark maze of his own making. but, in this case, in whatever hole klaus has sunk himself into. he doesn't pull away, doesn't extract himself. he would melt into this man if he could. his son is leaving early. his son has patched things and the fear that he'd done the exact opposite with his forever, it almost breaks him as well.
but it doesn't. )
We can find the light.
( they can be each other's light.
words topple between them, but klaus was right because they were only words. his arms wrapped around him. his unbending loyalty. this sweet embrace, he hopes, says it all.
he speaks against damp skin, eyes still shut. the world having fallen away. )
( 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.
( stefan stands tall and strong. he holds fast. he is klaus' port in the raging storm inside his heart. he can feel it. and if he could carve out his pain, he would. he would even take it in himself. but, instead, he will weather this storm with him.
no matter the outcome.
stefan rubs his back. it's all klaus will let him do until he gives himself over, until he admits what they both know. something happened. and it tilted klaus' world on its' axis. it changed everything.
his breath slows, and quiets. )
Mikael isn't your father.
( this would blow everything wide open, so-to-speak. it would "change" everything. but a lifetime of half the generational trauma his friend has carried with him, that that could lift. just from the announcement or - revelation.
had he known?
esther, of course, knew. )
Mikael has never been who you are. You were never going to become him. And you've proven that. And now you have proof at your fingertips, that his blood does not run through your body. I know this changes everything, but perhaps, it could change things for the better. Eventually.
( he soothes him, fingers padding circles along his back now, eyes falling closed again, letting them linger here in this moment. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
no subject
what useless heartbreak. his despair is a deafening rage. stefan finds it in himself to pour them drinks, to spout off such ridiculous, unending, undying vows. his vision blurs with tears that he attempts to hide away, to blink away, lowering his gaze to the floor when he cannot, and they fall.
he hates this, too. not being able to hold fast to the malice and the savagery that might save him from his weaknesses. he aches, thinking of the life he has never dared to dream, to want: slow mornings and warm nights. an artist's studio and a large library. a peaceful, dreamy life.
his voice is watery. klaus cannot meet stefan's eyes. ) Save your poetry and promises. There was never going to be a happy ending with me. Surely you know... I am not fit. ( worthless. spineless. dangerous. a curse.
stefan has not deserved him. he never has. ) In any regard.
no subject
and there it is. some, anyway. not enough. it was never enough, but stefan is not heartless. the very opposite. his heart beats deep and raw and it aches in his chest as he crosses the divide between them and embraces his oldest friend. his one-time love, lets him bury his face in his shoulder if he needs it. he hopes he lets himself. he hopes he saves himself.
he is worth everything.
stefan has always always believed this. he pressed his face against the side of klaus' head, speaking into it, as if he could will those words to drill down. to be heard.
poetry and platitudes aside. )
Do not listen to his voice in your head.
no subject
he shakes instead, his chest heaving with stunted, shallow breaths, the tears an unbidden stream.
he does not need to divulge the secret that he has trapped beneath his tongue with fear and shame to be seen; to be known. stefan has always seen him, known him, despite everything. his exhale is a shudder as his arms finally lift to accept the embrace with desperation, to sink into it; to hold to stefan tight and firm to him. to grasp and keep him is the sweetest and most terrible relief. tears smear against stefan's neck as klaus turns his nose into the hot pulse beneath his skin. they are cheek to cheek and heart to heart. ) I want to live with you. ( wanting, needful. ) I want to grow old, with you. But I am-
( he loses his words, his voice. ) I am lost. Stefan.
no subject
his eyes close, letting his breath steady with his lover's. they have always been in lock-step even on different sides of the world. )
I'm right here with you.
( in a dark maze of his own making. but, in this case, in whatever hole klaus has sunk himself into. he doesn't pull away, doesn't extract himself. he would melt into this man if he could. his son is leaving early. his son has patched things and the fear that he'd done the exact opposite with his forever, it almost breaks him as well.
but it doesn't. )
We can find the light.
( they can be each other's light.
words topple between them, but klaus was right because they were only words. his arms wrapped around him. his unbending loyalty. this sweet embrace, he hopes, says it all.
he speaks against damp skin, eyes still shut. the world having fallen away. )
Did something happen before meeting me here?
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.
no subject
no matter the outcome.
stefan rubs his back. it's all klaus will let him do until he gives himself over, until he admits what they both know. something happened. and it tilted klaus' world on its' axis. it changed everything.
his breath slows, and quiets. )
Mikael isn't your father.
( this would blow everything wide open, so-to-speak. it would "change" everything. but a lifetime of half the generational trauma his friend has carried with him, that that could lift. just from the announcement or - revelation.
had he known?
esther, of course, knew. )
Mikael has never been who you are. You were never going to become him. And you've proven that. And now you have proof at your fingertips, that his blood does not run through your body. I know this changes everything, but perhaps, it could change things for the better. Eventually.
( he soothes him, fingers padding circles along his back now, eyes falling closed again, letting them linger here in this moment. )
Did Esther tell you?