Prompt: 70 - "I just… need someone to hear me."

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He drags his feet through the streets. It's late and the streets are empty and it's cold and he's drunk. And overall, he feels like a train wreck. As if he got out of a fight that didn't end too well for him. He walks with no destination; at least he thinks that that's what the case is. Because in the back of his head, he knows exactly where he's going. But maybe he's not lying to himself, maybe his feet are just taking him and he is not thinking about it.

He knows that fifteen minutes ago, he was sitting in the grill, all empty and dark after Matt left him the keys. He knows that he kept drinking and drinking, trying to shut these voices in his head, to escape this place but nothing worked.

He felt things he didn't feel for a long while, worthless, shallow, invisible and lonely, so damn lonely. And so, he took his keys and walked out.

So technically, he knew exactly where he was going.

He left with a destination in mind. Maybe he just forgot about it at some point in his road to there. But when he sees that lovely porch, he definitely remembers.

What's left of his sober senses lead him to being guilty. It's two in the morning, and there's a woman sleeping in there, a woman who has her own life and job and other things to worry about other than her daughter's friend.

So he doesn't knock, instead, he leans against the wall and dials her number. She picks up after the third ring.

"Stefan? Everything's okay?"

He can hear sleepiness in her voice, can even see her rubbing her eyes as she sits up.

"Yeah, I'm just outside." He says in a calm, steady voice.

"Outside what?"

"You're house."

"What? Wh- Okay, hold on a second. I'll be there."

He puts the phone back into his pocket and takes a step away from the wall, hands going into his pockets and staying there.

He turns around a second after the door opens, to be greeted with a sleepy Caroline Forbes, wrapping herself in her grey rope as she holds the door. He notices how her hair isn't messy in the slightest bit, and he mentally smiles.

But his lips don't move, which probably causes her to worry more.

"Hey, come in." She opens the door even more.

And for a second he just stares blankly, not wanting to get in there because he wants to shout and scream and break things. And her house isn't the right place to do this. But he walks in anyway, tries his best to smile but it's only a glimpse of a smile.

She closes the door and follows him into the living room.

"What's wrong?" Her voice is almost a whisper, probably because her mother is asleep or maybe it's just the late hour.

He falls to his favorite place of the couch and sighs. Pulling his hands out of his pockets to run over his face. They stay there for a while, covering his face as he leans on his knees. She sits on the table in front of him, and there is enough space between their knees.

"Hey, it's okay." Her hand goes to his shoulder, and doesn't move from there. He lets out another breath, longer one.

"I'm sorry I woke you up." He says to his hands.

"It's okay, you know it's more than okay."

He doesn't see her, but he knows what her smile looks like.

"Just, talk to me." Her hand starts to move up and down against his arm. And he likes the feel of it against his jacket.

"I just… I didn't want to be alone." He says, surprising himself with the words coming out in this vulnerable way.

He hears her swallow.

"Where were you?" She whispers.

He moves his hands from his face, messes his hair a bit before sighing again.

"The grill." He says. And she smells the alcohol in his breath.

"Why didn't you call me? You know I'm a great drinking buddy." She smiles, trying to shake him out of his haze a bit.

"I wanted to be alone for a while." His voice is low and husky. "But then I uh…"

"You what?" She asks when he stops for longer than three seconds.

He rests his head back on the couch, staring at the ceiling then closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He says again.

"Don't be."

"I'm throwing everything on you, out of nowhere." He shakes his head.

"That's what friends are for, Stefan." She pulls her hands back to her lap. "Besides, I'm your sober sponsor! I signed up for this." She titles her head with a smile.

"I just… need someone to hear me."

She nods, but when he doesn't speak nor open his eyes, she adds "I'm listening."

She sees how he clinches his jaw, his lips turning into thin line and she thinks that if his eyes were open, she'd see tears. Maybe that's why he opens his eyes and widens them, so the tears don't fall against his well. And so her hand goes back to his arms, gives him a tight squeeze before moving up and down again.

He stays quiet for a long while, and this time she doesn't talk. He keeps staring at the ceiling, and she sees how the tears build up in his eyes even though it's dark. He opens his mouth few times, but closes it again. And then he's just breathing, inhaling and letting out tired breaths.

And she keeps running her hand over his arm because she doesn't know what else to do. Add to that that she feels her eyes watering as well, because she has never seen Stefan in this state. She knew that he always carried the world on his shoulders. And she knew that he always got things walking against him. But she never saw him broken like this. And she doesn't like it.

She enjoys seeing him strong and well.

Not broken and desperate.

All because of his brother and her friend.

"Is there any hope for me?"

He breaks her thoughts, and her hand stills for a second.

"Stefan-"

"Because I really don't want to be like this forever."

His voice is new to her; maybe this is how he sounds before crying. Shit.

"I've been alone for most of my life, and I never really cared about it. I actually liked it." He pauses to chuckle, and he spends seven seconds on that.

"But I don't want to be alone, not anymore." He continues. "Not like this."

He finally looks at her, moving his head from the couch and shaking his head. "Not like this, Caroline."

"Shhhh it's okay." In a second she is sitting next to him on the couch, forcing his head to lay on her shoulder. And maybe for a second, she feels how weird it is, how new it is. But she doesn't care. All she cares about is to fix what she can fix, to pick up the pieces and put them back together.

But she is crying. Maybe not a good start to comfort him but she carries on anyway.

"You're not alone, okay? I'm here." She says, smiling. "I will always be here."

Her hand strokes his hair, leaning her cheek against his head. And her other hand holds his arm. She closes her eyes, listens to his unsteady breath, feels his left hand holding her waist tightly, squeezing more and more.

"I promise." She whispers. And he allows one sob to escape him, one that echoes around them, then he hides himself in her neck even more. And he really wishes if he can stay there forever. Because he doesn't feel lonely, nor worthless.

He likes it there.