I apologize. Sincerely. My lack of updates is right to be scorned. So scorn if you will. I grant you scorning rights. Anyway, next chapter. I have around three....four? chapters left to write of this. I CAN DO IT! Because the ending is what inspired me and so I had to create a story around one scene I wanted which was a pain in the butt. Anyway, I'm nearly there!

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"You do realize there are easier methods of communication, don't you?" I asked Klaus that evening, after he'd suddenly appeared at my window. It would be a lie for me to say I was annoyed at his random visits; they were exciting, and did include a small fragment of that adventurous air many teenagers were alluded to.

Klaus smiled. "I'm aware, but that would effectively ruin surprise by the anticipation."

"Who said I'd anticipate it?"

He sighed deeply. "Fine, then. I'll return at a time of convenience."

Klaus shifted out the window as if he were going to drop from the second floor to the ground, but I shook my hands, feeling suddenly scared he'd actually leave. "No! I didn't....say that. I mean you're already here. No sense in wasting whatever you came here for. Which is.....?"

Klaus turned back, a small smile on his lips. "I wanted to share something with you."

"Another ballroom?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Family heirlooms?"

"No."

"What, then?"

He tapped the sill beside himself. "Come here."

I eyed it warily, glancing between it and Klaus's expecting expression. "You want me to....hang outside a window," I said bluntly, sudden adrenaline making my voice quiver.

Klaus let out a soft chuckle. "I'd hardly let you fall to your death, Love. At most, you'd have a fractured leg."

"Oh! That's very reassuring!" I let the sarcasm drip from my tone. "Thank you! No, I think I'll pass on that. Enjoy the view for the both of us."

For a second, I thought he'd actually cave and let me remain within the safety of my room. But in the next instant, he stood beside me, hands under my legs and cupping the small of my back. Then the light from my room disappeared, replaced by darkness and a prickling chill.

I squeezed my eyes shut, fingers clenching the collar of his shirt. I felt him lower me somewhere, but didn't release my hold until I was sure the foundation I sat upon was solid.

I opened my eyes.

It took a moment to adjust to the shadows that encased us, but then I felt the shingles at my hands and looked around. "We're on my roof," I said dumbly.

He chuckled beside me, crossing his legs and splaying his hands behind him. "That we are."

I gulped. "Why are we on my roof?"

"Roofs offer a brilliant display of the stars."

"Opposed to the safety of the ground view."

"Have a little faith," he said, stretching his hands behind him. He cast me a wry smile.

"So," I began, suddenly feeling fluttery. "Is this when we divulge our deepest secrets and pinky swear never to breathe a word to another living soul?"

His smile broadened and he let out a breathy laugh. "Deepest secrets? Something tells me I have more than you."

"More than a female teenager in high school? Pfft, yeah right."

"Fine, then," Klaus conceded, turning slightly to face me. The darkness had leeched the color from his eyes, but they still held their spark. "Tell me your most paramount secret."

I had to laugh at that, still keeping tabs on where the end of the roof was. The last thing I needed was to laugh myself off. Smooth. "Me? No. No. You're right, my secrets are nothing if not somewhat petty. They're dumb."

"I highly doubt anything you conjure could be labeled as such," he replied, resting his elbow on the shingles. It didn't look like a very comfortable position, but he seemed unbothered.

I shook my head. "Nope." 

"Humor me, Love." 

Oh, those eyes. I glowered across at him. "I thought only girls could do that. That....begging. Ugh, the one thing that's ours."

"I'm hardly begging. I'm suggesting. Do tell, Caroline and I swear never to reiterate them aloud again."

I debated, pursing my lips in thought. "Do I get a secret in return?"

Klaus sighed, exasperated , but caved nonetheless. "It'd be nice to rid myself of one."

I nodded. "Okay, fine. Ask away, but I need specifics."  

I watched him as he contemplated, tapping his chin thoughtfully. I was about to ask if he had it yet, when he lowered his hand. "What is your greatest fear?" 

That took me aback for a second and my mouth opened to answer, but nothing came out. It wasn't a question I often asked myself; I preferred the illusion of not being afraid of anything rather than to consider what it was I feared. 

An airy laugh escaped me. "Um....hmm. Not getting the prom decorations finished on time?" 

Now that was really lame. Beyond lame. I tried to mask my horror and gestured for him to wait. "Hold on, uh."

"You'll find that what you fear," he said, "is what is usually the hardest thing for you to admit."

"I'm trying to think, Ghandi," I said. I tried to recall any memories that really challenged me on my sense of capability and what I was most afraid of. But then mentally rifling through everything I took on, all the activities, I suddenly got an epiphany. 

"Me," I said, and just like he said, I found it hard to get the words past my lips. "In case you haven't noticed, I do a lot. I mean, a lot, a lot. I mean I already have a list of dorm room essentials and a layout of where I'll put what. Ugh, that's sad. And I know I do that because I'm afraid all I have to rely on is me. Because I'm....I'm good enough for me. But not for other people," I admitted. "I'm afraid I won't be good enough for the people that....matter the most. That I'll end up failing them."

A moment of silence bloomed between us, one he spent scrutinizing me. "I can relate to fearing one's self."

I sighed, stretching my legs out. "Okay, I said mine. Your turn."

He took a long breath, returning his eyes to study the bejeweled sky. "I've had a thousand years to accumulate and bury secrets, Caroline. Which one would you have me exhume?"

"Cryptic way to put it," I remarked, but contemplated his offer. What would I ask him? It was the equivalent to trying to decide a question you'd hypothetically purpose to George Washington or Marilyn Monroe. No question seemed adequate enough.

"Do you regret it?" I settled for, turning my head to read his expression. Much insight that's granted me. "If you could go back, and change all the bad things that happened to you; if you had the choice to undo it all just to be a good man, would you do it?"

His eyes seemed to darken, the moonlight blinking from them just for a moment. "My life is a long intricate tale, woven between the decades, a patchwork of centuries. It makes up a distasteful picture, primarily the color red.  And in the end, what do I have to show for it? Power. Control. That's what a thousand years have gained me." His eyes bored into mine and he seemed closer than he was a moment before. "Honestly, I cannot conjure an image of myself  in that sort of life. I've had no experience close enough to compare it to. It is nothing short of a fairytale to me." 

I didn't realize I was leaning closer myself, magnetized to him, his voice. "So where does that leave you now?"

He smiled ambivalently. "In search of moments such as this. Moments that make me wonder what it would've been like."

I didn't know how it happened. One second we're facing each other and the next, his lips were against mine. I didn't fight it, though. Didn't worry about falling off the roof. The roof didn't exist anymore. This world didn't exist anymore and I was swept away, to someplace where fairytales weren't just fairytales but very real and not as unreachable as they seemed.