She has her back to him when he enters, but he knows she knows he's there. He clears his throat. She doesn't turn around. Instead, she ignores him in favour of the painting he's just finished.

"You should really start showing your work. There's an art gallery that lets people-"

"I don't want people criticising a simple hobby I use to encapsulate the tediousness of reality."

"It's beautiful." She leans closer. "Tragic. She's trapped. It's heartbreaking."

"I was inspired by someone I know. She cannot seem to fathom the expanse of the world right at the end of her fingertips. She's afraid, so she locks herself in a cage with a small town dog."

She turns her head slightly, but she doesn't meet his eyes; doesn't even look in his direction at all.

"Caroline." His normally smooth and polished accent cracks at the simple word. Look at me.

"Klaus." She says it on a sigh. Like she's tired of this, like she hates it - always having to wave his advances off with a dagger. "Don't."

Stefan says something across the courtyard. She smiles warmly at him.

Love, smile at me.

He knows it's not a virtuous, and not to mention logical (he's just her best friend - but then again, the better half of the Salvatores still has more than he ever could have) quality to have on his part, but the jealousy bubbles up inside of what's left of his humanity. It consumes him and all his sees is red. He only stops himself from marching over there and snapping the bastard's neck at the thought of Caroline's disapproving look she'll no doubt give him as soon as Stefan hits the ground, unconscious.

So he just sits back and keeps a watchful eye on and around her.

When she turns her head and catches his eye, the corners of his mouth tugs in a slight smile. Her expression remains neutral before she turns back to Stefan and then laughs at a face he makes, the melody shooting straight through the rowdy space to tickle his ears. His smile drops and his heart lurches.

Klaus prides himself on his independence, despite wanting to have a family, or just someone during his lonesome dark private nights. He doesn't like people coddling him. He hates being fretted over.

Damon's deeply wounded thigh does nothing to deter the slight smirk from his bloody mouth, and it makes him want to rip the smug weasel's heart out.

He looks down at the dagger stabbed awfully close to his heart and growls.

"Oh my god!"

He turns around at her voice, trying desperately not to wince the action causes his gash.

She blurs right past him to Damon, who's lying on the ground, and fusses over him. "Are you okay?"

He falls to his knees and grips the handle of the dagger still lodged painfully inside his chest.

"Just fine and dandy, Barbie." She pulls the branch out of his thigh and pulls him into her lap.

Hold me, damn it.

"You're pathetic," Rebekah drawls. He casts a dark look at her over his shoulder. "You hover around her like some lost, lovesick-"

"That Donovan boy is looking over at you."

She pauses, then whips her head around and scans the bar before realising what he's done and spins back to him, hissing, "Shut up."

Ignoring her, he pushes off against the bar and makes his way across Mystic Grill to the group gathered around Caroline.

He waits patiently with his hands behind his back until she notices him and makes her way over.

"What's this?" she laughs when he presents her a small box. She fingers the neatly tied ribbon wrapped securely around it before accepting it.

"It's your present. Happy birthday, sweetheart."

He watches as she eagerly rips away the wrapping paper, and tilts his head down to glimpse more of her smile when she peeks into the box. She looks back at him, a beam on her face. "Thank you." He doesn't know where to look; the deep blue of her expressive eyes, the slight blush on her cheeks, or her mouth as it teases around the words, "I love it."

Love me. Please.

"Why do you love me?"

He pauses on his way to the SUV he found (stole) earlier today. He turns his head to the side, but doesn't look at her; doesn't allow himself the mix of pleasure and torture he has become accustomed to when seeing her. He imagines her standing there with her arms crossed and her head tipped slightly to the left in curiosity (right is for skepticism). "If you're composing a list of me against that dog of yours, I'm not interested."

"I-I'm not. I just... Where are you going?" Her voice becomes louder as she moves closer, spotting his suitcase. (He doesn't even know why he bothers with it since the one thing he wants to bring with him can't fit in there and doesn't even want to go with him.) "Why do you have a suitcase?"

He forces himself to turn around then, he wants to gauge her reaction when he tells her. He delays the news when he sees her, though. The streetlamp behind her shines a mystical glow about her, and the light bounces off the blonde of her hair, reminding him of her true innocence in comparison to himself and his vast history. His mouth slants at the exact mirror of her posture he had expected. "I'm leaving Mystic Falls."

"For how long?" Her tone suggests she knows his answer.

He appeases her anyways and says with finality, "For good."

She breath visibly stutters and she looks sharply to him. "Oh." She bites her lip.

He honestly didn't anticipate much else. But he can't help but be crestfallen nonetheless. Pathetic indeed.

"Tyler's-"

"Don't say his name." He resists the urge to twitch. That one word flows tenderly; adoringly from her lips, the way he wishes she would murmur his own. But no. When she utters his name, it's always with forced patience and politeness. "I am going to miss you dearly, love." He takes a step towards her, and when she doesn't flinch away, he moves until he's close enough to touch her but far enough that she doesn't have to tilt her head up to look at him. "When you realise that he isn't enough for you," he whispers, "That he can't make you feel things I can; take you to places he can't... look for me."

"Klaus," she whispers, a faint crease between her eyebrows. He watches her blink slowly, waits for her to say more. She doesn't.

"Until then, my love." He leans over slowly, allowing her time to back away, before gently cupping her chin and placing a lingering kiss on her cheek. "I'll be waiting."

Find me.