A/N: Here's a Valentine treat for you Klaroline loves! This isn't exactly set on a time during Valentine's day but I suppose we could use some fluff during these tough times. Happy Reading! (ONE SHOT, slightly ooc)

Bastard.

The word reverberated inside his head on a loop. Haunting him relentlessly in a cycle so painful he could barely breathe as he braved his way through the crowded street. People were bustling around him, and their shoulders bumped him carelessly,

-Don't you know stranger, it hurts. It hurts.

And not because they stepped on his foot or they brushed their limbs over the area where not five minutes ago he received a wind knocking blow from his father. Father. He scoffed spitting the word acidly from his lips.

And his mother, the one who tirelessly caressed his forehead to ease out the worry from her little boy when he used to cry because the other kids were mean to him, where was she? She watched, that's where she was. In the shadows of her own shame, where she thought his eyes couldn't reach her.

-She couldn't even look me in the eye. She couldn't look her mistake in the eye, damn it.

His feet scrambled with effort as he lifted himself off their living room floor, and with more effort he forced himself out of the only place he used to consider his home. Keyword, used to. Ignoring his siblings cracked pleas.

"Please, Nik. We can figure this out."

"Nik, you don't have to leave."

"We're still a family Niklaus."

Sweet, little Rebekah with her charming smile that could melt his big brother's heart, now ignored, his favorite brother now cold.

His closest brother Kol, with mischief always hidden beneath his grin, I guess I won't be there for the coming prank nights with you, brother.

And always the stern, authoritative, Elijah, don't construe his strict exterior for coldness, because he had always his siblings best interest at heart, the epitome of big brothers, but I can't listen to you right now big brother, not tonight.

The ground could have swallowed him that night and he wouldn't even realize. The rain pounded on top of his hood covered head, he was shivering although he knows the cold has nothing to do with it.

The people started to thin. No more too much bustling that would contribute to the continuous pounding somewhere inside his head.

-Please stop, stop it, stop it. It hurts.

What happens now? Now that all he ever believed in as a child was dragged from beneath his feet and allowed him to topple over and it would seem there's no resurfacing from this. What happens now? When the pillars of his person, the ones that helped him stand upright, the ones that made sure he felt like he belonged somewhere, suddenly draws the curtain over his eyes.

-My apologies son, was the play theatrical enough for your taste?

And the vice like grip that seemed to grow in his chest since he was in their living room earlier seemed to have tightened its hold again and his vision blurred.

Without further care, he haphazardly pushed a glass door open on his right, ignoring the harsh bright lights that assaulted his senses so quickly, he finds himself seated on the nearest booth, catching his breath.

"Good evening! What can I get you?" a voice that was too high pitched for his taste attacked his hearing and he groaned as she went on with some sort of gibberish that was plastered with the generic customer friendly smile.

"Just get me some coffee" Klaus grumbled while massaging his temples and not sparing the waitress a single glance.

He tried to regulate his breathing. Tried to muffle the sounds around him. It was too much, everything was too much. How can one person take this much, was it possible to even be salvaged at this point?

Tonight was supposed to be special, everyone was at home, their mother made her specialty and made plenty of it, she did. Elijah who was supposed to be dealing with his business in New York took the time off to be with his family. Kol, who was supposed to be in college, pried away albeit momentarily, from his weekly rendezvous with his lady. Rebekah who was just bouncing on her feet since this morning couldn't wait to share her big news of being accepted in her dream university.

And of course who could have known? He was supposed to break the news of his impending contract signing with a notable art enthusiast who has recently tied in with a famous gallery in the city, they were going to hire him as their main artist for an upcoming exhibit.

-But son, you see, you're not mine.

And then he lost count of the times his father's fist was acquainted with his face. The unexpected clatter of cheap (probably faux) china broke him from his thoughts and he found himself staring at a steamy cup of fresh coffee. When did I even order this?

He completely ignored the high pitched waitress until she got the note and walked away with a renewed conviction never to bother the brooding man who was drenched in rain, head still donning his jacket hood, and seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Klaus was about to pick up the cup and provide himself the relief of caffeine when he was yet again interrupted by another distraction, this time in the form of a young boy, probably not older than seven, with brown hair that were gelled to perfection and green eyes that he could have gotten from the mother.

"Do you draw?" the little boy asked as he littered a few pieces of paper and some broken pieces of crayons on the table. "I want to be an artist when I grow up. I bet I can be more famous than the Mona Lisa guy."

Klaus looked at the boy with disdain, he knows he probably don't deserve his rudeness tonight but bless those who crosses his path and go away unscathed.

But the little boy babbled on, unfazed by his eyes that would have had others running towards the opposite direction. "Hey, mister? I was asking if you can draw? You look lonely, did someone steal your colors? I can lend you mine if you want."

-Oh you have no idea how his colors were taken away from his hands by just a few words. A few words that were supposed to be harmless, lest they were put side by side in one petrifying sentence. You're not my son.

The boy seemed to have finally understood that he wasn't getting anything from the stranger, left his uninvited perch opposite him but not without leaving him with an untouched piece of drawing paper and a halved black crayon. "Just so you know, my mom always tells me never to stop creating something even if people are mean enough to steal my colors away." And with that he was finally alone. Well, as alone as he can be in a barely crowded diner with at least seven people in it.

Eight.

The number just turned up a notch higher as he heard someone with a tinkling voice come in. she brought in the freezing air with her as she pushed the glass door open. He couldn't put a face to the voice yet, as his back was to the door but he couldn't help but listen to her honey coated voice. (Whoever says honey coated nowadays, anyway?)

"Where are you?" she said through the phone as she passed by his table and he caught a swift but soft scent that he couldn't quite put his finger on. "I'm in a diner just two blocks away from our street." She sounded defeated.

She sat across from him. Well, if you don't count the two other benches bolted against each other and the two tables situated in front of each of them, they're seated across each other, with a few obstructions.( Okay, she was seated on the booth opposite to his.)

"I think you're just caught up on something? Or whatever, but I'll wait okay?" she put on a smile that was too bright, like she was trying to convince herself that yes, she's going to wait.

How could someone even bear the thought of someone like her be alone on a rainy night and keep her hanging on false hope? How could someone resist having her in his arms, running his fingers through the golden curls that delicately shaped her face, how could someone deny himself of the opportunity to look into those blue eyes that seemed to hold the answer to the world's most difficult questions, how could no one tell her how beautiful she is because the creases on her forehead and the way she bit her lip tells him she doesn't think she's that special.

He abruptly tore his eyes away from her when the nameless beauty flicked her eyes towards him, almost sensing she was being watched. So, he focused his gaze instead on the coffee that was now turning cold, and untouched. I'm not so different with this coffee now, am I. He released an unconscious sigh and quickly masked it with clearing his throat not wanting anyone (or you know, the nameless beauty) to know how much self loathing he is nurturing right now.

"Please," her voice had almost pulled his eyes back towards her but he stopped himself, quite forcefully you know. "Please don't leave me hanging this time." Her voice was so quiet, so soft, but so cheerless, it was the kind of tone someone used when she knows that it was what people do to her, leaving, like she wasn't enough for that someone to stay, like she knows that there was a huge possibility that she'll be stood up but she waits anyway. She begs anyway.

-Sweetheart, you shouldn't have to beg. You shouldn't be here waiting hopelessly for some knight in shining armor to sweep you off your feet and carry you to his castle.

The girl took her phone from her ear, sniffing and blinking rapidly as if willing the tears away. She ordered some hot chocolate from the waitress and began shuffling through her large purse for something and Klaus took this opportunity to gaze, (well more like ogle), okay we'll settle with gaze.

Finally, she took out a leather bound notebook with several bookmarks inserted in some particular pages, then a pen, she opened on a half written page and began scribbling.

And he gazed. Like there were no bounds, like it wasn't something creepy people do, like he used to do this all the time, like it was the first and last time he sees her, like for the first time tonight he wasn't the bastard, like he wasn't at family dinner tonight, like on a sudden burst of inspiration he braved the rain and went to this particular diner just to gaze.

There were a few moments she would look up and their eyes would meet but he would look away, like a freaking school boy with his first crush. Her forehead would crease, thankfully not with worry but with curiosity. And then she would go on writing. And his gaze would burn into her skin again.

-I wonder love, do you ignite? If I go on gazing at you like I do, would we burn?

Swiftly than he can comprehend, he took the paper and crayon the little boy left. This might be of use after all. And everything he gazed upon, he transferred on paper, it wasn't the best material to use but hell if he hasn't memorized every curve of her face yet. It was already there, engraved, emblazoned, producing reflections of lights on its surface.

She writes. He draws.

And in that solitary moment, everything else ceased to exist, every scratch of pen on paper, every scrape of the crayon on paper, there was only now. Until.

"Nik!" he was assaulted with a mass of brown hair and hazel eyes, an enormous youthful grin was permanently pasted on his face, "Found you!"

"Kol" he grumbled, not quite sure if he was annoyed that his brother found him and would probably drag him home or that his perpetual musings about a certain blonde, (who was now disrupted from his view) was dreadfully cut short. "If you're going to drag me home, you have another one coming."

"I know" he never heard Kol use the most sympathizing tone ever but now he knows it's genuine. "Look, Rebekah, Elijah, and yours truly thought we could hang out together, just us, like old times."

"Kol, you know what…"

"I know. We know. And you have to drill in that thick skull of yours that it doesn't change anything." When did he ever learn to become this eloquent when it comes to family? "They're waiting for us, come on." Kol fished some cash from his pocket and dropped it on the table. He stood up abruptly almost knocking out the untouched coffee and practically hauled his big brother out of the establishment.

In their haste, it had become too late before he realized that he had left his most prized possession (to date), on that table, in that diner, where the most beautiful girl he has ever laid eyes on would probably still be there, her forehead creased either in concentration over whatever he was writing about or why some stranger couldn't seem to pry his attention away from her since she stepped inside.

With a heavy breath he allowed his head to drop on the headrest of the smelly yellow cab, all thoughts of what transpired in the living room finally being overshadowed by a face that he has never seen smile but had the most radiant effect on his sullen, broken, rainy night.

Five Years Later.

The alarm blared on and on and was causing a number on her brain cells, and tell you what, they're fried. Awfully, exhaustingly fried. She tried to block the flicker of sunlight that was now trying to wedge its way through the little space between the curtain and the window.

Begrudgingly, she hoisted herself up and stretched as she fought her way towards the bathroom of her two bedroom apartment which she shared with her best friend Bonnie. Still groggy with sleep, she splashed cold water on her face to wash it away. She looked at herself in the mirror with a groan.

Pick yourself up, Forbes. You always pick yourself up.

She knew it, she had that inkling from the moment she stepped out of her house, stealthily dodging her mother's attention five years ago. How epically tragic of her to engage herself in a forbidden romance and thought she could get away with it.

He was her high school sweetheart, all boy-next-door smile and the charm of the prom king everlasting on his façade, he was the dream guy, or so her seventeen year old self thought. They could have done it, they could have run away despite their parents being so stern that they stay away from each other.

-Oh, because Tyler honey, she won't be enough. You need someone with political stature and a name that will boost your father's popularity during elections. She won't fit the criteria of a perfect wife to stand at the side of our future. Our future.

-Oh my Care bear, what would you have, getting yourself involved with them? I've heard stories of them that will take the bile out of your stomach in no time. Do you really believe they've acquired their name with clean hands? Politicians!

And so they would sneak out, exchange meaningful glances and small touches until it wasn't enough. They agreed to run away, start over, and build a life for themselves, because they were so in love.

Only it did not happen the way she imagined it in her tattered paperbacks. Only he wasn't as in love with her as she thought he was.

So in a brightly lit diner one rainy night, he broke her heart. No, he didn't just break it, he stomped on it, dragged it on the pavement, and clenched it in his quarterback fist. He held herself together as much as she could, she didn't want the entire diner population to watch her break down in fits of sobs. No, she was stronger than that. It's not like her father walked away from them the day of her first ever dance recital.

-Caroline, my sweet you'll be the most beautiful of them all and I'll be there on the front row cheering for you.

Only he didn't, he chose to walk away and never look back. She never believed in anyone since then. Until she met Tyler, but again she was proven wrong, and oh it hurt. It hurt so bad.

"Caroline!" Her best friend's voice resonated from outside the bathroom door.

"Indoor voice, Bonnie." She complained as she opened the door to reveal her friend already dressed for work.

"What happened to you? You should already be leaping into your finest clothes for your big event." Bonnie's eyebrows were pulled together while she assessed her usually perky blonde friend.

"Long night." She started to explain as she opened her closet and rummaged through her collection of dresses. "I had to make a few changes since they did a last minute addition to the artists that are going to be featured tonight. Hassle really."

"Nothing Caroline Forbes can't handle." Bonnie stated cheerily. "I have to get going though, there's toast on the counter and fresh coffee on the pot, I'll see you later."

They gave each other a beaming wave goodbye and Caroline was left to her thoughts again. The problem with being left with it is, her thoughts tend to wander to places it shouldn't. Not anymore.

She was thoroughly convinced she was over Tyler a long time ago and to prove herself right, they bumped into each other in one of the events she organized and they had a lengthy chat of the good old days, like it never bothered either of them. She left the venue that night much lighter than she had been for a while, she has truly felt herself let go and be the person she always wanted to be.

Who would have thought that a breakup in the middle of a freezing rain and being abandoned in a diner too bright would be the last straw for the truth to finally dawn on her that she needed no man to validate her existence and that she can spread her wings because she can and not because someone said so.

-But that's not entirely true, is it Care bear?

There was someone on that awful night who taught her to see herself in a better light. Someone who made her see how much she has missed seeing in herself all these years because she was constantly seeking out other people's approval. That too much of her youth was spent on believing she could have that whirlwind romance where a knight on a white horse would save the damsel in her. That she was more than what others think of her.

She kept it you know, that little piece of diner paper where her face was eternally etched with crayon. She kept it, she would stare at it for hours and not out of vanity but out of sheer curiosity.

-How could he? He, a stranger nonetheless, see me like this?

She shook her head over it so many times, willing herself to throw it away. But she never did. For half a decade it was with her, it was witness to her failures and triumphs, her growth, her expanding wisdom.

She would look at it and tell herself, I want to be that woman, I want to see the person that stranger saw that night, I want to see the parts of me I refused to look at but he shamelessly put into that picture.

"Nik M." She would whisper to no one in particular as she trace her fingers over the sign. With his abrupt departure from the diner that night with someone who appeared to be really close to him, she wondered how he was able to finish it in no time, even adding his sign below.

The shrill cry of her phone somewhere broke her out of her reverie and brought her down back to earth.

"Well I shouldn't keep my people waiting now, should I?"

"Ms. Forbes!" her client shook her hand enthusiastically, "I must say you never disappoint, you did a tremendous job again."

She grinned her happy smile that was quite infectious, "It's easy to work with professionals, and your artists have been remarkable throughout the years."

"Speaking of artists, my apologies on our last minute addition. That artist has been on my list for years and he has a colossal amount of projects and clients that he could barely squeeze me in, but fortunately I met his older brother a few weeks ago and you know we did business together, and here he is, gracing my gallery with his pieces fresh from his return from London!"

Caroline nodded, "Well, good for him I've worked my magic and did not make it look like he was a late comer."

They laughed in unison before he excused himself to greet the other guests and she found herself amidst the crowd while checking with her staff that everything is in order.

Champagne glass on hand she surveyed the pieces that she never got the chance to properly look at during the preparations. She walked through artist after artist but nothing has held her attention for too long and she would move to the next as swift as she came to the prior.

-That's because your most prized work of art is sitting on your bedside table.

She shook her head ridding herself with unwarranted thoughts. If she was able to move on from her ex boyfriend in a span of less than five years, she can definitely forget a brooding stranger with blazing blue eyes, full lips and an impressive talent on art. What? She's seen at least one of them. Ugh! Forget about Nik M.!

"Nik M.?" she blurted out as she stood frozen in front of one of the paintings. It was of a woman, her face barely concealed by a mane of blonde hair, a half smile on her lips and her eyes looking away from the artist. But more striking than the piece itself was the sign emblazoned on the bottom, although it was written with a color that was supposed to blend in with the rest of the piece, it flashed like a neon sign in her eyes.

"Niklaus Mikaelson." She said again but louder, "Nik M." Could it be?

"That would be me." An accented voice lulled behind her and if she was frozen earlier, she was definitely and completely immoveable right now.

"You must be the organizer, my apologies if my pieces arrived late, but you know…" his speech was cut short when slowly she turned around and their eyes met, and just like that they were transported back to five years ago, in the middle of a rainy night, in a diner too bright, when his muscles were sore but all he wanted to do was soothe the hopelessness out of the blonde's eyes.

"Nik, I mean Mr. Mikaelson" she stammered, for someone as talkative as her she seemed to have lost the eloquence she prided herself for.

The building could have burned itself down and they wouldn't have noticed, actually they wouldn't have cared. The masses could have gone into a riot and they would still be rooted on that spot. Hell, they could have been drooling for each other and they would have only moved to wipe each other's slobber. (Well, allow me sweetheart.)

"Did you…"

"So you were…"

They both said at the same time and again they were suspended in that dimension five years ago, when she wrote and he drew, and everything else ceased to exist.

"I hope you're not quite busy as to refuse a moment to walk with me?" he pierced her with a pleading gaze and he misunderstood her silence for hesitation. "Please."

-She's not hesitating sir if that's what you think, she's just… overwhelmed.

"Okay." She whispered breathlessly.

And for the first time since five years ago, they smiled. Together. For each other.

"So you kept it?" Klaus asked her amusedly and rather disbelievingly as they sat on a park bench.

"Of course I did. I hope you don't find it too creepy." Caroline chuckled nervously. "I mean, this little guy came out of nowhere and just waved it in front of my face.

He smiled a smile that she never thought she would see from someone who had the weight of the world on him when they first met. "I think I would say the staring I did that night should be the one that's considered as creepy, I'm still wondering why you didn't run away."

She laughed melodiously and he was loving it. Wait did I just say love?

"Maybe I should have, but I was so caught up with some things that it never crossed my mind. Besides, I believe it did more harm than good"

"It did?" it amazed him as to the astounding amount of times she could surprise him.

"Yep" she said with a beam, "I never thought someone could actually see me that way. I don't definitely see myself that way."

"But I do." He said lowly but loaded with years' worth of emotions. "I have ever since."

Caroline looked at him confusedly, all the while she thought that this stranger has forgotten about her the moment he stepped out of that diner.

"Was it me? That girl in the painting, in the gallery?" She meant it as a mental question that should have been kept to herself but she unconsciously blurted out. Blush bloomed on her cheeks and Klaus caught it and he chuckled in adoration. "You know, I don't mean to be…" she stumbled on her words.

-You weren't just a face in that diner, you know. You weren't fleeting and you've made quite the mark.

"Dance with me." He stood up and held out his hand for her to take, he paired it with a smile that he can't seem to wipe off his face since he saw her standing in front of his work.

Her mouth hung open and she cursed herself inwardly for looking so dumb. Hold yourself together Forbes, remember your mantra. She took his hand with a sheepish grin and she let out a barely concealed but surprised yelp when he suddenly twirled her around before landing straight to his chest with his hand around her waist, gently holding her to him and the other one holding her hand as if telling her he'd never let go.

-Because he won't, love. Not after that cursed night and you turned his world upside down by merely existing. Not when he wanted nothing but to run back to you and tell you things you should have known all along. That you're more than just a face amidst faces. That your presence is the kind that he will seek in a throng of strangers. That he should have kissed the worry off your forehead that night, but he just can't because it wasn't his place. Not yet at least.

"Did you ever go back?" his voice was unexpectedly too close to her ear and it had the most decadent lilt that she has to stop herself from fainting. "To the diner I mean." He looked at her with inquisitive eyes that begged her to tell the truth.

"No I never did." She answered after an excruciating second and looked away but a finger under her chin forced her eyes to look back into his. "Bad memories."

"All of them?" Why did he have to sound so vulnerable?

She shook her head honestly, the shadow of the past being overpowered by her inexorable light. "I kind of got a pretty good souvenir."

"I'm glad." They continued to sway on their feet, looking content to be held by the other.

-He's glad. Do you even have the slightest hint as to how much she had wanted to wipe off the gloom that emanated from him that night? How much she wanted to ease him out of his misery, because his eyes, his eyes that carried the weight that was veiled from the rest of the world but was ever present in his eyes. She wondered whether he even remembered how to smile, how to revel in the fact that laughter eases the pain away. And that she wrote about him that night, on her old, less than pristine journal, she played with different scenarios in her head what kind of secrets this man held. And when she had his drawing of none other than her face, she knew he was someone she'll always carry with her. He's glad and it makes her feel jittery inside that he is in fact, glad.

"It's you." He nodded referring to her earlier question in unabashed confirmation after a few minutes of them dancing to an unheard tune. "I never stopped. And since we're here and being honest and all, you weren't the only one whose life changed that night. Things turned out for the worst before I came there, but I went out feeling a lot different from when I stepped in if that even makes any sense, there's no word for it but it definitely was one of those moments when time lost its meaning and everything else…"

"Seemed to just fall into place." She completed his speech with a breathtaking smile and he couldn't help but share in her glee. How could he not?

-Sweetheart, you have no idea how many times and in how many ways I have imagined you smile since I never saw it on you.

"It did." Klaus whispered so huskily she must have stopped breathing. "Caroline?"

Her name on his lips never sounded like this on anyone else's. "Klaus?"

His face was so close to hers she literally stopped breathing, she could feel the tips of his fingers trace her cheeks, those curves he has committed to memory and to paper. "I want to kiss you so much right now."

-My brooding sweet stranger, I had wanted to chase you the moment I saw your drawing.

She gave him an almost imperceptible nod and he inched his lips closer until it tentatively but sweetly laid on her lips as if asking her if it was really alright. She answered by closing the gap (if there was still any), caressing her lips onto his, tasting it with gentle fervor which he reciprocated generously.

It drizzled that night.