Hey everyong! I'm back with this one-shot. The inspiration for this piece came to me out of nowhere. It is totally random, and OOC. A/H AU. I hope you enjoy reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Enjoy!

I wish it'd been easy. As easy as it was in movies, and books and TV shows; in those cases, the heroine always ends up with the hero, and they live happily ever after.

Our story was not like those. We were nothing alike, we had nothing in common, and most of the time we wanted to drive a knife through each other's heart, and wait there, witnessing our partner's death. That's how much we hated each other.

But we loved one another with the same blinding intensity. Our love was not healthy, nor was our relationship. It was obsessive and sick. We were both very fucked up; me, I was an emotional mess, and a clingy person, also extremely jealous. I guess we did have something in common after all: our possessiveness. The constant urge to announce to the world we owned the other, and we'd do anything to keep it that way. His possessiveness consumed him and blinded him; he would have killed anyone if they ever looked at me the wrong way, or if their eyes lingered on me for more than was socially acceptable. Many women would have felt violated and angry at having such a controlling man with them. But not me. Never me. Because I knew that it was the same for me, I would do the same for him. And it made me feel flattered that he felt that way.

We were both mentally unstable, people would say. But what they meant is that we were completely insane. And yes, we were.

When I first met him I was only 17 years old, and he was 7 years older than me. My parents had just died the night before, and I was in a pitiful state. I can remember that moment as if it had been yesterday.

I was at my parents' graves. Having taken Jeremy's weed, I was high as hell, well into my fifth or sixth roll. Then he appeared right in front of me. I can still remember his eyes, his most recognizable trait. There was not a color to name the exact shade of those orbs. When I looked into them, they made think of mercury and the bluest Caribbean sea, mixed together. His eyes held no warmth, though. No emotion whatsoever was displayed on them, or his face for that matter. We stared, more like glared, at each other for what felt like ages. Never once during that time did he show any emotion, either with his eyes, face or body language.

I remember thinking: "Wow, this fucker is creepy as hell". Then I opened my mouth to tell him to get the fuck out of my face, but instead I asked: "Who are you?"

That was the first time his emotionless façade broke. He seemed surprised that I had addressed him.

"Damon Salvatore". I remember that moment now, and the sound of his voice, when he told me his name, still makes me shiver, bringing goosebumps everywhere.

I didn't tell him my name back. I only nodded, still out of breath, gathered my stuff and fled the fuck out of the cemetery. That night images of Damon, my creepy stalker, plagued my dreams. I woke up in the middle of the night, still panting from the really vivid dream, where Damon was banging the hell out of me, against one of the gravestones.

I wished I'd told him my name…

I went back to my parents' grave every night for the next month and a half, hoping to see Damon one more time; I didn't. I could feel his presence in the cemetery with me every night, but he never showed his face to me.

Eventually, I grew exasperated by his cowardice and stopped going, stopped seeking him out.

The night of their first death anniversary was the night I went back to Miranda and Grayson Gilbert's graves. By then I'd grown quite fond of marijuana, so I brought my stash with me. However, what I found when I got there made me drop the weed and forget all about it. I was left speechless.

There was Damon, standing a few steps away from their gravestones. That night was the beginning of our crazy relationship. The relationship that would end our lives.

Later I found out that he'd been going to the cemetery every single night, but at first he was reluctant to come to me and face me. After I stopped going, though, he'd sit by the graves, in the hopes that I'd come that night.

I finally gave him my name.

"It's nice to finally put a name to the face that's been haunting me for over a year" He said. That's when I fell in love with Damon Salvatore.

Some nights we'd talk endlessly, other nights we'd just sit there, sharing a comfortable silence.

I learned a lot about his life during our talks. He was 25, had no siblings, and he was an orphan, just like me. At first he was reluctant to share his life history with me, but finally he opened up one night and told me. What I heard that night left me in tears and made me love him even more.

His father was a drunken, and a kept-man, he was also very violent, both to Damon and his mother. His mom, Tara Salvatore, was a nurse, which demanded her to spend a lot of time out of the house, and at the hospital. During which time, his tragedy took place.

He didn't remember exactly how old he was when his father started raping him. It was not only Damon's father who raped him, though. The sick bastard used to offer him like some piece of property to his drunken friends, and poker buddies, when he ran out of money to gamble with.

This went on for years, until one day Tara Salvatore arrived home from work earlier, and found her beast of a husband on top of a 12-year-old, crying Damon. She grabbed the first thing she could find, a knife, and ran towards the sick bastard, stabbing him in the back multiple times. Once he stopped moving, she dropped the weapon and made to walk over to the sobbing Damon, who was curled up in a ball, in a corner crying his beautiful eyes out, and comfort him. She never got to, though. Giuseppe Salvatore was not dead, not yet at least. He picked up the knife Tara had dropped and in a fast move, he drove it through her heart, killing her instantly.

Damon told the story with such an unattached voice and with a distant look on his eyes, as if he were telling a story he read on the paper. Meanwhile I was a sobbing mess. It broke my heart to know how he had lost his mom, the only good thing in his life, so suddenly.

And I was also livid to know that bastard had taken everything from Damon: his childhood, his innocence, his mom.

That was the first time we had sex. It was violent, angry and needy sex. It was perfect.

Our relationship progressed from that. We'd meet every night at the cemetery, and we'd fuck until dawn. I lived only for those moments, and it got to a point where sex with my sexy stalker was all I could think about all day, and I counted down every second until I could have him again.

We became the other's core. Our worlds revolved around one another. He became my everything, and I became his.

I was the only person he ever only opened up to, and he was the only person that knew the real me. The psychotic side of me I kept deeply inside; locked away so no one, but Damon, could see it. And he got off on my psycho self.

After a year of our hidden meetings, and endless sex, on all the gravestones in the cemetery, we decided to run away together. I left my life in Mystic Falls, Virginia behind me, and never looked back. I left without any sort of explanation to my little brother Jeremy, my aunt Jenna, her husband Alaric, or who used to be my best friends before the accident, Bonnie and Caroline. They never knew what really happened to me. For all they know, I had been kidnapped, and sold as a sex slave in a third-world country. And if anyone asked, I'd told them that I'd do it again, a thousand times, if it meant I could be with Damon. He was the center of my universe, and the only person that mattered to me. Without him, life was not worth living.

Damon and I travelled the world together. We fucked on the Statue of Liberty, I sucked him off on the Great Wall of China, he ate me out in Machu Picchu, we made out in the Antarctic, we held hands on the London Eye, on the Eiffel Tower I slapped a bitch for checking out his ass, and he pushed a guy off a boat in Ibiza for looking at my cleavage.

We got married on a yacht in the Indian Ocean. I wore only a two-piece swim suit, and he only wore white swim trunks. Light dusting of hair shadowing his pectorals; down his abs an arrow of dark hair descended beneath his shorts. After the vows were exchanged, and we sealed them with a full make-out session, we dove into the water, and we swam towards the shore, where a little tent and fire awaited us. We made love for three days straight, only stopping to eat, and to attend nature's call.

We were back in the States when it happened. It was in Chicago, and we were sightseeing when he fainted for the first time. At the time we paid it no mind, but he fainted twice more that day, and multiple times in the next couple of days. Damon would say it was nothing, and to not make a big deal out of it. But after five days of him constantly fainting, and throwing up once or twice, I thought enough was enough. So I dragged his ass to the nearest hospital. He bitched the entire way there, but he fainted once again, just upon entrance to the ER. He was quickly admitted, and was rushed down the corridors. I ran along, until some nurse stepped in my way, telling me that was a far as I could go. I was about to punch her in the face, when a guard intervened and dragged me to the waiting room.

After the longest four hours of my life, a doctor finally came into the room calling for Elena Salvatore. I rushed to her demanding answers. The answer I got, however was not a good one. It knocked the air out of my lungs, and left me panting for breath.

"I'm so sorry Mrs. Salvatore. There's nothing we can do at this point. The cancer has spread to the brain and his lungs. It's too late for any treatment to be effective. The best thing you can do is take your husband home, and let him spend his last days in peace".

I felt the world crumbling beneath my feet. The walls were closing in on me, and I couldn't breathe.

"H-how l-long?" my voice broke when I asked the doctor.

"Three days at last". And with that, my world ended.

The center of my whole universe only had three days left to live. I wondered how life could be this fucking unfair. I had buried my parents just two years ago. And now my husband, my everything, was dying too.

I was left with nothing. I felt hollow, helpless. Life had no purpose anymore. When Damon died, what was there left for me to live for?

Telling Damon was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. I guess telling someone that their days on this earth are limited is never easy. He took it calmly, though. And after a few hours of talking, crying, arguing and yelling, we decided what we were going to do.

…

We spent two days in bed together. Making love, holding hands, kissing, and just reveling in the fact that we were together and happy. I cried a hell lot during those two days, and a few tears escaped Damon's eyes, too. We didn't want this to be goodbye, but we both knew it was.

…

On the third day, the last of our limited time together, we went to the Sears Tower, and we managed to sneak in to the bank of elevators. We took two cars, and a flight of stairs to get to our destination: the roof.

Once there, we slowly walked over to the edge, both hands held firmly in the other's.

"Elena you are the only person that matters to me. You brought light into my life, and I love you so much for it. I fell in love with you that night we first ran into each other. That year shared with you at the cemetery is the happiest I've been in my life, until this moment. You are my everything, and you always be. Infinity times infinity". I cried at hearing him repeat his wedding vows to me. I loved him so much.

"When I thought life was not worth living, you showed up at my parents' grave. I thought you were a coward for not showing your face after that, even when you knew I was seeking you out. But then I found you again, and the nights we spent together at that cemetery were the happiest moments of my life so far. I lived only for those moments that I could have you in my arms. I love you now, as I loved you then, and I always will. Infinity times infinity times infinity."

Our hands tightened around the ones we were holding, and we shared one last passionate kiss. We could feel everything we'd just said in that kiss. It was full of love, and sorrow, happiness, pain, and helplessness.

When we parted we looked deeply into each other's eyes and saw all the emotions we were feeling, reflected in the other.

I love you… we mouthed at the same time, making the other smile sadly.

This was the end…

Still looking into each other's eyes, we silently counted to three. Then we jumped.

The last thing I ever saw while still in this world was the man I loved with all my being; his beautiful eyes and smile. And I found comfort in the fact that I was the last thing he saw.

We smiled at each other one last time. Then everything turned black.

Damon's POV

Death did not do us apart. We knew we would be together forever. Death was only a state. We would be together for eternity. Infinity times infinity.

A/N

Disclaimer: I do not own TVD, or any of the characters here presented. However I DO consider this plot line MINE. Say no to plagiarism!

I borrowed the "Infinity times infinity" from ABC's AMAZING show 'Revenge'. You should totally check it out.

Okay, that's all.

xoxo,

AlexisPetrova ;)