He can hear her coming before she even opens the door.
Picking up the shot glass set in front of him, he downs the alcohol, enjoying the numbing burn. He tries to ignore the empty seat next to him at the bar, the seat where he should be.
But he can't think about that. Not today.
She walks up to him. He can hear her breathing.
"You know what today is, right?" she asks, her voice starting out strong and faltering as she reaches the end of her sentence.
He motions the bartender over for another shot.
"Yes, Elena, I know," he rolls his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his every word. "It's Tuesday."
"You know what I mean, Damon," she huffs.
He closes his eyes and nods, unable to keep up the pretense. Because how could he forget?
It's been a month, exactly a month.
His best friend died a month ago. And he's still not over it.
He questions this for a moment. Why can't he let it go? He's a vampire. One of the perks is forgetting these kinds of things, shutting it all down. Elena's going to have to learn this. But he can't think about her transition into vampirism today.
Today, he doesn't want to think at all. Not today.
"Damon, I'm worried about you," she begins, and he laughs, a sharp laugh, a cruel laugh.
"So now you care," he snarls, moving his shot glass toward him.
"I've always cared," she hisses. "You know that. And I cared about…about him, too."
Damon shakes his head, blocking out her words, and moves the shot glass toward him.
Quick as a whip, so quick it seems like a blur, Elena moves past him and grabs the glass away, looking over her shoulder as she does so.
"I'm faster than you now, Damon Salvatore," she smirks, a hint of pain underlying her words. "And you're not drinking any more today."
"Oh, is that so?" he says, his voice cracking on the last word. What is it about her? Why can't he put up a front with this girl?
"Yes," she says, a gentler note in her voice. "Today, we have to grieve."
She takes him to the cemetery, the gravestone where he lies. Peaceful, he hopes. Poor bastard deserves some peace after the hell he'd been put through. Vampire hunter turned friend of vampires and all.
"It's okay to miss him," she tells him as they stand, looking down at the stone slab that is supposed to represent his only friend. She takes his hand.
There is a beat. He looks at her, then back down at their hands. Intertwined. The way they should be. But then he speaks.
"No, it's not okay, Elena," he snaps, yanking his hand out of hers. A wave of hurt passes over her eyes. He flinches, but continues. "If I miss him, if I even consider that possibility…what am I supposed to do about it? He's gone, Elena, and he's never coming back."
She looks at him for awhile. Just looks at him. That's one of the things he loves most about her, the fact that she say so much with so little. The fact that she won't tell him all the things he's done wrong, because she already knows the guilt he feels.
"You don't love a lot of people, Damon," she says. "But you loved him. He was your friend. He was your friend, and he was your rock, and he loved you too. It's okay to love people, Damon. You loved him. You love Stefan. They mean a lot to you. There isn't anyone else in your life who meant that much to you, Damon. It's okay to miss him."
He just stares at her. She backs away softly and makes a retreat back into the woods. Leaving him alone to mourn, he supposes.
Once he's sure she's gone, he whispers into the empty air, "You forgot one person. I love you too, Elena."
He's a vampire, but he never remembers the perks that come with it.
Elena's ears stretch out for miles, and she hears every word.