Author: wsm021 PM
He needs her, the joke is that everything he's ever wanted is split between two woman with the same face. It's too painful to think about this future he's painted, she'll do anything to make it stop, she needs him. My response to the garbage that was 3x20Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Romance - Damon S. & Elena G. - Words: 3,650 - Reviews: 14 - Favs: 20 - Follows: 4 - Published: 04-27-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8063843
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
AN: I own nothing, evidence shown in the way I don't completely fuck the most important character. This is really just me tryna scare a bi**h straight.
She almost doesn't answer the door. It's three in the morning and no good had ever come of answering your door in the middle of the night. But this was Mystic Falls, and her best friend was a witch, if anyone was coming to hurt her they wouldn't get pass the door anyways. The closer she gets to the door though, the more frightened she becomes. It's him, she knows it him with the same certainty she knows her own name. She slows her steps in thought, when was the last time he used her front door? Was her bedroom window locked? Even so, why hadn't he just knocked there? The more questions she asks herself the more the dread builds inside her until her legs feel like lead. No good, answering that door would bring no good. But she couldn't ignore it. He knew she was there, could probably feel the heat of her hand pressed against the wood, probably listening to her shallow breathe, counting every beat her heart skipped. Why had she gotten out of bed?
He doesn't say anything at first. He wants to remember her like this, wants to indulge in the sight of her. He couldn't sleep, not for more than a few hours spread across days. It wasn't a problem really, he didn't need much sleep but he liked it. He liked passing the unnecessary time between consciousnesses. He wasn't eating much either, too troubled to spend any time in the kitchen he'd personally renovated. And he'd ditched the blood bags, not that he personally cared about that but the guilt that followed was beginning to wear him down. She would kill him if she knew, not with a stake because that would be too kind, but with her words. She would cut through him like melted butter, and he would succumb. Because he didn't want to hurt her, ignoring the fact that who he slept with was none of her business, he was still hurting her. The hours he spent in bed with feeding off of semi-willing donors were the hours he craved sleep most. He need this to end, and if she wasn't going to put a stop to this lunacy than he had too. "Do you love Stefan?"
She hadn't known what to expect. She'd opened the door and he immediately took her down and pulled her to the swing. The same swing where they would watch thunderstorms together and take a five minute break from the craziness that was their lives. The same swing where she would fall apart and he would hold her, never saying a word, until she was strong enough to do it herself. This swing was a safe zone, nothing bad ever happened there. So when he sat her down she just sat. And when the minutes ticked by in silence she didn't mind. He would do this too sometimes. After a particularly hard day he would come and just watch her. His eyes rotating between her pulse point and her heaving chest, memorizing the curve of her nose and the dip of her collar. He said he needed this, to know without a doubt that she was alive. Maybe it's because this was a safe zone, or because they were doing something they've always done, or maybe she was just a selfish bitch. Whatever the reason her brain to heart to mouth filter was off, and she answered him with complete disregard. "Of course."
Of course. As in stupid question, as in you already know the answer to that, as in you are a dumb ass Damon Salvatore. And he knew that. He knew that he was asking a stupid question, he knew the answer to his stupid question. But he wasn't a dumb ass, no he was a masochist. His mother had loved him and she died. Katherine, enough said. There was Christina in the 40's, he refused to turn her. Elena. Rose, he could have fallen in love with Rose. Back to Elena. Then Andie, who was such a breath of fresh honest fun-loving air he could have lost himself in her too. Back to Elena again. Except he never really left Elena. He's been in love with Elena since 1863. Everything, every single thing he had cherished in Katherine had been a lie. But it was real with Elena. Her light, in spite of her dark, her ability to let loose regardless of who was watching… That girl Caroline raved about, the one he'd caught glimpses of. Fun Elena, that was who he'd wanted all those years ago, that was who Katherine had pretended to be. And then he'd found the real thing, on his brother's arm. And it really was 1864 all over again. "And you're not sure you have feelings for me."
She doesn't confirm or deny. It wasn't even really a question. He was telling her, repeating to her the same thing she's been saying to him for months now. So why did it hurt so much? They were her words, her truth, and yet coming out of his mouth they stung. Why was he doing this? She hadn't seen him in days, which wasn't new anymore. They often went days without seeing each other now, without texting each other, without sitting on the swing staring at each other to make sure they were both still alive, still surviving. Not since the dance, not since their fight. She'd almost kissed Stefan that night, it was the almost that had made her run to him. Something had stopped her, and she didn't know what it was and she needed to know so she needed time. From him. Time to figure it all out. How much time, she didn't know and he'd called her out on not knowing much. He'd called her out on the fact that she wanted time from one, but from the new spring in Stefan's step, not from the other. He told her she could take all the time she wanted, because he already knew. But he couldn't have known, she didn't even know. And that's what she told him, while the tears ran down her face as he stoked her cheek his eyes burning with disappointment. That was the last time they spoke about something other than staying alive, the last time he'd let her lean on him. Now, sitting here, she wants to tell him he's wrong, it wasn't that she didn't know much, she didn't know anything. Because all she wanted was for them to be the way they'd been while Stefan was with Klaus and the thought alone makes her a horrible person. "I can't"
"You don't have to." He's not sure exactly what she means, whether she can't have feelings for him or she can't figure it out. It was of no consequence. This thing they were doing, this game he'd started, it had stopped being fun a while ago. Now it was tragic, and he was drowning in the sorrow of it all. She'd had given him something to fight for, to feel for and for the first time since he'd turned he had remembered what it was like to be human. He'd always be grateful for that. She was the reason he could do this, could concede to his brother, step back finally. Stefan forced him to turn, that was true but Damon lost his way, and when he'd stepped off the edge he'd done nothing to bring Stefan back with him. Until a beautiful seventeen year old girl had shown him that the human he had been was not lost in the transition. He would never go off the deep end again, never let his brother lose himself again and he had her to thank for that. And how had he thanked her, but guilting his way into her heart? By torturing his brother with the closeness of their relationship? She loved Stefan, and he was confusing her, hurting her. "It's done Elena, there's no choice. You can just be happy."
She doesn't know what he means, how, how can she be happy? You're happy when you have the things you want, she doesn't even know what she wants. She has two exceptional men, two men who have watched the world change and evolve who could be with anyone, and had still chosen her. How was she supposed to pi… wait. What did he mean there was no choice? Her breath quickens, and then there's a catch and huffing, if she hadn't gone through this before she would be terrified. The panic attack hit her like a freight train and all she can hear are those words on repeat in her head. It's done he said, there was no choice he said. But he'd also said he loved her, that he would never leave her. Which was she supposed to believe? Had he lied then, or was he lying now? Was he trying to scare her into choosing him? No. He wanted it to be real, that much she knew was true. Whether it was her tears or her smile, all Damon had ever wanted from their relationship was honesty. Was this honest enough for him, her lungs devoid of oxygen, the sweat in her palms and the quiver of her bottom lip, did he appreciate her honesty now? "You're leaving?"
Any other night, he would have laughed. She looked so stricken, as if the thought of his departure had never crossed her mind yet faced with it she doesn't know what to do with herself. Any other night he might have held her, might have told her she was a basketcase for even thinking he could leave. How could, how would he leave her when the time came? He didn't know, with her blessing he was sure he could do it. Over the last few weeks he never got past the welcome sign, plagued by thoughts of her dead, with Klaus, eaten by werewolves even. Instead he'd turn around, sit outside her window making sure her heart still beat in that three/four time he'd come to love. No he wasn't leaving, though he wished he could. He allows himself a small selfishness, a bit of happiness that at least she doesn't want him to go. She may not love him the way he needs her too, but he has no doubt that she does love him. Not yet, is what he says. When she's ready is what he means. But what she focused on was the part he never meant to tell her. The part where he understands the difficulty he's caused, and he's sorry. He should have backed off sooner, realized the hopelessness of it all. No matter what Stefan did, she would never walk away. She was committed and he'd tried not to see it but he saw it now. Whatever was between them, the passion wasn't enough. He knew he made her feel, he knew that. But it was against her will, without her consent and while some woman loved with abandon that wasn't Elena. Elena loved the way Stefan loved; innocent and steadfast. He was volatile, there were days he hated her more than he loved her, days he'd wished he never laid eyes on her and days he wanted to consume her with everything he had because she was everything to him. He could admit he wasn't stable, that their relationship would never be stable and though he loved her, that was not something he was willing to change. His eating habits and murderous tendencies sure, but he would not change the way he loved. He tells her that he thought he saw that in her, the way he saw it in Katherine, but he was wrong. About so many things, the things Katherine had pretended to be, the "Elena things" were a lie but the way she loved had been genuine. That similarity had been the reason he hadn't seen past her lies. And he'd just assumed that because Elena was the real deal she would love the same, but Katherine was not Elena and Elena not Katherine and everything he'd ever wanted in life was split between two women with the same face.
All she can think is how tired he sounds. He voice gets softer instead of rising, his tone melodic instead of choppy and if she didn't know any better she'd think he was reading a love poem. Because no matter what he said, no matter how he apologized or said he hated her or compared her to Katherine it all boiled down to how much he absolutely worshipped her. So when the silence fell she finally lets herself think. She thinks of a life where Damon is just Stefan's brother, and their civil maybe even cordial. And once Klaus was out of the picture she would turn, the line, the magic blood would end with her. Then what? She and Stefan would go to college, he'd earn another degree they would get jobs, live that way until they moved again went back to high school and did it all again. And again. And again. And it would be stable and it would be steadfast. Until one day he would come back, because he was Stefan's brother. And his gaze would linger a moment too long like because she was his sort of friend, the one he's attracted to and would love but doesn't because she would always be his brother's. And maybe one day he'll bring someone with him to visit. Someone pretty, and fierce and equal parts light and dark. And then he wouldn't look at her as anything special, she would finally just be his brother's girl. Maybe then they could even be actual friends and forget about the year they spent destroying each other with love. But then she can't breathe again, and if what she'd experienced before was an attack this was all out war. Her body was not having it, doing everything it could to combat what was going on in her mind. The casualties were endless; her kidney's ached, ribs were tearing against flesh, her heart couldn't carry a beat long enough and her veins were starting to feel constricted, her lungs were completely useless as she gasped and gasped never taking in enough. How could he do that to her, to them? The future in her mind was too torturous to think of, much less live through. She would never make it.
He doesn't know what to do. He's familiar with anxiety attacks, hers especially but this was different. Her face was crimson with the strain of trying to stay alive. He hadn't meant to compare her to Katherine, he knew what a trigger that was for her. But never had he seen this. She mumbling and even his hypersensitive ears can only pick up bits and pieces. The word no is pretty prominent. She's wouldn't ever be pretty, well that just made no sense. Was she having a psychotic break? This was too much, with everything she was already faced with he should have waited to deal with this. So he sat next to her, rubbing her back in that lazy pattern she loves so much. He sings softly, all the old ballads she and her mom used to enjoy. He does everything he knows to calm her down again.
She's an idiot. She needs him. Needs! Him. Like oxygen, or water. She absolutely needs him. And she loves Stefan, and she likes stability but she needs Damon. And not as her friend. She has friends. She needs him to look at her like she's god's gift to mankind. And to stare at her for so long that she starts to squirm and pick at her hair. She needs him to hold her and not talk so she can process the day. Or hold her and talk about everything until her mind shuts off and it's just them. She doesn't know why she needs him, doesn't know why the powers that be decided that Damon Salvatore was her life line, but he was. He was everything. The mundane, repetitive, steadfast future she would have with Stefan was perfect. It was everything post-car crash Elena had wanted. But she wasn't that girl anymore. She wasn't Stefan's anymore. She was post-sacrifice Elena, post-Klaus Elena. She was jagged and rough, and dark and unapologetic. She was equal parts selfish and selfless, she was strong and self-reliant. She was everything Damon had seen in her. Expect when she hid, too scared to move. Because people had expectations for her, for who she was supposed to be with and how she should act. He was right. Once you do what people expect you to, they keep expecting and you keep doing and you never live for yourself. She wants to live, and she needs him to do it.
He soothes himself with the steady beat of her heart and the calm inhale/exhale of her lungs. Her body was finally under control again. He tries to put some distance between them but she takes his hand. He doesn't look at her, doesn't respond but she doesn't seem bothered. Just takes his hand in hers and holds it. He doesn't even think she realizes because she isn't doing anything with it. She isn't tracing patterns or lacing their fingers together. She's just holding his hand. Friends hold hands, that's what he tell himself, so he leave it be. Just sits with her, willingly waits until she's strong enough to let go. Expect she doesn't. Instead she stands up, and takes his hand with her. Through the front door and up the stairs into her bedroom. He's too shell shocked to say a damn thing about it. He wants to tell her that this wasn't his intention. That she didn't need to trap him here, he wasn't leaving her. He could hardly fathom it before and after what he'd just witnessed he would follow her to the ends of the earth if it meant never putting her through that again. He wants to tell her so much but finds himself unable because before he can open his mouth she'd turned his world upside down.
Minus the full body ache, this is the best she's felt in years. The best she's felt since Stefan introduced himself, since she started the last chapter of her life. But that chapter was over now, completing volume one. This was different, this was no stepping stone towards the future. This was the rest of her life. She knows he's waiting for an explanation, she's got him so confused he's practically catatonic. Serves him right though, she doesn't think anything she's done or said has ever made him feel the way she felt tonight, has ever threatened what they have like the things he said tonight. She could love like him, maybe not Stefan or Matt, but she could love him like that. Would love him like that, because there was no other way to love Damon Salvatore. He was too much of everything, to love any other way, just wouldn't do him justice. He loved her with absolutely everything he had, even when he hated her. She would do everything, be anything he needed as long as he continued to love her the way no one else had ever thought to. She leads him to the bed, coaxing him under the sheets with the most soothing voice she has. She tells him that he can't ever leave her, because what happened tonight, the way she broke down at the mere thought... she was positive the reality of it would kill her. She tells him about her future with Stefan, they way she knows it would work and how lackluster it would be. A farce really; perfection in such a blatantly imperfect world. She couldn't live that life, not anymore. She had been surrounded by death for so long that it would probably take centuries of work to really feel alive again. A job she hopes he was up for. She tells him everything, every confusing incomplete thought that barely makes sense to her but she knows he needs to hear. And in the end, just minutes before dusk when he's staring at her like she's god's gift she tells him it's okay to sleep. That she'll be there in the morning. And she holds him tight enough to bruise because they both need it. Though she stays awake a little longer because he still had doubts and she's scared he's going to leave. It would be fine she knew that because he was right, it was done, there was no choice. They could just be happy now.