title: home is where the heart is
summary: "he's smiling at the faintest shade of summer and all the beautiful things in the world, and gods – he's going crazy." Or, the five times he tries to bring his old self back, and the one time he does. Stefan/Caroline. Future-fic.
notes: steroline is perfect and addicting. And really, they're just so beautiful - I am rambling, I'm sorry. To all those PJO fans who have read my fanfic All About Fate and are wondering why I'm starting this, I'm just taking a short break. I'd try to update it this week or the one to come. It's half-way done all ready. I mean, HoO universe is making me sad and angsty, and I just want to be happy. TVD, apparently, is bringing me that emotion I've been looking for since The Lost Hero. Don't worry, I'd update soon. :) Sorry, I'm making you guys wait a long time. :(
As for this, I don't think I'd ever ship a pair this hard (putting aside Jeyna and Royai). I just started watching TVD and I'm hooked all ready. I adore their friendship and gods - sorry, I'm holding you guys too long. I'm stopping my rant now.
Thanks so much! TVD is not mine. :D
one
Where on the earth is the forgotten?
They're lost inside your memory.
(Green Day; The Forgotten)
It's on a Saturday when he sees her again.
Damon – upon insisting for so many damn times – finally gets to accompany him to one of the hunts the old Stefan (not him, because this Stefan is new and different) used to do. Thinking about it now, it all seems pointless. What are bunnies compared to blood bags of human? Sure, he gets to feel his teeth sinking on the flesh, and yeah, it is warm. But it's nothing like the sweet taste of human blood. What's with his brother hogging everything anyway? He just finishes sucking he life of an animal, and the last thing he needs is see another one of their kind. (He's not sure if he has enough control to stop himself from ripping their neck. The saintly behavior old Stefan had, apparently, wasn't one of the things that stayed after the whole memory wipeout thing.)
But he stops short when he sees Caroline. She's standing over the foyer with her blonde hair tumbling from the hair tie holding it messily, and she's pacing around like her life depends on it. Slowly, he feels his anger recede. His clenched fists now lay on his sides, and he can't help but curse why on the earth does his blonde best friend has this effect on him? He figures it's 'cause she was there for him and when no one else was.
Yeah, that's it.
"Caroline?"
She turns, her hair whipping. It hits her cheeks, and she gives him a bright bright bright smile. Somehow, it's one of the big differences he notices between her and Elena. Whereas Elena is gentle, all-smiles, and caring, Caroline is like the sun, a flame smothering through the dark room, almost like some sort of enigma.
She walks forward and waves for him to come over.
"Hey," she greets, curious blue eyes flickering to his face. She frowns a little – is he really that obvious?, he wonders – before asking, "Everything okay? You look a little stressed out."
"I'm fine," he says.
A part of him is happy he's pretty damn good at lying, way better than he has expected. So far, he has Elena, Damon, and some guy they called Jeremy fooled. Apparently, Stefan – old or new, whatsoever – is a liar. He puts on an innocent face before asking (just for the effect), "Why? Why're you asking me that?"
She shrugs a little before placing a hand on his shoulder; a tendril of blonde lock falls on her face. He curls his hands at his side to stop himself from brushing it away from her porcelain cheeks. Briefly, he wonders if old Stefan is gay or something of that sort because how could anyone actually stand to be so close to someone so beautiful without being so damn tempted?
"You don't have to lie to me," she says quietly.
Her eyes stare at him as if he's reading past through all the lies and walls he has built through these weeks of pretending to be someone he's not when he doesn't even know who he is. "Look, I'm not going to pry. You don't have to tell me whatever's bothering you; I swear, I won't ask, not unless you tell me so…" Her voice drifts off, and the next thing he knows, he's smiling at the faintest shade of summer and all the beautiful things in the world, and gods – he's going crazy.
Then she continues, "But just don't lie to me, okay? We're best friends. I mean, you're you, and I'm plain 'ole Caroline from 'round the corner, you know?" She eyes him critically before loosening her hand on him as she pats his back. She flashes another of her carefree smiles. "I'm on Team Stefan, remember? Well, actually, that's something dumb of me to say, considering you're not supposed to remember any damn thing from before, but yeah, I was on your team during the whole Elena-Damon drama. Still am, actually. Whatever! We're best friends, or at least we used to be. It doesn't matter, you know. I'd still be here for you, even if I bet you don't remember my promise, but yeah. You're Stefan and you're my best friend, so trust me all right?"
A small part of him wants to deck himself. How can anyone listen to someone talk endlessly and still manage to want to hear her voice all over again like some broken mix tape left on some dusty attic to rot?
He must be looking weirdly because the next thing she does is stand on her tiptoes and blink.
"You okay?"
And that's when he comes up with the conclusion that not only was old Stefan gay he's also freaking blind. And stupid – frustratingly and annoyingly stupid because all he wants to do is bury his head on her golden hair and not give a care for the world. He grits his teeth. Here she is, standing and offering him all the happy days on the fields with the butterflies, but he has no choice but to decline because doing that would mean more complications. That's something he doesn't need. At least not now.
She pokes him, as if she's expecting some sort of answer. (Actually, she really is. She did ask something.)
Is he happy? No, he wasn't quite sure what's the answer. His ex-girlfriend and brother are upstairs going all cuddly and mushy because they're upset they couldn't bring old Stefan home. Someone with an urge to be a serial killer wants to wipe their existence, and he's here with no memory of everything. Is he sad? He's not so sure about that either.
But is he okay? He contemplates on this a little before slinging an arm over her shoulder. He's a little miffed as he takes everything in. She smells like vanilla and wildflowers, and his mind is hammeri-
"Yeah," he says, grinning a little. "I am."
He may not be happy, but with his best friend beside him, he knows he's okay.
(Maybe it's not so bad, after all.)
.
.
[to be continued.]