Disclamer: If I owned TVD, Klefan would have babies.

Summary: During his ninety years without Stefan, Klaus never stops thinking about him.

Author's Note : This was inspired to me by "Lego House", both lyrics and music video by Ed Sheeran. Please listen to the song if you haven't, and do NOT forget to review. It's my first time writing Klefan and I'm terribly nervous. Did I do good at keeping the nature of Klaus' feelings ambiguous? Love y'all - M.

Lego House

Klaus easily spotted Rebekah, lip-locking with a man. While he should have been worried about his sister's promiscuity, it was the man who caught his attention. He was annoyed that she had found herself a partner while he repeatedly failed. It had been so long since he'd met a decent male companion that he paused just long enough to picture what it could be like, if he and this man became friends.

With his history of running, or snapping and killing people, it'd be very similar to building a house of cards in the sand – the slightest gust of wind could blow it away, but the fun was in building it up again and again, hoping against the rules of gravity that it'd stand proud. He sighed. To build anything, he'd have to pick up the pieces of his past first and he had no energy to devote to that.

However, as he mocked Stefan's funny hair and reasserted his authority on his sister, Klaus felt his interest for the other man grow when the young vampire defiantly looked into his eyes. That was when he knew Stefan Salvatore would shake up his world. That's when he decided to build a house of cards with him. If things went wrong, they could knock it down and dispose of the arrogant young vampire.

"I've changed my mind," he said cheerfully as he pushed Rebekah towards the banquette. "Why don't you and I get to know each other, Stefan?"

—

"Stefan, I'm sorry but the fun has to end here," Klaus said. The powerlessness in the green-eyes made it difficult for him to breathe. Stefan was just like him, a lonesome wanderer. They had become two halves of one whole in a short amount of time. Incomprehension was painted all over Stefan' handsome features.

But there was no time to explain, and no time for goodbyes, so Klaus compelled him. With three little words, "you must forget", he knocked down the house of cards. The thought of letting it all go to waste was unbearable, so despite the growing agitation around them, he knew it wasn't an acceptable solution to permanently erase Stefan's memory. He had cared for this one too much. "Until I say otherwise, you never knew us, Stefan."

The other one nodded imperceptibly, subjugated. Klaus wondered if he'd understand later. If he'd forgive him for walking away without him, for not trusting him quite enough to let him access the last part of his life that remained a secret.

"Thank you," Klaus added, his voice vibrant with emotion. "I'd forgotten what it was like to have a brother."

A mere second later, he vanished, already feeling a whole growing inside of his chest. On the way out of town, he convinced himself that he'd done it for Stefan. If Mikael was tracking them down, then it wasn't the kind of life he wanted for Stefan. No, that one was a wild wanderer. An artist who needed a stage every single day, not the life of a fugitive. He did that for Stefan.

Klaus decided that, when he'd kill Mikael, he'd made him suffer from taking Stefan away from him.

—

It was dark in a particularly cold December. Being in Chicago was putting him in a killer mood – memories of his time here with Stefan tormented him. More than usual, he wondered where his friend was, what he was doing. Had he found someone to hunt with? Did he share his victims' neck with another vampire, now?

He made his way through the crowd without looking, feeling estranged from the festive atmosphere. He'd have found his way to Gloria's bar in his sleep and wasn't surprised to find it open. The dark-skinned witch acknowledged him with a short nod.

His eyes browsed through the room and behind the bar, where he finally found the object of his visit.

"I think this belongs to me."

Gloria followed his gaze and shrugged, visibly surprised that he'd come in person to retrieve this. When she handed the photograph to him, Klaus avoided her eyes, feeling like she knew how much this item and the moment it captured were precious to him.

"Merry Christmas," she simply said as she walked away to other patrons.

He stood there for a moment, staring at the photo. Klaus silently growled. For a moment, as Stefan put his arm around his shoulder to take the picture, he'd held his hand briefly, giving a light squeeze. He'd hope to see that on the picture, but it didn't matter. Nothing was forgotten. Not a smile, not a moment of banter, not a second of feeding together, not the sensation of Stefan's arms around him – it was all saved, ready to be recalled and safely locked into Stefan's mind.

With a content sigh, Klaus stepped onto the concrete, faintly annoyed at the violent gusts of wind. He brought his hand to his jacket, feeling the picture there. As a vampire, he couldn't feel the cold, but if he could, he'd have Stefan to keep him warm anyway.

—

Lying on a deckchair on some fancy beach, Klaus felt broken. His every attempt at killing Mikael had failed, and thus, he couldn't risk awakening his siblings just yet. He felt tired. Tired of always having to plot and scheme and be careful and hurt and maim.

His gaze wandered to the other people on that beach, and he felt on the outside looking in. Those people seemed to be cruising a peaceful lake while he was caught in a raging storm. He just didn't want to fight the waves anymore. He had no reason to keep fighting. He'd caused Henrick's death, killed his own mother, waged a war against his father and put his siblings to sleep. He was alone and his existence had no meaning.

A child interrupted his thoughts; a boy who came to retrieve her plaything. His father yelled at him in Italian and Klaus thought the Universe was sending him a sign when he heard the boy's name.

Of course. How had he not thought about this earlier? He was tired of fighting the waves; he needed shelter. He needed Stefan - he needed to be looked at with admiration instead of fear; to be encouraged instead of judged. He needed to feel like someone was looking up to him, respecting him, loving him.

Only Stefan could make him feel like the king he didn't believe he was. Only Stefan's vibrant voice could convince him that his eternal life was worth living, in hopes that one day, he'd be able to break free from Mikael's hold, and bring back his family and pursue the things he'd always longed for, deep, deep inside: love.

Smiling benevolently to the child, Klaus immediately decided to find him.

—

As he let his victim's body fall to his feet, Klaus ignored the whole forming in his chest. It'd been seventy years. Seventy long years without him. "Out of sight, out of mind" was the single stupidest saying Klaus had ever heard. All he could think about was the last time he saw Stefan – in London.

Klaus expected to be a stranger in Stefan's eyes. He was willing to give him their memories back and start anew. What he hadn't expected, however, was that Stefan would be a stranger in his eyes. The brooding, self-hating vampire he observed from a distance had nothing to do with the Stefan that Klaus knew, loved and missed. They were out of touch, but Klaus refused for them to be out of love.

He promised himself to find Stefan again as soon as he'd dealt with this whole doppelganger mess. His friend was down, and he'd pick him up; nurse him back to the Ripper of Monterrey, to the magnificent being that had occupied his thoughts for so long. Out of all the things he'd do, this one would be his most special project.

"Out of sight, out of mind"? Rubbish. Behind his every action was someone he no longer saw, but who he was constantly thinking about. After all the places he'd visited that he was certain Stefan would have liked, after all the sweet blood he'd tasted that he wanted Stefan to enjoy with him, after all the tricks he'd played on clueless humans that would have made Stefan proud … Klaus honestly thought that, when they'd be together again, he'd know how to love him better. Soon.

He'd do it all for him, in time.

—

Klaus sat on his balcony in Paris, staring at the Eiffel Tower from a safe distance. The sunset light shone quietly against the iron giant, making the sight to die for. The Original heaved a sigh, once again feeling like something – someone – was missing. He distractedly reached for his sketchbook. Drawing always relaxed him; the sound of charcoal scratching on paper never failed to soothe his troubled soul. Never looking down from the beautiful French sky, Klaus let his hand travel all over the piece of paper for a while.

Funny, he thought as he lowered his eyes to discover what his hand had drawn. It wasn't the first time he found himself drawing the contours of Stefan's face. The renowned funny hair, always impeccably styled to convey a sense of casual and elegance at the same time. The high cheekbones that gave his visage a faint aristocratic touch. The masculine jawline which let you know that you were in presence of a strong personality. The discreet, genuine smile smile across his lips that was reserved to the rare people he trusted.

In every particular, Stefan was a visual work of art; Klaus had always marvelled at it.

He looked at his drawing again, and smiled. If things went right, he thought, they could frame this, as proof that their unexpected bond had never weakened on his side. They could put it on a wall in the house they'd share, out there for everyone to see.

—

Thoughts of his brothers often crossed Klaus' mind. It was a luxury he couldn't afford, but sometimes, in the privacy of a dimly lit room, he indulged in a travel down memory lane. The walks with Finn, the friendly fights with Kol, the long talks with Elijah – in all honestly, he sometimes missed them.

But more often than not, he found that brotherhood not only encompassed those to whom he was linked by blood, but that careless vampire he'd had been lucky enough to meet during the Roaring Twenties. Stefan Salvatore had become his brother.

While Klaus wasn't delusional enough to believe his siblings would embrace the family lifestyle when he'd eventually un-dagger them, he believed he could resume his relationship with Stefan as soon as they'd finally reconnect. All he would have to do was let him remember. Surrender up his heart and ask for forgiveness. It was hard for him to say those words, but he'd say them to Stefan. Because in his long life, Stefan had been the one to see greatness in him, instead of wretchedness.

—

Three words had started this, and three words had to end it.

Klaus stood there frozen, anxious to be reunited with his long-lost companion. Stefan gave him an amazed glance, and breathed the words Klaus had been yearning for, all these years. "I remember you." He couldn't hide his growing smile. Finally, the time had come. He didn't want to hold back any longer. The braces were breaking; it was more than he could take. He took a step towards Stefan as if he couldn't believe any of this was real until he properly touched him.

"We were friends," the young Salvatore said.

"We are friends."

As they looked at each other and Klaus' hand came to rest on Stefan's shoulder, grasping the very tangible reality of his presence, Klaus realized that he couldn't remember how it felt, during those ninety years, to be incomplete. He held Stefan's gaze a little longer, and smiled to himself, promising to never let go again. There would be no more cold Decembers, no more storms. I will love you better, now, he thought.