Elena stared at the door, unable to move. Paralyzed, she stood in front of Stefan Salvatore's door. Her hands were trembling as she attempted to bring them to the doorknob. Tears filled her eyes as she turned it and stepped into the all too familiar room. Memories overwhelmed her as she carefully stepped through the doorway. His bed, laying in his bed. His arms wrapped around her. This is where she'd felt safest. Where she'd felt at home.
Her tear-filled brown eyes scanned the room. It hadn't changed one bit. The bed was perfectly made, the shelves of books and diaries intact. Her fingers brushed the spines of each book, she studied each part of the room like she may not ever have the chance to again.
The room felt so cold. Empty. Abandoned. Stefan was gone, he'd never again sleep in that bed. Walk through that door. Read those books, write another diary entry.
A tear escaped her eye but Elena brushed it away quickly. No, she couldn't break down. Not now. She had gotten through the funeral, that should be the hardest part. Right? Except it wasn't. At the funeral, Elena had been surrounded by her friends and family. Everyone who loved her; who had loved Stefan too. Now, she was alone. Alone and standing in his room. But it wasn't his room anymore. Nothing was his anymore. Elena moved over to Stefan's desk, the lamp was still lit. The only light in the dim room somehow made the girl's despair even worse, it was a reminder that only a short while ago he was here. He was here and now he's gone. She let out a small laugh when she noticed there was still his diary sitting open on his desk. She reached out for the journal, her fingers wrapping around the cover. Her grip so tight it was like this was her last grip on reality, on clarity, on him. A tear fell from her eye and landed on the page, smudging the ink. Panicking, Elena tried to brush it away but that only made it worse.
A sob escaped her throat as her eyes traveled on the page. It was a letters. A letter to her. She flipped through more and more pages, and realized this diary was all to her. He had written her his story. Elena took a deep breath before flipping the pages all the way to the beginning, desperately wanting to read the words he'd written to her. This was hers, one last thing of his that was hers too.
Her entire body shaking now, she backed up and fell onto his bed. She lay like that, his blankets wrapped around her-they still smelled like him- crying and reading his diary for her. Every last page, every last word. She was gone for hours, but no one dared interrupt her.
When she was done, unable to cry anymore, she just lay there with the diary held close to her chest. Staring. Thinking. Grief. She knew this so well, she had perfected it. But with Stefan, it was different. It hurt like hell, but she knew she could push through it. He had taught her that. How to grieve, how to be strong. How to live. And because of that, because of Stefan, she would be okay. He died for her and for her happiness. He sacrificed his human life for her, so she had to live hers to the fullest.
Elena would be happy and live her life with Damon. Grow old, have kids, be a doctor. Save lives in Stefan's name. And when it was her time, when she died, she wouldn't be afraid. It would be okay, because she knew she would find peace. She wouldn't regret anything- because she knew she would see him again.