An angst-filled fic of Damon and Elena, just because I'm in the mood. Plot/when it's set fairly obvious.
DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own The Vampire Diaries or any of the characters
Penance
He writes to her. Not emails, because even after so many years there are some things you just can't do, and pouring yourself out to the one you love in email doesn't sit right with him. He writes long letters to her, his words curling in black ink on the page. With a bottle of his chosen alcoholic beverage of the day, he writes to her. The letters are filled with meaningless phrases to anyone but her, things like we have an understanding and I like you without adding the part you make me laugh.
He wishes he could tell her everything about him now. Like how he works as a bar tender, attempting to lead a normal life, as if that's something he can do. Like how he hasn't had sex with a girl in like, a month now. Actually it's two and a half, but he doesn't think that she'd believe him. He doesn't say how he can't look at a girl without thinking of her.
He doesn't write that maybe Katherine broke him, but she was the one that killed and buried him.
He doesn't send them. He throws the letters that he wrote to her – double sided, sometimes as much as fourteen pages – into the fire and watches as they turn into ash and tries not to compare it to his heart. He then pulls out another sheet of paper and writes the standard note, one sentence, seals it and sends it off. He tries to tell himself that's the end of it.
The next night he is at the desk, a glass of scotch in his hand, writing the words he wants to say but doesn't have the guts to send.
She doesn't try to pretend that she dreads the letter anymore. When the post comes she walks past the table, shifting through the mail to find the scripture that has become so familiar with. On the days it isn't there she worries. On the days it is there...
Stefan doesn't try to act like it's okay anymore. But he doesn't act like it's a big deal either. Instead he wears a look a penance on his face, as if this is his punishment. Stefan has always been the type that believes there is a price to pay. He bears responsibility for his acts. It's what a girl wants from a guy, but Elena knows that it bugs her a little, even if she won't admit it to him or herself. Even when they are happy, having fun, she knows that he remembers his pain. It will never leave him.
She wants Damon to be here. Being a vampire is horrible and exhilarating, disgusting and amusing. It's not what she wants and not what she needs. It what she was always meant to be. Denial can only work for so long. She has been surrounded by the supernatural world ever since birth. She was a bound to become a vampire sooner or later. Believing that she would escape that fate is, to be honest, laughable.
Damon knows what it is like to be a vampire. Damon gets it. For some reason when she is with Stefan all she can think is that this isn't how it's meant to be. He reminds her that it is a curse, one that she has to live with for the rest of her long life. Damon has always lived life to the fullest, and he would be on hand to teach her the good side of becoming one: parties and drinking and laughing and dancing.
She waits for the letter. When it comes she goes on her own to read it, her hands trembling slightly. She convinces herself that he'll send her something more soon, something real, but every time she sees the folded page, almost bare she knows what it says.
It's always going to be Stefan.
When she first read the words it stabbed her in the stomach, almost a physical wound. Was it a cruel taunt, his way of getting back at her? She would have burnt it if it hadn't occurred to her that she didn't have anything of Damon's writing. So she slipped it into an empty shoe box in the closest, just in case she forgot. She thought that would be the only one. Weeks went by until she received the next one.
Every time he writes to her she thinks that it'll be different. He'll tell her what he's doing, where he is, who he's with. Damon is incapable of a boring life and Elena, living with Stefan and going to college, hanging out with the people she's known for years, yearns for adventure. Not for the-Original-vampire-is-trying-to-kill me or my-history-teacher-has-turned-into-a-vampire-hunte r-whose-life-is-connected-to-mine kind of excitement. More like spur of the minute road trips to Atlanta, or sneaking into other people's barbecues. Damon is the only one of them who didn't stick to the rules. Elena misses that. Even if she's not with Damon, hearing about what he's doing will make her laugh.
But it is the same words, every time.
She doesn't think it's a taunt. Not anymore. Oddly enough, that's not Damon's style. She thinks the letter is a reminder, for both him and her. It's always going to be Stefan. No point in complaining, no point in trying to change it. That was the roles they had. He has to deal with it, and so does Elena.
Martyrdom doesn't suit Elena. Martyrs are people who have had hardships thrust upon them for no reason. Maybe Damon and Stefan were thrust upon her, but there was a reason. Besides, she knew what she was getting into. Right at the beginning Stefan tried to leave. She was the one that kept him, and as a consequence, kept Damon too. She had her chance to back out. Now she has to deal with the cards she chose. She made her bed.
She has eight two letters in a shoe box in the back of her closest to prove it.
And counting.
Hours to make. Seconds to comment.
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