He looks at the blond girl sitting in front of him. She's bended over the desk, busy making a note about something or the other. The light strikes her face at an exceptional angle. He notices everything about her, suddenly.

Sadly, he must make her forget.

A silly little human. With no memory.

And an immortal half and half.

With memories that will not leave.

Irony exists within.

.

He sees her standing in front of another painting, unmoving.

Someone might have thought of her as a statue.

Because that's what she is.

He looks at what he's done to her.

And turns his face away.

Quietness, of course, does not ever want to hear the screams of a broken heart.

.

Emptiness meets him half way however.

He wishes she could remember, oh yes he does.

But he knows, that remembering only brings pain.

And he cannot, he cannot bear to hear the screams of a broken heart as it breaks again.

So he does what he considers is the most noble deed he may do.

He makes her forget.

Even when his success lies in his misery.

After all, he's had a thousand years to practice.

.

Sadly, she hasn't.

.

He steps forth from the shadows.

Empty eyes come alive.

The familiar clacking type-writer keys.

And then…Gone.

Her face, however, is beyond any communication.

The same sad cycle all over again.

Misery. Misery. Misery.

Eyes that yell.

Help me. Help me. Help me.

No one's there, of course, after all, misery and help cannot exist together.

.

In the worst way possible, though, they do.

.

The next time he tries to make her forget, she screams.

She yells, and screams and begs, begs him, to let her remember.

For a moment he considers it.

And then he sees the tears trail down her face.

And he knows. He knows that he cannot bring any good to anyone. He cannot be the cause of good. Ever.

So he does the one thing that comes close to good that he can do.

He makes her forget.

He sees her standing in the middle of the street, surrounded by music, lights, all sorts of fragrances.

And in that one moment he feels something he'd promised himself a long time ago he'd never feel.

Self Loathing.

She doesn't say anything. Just looks at him with eyes that promise nothing but loneliness and emptiness.

Looking into her eyes, he notices something.

That she's given him everything she wants. Her body, her soul, even her love which he under no condition does he deserve from anyone.

And all he's ever given her, is pain. Misery. Hate.

That's all he's ever given anyone.

He tears his eyes away from empty ones, and walks away.

.

He notices everything about her, suddenly. Every tear shed, every frown, every manic decision of hers to grasp onto something, anything. He wishes she could remember what he'd tell her.

So instead of saying the three words he wants to say, he says the one word she deserves to hear.

He tells her he's sorry.

He'd probably feel better if she could say she forgave him.

He leaves. She doesn't notice.

Nobody sees anything.

Bats, of course, are blind.

.

His dreams, however, are filled with the familiar clacking of typewriter keys.

.

.

.

A/N: I really wanted to write one which was Klaus centric, and so I came up with this. I hope You all liked it, and review so I can write better next time.