I do not own The Vampire Diaries.
He sat among the wreckage that was his room, a bottle of bourbon pressed to his lips. Damon didn't want to feel anymore. He wanted to sink back into that state of numbness, wanted to forget every laugh, every smile, every moment he shared with that damned history teacher.
It fucking hurt.
The bottle fell from his lax fingers as the floorboard creaked behind him and a smooth, very familiar voice reached his ears.
"You can't drink all the bourbon and not share, Damon…"
To be continued. Part four coming soon.