A/N: This is for all those who loved Puzzled Hearts. I hereby present the sequel- Shattered Smiles.
Concept:
While raising their infant son, Drake, Damon and Elena face some tough bumps in the road as they expect baby number two. The only question is, can Damon handle another baby? Lots of tears, heartbreaks, arguments, departures, comforting, reunions, and shattered smiles to come.
Here is a sneak-peak into Shattered Smiles, which I will officially start once I am close to finishing Lover Come Back.
Glancing in the mirror seemed to be the hardest activity for him. He couldn't comprehend who he had become. This wasn't him. This wasn't Damon Salvatore.
His hair was in all directions as he shuffled into the bathroom, flipping the light switch upon arrival. With a long sigh, he kept his eyes plastered to the counter. His fingers wrapped around the hairbrush in the small, metallic bin in the corner. The tines of the brush swept through my hair as if it were a finger against the strings of a harp. The bags beneath his eyes were evident, continuing the action of brushing his raven hair.
Ever since they cut their honeymoon short because of their sudden discovery, Damon has been a paranoid, ill-tempered, sulky, snappy, and agitated shell-of-a-man. Even Elena's mood swings and hormones could not compare to his recently-acquired traits.
Her eyes cracked open upon the sunlight pouring onto her face. Sitting up, her arms went skyward as she draped her legs over to the side of the couch. Memories of the previous night's heated argument floated into the crevices of her mind.
"Do you not love me anymore?" Her voice rose with each word.
Damon's feet ventured out the threshold of their bedroom, making his way down the staircase, "Stop screaming, you'll wake Drake up." His tone was hushed, calm even.
She shook her head feverishly, "He's at Caroline's, I told you that a hundred times." Her hands were thrown into the air. He shrugged his shoulders before he ventured to the front door.
"Where are you going?" She asked, slowly making her way down the stairs.
The door opened as his foot jutted out of the opening, "I need a fresh drink." The breath was hitched in her throat as the anger rose, resulting in her blood to boil.
"Fine, and don't expect to be sleeping in the bed!" Her hand reached down to the shoe placed on her right foot, tossing it with full force towards the front door. But he had long since left and was already walking towards his car, a grin frown placed upon his lips.
A shiver shot up her spine at the bitter memory. Not wanting to remember it, she shook her head. Her foot grazed the floor as she tried continuously to stand up, but the shooting pain up her back was stopping her from succeeding.
"Dammit." She groaned after leaning back into the couch, exhausted.
Her eyes surveyed the torn-up room; the lamps were smashed, the pillows were partially ripped open, the coffee table was on its side. Elena bit her lip as she remembered the reason behind the tornado-like results.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" She asked, hands on her hips as he walked into the home at one in the morning.
He stumbled up the staircase, the same, grim frown plastered to his lips. Elena was following him with each step until they reached the edge of the bed where he flopped onto the mattress.
His body took up nearly the entire bed, so, with a giant huff, she asked, "You don't expect me to sleep on the couch, do you?"
The only response was the steady snore that emitted from his lips. Her entire face dropped at the sound. How could he expect his pregnant wife to sleep on the hard couch?
Elena's eyes began to burn as she slowly descended down the stairs, her feet barely grazing the wood of the steps. Once she reached the foot of the couch, her eyes darted towards the top of the staircase, hoping that he would be standing there, a wicked grin plastered to his face as he announced that it was all a big joke. And that she could relax into the large, comfortable mattress upstairs.
But that never happened.
With each tick of the clock, her heart tore. She stood still for moments before realization set in. Her hands tore and broke everything that they came into contact with. Lamps, pillows, books, shelves, nothing was safe from her wrath of fury.
When the brush reached the back of his scalp, Damon lifted the brush up gently, and then brought it back to the front of his scalp. And as it swept through his raven hair once more, it seemed to be erasing the bitter memories of last night.
If only that was true, for the memories were blurry, but they were permanently glued to his brain.
With a sharp intake of breath, he brought his gaze up to the mirror. The figure before him was frightening; bags under his eyes, skin paler than normal, eyes dull.
What happened to Damon Salvatore?
A/N: Remember: Your reviews are my inspiration to keep writing!
I won't continue this until I finish, or am close to finishing, Lover Come Back.