Voicemail
DG32173
Sarah: this started as an idea for something funny then changed to angsty romance in the first chapter. I wish my muse would make up it's mind.
DISCLAIMER
I only own what I write. Everything you recognize, including the music listed, is owned by someone else.
WARNINGS
ALTERNATE UNIVERSE! Rated M for my sanity, not that I have any. Alters from series shortly after Damon snaps Jeremy's neck but before the trip to Duke.
SUMMARY
Things between Damon and Elena have been strained since he snapped her brother's neck. She's avoiding him like the plague and refusing to answer his calls. Damon quickly becomes desperate to have more contact with her than just her voicemail. He'd do anything to be back in her good graces again. Damon/Elena
Chapter 1
The First Voicemail
Elena sighs, sitting on her bed. She could really use someone to make her laugh right now. But the only one who's been able to do that since her parents died is Damon. And she's still pissed at him for snapping Jeremy's neck. Sure, Jeremy had been wearing the Gilbert ring and had come back. But what if he hadn't been wearing that ring? He'd be dead and nothing in this world could have brought him back! She'd never ask Bonnie to meddle with necromancy, not even to bring her own brother back to life. She may have broke Damon's heart but he retaliated by killing her brother. That was not fair.
Suddenly, the lyrics to "Breathe No More" by Evanescence comes from her purse. She sighs dispiritedly. She had assigned that ringtone to Damon's number the night he snapped Jeremy's neck. She closes her eyes in grief as she ignores her phone. When the song ends, her voicemail picks up. She had set her phone to play voicemails as they are recorded.
"Hi, it's Elena. If you're hearing this, I'm busy right now and can't answer the phone. So leave me a message and I'll be sure to get back to you," her recording says followed by a 'beep'.
"Look, Elena, I know you don't want to hear from me," Damon's voice says. "I get that. And I get why. I was drunk, as hard as that is to believe, and I didn't stop to think, which you know I never stop to think, so the only new thing about it was that I was drunk. I was more than drunk. I was wasted. I am sorry about what I did to your brother. I know you. I know you're listening to this little recording. I wish you'd pick up and say something! Tell me go to hell. Rant, scream, cry. It's getting rather depressing to only hear your voice when your voicemail picks up. I'm betting you changed your ringtone for me. Let me guess, 'Breathe No More' by Evanescence? C'mon, pick up and tell me I'm right. I know I'm right. I know you. Elena, please, just talk to –" and he's cut off by the 'beep' that signals he's run out of time.
Elena draws her knees up to her chest, wraps her arms around her legs, leans her forehead on her knees, and cries.
Boarding house
"Me," Damon sighs, hanging up his phone and taking a sip of his bourbon. It's been two full days, precisely forty-eight hours, since he fled Elena's room after snapping Jeremy's neck. He's been only had a single drink a day since. Elena's cry of grief still rings in his ears, sounding over and over. He has never heard her sound so lost and alone as she had when they both thought the kid had been really dead. His only comfort in this situation, the only thing that's keeping him from ripping of his ring and going to greet the sun without it, is that the kid had been wearing one of the Gilbert rings.
He closes his eyes. He had been all set to greet the following sunrise without his ring. The only reason he didn't was because Stefan had informed him that Jeremy had been wearing the Gilbert ring. And that one fact had given him the tiniest sliver of hope that maybe he could work things out with Elena. But first she has to start speaking to him again. She's been avoiding him like the plague and ignoring his phone calls. This is the first time he had left a message on her voicemail, though. Damon knows she's perfectly in her right to pretend he doesn't exist. He also knows that her ability to love is even greater then Jesus Fucking Christ's! She'll try her damnedest to hate him for as long as possible, but she won't be able to hold out forever.
Damon lifts his glass of bourbon to his lips, letting his tears slip out in the sanctuary of his locked bedroom though he keeps his sobs firmly in check. He'll do whatever it takes to get back in her good graces. Even if he has to get down on his knees and beg for forgiveness in front of the whole damn town, he'll do it if that's what it'll take to get her to talk to him again. But right now, all he can do is sip at his bourbon in his locked room while new tearstains make tracks over old.
