She wasn't sure what made her to do. Maybe it was the way his bright blue eyes were dimmed with a unspeakable sorrow. Or the way his lips curled up into a beautiful brokenly smile. His entire expression, stance screamed out in pain. Pain that crippled his very being, the very worst kind of pain. The pain of being heartbroken. And for some reason seeing him like that killed her. This was Damon. He wasn't meant to show his emotions like that. He was supposed to be aloof, snarky, closed off. He wasn't supposed to look at her with eyes that made her heart clench. That wasn't them. They fought, bickered, bantered and at times flirted. But they weren't meant to have deep moments. They didn't bare their souls bare to one another. That wasn't them. Or at least it hadn't been.
She couldn't pinpoint the moment when Damon became more then Stefan's brother, more than the resident psychopath, more than her friend. But it happened, slowly but surely Damon had become more. She wouldn't, couldn't delve any deeper into her feelings than that. It was forbidden territory. She couldn't be Katherine. She couldn't do that to the Salvatore's.
It's okay to love them both. I did.
But it wasn't okay. She couldn't share her heart between two boys, even if she wanted to. Because one would always hold a closer place to her heart. As much as she told Damon, it's always Stefan, the lie burned her tongue like acid. She had hated to lie to him. To herself. But she had to. It was supposed to be Stefan. He was safe, and after everything she didn't think she could the risk. Something in her life had to be set, be safe. Stefan gave her that, his touch brought warmth and care. Damon was the risk, the dangerous choice. His touch set her skin alight, nerve endings bursting into flames. If she gave into Damon, she would fall into him. Completely. And that terrified her.
Her actions when he was involved were always without though. Especially when he looked like that. Physical contact wasn't anything new between her and Damon. Simple brushes of their arms, him stroking her face, her hugging him. But this type of contact was new. She had never actually held him before. Held him as if she let go he'd shatter to pieces before her. Her arms were locked securely around his torso, her fingers digging into his back as she pulled him that much closer. His face was buried in her neck, his every breath cool breath a shock to her system. No words were spoken, they didn't need to be. They had an understanding. Eventually, they ended up on the couch, and they never left go. They spent the night locked in each others grip, because they needed it. And for once in her life Elena didn't care about the consequences. She needed him.
They never spoke of it.