Title: Of rainy Sundays and yellow roses
Summary: It was just a rainy Sunday afternoon. And then another one and another one and another one…
Pairing: Damon/Bonnie
Warning: Slight Elena bashing. It just went well with the story. Sorry Elena lovers.
Disclaimer: I own Damon Salvatore and his leather jacket. Deal with it. Also, yes, I know a yellow rose stands for friendship and I think it's stupid.
The fragrance of a yellow rose
Floating about the air,
Reminds me of another time,
And of a beauty so rare.
She didn't know what really drew her to Damon. Sure, he was very handsome but Bonnie was never shallow and looks didn't matter to her like they did to most people. Sure, he was entertaining in his own, dark, twisted way but it wasn't like she has never hung out with entertaining people. She could only remember the many times she spent trying to stop laughing and begging Caroline to shut it with her comments. He wasn't any guy but he wasn't anyone special, really.
They started hanging out on one Sunday afternoon when rain didn't let the residents of Mystic Falls enjoy spring like they should have. She rather liked walking in the rain with her yellow umbrella and boots, acting like a child while jumping into the pools that the rain was rapidly filling on the streets. He was sitting on a bench, soaked wet in his leather jacket and the rest of the usual black attire, with hair plastered to his forehead and glassy eyes that were looking everywhere and yet nowhere in particular. He looked utterly miserable. So she sat next to him, covering him with the umbrella, never asking any questions. Because he was Damon Salvatore and he didn't like answering questions. And she was Bonnie Bennett and she didn't care for his answers. And anyway, she probably guessed the answers already.
So it became a habit. Same day, same time, same bench. No talks, no looks, nothing. It was just them - Bonnie and Damon - Damon and Bonnie - Salvatore and Bennett - in utter silence.
It may have seemed strange, and Bonnie often questioned her sanity long after the day was over and she was comfortably curled up in her bed, but they didn't feel the need to change anything. They felt comfort in that silence and what they shared there - it was theirs - no one would ever know.
But things started changing. For the good - for the bad - Bonnie wasn't sure. Because, they were Bonnie and Damon and good and bad were very relative terms when linked to their names. Exchanging knowing looks, agreeing on most of the plans, being more than civilized to each other - it drew attention.
It had to come out sooner or later and one night it did. The discussion about the next plan for killing the Originals and saving the town (the supernatural part was pretty much the same) was heating up; the presence of werewolves in the house made Damon turn - edgy - in the lack of better words and he and Elena were engaged in a gruesome fight while the rest of the crew held her back. Bonnie stood silent until the doe-like woman turned to her.
'What do you think of this, Bonnie?' She asked, her voice saying that it was better for her to be on her side because God forbid if anyone ruined Elena Gilbert's perfect plan of being the damsel in distress who once again no-one-knows-how-and-why-and-with-what-wit saves the day with sacrificing herself for the 'greater good'.
'I...' Bonnie started but she switched her gaze to look into Damon's blue eyes - a habit she picked up and couldn't get rid off - and then finally turned back to her best friend. The exchanging glances didn't go unnoticed and Elena's brows furrowed dangerously. As a matter of fact, Bonnie agreed with Damon. No, not because they had that strange, silent connection going on but because it was a practical plan that didn't involve a massacre and a fest for the vampires in the open. 'Damon's plan makes more sense to me,' she said shrugging carelessly.
Elena just turned away, finding comfort in Stefan's arms but Bonnie knew her better than that. She knew the discussion was far from over. And of course, as soon as they were left alone in the Salvatore Manor, Elena flipped her hair furiously with not-so-much-doe-like eyes anymore glaring angrily at her.
'Would you care to explain what is going on between you and Damon?' She spat out in the true ice-queen fashion. Actually, Bonnie though it sounded kind of jealousy-ish and she felt annoyed. Sometimes, Elena seemed to think of the two brothers like her property rather than two human (or dead human) beings who were dying with love for her.
'There is nothing going on between Damon and me,' Bonnie answered simply. Not even in the fiery, Bonnie-like kind of way because wouldn't that only prove to Elena that something was going on between the two? Then again, why would Elena have any right to know? She suddenly cared about Damon? Because, as long as Bonnie could recall, the girl with chocolate brown hair and doe-like eyes only made him suffer and drown in misery of the love he left for her. 'Nothing,' she added, this time firmly, when the other girl was about to say something else. The brunette sent another angry glare in the direction of her best friend and marched out of the room with the true drama-queen style.
Yes, everything was changing indeed, Bonnie thought as she, once again, found herself sitting on the same bench in the same park on a Sunday afternoon, glaring at the kids playing. Because Damon actually spoke to her for the first time in months, with a hushed voice, like he was tired.
'It is a good plan, you know,' he said and she turned around to look at him, surprise written all over her features. He wasn't looking back but his expressions were sort-of-kind-of relaxed for the first time in days and she decided it was enough for now.
'I know,' she answered back and turned to glare at the kids again. It was a good plan – only – no one wanted to follow it. The other one, the oh-so-smart Elena Gilbert's resulted in a complete and utter disaster with various people getting hurt and nothing accomplished except the fact that the damsel in distress needed saving again. Luckily, Stefan seemed to have been trained well for it – no worries then.
But, yes, everything changed because, that day, it was raining – raining like never before – and that day Damon Salvatore appeared in front of her house – it wasn't even a Sunday but a dull, dark Monday evening. He appeared, soaked wet in his leather jacket and the usually black attire, hair plastered to his forehead, just like that first Sunday on the bench.
Bonnie rushed out, forgetting to take an umbrella – or even to put on shoes. It was summer – it wasn't cold (though the black leather jacket would say otherwise but it was Damon – the leather was his trademark) and Bonnie found herself enjoying the way the water got her dress and hair wet.
'What's wrong?' She asked, ten thousand pictures running through her mind – Elena dead, Caroline ripped in pieces, Stefan with a stake through his heart – but one thing never occurred to her. There was one picture she didn't think of – Damon and Elena, Elena and Damon – kissing and then him, pushed against the wall with the familiar words echoing in his ears again – it will always be Stefan.
And Bonnie found herself making steps closer to him, hands slowly resting on his upper arms, fingers digging into his jacket, pulling him closer. The seductive aftershave filled her nostrils with just a hint of a very familiar scent of strawberries and vanilla – Elena.
It broke her heart because there was nothing worse seeing a man like Damon – strong, independent, dark – falling apart like a little boy unable to hold himself together any longer.
The next day, she found a single yellow rose on her doorsteps. There was no note but she knew who it was, it was easy to tell.
So maybe, maybe what drew her to Damon was that she saw the vulnerable, hidden side of him. Behind those deadly handsome but steel cold eyes and a sarcastic smirk was a little boy so afraid to let go of his past. And Bonnie liked helping people – she liked being that silent hero; she wanted to be the one to make him see that he could definitely do better than Elena Gilbert.
No, by no means did she mean herself because, really, that would be silly. She was a witch, she was Bonnie Bennett and he was a vampire, he was Damon Salvatore and they hated each other. She couldn't just change her feelings, jump from the whole I-hate-your-guts-you-dead-but-not-quite-idiot to oh-I-think-you're-so-amazing. It was not who she was. It was not who he was.
But after a few more weeks, a few more rainy Sundays, a few more yellow umbrellas, rain pools and boots and yellow roses there was one rainy Sunday that made those changes clear; it defined them, gave them a shape and gave them a memory they wouldn't forget.
Because that day, Damon was waiting – standing – for the yellow umbrella to appear in the distance and when it finally did, he hurried to her, startling her. The umbrella slid from her hands, falling on the ground, forgotten but reminding of a big bouquet of yellow roses. And that day, Damon gently slid his hands around her waist, gently pulled her to him and gently placed his lips on hers.
It was sweet, it was magical – it was right. Bonnie could see yellow, only yellow all around her, thousands of yellow roses and yellow umbrellas and yellow everything. His lips were soft, tasteful, intriguing and she was trembling – of cold, of rain and maybe, just maybe because of the kiss.
Strange things happen in the rain. Rain washes away the dirt, it washes away the pain, it frees your soul. And after the rain, the air smells freshly, it smells of new starts and adventure.
So, no, Bonnie Bennett did not fall for Damon Salvatore because of his looks or his sarcastic remarks or his undeniable stunts in bed (or really any other part good enough to have sex on). Bonnie Bennett fell for Damon Salvatore because of the way his shirt hung to his body when wet and because his eyes hid an immense sadness behind and because he just needed to be saved.
Most of all, Bonnie Bennett fell for Damon Salvatore because it was a rainy Sunday afternoon and because she loved yellow roses.