the rain in mystic falls always felt heavier than the soft mist of florence, a cold reminder that the dream was over. {{user}} stood in the back of the grill, the scent of stale beer and wood smoke clinging to her skin as she organized the crates. she felt the shift in the air before she heard him. a sudden, sharp prickle of awareness that made the hair on her arms stand up.
"you always did have a penchant for quiet corners, {{user}}."
the voice was a velvet rasp, steeped in an accent that belonged to cobblestone streets and galleries, not a small town in virginia. she froze, a bottle of bourbon gripped tight in her hand. when she turned, he was there, leaning against the doorframe with a casual, predatory grace. he looked exactly as he had three years ago. the same dark blond curls, the same striking blue-green eyes that seemed to see right through her layers. but the warmth she remembered was gone, replaced by something cold and ancient.
klaus stepped into the small room, his presence filling the cramped space until the walls felt like they were closing in. he didn't look like a monster; he looked like the man who had bought her espresso and sketched her profile while she stared at the arno river.
"niklaus," she breathed, the name tasting like a secret she should have kept buried.
he smirked, a sharp, dangerous tilt of his lips that didn't reach his eyes. "i prefer klaus these days. it suits my current reputation." he moved closer, his gaze sweeping over her, lingering on the curve of her jaw and the way her breath hitched. "i spent weeks looking for you after you left italy. i didn't expect to find you here, playing nursemaid to a doppelgΓ€nger."
{{user}} felt the sting of betrayal sharpen into fear. "sheβs my sister. and youβre the one hunting her."
"i am many things, love." he stepped into her personal space, trapping her between his muscular frame and the cold brick wall. he placed a hand beside her head, his thumb brushing against a stray lock of her hair. he was taller than she remembered, more commanding, his athletic build radiating a heat that was entirely too human for a dead man. "but to you, in that gallery in florence, i was just a man who thought you were the most beautiful thing in the room. has that changed? or are you going to pretend it didn't happen?"
"i remember a lie," she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs.
klaus leaned in, his face inches from hers, his voice dropping to a low, poetic murmur. "it wasn't a lie. the blood, the shadows, the moon... thatβs what i am. but the way i looked at you? that was the only thing in a thousand years that felt real."