Some Kind of Friends

by QueenSerenna

Summary:

Caroline Forbes has loved Klaus Mikaelson, her best friend’s older brother, since she was fourteen. Twelve years later, she’s still friendzoned, still hopelessly in love. But after overhearing Klaus admit he’d never court her, she loses all hope and resolves to move on. So, she agrees to help Klaus pursue her cousin, and in return, he’ll have to help her win over his friend. What could go wrong?

Notes:

*I do not own any of these characters. Those rights go to Julie Plec.*

This is my story, also available on Wattpad.

Chapter 1: Intro

Okay, I'm back. Turns out I can’t resist for long.🫣

However, this one’s a little different from the stories we’re all used to—but still Klaroline, of course. Because honestly, whenever I sit down to write, it’s always them, and that undeniable chemistry I can’t get out of my head.

This is an alternate universe where everyone is human. Caroline is the one hopelessly in love with Klaus, convinced her feelings are nothing more than a one-sided attraction. At its heart, this is a friends-to-lovers story—my favorite trope.

The premise is loosely inspired by Bridgerton season 3, particularly the moment Caroline overhears Klaus say he’d never court her beyond friendship, though the story takes its own path from there. You don’t need to be deeply familiar with The Vampire Diaries or The Originals to enjoy this; if you love friends-to-lovers slow burn, you’ll feel right at home.

Expect miscommunication, angst, yearning, slow burn, jealousy, and plenty of sexual tension. If that’s your kind of story, you’re in the right place. If not—consider this your warning👀

Chapter 2: The Fateful Night

Notes:

As promised, here it is - the first chapter. Let me know what you think👀❤️

Caroline sat quietly in the back seat of the cab, the city of New Orleans slipping past her window in glowing streaks of gold and violet. The neon signs blurred together with the occasional flicker, casting shifting shadows across her face as her fingers twisted the ring on her right hand. It was a nervous habit she hadn’t managed to shake since high school, one she didn’t even notice anymore unless someone pointed it out.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. A party at Stefan’s bar, something easy and familiar. The Mikaelsons, after all, never needed much of a reason to throw a party. Birthdays, holidays, return trips, or just a particularly nice evening, any excuse was enough to open champagne and summon their circle of friends for music and laughter.

The thought made her smile softly, a brief tug at the corners of her lips. It was chaos sometimes, loud and unpredictable, but somehow still comforting.

And since she had practically grown up with them—ever since she moved to New Orleans at fourteen after her parents' messy divorce, settling in next door to the Mikaelsons with her father and his new husband—and became Rebekah’s partner in crime, Caroline was always invited. Expected, even.

The Mikaelsons themselves had only arrived in New Orleans two years earlier, after moving from Europe for Mikael’s business. The boys—Elijah, Klaus, and Kol—had managed to strike up a friendship with the Salvatore brothers almost immediately.

Rebekah, however, had a harder time.

Whether it was because the groups of friends were already formed by the time she arrived, or because of her own nature—the spoiled, lone sister of four brothers—she was often left on the outside looking in. Stefan did spend time with her, but it wasn’t the same; his loyalty lay more with her brothers than with her.

For nearly two years, she had felt rather alone.

That all changed when Caroline moved in next door. From the very beginning, she and Rebekah clicked, becoming inseparable. The whole family welcomed Caroline; not only relieved that Rebekah finally had a true friend, but also because Caroline was, by nature, impossible not to like.

Thus, Rebekah and Caroline became joined to the hip. Sleepovers became a weekly routine, homework sessions turned into whispered secrets late at night, and slowly, the Mikaelson house became more than just the one next door. It became home too.

At the time Caroline first moved in, Niklaus was in his first year of college: five years older than Rebekah, but still close enough to drop by during breaks and holidays.

Caroline had fallen in love with him the very first time she saw him. But she had never told anyone. Not even Rebekah.

Especially not Klaus.

It had been one of those early summer afternoons when she came over for a sleepover at Rebekah’s house.

The boys—Fin, Klaus, Elijah, Kol, and the Salvatore brothers—were out back in the pool, their laughter carrying all the way to Rebekah’s room. Rebekah wasn’t allowed to join them; she was still “too young” and, as her parents liked to remind her, “a girl.”

But from her bedroom window they had a clear view of the pool. Caroline’s eyes had drifted toward it almost idly at first, until they found him.

There were six of them out there, but only one mattered. Klaus had longer hair back then, wild curls that clung damp to his forehead, a stubble softening his sharp jawline, and a smile that could kill. She watched him climb out of the pool, droplets sliding over his sun-bronzed skin, and for one impossible second the world simply stopped spinning.

Her teenage crush only deepened when she discovered they shared the same birthday, five years apart. In her fourteen-year-old mind, it was fate. Soulmates. Meant to be. Of course, at that time, he never treated her as anything more than his sister’s best friend. He was always kind, always friendly, but distant in the way that college boys were with high school girls.

To him, she was still just Caroline, the girl who spent every other night in his sister’s room. To her, he was everything. She spent countless nights replaying every smile, every word, every glance until sleep refused to come.

For the first few years, Klaus always celebrated his birthday with his college friends, and she with her high school crowd—or, more often than not, just Rebekah. Still, without fail, he texted her every year. 'Happy birthday, birthday twin!'

Those four words were the highlight of her day. Not even the expensive gifts from her parents could compete.

As the years passed, things shifted. If Klaus wasn’t away on one of his endless trips, they began to carve out time to mark their birthday together. Maybe not at night, but at least over breakfast or lunch.

Always just the two of them. Always as friends, of course.

However, being in love with him so early on was anything but easy. On top of the usual chaos of teenage life, and the fallout of her parents’ divorce, her crush on him became both her refuge and her torment.

It became a quiet kind of ache, tucked neatly away where no one could see.  She knew to him she was just his sister’s dorky friend, still in high school, all braces and notebooks, while he was out in the world dating women who wore red lipstick and laughed like they’d seen everything. But that didn’t matter to her.

The times she got to spend with him when he came home, even if all their conversations were innocent, were enough.

She liked to pretend the women he dated didn’t exist. In her fantasies, he was hers—thoughtful, kind, impossibly handsome—and madly in love with her in the way he never would be in real life.

And back then, when she was still just fourteen, those fantasies were enough.

Because back then, they were just something to pass the time: sweet, harmless daydreams, the kind every girl her age entertained. And if she was going to have a crush at all, why not someone like Klaus? He was handsome, smart, well-traveled, and spoke about books and art, unlike the immature boys in her school.

At the end of the day, she knew it was just a phase. Eventually, she would grow out of it. She’d go to college, fall in love with someone else, and Klaus Mikaelson would become nothing more than a distant, lovely memory from her teenage years.

But college had come and gone. Three ex-boyfriends later, almost twelve years later, and she was still impossibly, irrevocably in love with Klaus.

She had tried to move on but each time, without fail, she ended up comparing them to him. And no one ever measured up. Klaus had ruined every other man in her eyes, and the worst part was he didn’t even know it.

She found herself looking forward to every long weekend, every holiday, every family birthday or gathering where he might show up. Even now, with his constant traveling—his passion, as he called it—whenever he was home, they always picked up right where they left off. Talking late into the night, joking around effortlessly, sharing drinks, teasing one another. They had built their own language. 

Sometimes it felt like he understood her even better than Rebekah did. In recent years, Caroline had even found herself spending more time with him during his visits than Rebekah did. Not by design, but by instinct. They gravitated toward each other like magnets. Always had.

But while her feelings never wavered, his view of her had never shifted either: she remained firmly in the friend zone. He had friendzoned her over a decade ago, and somehow, she’d never managed to claw her way out.

She hovered constantly between two exhausting extremes: "I know we’ll never happen" and "Until he’s married, all hope is not lost." It was exhausting, this emotional limbo that never really gave her peace.

And through it all, she had carried the secret like a weight stitched into her spine, never telling a soul.

As she shook the thoughts away and grounded herself into the present, Caroline exhaled slowly and pressed her forehead against the cool glass, trying not to think about tonight.

It was a Saturday night, after 10 pm, and the city buzzed with life. Jazz notes floated faintly in the air, and the scent of sweet magnolias mingled with the Spring air. Her phone buzzed in her clutch.

A message from Rebekah: Hurry up! Where are you?

Caroline didn’t answer right away. Her fingers hovered over the screen before she dropped it back into her lap. She needed a second. Just one more second to collect herself, to slow the racing thoughts that had been spiraling since the moment she woke up.

It was the fourth party the Mikaelsons were throwing in just three weeks; typical for them, always finding a reason to dress up, drink too much, and fill a room with noise and glamour. But tonight was different.

Tonight, Klaus was back.

Tonight, they were throwing him a welcome home party: another extravagant Mikaelson affair to mark Klaus’ return from what was meant to be a four-month trip through Eastern Europe. But, he had come back a month early, offering no explanation for why he had cut it short.

Their father, Mikael, had never approved of his long absences or his refusal to settle down. He didn’t understand Klaus’ need to vanish for months at a time, chasing art and solitude in foreign cities instead of taking his place in the family empire, like all of his other siblings.

Again and again, he had pushed Klaus to grow up, to stay put, to become the man he was supposed to be.

But Klaus had always resisted. Defiant, unpredictable, and endlessly dramatic, he called himself an artist, a free spirit who refused to be chained to an office desk; and thanks to his family’s fortune, he didn’t have to be. He could drift. He could disappear. He could come and go on his own terms.

And so, the party was happening.

Caroline should have felt at ease. She was practically family. She belonged in that world. But instead, her chest was tight and her nerves frayed. She hadn’t seen him in three months. Hadn’t spoken to him either. It was the longest they had ever gone without contact in the last six years.

And what made it worse was that it hadn’t been an accident. She had made the choice. She had been the one to stop answering his messages. She’d never thought she’d do it. Not to him.

Caroline had never put herself first when it came to him, never truly let go. Somehow, just having him in her life, even in fragments, had always felt like enough. The idea of walking away, of cutting him off completely, had never seemed possible.

That is, until...

 

*3 Months Earlier*

 

Caroline stared into her drink, the vibrant red of the cocktail contrasting sharply with the swirling emotions in her chest. The ice clinked softly as she swirled the straw, pretending to listen, pretending to be present.

The bar was full of warmth and celebration, packed with familiar faces, all gathered for one reason: to say goodbye to Klaus.

It was his going away party; another adventure, another spontaneous trip, another disappearing act that no one questioned anymore. He’d be gone by morning. And while everyone else seemed to be soaking in the excitement, Caroline felt like she was trying not to drown.

Next to her, Rebekah chatted animatedly about some guy she’d just met, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm, full of dramatic hand gestures and flirtatious hope. Caroline nodded along, smiling when she should, but her thoughts were miles away, already chasing after someone who hadn’t even left yet.

Rebekah kept yapping. Caroline had always admired Rebekah’s ability to throw herself into romance, a big contrast to her own heart, which was tangled up in Klaus.

“...and I swear, when he looked at me, it was like the world just stopped,” Rebekah gushed, her eyes sparkling.

Caroline’s mind drifted away from Rebekah's enthusiastic ramblings, fixating instead on the reality of Klaus' impending departure. He was leaving for four months, backpacking across Eastern Europe, and the thought of him meeting someone else, a girl who could take his attention away from her, sent a pang of jealousy through her.

What if he found someone? Someone who fit effortlessly into his world, someone who could make him laugh, chase after his adventures, and claim the moments Caroline had only ever dreamed of?

The thought felt like a dagger twisting in her chest, sharp and familiar. But she had to hold it together. That fear crept in every time he left.

“What do you think, Care? Do you think he’s into me?”

She forced a smile for Rebekah, clearly not having heard a word she had just said, but inside, she wrestled with the weight of her unrequited affection. It wasn't just the thought of Klaus leaving; it was the fear of losing him entirely. What if he came back, and she was just a distant memory, an afterthought to his European escapades?

“Are you even listening, Care?” Rebekah's voice cut through her thoughts, and Caroline quickly nodded, her heart racing. She had to act normal, to keep her facade intact.

“Of course! I just... well, I’m excited for you,” she managed, though it felt like a lie wrapped in a half-hearted smile.

She watched as Rebekah continued to gush about the boy who had captured her attention for the moment, wishing she could feel the same thrill without the accompanying heartache.

Suddenly, a familiar presence cut through the haze of her thoughts.

Klaus strolled over, casual and magnetic, that signature grin lighting up his face like the summer sun. And there they were—those damn dimples. Her complete undoing. The second they appeared, her resolve always faltered. He could ask her to do just about anything and she’d probably nod before he finished the sentence. He could convince her to commit murder with a smile like that.

Well… not really. But close enough.

“Hey, Care!” he called out, his voice warm and inviting. “Can I steal you away for a sec?”

His eyes met hers for a fleeting second—warm, amused, unreadable—and then, just as quickly, he turned his attention to Rebekah, who stood beside her with a perfectly timed mock pout.

“Come on, Klaus! You can’t just take her away from me like that,” Rebekah said, crossing her arms with exaggerated defiance. “I’m sharing my best gossip here. What’s so important that you need her right now?”

Caroline smiled despite herself. It was the kind of lighthearted bickering she’d grown used to; sharp but affectionate, the kind that siblings like the Mikaelsons could carry. Their banter was a language of its own, layered in rivalry, love, and the constant need to one-up each other. Caroline was an only child, so she had never experienced it first-hand.

Klaus let out a low chuckle, slow and smooth, his eyes narrowing in playful challenge as he turned fully to face his sister.

“Relax, sister. I’m not dragging her into some grand conspiracy,” he said, feigning innocence, though his smirk betrayed him. “I simply have something important to tell Caroline,” he added, glancing at Caroline with a mock-serious nod.

The way he said it made Caroline feel like the most special person in the room, if only for a moment.

“Important? Really?” Rebekah raised an eyebrow, skeptical and unimpressed. “Well, I hope it’s more thrilling than the juicy details of my actual love life.” She leaned in closer to Caroline, stage-whispering, “Which, by the way, he rudely interrupted. And I was just getting to the good part.”

“Oh, spare us,” Klaus said dryly, his voice rich with amusement. “If I had to listen to another word about that poor, unsuspecting musician you’re convinced is your soulmate, I might’ve thrown myself into the fires of hell. It does sound less torturous."

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” Rebekah shot back with a grin.

“I assure you, I’m not the jealous one,” Klaus replied, glancing at Caroline with a look that was almost too fleeting to catch—like a flicker of something unspoken. Then his smirk returned.

“Besides, Caroline clearly lives for your tragic love tales. It’s her favorite pastime, isn’t it?”

His voice dropped into sarcasm, biting but playful, and though he wasn’t looking directly at her, Caroline heard every word. Her lips curled into a small smile, playing along even as her pulse refused to calm.

This was how it always went with Klaus: teasing, guarded, just close enough to spark something dangerous, and just distant enough to make her question if she imagined it all.

“Oh, absolutely! Nothing gets my heart racing like Rebekah's ‘crush of the week’ episodes,” Caroline replied with a playful roll of her eyes, causing Klaus to laugh.

The sound was infectious, wrapping around her like a warm blanket. In that moment, she felt like the weight of her hidden feelings for him could be momentarily set aside, just to bask in the joy of their friendship.

Rebekah rolled her eyes, fed up with both of them.

“Fine! You two go off and have your important conversation, but just remember—I want all the details later!”

With a playful shove, she let them go, and Klaus took Caroline’s hand, leading her through the press of bodies, weaving easily between groups of laughing guests and familiar faces, his grip on her hand firm but casual, like it meant nothing.

Like it didn’t send her heart into a full sprint.

They slipped through the side hallway of Stefan’s bar, past the clamor and music, until they reached the quieter patio in the back—dimly lit with string lights overhead and the soft hum of cicadas in the background.

The door clicked shut behind them, muting the party to a dull hum.

He didn’t let go of her hand right away.

“Here,” he said, finally releasing her fingers as he leaned against the brick wall, the breeze catching the ends of his shirt sleeves. “Much better. I was starting to forget what fresh air felt like.”

Caroline gave him a look, equal parts amused and curious. “So what’s this all-important thing you just had to tell me? Please don’t say you’re getting married to a French heiress or moving to a remote island to become a monk.”

Klaus chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “Tempting as both options are, no. Nothing quite so dramatic.”

With a smooth, practiced motion, he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Caroline’s brows shot up instantly.

“Oh, come on,” she groaned, taking a step back as he popped one between his lips.

“I’m not in the mood for a lecture,” he said, voice light but pointed. “And you promised you wouldn’t tell.”

He had only recently started smoking again, after quitting the year before, a habit he’d sworn off with dramatic flair and surprising determination. No one knew. No one but Caroline, that is.

She had caught him a week ago. He just looked at her with that maddeningly calm expression and asked her not to tell. He wasn’t in the mood for another intervention from his family. And, despite every instinct to scold him, she had promised she wouldn't say a word.

Caroline stepped back just enough to avoid the worst of the smoke, arms folded tightly across her chest as she stared at him with open disbelief. The scent alone made her want to gag. She hated smoking. Hated everything about it.

And Klaus knew.

He caught the look and let a slow, almost taunting smile pull at his lips. “I thought women found men who smoke… sexy,” he said, his tone deliberate, laced with that easy arrogance he wore like a tailored suit.

Caroline gave a short, incredulous laugh, shaking her head.

“There’s nothing appealing about kissing someone who reeks of smoke,” she said, her voice carrying the kind of certainty that made it clear she wasn’t exaggerating.

Klaus’ chuckle was low, rich. His gaze lingered on her a second longer than necessary before his mouth curved into that familiar devil-may-care smirk.

“I’ve never had that issue with women,” he replied, the words slipping out with smooth mischief, as if daring her to challenge the claim.

She rolled her eyes, forcing a scoff to cover the flicker of annoyance twisting in her chest at the unwelcome image of him kissing other women.

“And why do I have to be present for this? Why did you drag me out here under false pretenses of 'telling me something'?” Caroline asked, her tone exasperated, though the playful tilt of her head and the way she danced back from the trail of smoke gave her away.

“No, wait. I know why,” she continued, arms crossing with theatrical flair. “This is the price of loyalty, isn’t it? My punishment for being your unwilling accomplice.”

He laughed, the sound rich and familiar, and opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off, already one step ahead.

“Or maybe,” she said, voice rising with mock intensity, "because if everyone thinks you’re telling me something important, no one’s going to come looking. No one will catch you smoking," she rambled on, causing Klaus to laugh again.

Then, after a beat, just as Caroline was gearing up to launch into another suggestion, he tilted his head slightly, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, and cut her off before she could dive back into her assumptions.

“Or maybe,” he said quietly, eyes settling on hers, “I just enjoy your company.”

That shut her up. Just for a second.

Her lips parted, a retort already forming—something sarcastic, something safe—but nothing came out. The way he was looking at her made the words tangle somewhere between her throat and the rising flush in her cheeks.

She scoffed lightly, recovering fast. “You say that like it’s supposed to be a compliment.”

“It is a compliment,” he replied, still watching her like she was the only thing worth looking at in the entire city.

She had to quickly remind herself that, to him, she was just a friend. The compliments didn’t mean anything more, not in the way she wished they did. It was just Klaus being Klaus.

And she, as always, needed to stop reading into it. To let the idea of him go, once and for all.

But God, it was getting harder and harder not to get lost in those ridiculous blue eyes of his, or that dimpled smile, or the way his voice dipped into something low and effortless that made her heart stutter.

In her mind, she cursed him for being so impossibly perfect. And then she cursed herself for being too much of a coward to just tell him the truth about how she feels about him.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t thought about telling him how she felt. The idea had haunted her more than once. But the fear always crept in: what if he rejected her? She would lose not only the hope of something more, but their friendship too. She'd lose him entirely.

And then there was Rebekah. Klaus rejecting her and the awkwardness that would follow could strain that bond as well. So Caroline stayed quiet, locking her feelings away where no one could see them.

“I’ll miss you.”

The words slipped out before she could stop them, soft and a little too real, catching even her by surprise.

She immediately winced, cursing now even Stefan for handing her that last drink with a wink and a ‘just one more won’t hurt.’

Klaus’ smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he took the final drag from his cigarette, the ember briefly flaring in the dark. He flicked the butt away, his eyes already on hers.

“Will you now?” he teased, voice low and lazy. “And here I thought you’d forget all about me the moment my plane took off. Out of sight, out of mind, isn’t that the saying?”

She rolled her eyes with practiced ease, laughing to cover the way her chest clenched.

Deep inside, she felt a quiet wave of relief. He hadn’t read too much into it. He’d let it slide into their usual rhythm of banter, kept things light. Safe.

She wasn’t sure what would’ve happened if he’d looked at her differently just then, if he’d taken her seriously. Part of her wanted him to. Part of her was glad he didn’t.

Out of sight, out of mind, his words rang in her ears as they walked back inside the party.

If only it were that simple.

***

Later that night, Caroline was sipping what she’d firmly declared to herself would be the last drink of the night when Rebekah appeared at her side, a little breathless and clearly on a mission.

“Have you seen Nik?” her friend asked, eyes scanning the crowd.

Caroline blinked, slightly caught off guard. She hadn’t seen Klaus since he’d dragged her outside for a cigarette break earlier, and she wasn’t entirely sure where he’d slipped off to after that.

“Not since earlier,” she said, careful with her words. “But I can go find him if you want.”

The truth was, she was a little worried he’d snuck off for another smoke. And considering she was now the sole holder of his dirty little relapse secret, the last thing she needed was Rebekah catching him mid-drag and launching into a full-blown sibling intervention. She’d somehow become his accomplice, so she'd play the role.

Rebekah let out a relieved breath.

“I’d be forever grateful. Kol and I just had this ridiculous cake delivered—like, custom-ordered, themed, a bit inappropriate—and we want to surprise him.”

Caroline nodded, setting her glass down on a nearby table. “Alright. I’ll go track him down.”

And with that, she slipped into the crowd, already scanning corners and exits, her heels clicking purposefully against the stone. She rounded a corner near the back of the courtyard, eyes sharp and focused, then paused.

There he was.

Klaus stood a few paces ahead, partially turned toward Damon, Stefan's insufferable brother, the two of them deep in conversation. His posture was relaxed, but there was this look in his eyes that seemed like he was about to start trouble.

She was about to step forward, to let her presence be known with some casual remark or a wave, maybe even a teasing comment to break up whatever mischief the two were scheming, but then she stopped short.

Her name had just come up.

She froze in her tracks, instinctively shrinking back behind the corner’s edge, heart skipping a beat. She knew it wasn’t exactly proper, eavesdropping never was, but her curiosity kicked in before her conscience could protest.

So she stayed quiet. Hidden in the shadows, just long enough to hear what Klaus had to say about her.

“Come on, Nik,” Damon was saying, his tone thick with amusement and just the right amount of provocation. "You’ve been circling Caroline like a hawk for years now. Don’t deny it. Admit you are ‘courting’ her,” he added, fingers lifting in exaggerated air quotes around the word.

Klaus’ jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek twitching slightly as his gaze flicked sharply to Damon.

“No,” he said at last, voice firm, edged with something almost offended. “I’m not ‘courting’ her. I’d never, never do that. Drop it, Damon.”

The words sank in before she could stop them, landing like a stone in her chest.

Of course he wouldn’t. He’s not courting me. He’d never even think of it, she thought bitterly.

Caroline stood frozen in place, every muscle in her body suddenly heavy. A dull ache bloomed behind her ribs, slow and steady, until it wrapped around her.

She blinked rapidly, trying to stop the sting behind her eyes from spilling over. The lights from the courtyard blurred around the edges, turning the party into little more than color and noise. She swallowed hard, tasting the sharp mix of disappointment and shame—shame for letting herself hope, even a little, even after all these years.

Without thinking, she pulled her phone from her clutch and quickly typed out a message.

Text to Rebekah: 'Klaus is outside with Damon. Something’s come up—I had to leave. I’m sorry.'

Caroline didn’t wait for a reply. She slipped quietly out through the back gate, unnoticed, the sound of music and laughter growing fainter with each step she took. She told herself she’d explain it later, that she’d make up some excuse if Rebekah pressed.

But she never did. And Rebekah forgot to ask.

And so it remained unspoken: the quiet exit and the text never explained.

She didn’t cry. Not yet. Not until the cab doors closed behind her and she was alone with the quiet hum of the city and the crushing silence of everything she didn’t say. Tears came fast and hot, streaking down her cheeks until she buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking.

She had spent that entire night crying her eyes out, curled up in bed with the ache of it all pressing into her bones. The hours dragged mercilessly, marked only by the silent witness of her damp pillow and the raw sting in her throat. By the time the first pale light of morning crept through her curtains, Caroline knew without question: this had been the worst night of her life.

And it was on that fateful night, that Caroline Forbes made a decision she had never dared to before.

She would get over Klaus Mikaelson.

Even if it was the last thing she had to do.

 

*Present day*

 

Caroline stood just outside the glowing archway that led into the heart of the party, the muffled hum of music and laughter spilling into the night.

She took a deep breath, grounding herself, her fingers tightening briefly around the strap of her clutch. She could do this. Just walk in. Smile. Pretend everything was normal. It wasn’t like anyone else knew what was quietly unraveling inside her.

She hadn’t seen him in three months. Not since that night.

She hadn’t called. She hadn’t texted. Not once.

All the messages he’d sent after she slipped away from the party remained unopened for hours, then stared at for too long, then left unanswered. She told herself it was for the best—that distance would help her breathe again, that silence would be easier than pretending nothing had happened.

The first message had come just twenty minutes after she slipped out of the party,

Klaus: Where did you go?

She had stared at it until the letters blurred, her throat thick. And she had pressed the lock button instead of replying. Then another ten minutes later, after Rebekah had clearly told him something to smooth it over:

Klaus:  Bekah said you had to leave. Everything alright?

A third followed soon after, accompanied by a blurry photo of the towering monstrosity of a cake Kol had chosen, and Klaus’ dry caption underneath:

Klaus:  You missed the world’s most ridiculous goodbye cake. Kol's proud. I'm horrified.

Still, she said nothing.

A day later, as his plane touched down across the ocean:

Klaus:  Landed in Prague. Let me know when you’re free to talk.

And then, after too many days of silence:

Klaus:  Are you okay? Did something happen? I'm worried.

Followed finally by one that hit her harder than it should have:

Klaus:  Are you mad at me??

It was so unlike him, so stripped of his usual confidence. He sounded unsure, maybe even vulnerable, as if her silence had begun to gnaw at him in the same way his words had gnawed at her. It should have been satisfying, proof that he cared enough to notice her absence.

Instead, it felt like salt in an open wound, because he didn’t know what he had done.

She’d read every one of these messages. And she’d left every single one on read.

Eventually, the messages stopped coming. Maybe he got tired. Maybe he got too busy wandering foreign cities and painting in candlelit apartments and forgetting how often they used to talk. Maybe he thought she needed space. Or maybe, deep down, he realized something had shifted that night, even if she never said it aloud.

But now he was back.

And there was no place to hide for her now, because she was too tangled up in his family to avoid him entirely. She just needed to put distance between them.

Caroline exhaled slowly. Then she straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and stepped inside.

As soon as Caroline stepped through the door, she was immediately “attacked” by a semi-drunk Stefan, arms flung around her in a dramatic, slightly off-balance hug.

“There she is!” he declared, grinning like he hadn’t seen her just two nights ago. “Welcome back to my bar!”

Caroline rolled her eyes and laughed, steadying him before he tipped over completely. “Stefan, I was literally here on Thursday.”

“Details,” he muttered, waving it off like time was an illusion invented to ruin moments like this.

Before she could reply, a hand landed on top of hers: Rebekah, eyes bright, tugging her toward a loose circle of their friends near the back.

“I did something ridiculous,” Rebekah announced, already laughing at herself. “I invited this guy I met on Tinder to join us tonight. His name’s Marcel. Ridiculous, right? I know. But he’s hot, so it balances out.”

She shoved her phone directly in Caroline’s face, the screen lit up with Marcel’s perfectly-filtered profile photo. “You have to help me find him. He said he’d be wearing a green shirt.”

Caroline barely had time to process the blurry image before Rebekah went on, relentless.

“And you,” she said, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Caroline, “need to be on Tinder. You need some action. Like, immediately.”

Caroline smiled and nodded, but the words felt like they were coming from underwater. Muffled noise. Background chatter.

Her attention was elsewhere: heart still caught in the doorway, mind already scanning the room for one face in particular. The only one that mattered. The one that shouldn't matter, she scolded herself quietly.

“He’s not here yet,” Rebekah said suddenly, as if reading Caroline’s mind.

Caroline blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Marcel,” Rebekah clarified, glancing down at her phone. “He just texted. Not here yet.”

Caroline exhaled through her nose, realizing a beat too late that her shoulders had tensed. Her mind had gone to Klaus. Instinctively. Automatically.

Of course it had.

Before she could gather a reply, Rebekah grabbed her wrist and said, “Wait by the bar in case he shows up? I really need to pee. Like, immediately.”

And just like that, she was gone, disappearing into the crowd toward the bathrooms, leaving Caroline at the bar with nothing but a Tinder-date mission and her nerves.

Caroline slid onto one of the stools and flagged down the bartender, ordering something sharp and citrusy to help her re-center. From her seat, she could see the dance floor:

Kol was already making a scene, spinning some poor girl in a circle, while Elijah stood nearby, a drink in hand, his signature calm smile in place. Katherine, his fiancé, was tucked under his arm, effortlessly elegant, laughing at something he’d whispered in her ear. The two of them looked annoyingly perfect—like they'd stepped out of a magazine.

Caroline smiled and  waved in their direction, catching their attention with a smile and a silent “I’ll be there in a sec” gesture. They nodded back with exaggerated enthusiasm, clearly already deep into party mode.

Her eyes scanned the group. No sign of him.

Klaus wasn’t there yet.

Just then, out of the corner of her eye, Caroline noticed a guy walking toward the other end of the bar. Tall, well-dressed, confident posture.

He was holding his phone out toward the bartender, pointing to something on the screen. As she subtly shifted to get a better view, she caught a glimpse of the photo, and nearly snorted into her drink.

It was Rebekah.

Caroline slid off her stool and walked over, amused.

“Let me guess,” she said, sipping her drink and raising an eyebrow. “You’re looking for a dramatic blonde with a British accent, a thousand opinions, and a tendency to act like she owns every room she walks into?”

The guy turned, caught off guard, but quickly grinned. “That obvious?”

Caroline smirked. “You’re holding her face up to the bartender like she’s a missing person. So, yeah.”

He laughed, easing immediately into the banter. “Guilty as charged. I’m Marcel.”

“Caroline,” she said, shaking his hand. “Rebekah’s best friend and, apparently, her unofficial Tinder ambassador. She'll be here shortly.”

“Nice to meet you, Ambassador,” he said with a playful bow of his head.

He opened his mouth, clearly about to offer to buy her a drink, but Caroline lifted her glass slightly with a grin before he could speak.

“Already covered, but points for chivalry.”

He chuckled, lowering his hand with a mock sigh. “And here I thought I was being smooth.”

Caroline slid onto one of the stools by the bar, crossing her legs and resting her hands lightly on the counter. Marcel, however, hovered nearby, too restless to take a seat. His fingers drummed against the wood, his gaze darting around the room before settling uneasily on her.

After a beat of silence, he tilted his head, a curious smile playing on his lips. “So… should I be nervous?”

Caroline grinned, her tone light but conspiratorial. “If she comes back and you’re not at least a little intimidated, I’ll be shocked.”

Marcel laughed, the sound easy and self-assured. “Noted. I’ll do my best to be exactly the right amount of intimidated.”

Caroline smirked. “Good. She likes confidence, but if you come on too strong, she’ll chew you up and ghost you before dessert.”

Marcel laughed. He then leaned casually against the bar, studying her with open curiosity. “So, how long have you been Rebekah’s best friend and dating bodyguard?”

“Since we were fourteen,” Caroline said with a fond smile. Marcel was about to say something else, before he was interrupted.

“I see you’ve made a new friend,” came a familiar voice from behind her, smooth and cool as ever.

Klaus.

Caroline froze, pulse quickening despite herself. He was standing close, too close. She could feel the warmth of his body at her back, the subtle brush of his breath against the curve of her neck. Her skin prickled with awareness before she even saw his face.

She straightened subtly and turned to the side, just enough to acknowledge him without fully engaging.

“You’re late,” she said, her tone neutral, eyes drifting deliberately back to her drink.

“Noticed, did you?” Klaus replied smoothly, undeterred. He stepped a little closer, clearly not picking up on, or pointedly ignoring, the hint. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he added,

“Although, I’m back early from my trip.”

Caroline didn’t look at him. She swirled the ice in her glass, watching the way it caught the light. “I meant the party. Rebekah’s been waiting. Everyone has.”

For a moment, his gaze lingered on her, studying the way her shoulders stiffened with each word. “Ah,” Klaus murmured, as though her correction amused him more than it should have. “And here I thought you might have missed me.”

He tilted his head, the hint of a smirk playing at his lips, but there was something else in his eyes—something sharper, heavier beneath the surface.

“And this is the welcome I get?” he pressed on, when she offered him no attention. “Not even a hug, love?”

Caroline didn’t look at him. She took a sip of her drink instead, letting the silence stretch just a little longer than it needed to. Then, with a cool shrug and her eyes still fixed ahead, she said,

“You’ll live.”

Klaus let out a soft, amused breath, almost a laugh. He clearly took it as sarcasm, not detachment. Or at least, he pretended to.

“Ah,” he said, voice dipping into something low and velvet-smooth. “There’s the warmth I missed.”

He wasn’t going to let it go, she could feel it. The way he lingered at her side, the way his gaze stayed fixed on her like he was daring her to look back. The air between them thrummed with the familiar pull, electric and maddening. She could practically feel his smirk, even though she hadn’t looked at him once.

Finally, she let out a quiet sigh, one hand still wrapped around her glass as she turned just enough to face him. She set her glass on the bar, and wrapped her arms around him in a quick, tight hug. It was supposed to be brief. Polite. Neutral.

It wasn’t.

Klaus’ arms came around her deliberately, hands settling at the small of her back. But before his arms had circled her waist, he had glanced briefly, pointedly, at Marcel, who stood just to the side, watching the scene unfold with a neutral expression.

Klaus’ grip wasn’t tight, but it was possessive enough to make a statement. He leaned in just slightly, enough for only Caroline to hear.

"I've missed you," he simply said.

Caroline’s heart thudded against her ribs, and she hated the way her body betrayed her—how even now, even after everything, his touch still made her pulse race.

She pulled back first, just enough to create distance, but not before she caught the glint of something in his eyes.

Klaus’ arms fell away with deliberate slowness, his fingers dragging along her back in a lingering touch that sent a shiver up her spine. Caroline wished he hadn’t. Wished he would’ve let go quicker than that.

She cleared her throat and reached for her drink again; anything to ground herself. Her cheeks were warmer than she wanted to admit, and she silently cursed her own body for reacting.

Marcel, still standing nearby with an easy grin, raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. “Well,” he said with a teasing drawl, as he looked at Caroline, “if that’s how all your reunions go, I can see why people miss you.”

The air shifted. Slightly. Sharply.

Klaus turned toward him with a kind of unbothered grace, his expression unreadable. He offered Marcel a slow, lazy smile—one that didn’t even try to reach his eyes.

“Charming,” he said flatly, like the word was a mild insult.

Sensing the tension thickening between them, Marcel lifted his hands in mock surrender and added lightly, “I’m just saying—you two make a cute couple.”

And that was when Caroline nearly choked on her drink. She snapped her head up, eyes wide.

“Oh—no. No, no. We’re not a couple,” she finished firmly, her voice cracked slightly, too fast, too defensive.

Klaus’ jaw tensed, just the slightest tic, almost invisible. Caroline didn’t catch it, but Marcel did. Klaus’ eyes were still on the other man when he finally spoke, voice low and smooth, the edge of something colder buried beneath it.

“We’re just friends,” Klaus finally said, not quite smiling, not quite frowning. His words were soft enough to almost pass as casual, but there was something razor-sharp in the precision of them.

Then he shifted, stepping half a pace closer. It was subtle, just enough to invade the space, not enough to be called aggressive. But the effect was undeniable. Marcel felt it: Klaus’ presence pressing in, the unspoken reminder that titles could be deceiving, that possession didn’t always need to be claimed out loud.

“So technically,” Klaus continued, “you’re not overstepping.”

The words were meant to be reassuring, a reminder that Marcel hadn’t technically crossed any lines in hitting on Caroline. But even as the explanation hung between them, Marcel could sense it—something in the air had shifted.

He wasn’t intimidated, not exactly, but he wasn’t oblivious either. There was something in the way the man in front of him stood, something coiled and possessive, the kind of unspoken claim that made it very clear: this wasn’t just casual small talk.

Marcel’s hands lifted slightly in front of him, palms out, as if warding off the misunderstanding before it settled. It was his turn to get defensive now.

“Oh no, no—no no,” he said quickly, almost echoing Caroline’s earlier flustered denial word for word. "I’m not here for Caroline,” he said, glancing briefly at her before adding with a respectful nod, “Though, no offense, she’s a stunning woman.”

Caroline blinked, caught between flattered and deeply uncomfortable.

“I’m here for Caroline's friend, Rebekah,” Marcel continued, nodding toward the crowd. "She invited me.”

The words carried a quiet note of relief, as though naming Rebekah aloud might defuse the charge in the air. He wanted Klaus to understand—he wasn’t here for trouble, and he certainly wasn’t foolish enough to get tangled up with someone this blonde man so clearly cared about.

Klaus smirked at Marcel’s words, understanding their implications perfectly, and introduced himself with that familiar, sarcastic glint in his eyes.

“Klaus Mikaelson, Rebekah’s brother. Nice to meet you.”

Caroline didn’t miss it—the way Marcel’s smile faltered just slightly. His confidence hadn’t completely vanished, but there was a flicker of realization in his eyes, like he couldn’t believe his luck.

Seriously? Were all the women in this town somehow orbiting around this one man? Marcel thought to himself.

Still, Marcel tried to play it cool. He let out a quiet, slightly uncomfortable chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Guess I managed to meet Rebekah’s family before I even met her.”

As if on cue, Rebekah appeared behind him, stepping out from the crowd with perfect timing and a drink in her hand already. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, lips already curved into a smile.

“That actually works in my favor,” she said, giving Marcel the biggest smile. “Now it’s easier to make a good impression. I automatically look better next to my brother.”

Klaus raised an eyebrow, the smirk still on his face but quieter now. Rebekah didn’t give him time to respond. She turned and hugged him briefly, arms looping around his shoulders.

“Welcome home,” she said, with a warmth she reserved for very few. Then she pulled back, patting his chest. “Now go away. You're ruining my date.”

Before anyone could say another word, Caroline rose from her stool. She didn’t look at Klaus. Her eyes went to Marcel instead, and she offered a soft, polite smile.

“Nice to meet you,” she said, her voice light but distant.

Then she glanced at Rebekah, warmer now. “Have fun!”

And with that, she walked off, weaving through the crowd with practiced grace, her spine straight, her chin high, completely ignoring the man whose presence still made her heart ache.

Klaus stood there silently, watching her go. She didn’t even give him the satisfaction of a look.

*

Caroline had escaped to one of the quieter lounge corners of the bar, where the lighting was softer and the music from the speakers faded just enough for a real conversation.

Elijah and Katherine sat next to her on the sleek, U-shaped leather sofa, a bottle of red wine on the table between them. Elijah, ever the gentleman, was pouring her another glass just as Katherine launched into her newest obsession: wedding planning.

“So the ceremony will be in less than four months, and I already told Elijah we are not doing anything minimal. If I’m walking down an aisle, it’s going to be in couture,” Katherine said, her eyes lighting up as she flicked her long hair over one shoulder. “I sent you the inspiration board, didn’t I?”

Caroline smiled politely, nodding. “You did. Twice, actually.”

Katherine beamed, clearly not sorry. “Good. I need honest opinions. Not Elijah’s polite diplomacy.”

Caroline opened her mouth to reply when her phone buzzed in her lap. She glanced down casually, expecting it to be Rebekah telling her how the date was going. But the name glowing on the screen stopped her mid-thought.

Klaus: Cigarette break. Join me.

Her brows furrowed slightly.  After tapping out a quick reply,  she raised her head, gaze instinctively scanning the room until it landed on the bar.

There he was, leaning back on a stool, drink in hand, flanked by Kol, Damon, and Stefan. His posture was easy, like he didn’t have a care in the world, but his eyes were already on her, like he’d been waiting to be seen.

She quickly sent him a reply, and moved her eyes away from him.

Caroline: I hate smoking. So… no.

She locked the screen and placed her phone face down beside her wineglass. Katherine was still going on, now about seating charts and dramatic family members, and Caroline tried to tune back in.

But just a few minutes later, the phone buzzed again. She reached for it, this time more hesitant.

Klaus: Fine, I won't smoke. Just some air. Quieter outside. Could use the company.

Her thumb hovered over the reply icon. She glanced up at Katherine, who was now showing her Pinterest board of exotic centerpiece ideas.

Caroline: Talking to Katherine. Don’t want to be rude.

She hit send, then tucked the phone away again, forcing a bright nod and a polite sip of her wine, pretending her attention had never wavered. She hoped she hadn’t seemed too rude. It was the first time she had ever told Klaus no about anything.

But then again, he was the one who had pulled the plug on them three months ago. He was the one who had looked offended, disgusted, even, when Damon teased him about courting her. Like the very idea of them being more than friends was absurd.

She had quietly let it go, even though it had left her absolutely heartbroken. She still was. Her ignoring him now was the kindest deal Klaus could get out of this situation.

So Caroline pushed the thoughts away and sat straighter, willing herself to focus on Katherine, who was talking animatedly about table settings and floral arrangements. But before she could finish the next sentence, Caroline noticed Katherine’s glance, quick and subtle, toward the bar, where Klaus was still standing.

Katherine didn’t comment, simply carried on talking, but Caroline could feel it: she wasn’t the only one aware of the tension in the room.

Only about ten minutes had passed since Klaus’ last text when Caroline caught movement from the corner of her eye. She didn’t have to look twice. He was already making his way through the crowd, weaving past tables and dancing crowd with that same confident stride that made people naturally step aside. He held a drink in one hand.

Caroline stiffened slightly in her seat.

He reached their booth, where Katherine was seated in the middle, comfortably between Caroline and Elijah.

There was enough room for Klaus to slide in beside his brother, leaving the girls on the opposite side, but he didn't. Instead, he slipped smoothly into the open seat next to Caroline, shoulder brushing hers as he settled in.

Katherine raised an amused brow.

“You sure you want to sit here? We’re knee-deep in wedding drama," she said, swirling her drink. “Might be a bit dull compared to whatever conversation the single guys are having at the bar. You might want to rejoin the boys and their thrilling conversation about women and whiskey.”

At the mention of other women, Caroline lifted her glass and took a large sip of wine, focusing intently on the rim.

Klaus glanced at her from the side, his eyes sharp, but the rest of his expression unreadable. Then he turned back to Katherine, a lazy smile tugging at his lips.

“Tempting,” he said, voice smooth. “But I think I’ll stay exactly where I am.”

He leaned back against the booth, one arm stretching behind Caroline along the seat, not quite touching her but close enough that she could feel the warmth of him at her back. If he noticed the way her shoulders tensed, he said nothing.

Katherine gave him a sideways glance, lips twitching like she was debating whether to make another sarcastic remark, but she let it go, choosing instead to sip her drink and lean into Elijah’s shoulder.

Elijah, ever the peacemaker, stepped in smoothly.

“Perhaps we can spare Klaus the details of centerpiece arrangements, darling” he said with a mild smile. “Tell us more about your travels, brother. I hear your European escapades were… colorful.”

Klaus swirled the dark amber liquid in his glass, eyes flicking toward Elijah with a trace of amusement. “Colorful is one word for it.”

“Is it true Enzo actually came to visit?” Elijah pressed, tone curious and excited.

Klaus nodded, resting his glass down on the table. “Yes. Enzo’s settled in at the hotel. He’s planning to stay in New Orleans for at least three weeks.”

He paused, glancing toward the door as if half-expecting someone to walk through it.

“I invited him to the party tonight, actually. But he texted me an hour ago saying he was jet-lagged and half-dead, so maybe another time."

Katherine’s expression shifted into one of playful delight, and a knowing smile tugged at her lips. She clearly remembered Enzo well. He was a very good-looking friend of Elijah’s and Klaus’—someone she had met once in Europe and hadn’t quite forgotten.

Katherine perked up, a mischievous spark in her eyes as she leaned slightly toward Caroline.

“Oh, Enzo,” she said with a slow, teasing grin. “Now there’s a very good-looking man. Tasty little thing, really. You should definitely check him out.”

Katherine shot a quick glance at Klaus before taking a sip of her drink, clearly enjoying herself far too much.

Klaus took a slow sip of his own drink, but the slight twitch in his jaw betrayed the ease he was trying to project. His voice was calm when he spoke, though a little sharper than usual.

“Enzo is my friend, and I love him very much. But, he’s flirtatious,” Klaus said smoothly, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “Sleeps around. Never commits. The type of man who—”

“Just like you, Klaus” Katherine cut in with a sweet, pointed smile, her chin resting lightly on her palm.

Klaus didn’t so much as glance in her direction. He simply continued, voice even but laced with something sharper underneath.

“—the type of man Caroline should stay far away from.”

Caroline shifted slightly in her seat, suddenly more aware of the heat in the room, or maybe just of Klaus sitting far too close beside her. His presence was like a pressure, subtle but impossible to ignore.

The tension from his last comment was still clinging to her when a waiter appeared at the edge of their booth.

With a practiced smile, the waiter leaned in and placed a margarita in front of her.

“For you,” he said. “Courtesy of the gentleman over there.”

Caroline blinked, caught off guard, and followed the waiter’s subtle nod toward another booth across the room. A man she didn’t recognize lifted his glass in her direction and offered a slow, confident wink. Her eyes dropped to the drink, where a folded napkin sat beneath the glass. A phone number was scribbled across it in thick, uneven ink.

She was already reaching for it with a mix of discomfort and disbelief when she suddenly felt Klaus move even closer. His shoulder brushed against hers, his head dipping in, invading her space like it was his by right. His voice came low against her ear, smooth and biting.

“Sloppy handwriting,” he murmured, barely loud enough for her to hear,  nodding toward the phone number scribbled on the napkin on her hand.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and her fingers froze around the napkin. She didn’t look at him, not yet, but she could feel the smirk in his voice, the deliberate provocation.

Katherine leaned back with a sly smile, swirling the last of her wine like she was stirring trouble on purpose. Her eyes flicked between the two across from her, clearly enjoying the proximity and the charged silence.

“I’ve been out of the game for so long,” she drawled, her voice thick with mischief. “Remind me—if you drink the margarita a gentleman sends you, does that mean you have to go home with him?”

Caroline’s fingers tightened subtly around the stem of her glass, just as Klaus shifted ever so slightly beside her, his thigh brushing hers beneath the table. Neither looked at the other, but the answer came instantly and in perfect sync.

“No,” they almost yelled in unison.

Katherine’s grin widened, but she didn’t say a word—just smirked knowingly.

Caroline, on the other hand, was done. The booth felt too warm, Klaus too close, the whole evening pressing on her like a weight.  She slid the margarita, courtesy of the overly confident stranger, gently aside and shifted as if to stand.

“I’m going home,” she said, her voice clipped, firm. “My own home,” she added quickly, the edge in her tone meant to cut off any suggestive comment before it could form.

“Let me drive you,” Klaus offered immediately, already half rising as if the decision had been made for her.

Caroline realised her decision to keep her distance wasn’t going to be easy to maintain, not with Klaus clearly refusing to let her slip away so easily, and always finding an excuse to be near. She had drawn a line, convinced herself she could stick to it, but he seemed determined to blur it at every turn.

Caroline shook her head, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, standing firm on her decision.

“No, thanks. I’ll call a cab.”

Klaus shook his head, clearly not ready to let it go. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and intent, not demanding, but close.

“Let me take you home, Caroline.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off gently.

“I’ve been back three hours,” he added, eyes locked on hers, “and I haven’t even had the chance to tell you anything about my trip.”

There was something in his voice, uncharacteristically earnest. Like he wasn’t just offering her a ride, but asking for a moment. A sliver of her time.

Before Caroline could reply, her phone buzzed on her hand. She glanced down, already half-expecting what she’d see.

Rebekah: Sleepover at my place? Need girl talk after this date. Please???

Caroline sighed through her nose, thumb hovering over the screen. She knew exactly what that meant.

Klaus' own apartment had been gutted for renovations for months, a project he hardly supervised with all his traveling. And with him just getting back today, he’d be staying at Rebekah’s house, for as long as he was in town, or until his apartment was ready.

Which meant, if Caroline was going to Rebekah's place…

Klaus uninvitedly leaned in and glanced at the message lighting up her screen, and his smirk practically unfolded before her eyes. He’d already put two and two together, as well.

"Looks like I’ll be the one taking you home tonight after all," he murmured, voice low and teasing, completely unaware of the way it set her entire body on fire.

Chapter 3: The Pact

While Elijah had settled into a quiet life with Katherine, and Finn lived with Sage in New York, Kol and Klaus each had their own sleek, single apartments—more suited to their unpredictable habits and solitary tempers. But Rebekah? Rebekah had a two-story house, almost an exact replica of their childhood home in Mystic Falls.

She hadn’t settled for anything less.

Being the only daughter in a family of fiercely devoted, occasionally overbearing brothers meant she was used to getting what she wanted. And when she said she wanted a real home, a proper one with stairs and a garden and a kitchen she’d never use, they hadn’t argued. They’d just made it happen.

And this was the place where Caroline and Rebekah spent so many nights: sometimes staying in for a girls' night, other times crashing here after nights out. And tonight as well, Caroline had ended up in this house that had become her second home.

She sat cross-legged on Rebekah’s impossibly soft, king-sized bed, her back propped against a mountain of pillows, eyes fixed on her phone screen.

It was nearly 2 a.m., and Rebekah was still out with Marcel; no updates, no drunken voice notes. Just silence. But a promise was a promise, and Caroline had told her she'd sleep over. So here she was, wide awake, staring at nothing and replaying the ride back home in her head.

The drive with Klaus had been... complicated.

As they had stepped out of Stefan’s bar into the cool night air, Klaus instinctively had reached into his pocket, fingers closing around the familiar shape of his cigarette pack. He had lit one with practiced ease, the flame briefly illuminating his face.

“I’ll just wait in the car,” Caroline had said, her tone light, casual, already turning toward the driveway.

She wasn’t trying to be cold, just efficient. The less alone time with him, the better.

His expression had darkened just slightly, not angry, but visibly displeased. Still, without a word, he had clicked the key fob and unlocked the car for her.

She had watched him through the rearview mirror, the faint glow of the cigarette casting sharp orange flickers against his face in the dark.

He had barely smoked it: just two slow drags, then, without hesitation, he had flicked it away, the ember arcing briefly through the night before disappearing into the gravel.

Then, with a slow gait and a jaw that looked a little too tight, he had slid into the driver’s seat beside her.

The air inside the car had shifted immediately—warmer, heavier. She had stared ahead, or at times pretending to scroll through her phone, pretending her pulse hadn’t just picked up at the closeness of him.

Without a word he had started the car, the low rumble breaking the silence. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, with a dry, almost amused edge to his voice, he had muttered,

“You seem to hate me more than you hate smoking lately.”

Caroline hadn’t answer. She had stared out the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest, letting the silence settle back in. But she had felt it: the way his eyes flicked toward her every few seconds, like he was waiting for something. An answer.

A reaction.

But she gave him nothing.

He hadn’t pushed again right away. Instead, he drove on, hands steady on the wheel, glancing at her from time to time.

It wasn’t just the silence that gnawed at him, it was the distance. Not the physical kind, but the kind that came with unread messages, unanswered calls, and a thousand small moments slipping between them like sand.

When they had pulled up to Rebekah’s house, Klaus had parked without a word. The quiet stretched between them like a wall neither seemed ready to climb. He had stepped out first, circling the car to open her door.

She hesitated for a beat, then got out, her expression unreadable.

Klaus searched her face for something, anything, but she only offered him a half-hearted smile.

Then she had turned and started walking toward the house.

Once they had stepped inside, the quiet click of the door closing behind them echoed faintly through the spacious house. Caroline had barely looked his way as she slipped off her shoes, her voice light but distant as she said,

“I’ll wait for Rebekah in her room.”

She had turned toward the staircase, her steps measured and unhurried, but just as her hand brushed the railing, his voice followed her—low, hesitant, and edged with something more fragile than she expected.

“Is it something I’ve done?”

She stopped. Her back was to him, her hand suspended in the air for a second too long. Then, slowly, she had turned around, eyebrows raised like she didn’t quite understand.

“What?”

Klaus had stepped closer, closing the space between them a little with quiet determination, his gaze fixed on her like he was trying to read past her expression. His voice dropped even lower, quieter now, but edged with something that wasn’t quite anger, more like confusion veiled by restraint.

“You’ve been distant all night, Care.”

He paused, studying her face.

Caroline held his stare, even as her heart thudded painfully in her chest. There it was. The moment she had hoped to avoid.

Klaus had taken another step closer, the space between them thinning with the weight of everything unspoken. His gaze had lost its usual mischief, sharpening with something more serious, more vulnerable.

He had noticed it for months now: the way she ignored his messages, the silence that followed his every attempt to reach her.

He hadn’t wanted to discuss it over the phone, hadn’t wanted to make it worse by pressing too hard.

Even tonight, he had done his best not to push her, holding back every question that burned on the tip of his tongue. But he couldn’t help himself. The distance she kept wasn’t just polite indifference, it was unfamiliar, unsettling.

It wasn’t them.

“And before that—those messages. Not a single reply,” he continued. “We haven’t talked in three months.”

Caroline took a deep breath, steadying herself. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Couldn’t admit that it all traced back to that one overheard conversation, to the way he had so quickly dismissed the idea of courting her like the very thought was absurd.

Like being anything more than friends with her was unthinkable.

If it had been Kol or Damon, or any other man for that matter, that said those words, she wouldn’t have flinched. She wouldn’t have cared, because she wanted nothing from them, nothing to do with them.

But with Klaus, it was different.

So, if Caroline told him the truth just now, then she’d have to explain why it hurt. Why it mattered. And that meant confessing the one thing she had never dared say out loud: that she had wanted them to be more than friends all along.

“We spend too much time together,” she said with an awkward little chuckle, trying to mask the weight behind the words.

Klaus tilted his head slightly, brow lifting, but said nothing. He had no idea what she meant by that.

Caroline shrugged, eyes flicking away as she added, “It has people talking.”

“Who?” he asked, tone curious but unconcerned. He even had a faint smile on his face, trying to ease up the tension and make this conversation more friendly. To create a safe space for her to open up.

Caroline hesitated, just a beat, then answered, “Damon.”

She didn’t say more. She left the name hanging there, watching him closely, hoping, expecting, some kind of reaction. A denial, a correction, maybe even an apology.

But Klaus’ expression didn’t shift the way she’d hoped.

He blinked slowly, that maddeningly calm look still painted across his face, as if the weight behind her words hadn’t landed at all. As if he truly didn’t understand.

It made Caroline want to slap him.

Instead, she took a slow breath and kept her voice steady.

“Maybe it’s a good idea… if we kept a little distance. In public, I mean. We should act more like I do with Kol. Or Elijah.”

For the first time, something cracked in his expression. The faint curve of his mouth faltered. His eyes, usually so sharp and unreadable, dimmed just a little.

Like it had finally hit him.

She had no idea what those words stirred in him.

Embarrassed to be seen with me, Klaus thought. That must be it. Why else suggest they act like strangers in public? Like acquaintances, like siblings.

To him, it could only mean one thing: that she saw him as a secret, something she wasn’t ready to explain, something she didn’t want people making assumptions about.

He clenched his jaw, not enough to be obvious, but enough for the muscle there to jump once. She didn’t notice. She was too busy looking anywhere but at him. Maybe that said everything.

Caroline had decided it was not a good idea to continue the conversation any longer.

“I’ll wait for Rebekah in her room,” she repeated quickly.

She barely managed half a smile before turning away, her steps carrying her up the stairs with more urgency than grace.

Once inside Rebekah’s room, she shut the door quietly behind her, hands trembling as she leaned against it for a while. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, her body tense like she had just escaped something dangerous.

And maybe she had.

She’d spent the past hour curled up on Rebekah’s massive bed, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, trying to convince herself she was fine. That everything was fine. But now her stomach was growling, and her throat felt dry and sticky from too much alcohol and very little water.

And her head was spinning, but not from the alcohol.

She couldn’t stay in here all night, hiding from him like some wounded teenager. That wasn’t who she was. Or at least, it wasn’t who she wanted to be.

She had made a decision. To get over him. To let it go.

If she ever hoped to move on, she had to learn how to be around him without falling apart. She had to teach herself to stand in the same room as Klaus Mikaelson… and feel nothing.

That was the plan, anyway.

So she pushed herself up from the bed, smoothed down her dress with a quick swipe of her hands, and made her way out of Rebekah’s room.

Caroline descended the stairs slowly, barefoot and quiet, walking toward the kitchen.

As she stepped into the living room, something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Through the large front window, she saw him: Klaus.

He was sitting at the little table on the porch, a cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers. He had his back on her so she wasn’t able to read his expression.

Caroline paused for just a second, watching him. Then she turned away and kept walking toward the kitchen, quietly.

Once inside, she went straight to the cabinet and pulled out a glass, filling it halfway with cold water from the dispenser on the fridge. She took a few slow sips, leaning her hip against the counter.

But her stomach was still knotted. She set the glass down and turned, reaching up to the top shelf to grab a small box of crackers Rebekah always kept around.

She stretched on her toes, fingers brushing the edge of the box, but it was just out of reach.

Then she felt it: a quiet presence, solid and steady, easing into her space like he belonged there. A hand reached past hers, slow and sure, fingertips grazing her knuckles as it closed around the box she couldn’t reach.

Klaus.

Caroline froze, still half-stretched, her spine straightening as she felt the solid line of his body just behind her, not touching, but close enough to feel. His breath stirred the loose hair near her ear, and her pulse stuttered.

The hem of his shirt had lifted slightly as he reached, and from the corner of her eye, she caught the faint line of skin just above his waistband. A sliver of his lower torso, lean and warm and utterly distracting.

She swallowed hard, pretending not to notice.

Klaus placed the box on the counter in front of her with casual ease.

“Didn’t think you’d come down,” he said softly, his voice lower than usual, his words landing just a little too close to her skin.

Caroline didn’t turn around. Not yet. She reached for the crackers, pulled them toward her, and opened them slowly, keeping her movements calm, collected. Or trying to.

“I got hungry,” she replied, her voice neutral, her heart nowhere near it.

“Come on, Care,” he said softly, his voice dipping low with something that sounded almost like a plea, when she kept her back at him.

Before she could step away, his hand brushed her arm, barely a touch, but enough to guide her, coax her to turn and face him.

She did, slowly, eyes lifting to meet his.

“We’re alone,” he added, that familiar crooked smile tugging at his mouth, even if his eyes held a different weight. “We can be friends in private, can’t we?”

He said it lightly, like it was a joke, a callback to what she’d told him earlier. But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He wasn’t teasing. He was trying to be safe. Trying to act like her words from earlier hadn’t bruised something in him.

Because the truth was, he wasn’t sure what he’d do if she decided to cut him off completely. Even in private.

Relief softened Klaus’ features the second she smiled. Caroline was already thinking of limiting her alone time with him anyway; carefully, quietly, without making it a big deal. So this offer felt like a good deal. Manageable.

“Sure,” she said, smiling softly. "Friends in private."

He smiled: a genuine, full smile that lit up his face and carved those infuriating dimples deep into his cheeks. The kind of smile that had always been her weakness.

Then he turned, casually leaning against the wider side of the kitchen counter, his elbow resting just beside the fruit bowl.

“I don’t suppose you’ve checked your email lately?” he asked, voice light.

Caroline, still holding the box of crackers on her hands, hesitated for half a second before stepping forward to mirror him. She leaned against the shorter end of the counter, just to his right .

“No,” she said with a slow shake of her head. “Why?”

“I sent you a few things,” he said casually. “Some notes from my trip. A couple photos. Maybe a few too many.”

He smirked, tilting his head, the teasing glint in his eyes unmistakable. “Oh, I’m sure they ended up in your spam folder. Like everything else I sent you for the past three months.”

Caroline opened her mouth, maybe to defend herself or maybe just to change the subject, but Klaus cut in smoothly before she could get a word out.

“Don’t worry, love,” he said, his voice softening just enough. “I don’t hold grudges. I forgive you."

She gave him a look—part guilt, part disbelief—but didn’t reply. Instead, she pulled out her phone and began scrolling through her inbox, her movements casual at first.

A few taps in, her brows lifted. Her eyes widened slightly as the number hit her. Over a hundred emails.

All from him.

She shot him a sideways glance, lips curling into a smirk as she teased, “There better not be any nudes in here.”

Klaus let out a soft laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders as if her teasing had pulled them both back into that familiar rhythm of theirs.  He leaned in just a little, resting his forearm on the counter, his grin crooked and unapologetic.

“I can’t make any promises,” he said, eyes glinting. “It’s been three months. I’ve forgotten half of what I sent you.”

Caroline rolled her eyes, but the smile was real this time. She scrolled for a moment, curiosity sparking, then quickly locked her phone and set it aside, deciding those emails were better saved for when she was alone.

“So,” Klaus went on, watching her, “what’s new with you, Miss Avoid-All-My-Texts?”

Caroline shifted her weight, still leaning against the counter, fingers absently crinkling the edge of the cracker box. She looked relaxed, but not entirely.

“Not much,” she replied, though that wasn’t quite true.

In the past couple of years, she'd started writing regularly for The Current, a well-known culture and lifestyle journal that had unexpectedly fallen in love with her voice.

She had a knack for essays that left people talking, and somewhere along the way, her byline had started to matter. It was a quiet kind of success, but one she was proud of.

“I’ve had a few new articles out,” she added with a casual shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. “And I’ve got a deadline for Friday I haven’t even started, so… that’s fun.”

Klaus arched an eyebrow, that familiar teasing glint back in his eyes. “Still living in your Carrie Bradshaw era, I see.”

They both giggled, the sound light and unguarded, echoing faintly through the quiet kitchen. It felt easy, familiar.

They had a long-standing ritual of watching shows together. And if not side by side, then in separate apartments, sometimes even in different time zones, they’d still pick a show and watch it at the same time. 

You’d think Sex and the City had been her pick, but no. That had been all Klaus; something about a longstanding crush on Kim Cattrall, which he still defended shamelessly.

Caroline scoffed, arms crossed with mock indignation. “I don’t write about shoes and men.”

He leaned just slightly toward her, the corner of his mouth curling.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you writing about men. You’d probably tell the world how awful we are.” He paused, then added with a low, amused hum, “Not that I’d disagree.”

Caroline let out a laugh, short and bright, surprising even herself. He always had a way of saying things that made her drop her guard without realizing it.

Not you, she thought quietly. You’re not awful. You’re a good man. Maybe the best I’ve ever known... and that’s the problem.

Shaking off the thought, she looked up at him again. “So… when’s your apartment going to be ready?”

Klaus raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. “Eager to get rid of me already?”

She rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath, making him chuckle.

“They said probably next month. The walls are still a mess. But I’ll be in and out. My studio’s there—renovation or not, I still need to work.”

By studio he meant his art studio, the space where he painted, where hours slipped away beneath the brush.

Caroline took a sip of her water, already preparing her next jab, the playful energy between them fully returned.

“So you’re still not convinced to give in and go work for your dad?” she asked, eyebrows raised with mock curiosity. “Mikaelson International could really use your brooding presence.”

The name alone carried weight. Mikaelson International was one of the most powerful luxury hotel chains in the world. Everyone assumed Klaus would inherit a seat at the top eventually, just like all his siblings. But Klaus had different plans for his life: art and travel were his priority, something that his father never really approved of.

Klaus just gave her a lopsided smile, leaning lazily against the counter like a man immune to pressure. “I’m a carefree spirit, love” he replied, voice smooth. “I can’t be chained behind a desk. I prefer to paint.”

As he spoke, Caroline tipped her glass again, but this time her hand slipped slightly, and a trickle of water escaped past the rim, splashing down on her dress. She gasped softly and looked down, seeing the dark patch forming just above her chest.

“Ugh,” she muttered, pulling the damp fabric away from her chest with two fingers.

Before she could reach for a towel, Klaus was already in motion. He grabbed one from the nearby drawer and stepped toward her with easy familiarity.

But when he extended the towel and his hand hovered near the damp spot, he froze.

The fabric clung to her slightly, outlining the curve of her breasts, and his hand stalled inches away, as if a sudden line had been drawn there that he wasn’t sure he was allowed to cross.

His movement slowed. His hand stilled. The towel never touched her.

Caroline held her breath, aware of how close he was. How warm. How quiet the kitchen had suddenly become.

She gently took the towel from his hand, brushing his fingers with her own.

“I’ve got it,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned her attention to the damp patch on her dress.

She dabbed the towel against the fabric, pressing lightly against the curve of her chest, focused on drying it, completely unaware that Klaus hadn’t looked away.

His gaze had locked there, helplessly drawn. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. His eyes lingered too long.

And then the front door opened.

The creak of the hinges and the distant sound of heels against the floor snapped him back to reality like a slap. Rebekah’s voice called out from the hallway, cheerful and oblivious, announcing her return.

Klaus blinked, looking away fast, as if burned by the sight. A flicker of shame passed through him; he hadn’t meant to stare. Hadn’t meant to look at his friend like that.

But he had.

And for a moment, he didn’t regret it. He just… couldn’t help it.

Rebekah entered the kitchen with a whirl of energy, her heels clicking softly against the tile and her smile too bright to be anything but post-date giddy. Her eyes landed on Caroline first, then Klaus, and she let out a little laugh.

“Sorry I’ve been out so long,” she said, tossing her purse onto a nearby chair. “But what can I say? Marcel is the best.”

Klaus, still standing at the other end of the counter, arched a brow.

“The best?” he repeated, his voice laced with dry amusement. “You’ve known him all of five minutes.”

Rebekah shot him a look. “That’s all it takes when it's the right man."

Then, with a mischievous smile tugging at her lips, she added, “Maybe I’ll even invite him to my birthday next weekend.”

She tilted her head toward Klaus and Caroline with mock sternness.

“And don’t either of you dare make other plans. Not even this weekend. Mum and Dad are flying in to throw one of their grand family picnics. Finn and Sage are flying in, too.”

She grinned, clearly pleased with herself, then gave Klaus a look that said don’t try to weasel out of it. Then, with a playful glint in her eyes and a slow tilt of her head, Rebekah added,

“Now, if you don’t mind,” her voice light and teasing as she slipped her arm through Caroline’s, “I’d like to steal my friend away for some very necessary post-date girl talk.”

Rebekah didn’t miss the opportunity to put emphasis on my with a pointed smirk, the same way she always did when teasing Klaus for trying to monopolize Caroline—hovering around her like she hadn’t been Rebekah’s friend first.

Klaus rolled his eyes with theatrical flair, letting out a soft, exaggerated sigh. "If you must,” he said with mock indignation at being so unfairly parted from Caroline.

Caroline rolled her own eyes, lips twitching into a smirk despite herself, and let Rebekah pull her toward the hallway. Rebekah walked a step ahead, Caroline trailing just behind, and in that small space Klaus’ voice reached her in a tone only she could hear.

“Friends, then?”

She turned to him, catching the hopeful glint already shining in his eyes, and she hadn’t dared tell him no, even if she had wanted to. With a smile of her own, she nodded softly, watching how her answer carved an ear-to-ear smile across his face.

The lingering heat of his gaze still trailed after her as she followed Rebekah down the hall.

***

Caroline had barely gotten two hours of sleep. Between Rebekah going on and on about her date with Marcel, and the shrill buzz of her phone before 8 a.m. on a Sunday, rest had not been on her side. She groaned into the pillow, reaching blindly for her phone, only to squint at the screen and see a text from Hayley.

Hey, Care. Any chance I could crash with you for a couple weeks?

Caroline blinked, still half-asleep, then tapped out a quick Sure before dropping the phone onto the mattress.

Hayley was her cousin from her mother’s side. Caroline had only met her for the first time when they were both in high school.

Liz Forbes hadn’t spoken to her own sister for years, not since Caroline’s aunt had gotten herself pregnant with Hayley out of wedlock. Liz had been too conservative back then, too tied to what was proper and acceptable. It had taken her divorce to shake some of those rigid views loose, and by the time Caroline was fifteen, Liz had welcomed her estranged sister—and by extension, Hayley—back into the family.

So whenever Caroline went to spend a couple of months in the summer with her mom, she’d end up hanging out with her cousin. And since Hayley was only two years younger, it hadn’t taken long for them to hit it off.

The thing was, Hayley had never come to New Orleans before. Despite all their years of staying in touch, she had always kept her distance from the city. So the sudden request felt... off. Something had to be up.

Just as Caroline was turning this over in her mind, her phone buzzed again. Another message from Hayley.

Be at your place this afternoon.

Caroline stared at the screen, brows furrowed. No explanation. No emoji. Just a time frame and the certainty that something bigger than a casual visit was heading her way. And if Hayley would be here this afternoon, it meant that she was already on her way.

Caroline slipped out from under the covers, careful not to wake Rebekah, who was still deep in sleep, one arm flung dramatically across the pillow like she'd fainted from too much excitement. Caroline tiptoed around discarded heels and the remnants of last night and made her way to the wardrobe.

She grabbed a clean pair of short jeans and a T-shirt that still smelled faintly of Rebekah’s perfume. Not the first time she'd borrowed something from her best friend. Probably wouldn’t be the last.

She padded down the hallway barefoot, rubbing at her eyes, and disappeared into the guest bathroom without thinking twice.

The door didn’t quite latch behind her.

Water rushed over her skin a moment later, hot and calming. She let it pour down her back, her shoulders, loosening muscles and thoughts alike. She didn’t hear the soft creak of the floorboards just outside the door. Didn’t hear Klaus’ footsteps as he came down the hallway, bare feet silent on the hardwood.

He wasn’t fully awake yet. Still in his sleep shirt and low-slung sweatpants, he headed toward the guest bathroom, phone in one hand, mind nowhere in particular. He pushed the door open with his foot, not bothering to knock,  assuming it was empty. It usually was.

The moment he stepped inside, steam hit him first.

Then he froze.

The glass was fogged, but not enough to blur the outline of her body. Her silhouette, all long lines and soft curves, was unmistakable. She was facing away from him, head tilted back under the spray, completely unaware. Water traced down her spine and over her hips, the sound of it loud enough to cover the small, involuntary sound he made at the back of his throat.

Klaus’ breath hitched.

His body betrayed him instantly, a sharp pull low in his abdomen, his pulse quickening. Heat surged through him, dizzying and electric. He hadn’t meant to look. God, he hadn’t meant to walk in at all.

But now... now he couldn’t look away.

His gaze lingered too long, his mind drifting —unwillingly, traitorously — to the other side of the glass. He imagined what he couldn’t see. The soft swell of her breasts, water slipping between them. The curve of her stomach, her thighs, the way droplets must be tracing every inch of skin he’d never touched.

He could see her back, but his thoughts filled in the rest with aching clarity, imagined her lips parted beneath the stream, her chest rising and falling, his own hands moving across places he shouldn't dare to picture.

And yet he did.

His knuckles whitened around the doorknob. He should leave. Close the door, erase the moment. Be decent. Be her friend. Be anything other than what he felt right now.

So he did.

He stepped out and slammed the door behind him, a little too hard, as if force could exorcise the thoughts still clawing at the edges of his mind. If she hadn’t seen him, she’d definitely heard that. No doubt.

His jaw tightened as he moved down the hall. The tightness in his pants? He blamed it on the usual morning stiffness, not the painfully vivid thoughts Caroline had just awakened in him.

He chalked it up to bad timing; to letting too much time pass without hooking up with someone. He needed a one-night-stand. That was all. That had to be it.

Still, guilt pooled in his chest.

The last thing he wanted was to give her another reason to be upset with him and keep her distance. Things between them were already hanging by a thread. This couldn’t be another crack.

He needed to fix it. Fast.

He had to show her that he was still her friend, and not some creep. That he respected her.

***

Caroline had stepped into Rebekah’s room straight from the shower, towel still wrapped tightly around her, only to find her friend snoring softly, sprawled across the bed like she hadn’t moved an inch.

Her heart sank.

So it hadn’t been Rebekah by the bathroom door earlier. It had been Klaus.

She froze for a second, mortified, then groaned and buried her face in her hands. Of course it had been him. Rebekah had her own en suite bathroom. Why would she ever use the guest one?

The realization made Caroline’s stomach twist with embarrassment. She shook it off with a grumble and reached for her phone, desperate for a distraction.

But that wasn’t really helping. So she got dressed and slipped out of the room as quietly as she could. She needed air.

Caroline padded barefoot through the hallway, absently scrolling through her messages. Just as she passed by the guest bathroom, she heard water running behind the door: Klaus.

She exhaled slowly and kept walking.

The porch was quiet, the morning air crisp against her slightly damp skin. She stepped out, phone in hand, and reread Hayley’s message for the tenth time, trying to imagine all the reasons that had made her cousin abandon everything and come to New Orleans all of a sudden.

Caroline chewed on her lip, wondering if she should text back and ask for more information or just wait until Hayley arrived to explain herself. Before she could decide, a deep voice behind her cut through the silence.

“Good morning, love.”

She jumped, the sound slicing right through her thoughts. Instinctively, she spun around, one hand gripping her phone tighter, the other half-raised like she might actually swat whoever it was.

A man she had never seen before was sitting at the same table Klaus had last night.

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, sharper than she intended, the word hitting a nerve.

Love. Klaus called her that. Hearing it from another man, even though he also had an accent, didn’t sit right. Not even a little.

Caroline took a second to register the man standing in front of her. Not Klaus. But… not entirely different either. He had the same effortless confidence, that same rich accent. But this man was unfamiliar—tall, dark-haired, ridiculously attractive, with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Apologies, gorgeous. I didn’t mean to offend. I just didn’t know your name.”

She crossed her arms, eyeing him warily. “Caroline. That’s my name,” she added quickly, as if to say stop giving me nicknames.

He didn’t seem offended in the least. In fact, his smile only widened, a mischievous curve tugging at his lips.

“Feisty. I like it,” he replied, his voice warm with amusement as though he had just discovered something particularly entertaining.

“Enzo,” he introduced smoothly, gesturing lightly toward himself.

Her eyes narrowed, recognition dawning in a slow, reluctant wave. “Klaus’ friend… from Europe,” she murmured, the words almost hesitant, as if she needed to say them out loud to make the realization settle.

Enzo raised his eyebrows in confirmation, still smiling, before extending a hand. His movements were relaxed, confident, the kind of charm that made it clear he was used to people liking him.

“Nice to meet you.”

Caroline hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn’t move at first, letting the moment stretch just long enough to make it obvious that she was weighing whether or not to humor him. Enzo’s hand remained there, steady and patient, his grin never faltering.

Finally, with a soft sigh of resignation, she slipped her hand into his, giving it the briefest shake.

“Nice to meet you, too.”

Enzo’s smile widened. He leaned casually against the chair, as if her hesitation hadn’t thrown him at all.

“Sorry to barge in on you like this. I’m sure you hadn’t planned to see my face first thing in the morning,” he said with a lopsided grin, the easy charm in his tone tugging a reluctant smile out of her.

“Yours, on the other hand—it’s a lovely face to see on the first morning of my visit. I like New Orleans already.”

“Smooth,” she replied, her voice dipped in sarcasm, as if to remind him his pickup line hadn’t landed nearly as well as he thought.

Enzo laughed; a low, unbothered sound that carried as much confidence as amusement. His eyes stayed fixed on her, studying her reaction like he found every bit of it entertaining. After a beat, he cleared his throat, his posture shifting, his tone sobering into something more genuine.

“I actually texted with Klaus earlier,” he said, nodding toward the door as if Klaus might appear at any second. “I walked over from my hotel—he sent me the location. Said he’d show me around the city a bit.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow, still not fully relaxed but no longer on edge.

Enzo tilted his head, watching her closely. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like,” he offered, the invitation sounding casual, but the gleam in his eyes betraying something more.

As if on cue, the door creaked open.

Klaus stepped outside, his hair still damp from the shower, curls falling messily onto his forehead. His gaze found Caroline immediately, just for a second, and then flicked away just as fast, like the contact stung. The guilt from earlier still clung to him.

Then his eyes flicked briefly to Enzo.

“She has a deadline,” Klaus said quickly, cutting in before Caroline could answer for herself. “Maybe another time.”

His voice was neutral, polite even, but there was an edge to it—like a line drawn.

Caroline didn’t love that Klaus had answered for her, cutting in before she had a chance to speak. It felt possessive, unnecessarily so—but frustratingly, he wasn’t wrong. She did have a deadline, and with Hayley arriving soon, her day was going to fill up fast.

She straightened up a little. “I should head out anyway. Rebekah’s still asleep. I’ll text her later.”

Klaus stepped forward without missing a beat. “I’ll drive you.”

Before she could respond, Enzo chimed in brightly, “Great. I’ll come too, then. We’ll drop you off, and Klaus can show me around after,” he said, his eyes fixed on Caroline.

His gaze lingered on her a moment too long, and Caroline instinctively folded her arms over her chest, shifting her weight.

Klaus’ posture tensed—just slightly, but she noticed. His jaw ticked. “No,” he said, calm but clipped, to Enzo. “Wait here. I’ll drop her off, grab some breakfast, and be back in twenty.”

Enzo raised his eyebrows. “Bit inefficient, mate. Could kill two birds—”

“I don’t mind,” Klaus cut in smoothly, but the steel in his voice was unmistakable. “You’ll be more comfortable here.”

Enzo blinked, surprised by the rejection, but he didn’t argue. It didn’t make much sense—why Klaus would go out of his way to make the same trip twice—but something in his tone made it clear it wasn’t really a discussion.

So Enzo didn’t insist. He sat back down at the table on the porch.

Klaus and Caroline got in the car without a word. Klaus pulled the door shut with a quiet thud and started the engine, his jaw set tight as he reversed out of the driveway.

Caroline buckled her seatbelt, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

“Charming,” she muttered, after a good ten-minute silence, keeping her tone airy, but there was a pointed edge to it.

He didn’t respond. Eyes on the road, mouth a flat line.

“I meant your friend,” she added, although Klaus knew who she meant.

Klaus finally looked at her, just a glance while he was driving.

“Enzo’s a player,” he said simply. “He has a wandering eye and an even faster exit when things stop being entertaining.”

Caroline raised a brow at Klaus’ comment, the edge of a retort already forming on her lips. She was ready to tell him that he was one to talk—Klaus, who rarely committed to anything beyond a night or two. The man practically had a subscription to casual flings.

But before she could deliver her well-aimed tease, the car slowed and came to a smooth stop.

They’d pulled up in front of their favorite brunch spot, a small café tucked between old brick buildings, with ivy creeping up the walls and the smell of roasted coffee beans wafting from the open windows.

Without saying a word, Klaus put the car in park and stepped out.

She watched him disappear inside, the morning sun glinting off the damp curls still clinging to his forehead. It gave her a moment to breathe, to steady her racing thoughts.

Five minutes later, he returned, balancing two paper bags and a drink tray with four cups, like a pro. He handed her a warm cup of coffee, the unmistakable scent of hazelnut and cinnamon immediately hitting her nose.

Then he pulled a container from one of the bags and handed it over with a little smirk.

"Can’t work on your article with an empty stomach,” he said, with a smile. He finally looked relaxed for the first time that morning.

She opened the container and blinked. Blueberry waffles. Her favorite. Extra syrup on the side. And her coffee just how she liked it.

Her chest tightened in that way she hated—annoyingly tender. But she covered it with a teasing smile, lifting her cup toward him.

“Aww, you remembered.”

He chuckled a soft rumble of amusement that reached his eyes.

“I haven't been gone that long, love.”

There it was. He called her love—and she didn’t mind it. God help her, she loved it. The way it rolled off his tongue, laced with that accent, warm and familiar and just slightly teasing. It did things to her she was trying very hard to ignore.

She turned her gaze out the window, willing herself to focus on the passing street instead of the man beside her.

Yes, she thought to herself, you’ve only been gone three months—but a lot has changed since then.

Caroline reminded herself of the promise she had made, once again.

She was done fantasizing about Klaus Mikaelson.

 

***

Caroline had tried to work most of her Sunday, fingers hovering over her keyboard, another fresh cup of coffee growing cold beside her. She told herself she’d start the article — the one with a looming deadline and a blank document still staring back at her. But no matter how many times she opened and closed the draft, she couldn’t quite concentrate.

Her mind kept drifting.

Eventually, she gave in. She reached for her phone, thumbed through her inbox, and opened a few of the emails Klaus had sent while traveling.

Some were short: a snapshot of a café in Prague, a funny sign in Istanbul, a quote from a book he’d picked up in Amsterdam. Others were longer, laced with dry humor and sharp observation, vivid descriptions of galleries and street musicians, stormy coasts and half-forgotten ruins.

Klaus had a talent for writing — his words were thoughtful, sharp, sometimes unexpectedly poetic — but his focus had always been on his art. Still, the emails carried something of him in every line.

Tucked between the paragraphs were attachments: a black-and-white photo of a rainy street in Florence, a scanned page of a poem he said reminded him of New Orleans, an abstract sketch drawn on a napkin.

She clicked through them slowly, soaking in the pieces of his life he’d chosen to send her.

There were selfies and personal photos, too.

A shot of him and Enzo at some rooftop bar, both grinning like idiots. Then a handful more — louder scenes, dimly lit bars, tables cluttered with glasses. In more than one, there were women. Beautiful ones.

In one photo, a girl had her hand on Klaus’ shoulder. In another, someone was leaning in close, whispering something near his ear, their faces too close for comfort.

Caroline’s stomach turned. She closed the images, jaw tightening.

She had no right to feel this way. She and Klaus weren’t together. And she had made a promise to herself.

Still, she shouldn’t feel that guilty. Getting over him is a process, she reminded herself.

Suddenly, she understood exactly why she hadn’t opened the emails earlier.

They weren’t helping.

If anything, they were dragging her backwards, unravelling the careful progress she had made in the past three months. One night back in town and Klaus had wiped out weeks of hard-won progress, dragging her right back to square one.

Caroline had been sure she was getting somewhere. Sure the worst was behind her. But now... now she knew she needed stronger action.

If she truly wanted out of this endless loop, she needed stronger medicine than silent resolutions and half-hearted distance. Something decisive.

Her thoughts were cut short by the sound of the buzzer.

Caroline sat up straighter, brushing her hair back and reaching for the intercom.

“Yeah?”

“It’s me. Let me in,” came Hayley’s voice, muffled but unmistakably casual.

Caroline pressed the button, her stomach tightening just a little. A few moments later, the familiar creak of the front door opened, and then Hayley was there — breezing in like a storm, tossing her oversized duffel onto the couch without ceremony.

“I’ve missed you so much,” Hayley said, wrapping her arms around Caroline in a quick, fierce hug that smelled like jasmine shampoo.

Caroline smirked, her arms still around her cousin. “That can’t be the only reason you came.”

Hayley pulled back, ignoring the remark for now as her eyes wandered around the apartment. “Wow,” she said, her lips curling into an impressed smile. “This place is cute. You’ve got taste, Forbes.”

Caroline crossed her arms, watching her with quiet curiosity.

“I have a feeling I’m gonna like New Orleans,” Hayley added, spinning slowly on her heel as she took it all in. “I’ll just be here a couple of weeks… if you don’t mind.”

Caroline shook her head, the smallest smile tugging at her lips.

“I don’t mind,” she said honestly. “Could use the company.”

Hayley made her way to the sofa and sank into it with the kind of exhaustion that wasn’t just physical. She dropped back against the cushions, kicked off her shoes, and exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for hours.

Caroline, still standing, opened her mouth to offer coffee, but Hayley cut her off before a word could slip out.

“I fought with my mom,” she said bluntly, rubbing at her temples.

Caroline paused, eyebrows lifting slightly.

“And with Tyler,” Hayley added, voice a little quieter now.

Tyler had been Hayley’s boyfriend for the last four years. The two of them had been practically glued together since college, their lives weaving together in a way that made most people assume permanence. Caroline had always thought he was perfect for Hayley.

In fact, it was Tyler who had introduced Caroline to her last boyfriend—Matt.

Matt was Tyler’s best friend. Caroline had met him during one of her summer visits, and what started as a casual connection quickly turned into dating. By the end of that summer, Matt had convinced her not to let it be just a fleeting fling. They could make long distance work, he’d said.

And for a while, they had. But eventually, the strain had worn her down. Matt had no intention of moving to New Orleans, and she had no intention of uprooting her life to move back to Mystic Falls for him. She wasn’t willing to abandon everything she’d built here, for Matt.

She had had no plans of abandoning her life here… no plans of abandoning Klaus.

“So,” Hayley continued—still talking about Tyler—exhaling through her nose, “we decided to take a break.”

Caroline froze for half a second, and then, trying to diffuse the tension the only way she usually knew how, she let out a breath and quipped with a playful sarcasm in her voice,

“Yeah, because it worked so well for Ross and Rachel.”

Hayley looked up at her, confused—clearly not catching the Friends reference—but didn’t comment. Instead, she pushed herself up slightly and asked, “Mind if I use your bathroom? I could really use a shower.”

“Yeah, of course,” Caroline said, waving her hand toward the hallway. “Go ahead. Make yourself at home.”

As Hayley stood, Caroline added, “And when you’re done, let’s order something unhealthy and drink something way stronger than coffee.”

Hayley managed a tired smile. “Sounds perfect.”

Caroline wandered into the kitchen, the late afternoon light casting soft gold across the counter as she reached for the bottle of wine. It was barely 5 p.m., but she uncorked it without hesitation, pouring herself a generous glass.

With one hand wrapped around the stem, she used the other to shuffle through a drawer cluttered with takeout menus, trying to decide between Thai and pizza.

She was still staring at a worn menu from the sushi place down the block when she realized—her purse. She’d need her wallet to pay, and she couldn’t quite remember where she’d left it. Frowning, she set her wine down and started scanning the room, already moving toward the living room when a knock at the door made her pause.

With a sigh, she padded over and opened it.

Klaus.

He stood there, casual as ever, holding something in his hand.

“The doorman recognized me, and let me in," he said simply, as if that explained everything. And without waiting for an invitation, he stepped inside, his usual confidence filling the room before she could react.

Caroline closed the door behind him, mouth parting to ask what he was doing there, but he beat her to it. Klaus held up her purse like it was some kind of prize.

“You left this at Rebekah’s this morning,” he said, voice smooth.

Caroline blinked, caught off guard for a moment, then reached for the purse with a mumbled, “Oh. Thank you.”

She turned without a word and walked back into the kitchen, setting her purse down near the menus and lifting her wine glass for another sip. Klaus followed at a slower pace, eventually leaning against the counter opposite her, arms crossed, casual and observant.

“So,” he asked, watching her over the rim of his curiosity, “how’s your day been? Did you manage to write anything?”

She let out a dry laugh, barely glancing at him. “Hardly.”

“Writer’s block, huh?” he said, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

Before Caroline could toss the question back at him—maybe ask if his city tour with Enzo included any new adventures—there was the soft shuffle of footsteps coming their direction.

Hayley emerged from the hallway wrapped in nothing but a towel, hair damp and clinging to her shoulders.

“Hey, Care—” she began, but froze mid-sentence the second she caught sight of Klaus in the kitchen. Her brows lifted slightly, eyes flicking between them before she added with a grin,

“Oh. I thought we were alone.”

Then she smiled—at Klaus. Not embarrassed in the least. Just… amused.

Klaus’ gaze flicked toward Hayley, taking in the effortless curve of her hips and the way the towel barely held on. She was beautiful, undeniably so, but his attention refused to settle.

Because just as quickly as he registered the image in front of him, his mind betrayed him with another one from earlier that morning: Caroline. In the shower. Steam curling around her silhouette. The soft line of her back.

He clenched his jaw, almost physically trying to force the image away. He was being a bad friend. The worst kind. That moment should have never happened. Should have never taken root in his head like it had.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Caroline’s voice, sharp and dry.

“Go put something on, Hayley.”

The no-nonsense tone cut clean through the moment, pulling him firmly back to reality.

Hayley disappeared down the hall, and the second her footsteps faded, Klaus turned back to Caroline with a crooked smile, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“And who’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the direction Hayley had gone.

Caroline didn’t look up from the takeout menus she was pretending to study. “My cousin. Hayley. She’s staying with me for a few weeks.”

“Ah,” Klaus said, still leaning comfortably against the counter. “Is she single?”

Something caught in Caroline’s throat. She coughed lightly, flipping a page in the menu as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Her fingers were too tight around the paper, knuckles a little pale.

“Yes and no,” she replied, trying to keep her tone even. “Tyler’s her boyfriend, but they’re on a break, apparently. That’s why she’s here.”

Klaus chuckled under his breath. “What in Ross and Rachel is that?”

Caroline let out a soft laugh despite herself, the tension easing just a bit. It reminded her how Hayley hadn’t even understood the reference earlier.

“Try telling her that,” she joked, shaking her head.

Klaus chuckled softly too, the sound low and warm. He glanced at Caroline, and for a moment, his gaze lingered. Here it was again — that slight withdrawal. The way she pulled back behind polite smiles and half-laughs. Just like last night.

She hadn’t said a word about the bathroom incident, hadn’t made a joke or thrown a snarky jab his way. That wasn’t like her. And it gnawed at him.

“So,” he said, casually, breaking the quiet, “do you think she’d be interested?”

Caroline’s head snapped up. “Hayley?” she asked, confused. “In you?”

Klaus gave her a look of mock offense, his eyebrows shooting up as he straightened from the counter ever so slightly, hand splayed across his chest like she’d wounded his pride. There was a glint in his eye, somewhere between teasing and faintly indignant, like he couldn’t quite believe she’d said that.

“Hey, I’m not that bad, love.”

Caroline let out a small, awkward chuckle, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. As if laughter could hide what really unsettled her.

It wasn’t Klaus himself—it was the idea of him with her cousin. The mere thought made her stomach twist. Hayley and Klaus? That was the stuff of nightmares.

“That’s not it,” Caroline muttered, barely lifting her eyes from the menu. “It’s just that, with Tyler—”

“They’re on a break,” Klaus finished for her, tone breezy. He stepped around the kitchen island like this was any regular conversation, then added with a grin,

“Your cousin’s probably just looking for a fling. And I’m the best person for that.”

Caroline narrowed her eyes at him, but before she could snap back, he leaned forward, grinning.

“Come on, love. Set me up with your cousin. That’s what friends are for, aren’t they? You can even invite her to the family picnic this Saturday.”

Caroline stared at him, her expression unreadable for a beat too long. Why was she overthinking this? He wasn’t hers. He had made it perfectly clear — a public declaration to Damon, no less — that he’d never date her.

Of course he would eventually date other people. So why did it matter if it was Hayley… or anyone else?

“Fine,” Caroline said finally, voice clipped, as she tossed the menu on top of the counter. Part of her hoped it wouldn’t work anyway. Hayley was still in love with Tyler. She always had been.

But as the thought settled, another followed close behind, sharper, more insistent. Maybe this was exactly what she needed — a strong move, something definitive to help her finally let go of the idea of Klaus Mikaelson.

This could be it.

If anything, she thought, this will make moving on a whole lot easier.

“On one condition,” she added suddenly, offering him a playful smile.

Klaus’ grin widened, clearly amused. “Name it.”

“Your friend, Enzo” she said, her voice steady. “You set me up with him.”

The shift in him was instant. That playful glint in his eyes flickered out. His smile froze, faltered, and then disappeared altogether.

“I told you, Enzo is unreliable,” Klaus began, his voice edged with something more than just concern.

Caroline didn’t want to hear it.

“Yes, yes, he doesn’t do serious, he’s got a wandering eye, blah blah blah,” she interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. “Sound familiar?”

The words carried a sharper edge than her tone, as if to say: you’re like that too, and yet here you are asking me to set you up with my cousin. If you deserve a chance, why shouldn’t Enzo?

Klaus frowned. “That’s different.”

“Is it?” she asked, eyes locking with his. “You’re a player too, Klaus. And yet I agreed to set you up with my cousin. So, you’re bringing Enzo to the picnic.”

“That’s for family only,” Klaus countered, almost too quickly.

Caroline raised a brow, her smile sarcastic. “You literally just invited Hayley.”

His jaw clenched slightly, and then he let out a low sigh, his gaze flicking over her face as if trying to read between the lines. She wasn’t budging.

His voice, when it came, had lost all its teasing edge. It was soft. Unsettled.

“Fine,” Klaus said, barely louder than a breath. “If that’s what you want.”

Caroline held his gaze. Her throat felt tight. Maybe she was being reckless. Maybe this would end in disaster. But she needed something, anything, to stop feeling like she was standing still, waiting for something that was never going to happen.

She nodded, barely, her voice quiet.

“That’s what I want.”