Just a short drabble to accompany the edit I did. I visualized this as Klaus as the elusive painter falling in love with Caroline the America's favorite popstar and their rendezvous place is Rome. Written for Klaroline January Anniv! Thanks for reading!

With him, it's a grand exhibit of paintings, each one worth a place in the Hermitage. Other times, it's as simple as a sketch left on a subway or a graffiti etched on a wall in Paris. Always of a mysterious girl bathed in white and gold.

With her, it's a cover video or a one-liner lyric posted at 3am. Sometimes it's a random melody she would suddenly strum in the lull moments of a live concert. Other times it's a full album of songs about a pair of eyes as blue as the sea.

Theirs is courtship that baffled the whole world but–

It's not a courtship when there's nothing to claim.

In stolen moments, underneath the sheets and away from prying eyes, they would be skin to skin, not knowing where one ends and the other begins. There would be no need for fronts and lies. He would be her stringed instrument and she would be her canvas. They would speak no language but the language of their lips and hands.

Coming up for air hours later, they would be at their most productive. He would fill up his journal with sketches after sketches and she, of would-be hits that would make her producer proud.

They would hide away for days and on the last moment, only then would they say out loud what they've been telling each other all along with their kisses and touch.

I love you.

Until the next time.

Because sometimes you just have to say the words.