The Heavy Silence
A/N: Damon Oneshot. Post 3 x 18, pre 3 x 19. Finishes where my drabble 'First Kiss' (uploaded separately) begins.
Disclaimer: I have no claim to The Vampire Diaries or its characters. Huge respect to LJ Smith, Julie Plec, Kevin Williamson, The CW and the many many people who go into making this series.
Damon lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. The silence was deafening, except because he was a vampire it wasn't really silence, it was the absence of significant noise. He could still hear little noises around the boarding house, the insignificant tick of a clock or the moment of leaves as a stray cat explored the garden looking for as safe place to have kittens. Damon smirked at that one; they had to be the only vampire household where animals were less safe than people, though he somehow doubted his soft touch little brother would drink from a pregnant cat or her kittens.
Damon was usually very good at distracting himself, either with alcohol or blood or alcohol and blood or alcohol, blood and women. Tonight, after Rebekah's torture treatment, he was somehow unable to turn to either of these crutches sufficiently enough to push the bad feelings away.
He was free. He was healing, physically. But he was alone. She hadn't come for him, as much as he'd prayed that she wouldn't, that Stefan would keep her safe, he had wanted her to want to come.
And now that it was safe, where was she? Stefan wasn't home and he wondered if they were together. He had pushed them back together, yet on some level he had hoped it would fail. Hoped that Elena would finally give up on his little brother, because it hurt to see how much she could forgive him, even though Damon secretly admired her loyalty, except when it didn't extend to him, even though he was the man who had stuck by her when Stefan had been gone all those months over the summer, the man who had loved her and forgiven her every rejection, the man who had waited.
When will my time come? Will it ever? These silent questions weighed like anvils on his chest. He lay there still and hurting and alone. Does she even care about what happened? Does she know what Rebekah put me through? If it had been Stefan he was sure she would be waiting at the door, anxious to enquire after him. She hadn't even bothered to send a text. So why did he still love her? Why did he still have hope?
Tyres on the gravel drive, familiar footsteps, and three purposeful knocks on the door; these significant sounds lifted the weight off of Damon. Hope sored within. She had come for him.
He was at the door in a flash, uncertainty furrowing his brow. Elena? His eyes asked. For once he didn't bother with a flirtatious or witty greeting. His blue eyes said everything as he searched her serious face for signs that his hope might be justified.
"Stefan thinks that I have feelings for you," Elena began.
A/N – Read 'First Kiss' for more.