Rip Your Heart Out and Not Think Twice About It
"It's been 15 years." Stefan said. What made them part, 15 years ago? From Episode 1.
"Where were you, Damon?" Stefan's voice was cold, dry, uninterested.
Damon stumbled into the house they were sharing, considerably drunk. He spun around at his dearest brother, and shot him a grin while holding up the half empty, Stefan would say "half full",bottle of vodka.
"Partying of the best kind, little brother!" Damon managed to say, smirking and leaning against a wall in the living room, planting his gaze on his brother sitting on the chair glaring at him.
"How many?"
"How many what?" Damon played dumb, smirk still on his lips and proceeding to take another swig from the glass bottle.
Before he knew it, the bottle crashed onto the floor, glass breaking and flying, and there was a hold on his throat, Stefan's eyes cutting in through the haze and meeting Damon's blue and slightly glazed ones.
"Why so angry?" Damon didn't bother pushing away, not tonight, tonight was a bad night, and let his smirk fall off his face, feeling very tired.
"How many did you kill Damon?" Stefan hissed, tightening his hold- Saint Stefan in an attempt for redemption tightens his hold on his older brother's neck, little does he know his pathetic diet of squirrels wouldn't match up to Damon's daily intake of a dozen pathetic-
"You can't kill me," Damon stated, smirking a little and almost relishing the tight hold Stefan had on him, choke me, kill me, stab me with some wood, make this end-
As if he'd heard his thoughts, Stefan wrenched his hand away from Damon's throat and staggered back a little, narrowing his eyes at his older brother.
"Fine, do whatever you want. Forget it." Stefan spun around, and Damon stopped him, made him stay, please don't go.
"A dozen. Girls. All dying to get their hands on me, and dying when I got my teeth on them," Damon called out, trying to provoke his human loving innocent little brother.
Two hands now, choking him, lifting him up against the wall, tightening around his throat-
Speed and sobriety was something that went together hand in hand. Therefore, Damon only had blood on his side, and he didn't really want to fight anyway, just do it Saint Stefan-
"You're a monster." Damon froze as the words of his brother met his ears.
You are, too.
"You have no fucking heart, do you, Damon? Nothing! I can't do this anymore, we can't be brothers anymore-"
Stab, stab, stab- he might as well be doing this with a wooden stake.
"We're supposed to feed," Damon tried to cut in, but his air supply was slowly cutting off. His voice sounded hoarse, and weak, he hated looking weak in front of his little brother.
"You don't have to kill, Damon, you don't have to break, you don't have to hurt. You choose to live like a monster, you choose to be a monster, Damon. You don't even act like my brother anymore."
The hands were off, and Damon slumped against the wall, sinking to the floor.
Stefan stared down at him, eyes showing nothing but hate, disdain, he hates me, he hates me-
"I'm not a monster," Damon choked out, and Stefan laughed humorlessly, and then turned around and started to walk away.
"You're more of a monster than Katherine was."
Slice, slice, slice, just her name-why would he do that, why would he say her name why why-
"You're seriously fucked up, Damon. You're fucking evil. You're a monster-"
"YOU MADE ME THIS WAY!" Damon screamed, scrambling to his feet and almost falling forward as the room spun a little.
The adrenaline, the blood and not just his, never just his pumped in his head, in his ears, pounded-
"I wish I hadn't." Stefan said and everything stopped.
Everything stopped. The room stopped spinning, Damon stopped breathing, then again breathing was just something you do, don't have to-
"Y-you don't mean that." Damon's voice broke, and he fell back against the wall, falling to the floor in a sitting position.
Stefan turned around and his eyes were hard, and he meant it, he meant it, he really meant it.
Stefan turned back around and continued walking, out of the room, away from Damon, away from me.
Damon sat there, and looked down at all the vodka staining his pants, the glass doing him no harm as it cut into his skin.
Stefan should've just kept choking him.
Random rambles from Damon's mind, a little confusing and scattered. For some reason, this is how I see his mind working. Not a one shot. Review, if you like :).