Hi, all. I'm new to the fandom, and this is my first fanfic. I wanted to post it before the show does something completely different and makes me feel like an idiot. It's overly dramatic and full of mushy cheese, because that's what fanfic is for.
There's no romance, and it stars Matt and Elena (with a little bit of Caroline at the end). I hope you enjoy it anyway. ;)
Disclaimer: I do not now, nor ever will, own The Vampire Diaries. Typos, grammar mistakes, and inaccurate interpretations of the show's canon, however, do belong to me.
He asked them what he could do to help.
"Nothing," Damon snapped in the only moment he had to spare for him.
"Maybe you should leave town," Caroline added, her face twisted in worry.
And they said no more to him, because there were bigger things to worry about. Like the looming battle with Silas, or the threat of the veil being destroyed, and the horrifying destruction either event would cause.
Or the destruction Elena might cause in order to stop them.
"She won't kill anyone," Caroline argued. "She's not completely evil." But there was a twinge of desperation in her voice, as though she didn't believe her own words.
"She will, if it suits her," Stefan replied, rational and concerned as always.
"Well, can't let her do that," Caroline insisted.
"We can't just lock her away," Damon said, even though he clearly wanted to do exactly that. "We need all the help we can get."
Stefan paced along the rug. "It'll be extremely hard for her to come back from that."
"I know," Damon agreed, staring into the fireplace.
That night, Matt went home and packed a box.
- TVD -
He set the box – a cheap, plastic bin that still was nicer than the cardboard boxes he had at home – carefully on the ground. Then he reached for his phone and dialed Elena's number.
"Yeah?"
He almost faltered at the flat tone in her voice. "Can you meet me by the old quarry?" he asked her.
"Why should I?"
"Because I have a knife, and I'm about to bleed."
- TVD -
She strolled in over an hour later, her feet silent as she stepped on the leaves and brush strewn over the ground. He stood up to greet her, brushing the dirt from his pants.
"So, I hear you have some blood for me," she drawled. As she drew closer, he couldn't help but feel like a mouse inside a snake cage.
"I do, fresh from the source," he cracked, trying to ease the tension. She looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Don't worry. I've been drinking nothing but bottled water, I swear."
"What is this about, then? Meeting me alone? I didn't think even you were that stupid."
"I want to make a deal."
She laughed, though there was no joy in it. "A deal, huh?"
"I have a few things I want to give you." He brandished the knife he had in his hand. "You'll let me show you something, and in return, I'll cut myself and let you drink the blood. One cut for each item."
"You'll let me?" Elena scoffed. "I could rip out your throat if I wanted."
He shrugged, giving her a crooked smile. "Yeah, but you'll get what? One good gulp before I die? This way, you'll get more blood." He flashed her a cheeky grin. "Besides, don't you want to see what I have for you?"
She cast her gaze over to the plastic bin. "Well, I don't see any air holes, so it's not puppies. Let me guess, teddy bears and rainbows."
He chuckled. "Not quite."
"All right, I'll do it," she said with a shrug. "You first," she added impishly.
"Fine," Matt acquiesced. He took his knife to his wrist and pressed down carefully, knowing he had to go deep enough to keep her interested but not so deep to lose too much blood. He had a lot of things to give her.
He watched the blood well up before baring his arm to her. "No teeth," he warned her right before she latched on.
"That's what all the boys say."
He rolled her eyes. "Just suck-" He stopped and tried again, ignoring her smirk. "Just drink until it clots."
"I didn't know there would be rules," she complained, but apparently it wasn't enough to change her mind. Her lips parted as she brought his wrist to her mouth, and he felt the wetness of her tongue licking at the already spilled blood. Then came pressure as she began to suck at the wound.
He tried not to grimace at the pulling sensation as his blood filled her mouth. Even without the sharp fangs, it was painful and weird.
At last, she pulled back with a disappointed pout. "All right," she sighed. "What have you got for me?"
He popped the lid off and reached in for the first item. He groaned when he saw what it was. It'd been the last thing he added, and at the time it seemed like a good idea. Now he knew he was only opening himself up for abuse.
"It gets better," he promised as he handed it to her.
She looked at it and laughed scornfully. "Well, I was almost right," she said. "So this is your plan, huh? Remind me of all the good times we had together?" She turned it so he could see it again, even though he already knew what it was. A framed photo of the two of them - him in his football uniform and her in her cheerleading outfit - both grinning into the camera with their arms wrapped around each other.
"That's my favorite picture," he admitted, steeling himself for her reaction. "I think that night was the happiest I've ever been."
"You won the big game in front of your hot cheerleader girlfriend. Figures that would be the best moment in your life." She scrunched up her nose. "It's a little sad, don't you think?"
"Yeah, probably," he admitted lightly, trying to not let her words get to him. "But it was more than that. Your mom took that photo. Remember? Both of your parents were there, and Vicki was there, and so was Jeremy...I mean, even my mom showed up. Everyone I loved was there in that moment."
She pursed her lips together. "Okay, I guess that makes it a little less pathetic. Now it's just depressing." She tossed the photo to the ground and turned to him, licking her lips suggestively.
"Fine," he sighed. He cut another gash into his arm to match the first one. Letting out a dark cheer, she dashed forward and sealed her mouth around the dripping blood.
"Okay, next," she announced a few minutes later, pulling away.
Matt decided to sit down. The night before, he'd tried a practice cut to test how long it took for his blood to clot, but he severely underestimated just how much more blood a vampire could suck out in the same amount of time.
From the box he pulled out the first thing he felt, a glass casserole dish. It wasn't until he handed it over that he noticed a slip of paper resting inside.
Elena took the glass from his as she sat down next to him. "I hate to tell you this, but I don't really do casseroles anymore," she said, holding the baking dish away from her lap as though it were a severed head.
"Let's just start with that receipt laying there," Matt replied. She shrugged and plucked it from the bottom of the dish. Even from where he sat, he could read the letterhead at the top: The Tuxedo Closet. "Remember the first time you asked me to the Founders' Day Ball?" he asked her.
"Yeah, you turned me down because you thought it sounded lame and boring. But then you showed up that night at my house, all dressed up like you were supposed to be Prince Charming or something." Her voice was thick with disdain as she recounted the night, but he could still remember the bright smile on her face when she first saw him standing there.
But that wasn't the memory he wanted to share with her. It was another one, one she didn't know about. "Your dad figured out the real reason I didn't want to go was because I couldn't afford it. So that day, he came and took me to rent a suit." He nodded towards the receipt in her hands. "That's your father's signature there at the bottom," he said.
She blinked, and immediately dropped her eyes to read it. Matt smiled sadly. "I held on to it because I wanted to pay him back someday. But I never got the chance."
He thought he could see a faint smile as she studied her father's handwriting. But then she looked up and wagged her eyebrows. "Well, as his heir-looks like you owe me 75 bucks."
He sighed. "You're real funny, you know that?"
"And you're cheap. Okay then, so what's this about?" she said, wagging the casserole dish in the air.
"I don't know if you remember in middle school, when Vicki and I spent the night at your place?"
"Yeah. Your mom was in the hospital."
"Because she drank so much she passed out. She was seizing and everything." It had been the scariest moment in his life, at least until the past couple of years. Vicki called 911, and as they waited, scared their mother was dying before their eyes, Matt made her call the Gilberts.
To his shock, Elena tilted her head back and laughed. "Oh God, I was such a naive idiot back then," she said. "My parents just said she was sick, and I believed them. I mean, the whole night, you looked like you were about to cry – but then Vicki acted like a total brat. She kept yelling at everyone, even my parents. I couldn't believe it. Now it all makes sense."
"Yeah, well, once we were all back home again, your mom came over with a casserole," he told her, and Elena made an understanding ahh sound in reply. "She knew my mom wouldn't be up for cooking, and she even stayed to reheat it for us. But then while Vicki and I were eating, she took my mom into another room to have a talk. I don't think my mom had a drink for another month after that."
"A whole month, huh? Well, good for her."
He regarded the cookware, recalling the last time the dish was used in the house. He swallowed heavily, hating himself for bringing up that memory. "So anyway, I guess I'm finally returning it."
Elena dropped the receipt back into the dish and set it aside. "That was two things. You owe me an extra cut."
Matt didn't argue. She scooted closer, watching as he made the first cut. With vampire speed, she was sucking at his forearm the moment he pulled the knife away. When the bleeding eventually slowed, he took a deep breath and sliced again, just as he promised. Elena quickly shifted to get a better angle, and he winced as a wave of dizziness washed over him.
The next item was a pile of clothes - "Which counts as one thing," Matt told her before she could negotiate.
She wiped her blood-stained hand against her jeans before taking the bundle. "Finally, something I can use," she said.
One by one, she spread each piece across her lap: a lacy blouse, a black skirt, a bright, fabric belt, a sweater jacket, and a red camisole. "The jacket was Jenna's," he told her. "I don't know if Vicki borrowed it or stole it. But the rest of the clothes belonged to your mom. It's everything she lent to my mom over the years." There might have been even more in his mother's closet, but those were the ones he knew about. "I guess my family's not big on returning things," he added sheepishly.
"Apparently not."
He frowned as he eyed the clothing. "I wish I could say they still have her scent, but thanks to my mom, they smell like cigarettes and cheap alcohol."
"Yeah, I can tell," Elena said with a grimace. She shoved the pile off her lap and turned to him expectantly.
Already starting to feel light-headed, he made the next cut shorter than the others. Elena shot him an annoyed look but didn't protest.
Next came an old baseball glove. He'd actually debated whether he wanted to give it up, but in the end, he thought Elena should have it. "It's your dad's, from when he was a kid. We were playing a game of catch, back when I was eleven or so. Even then, he knew Jeremy wasn't interested in sports. So he said I could have it."
"How cliched," Elena murmured, but he saw her rub her fingers over the cracked leather.
He had to count to three to force himself to make the next cut. He'd thought it'd get easier once he got used to it, but his body rebelled against the idea. Nausea threatened to overwhelm him as more blood begin to spill from his vein. Elena didn't miss a drop.
He gave her a beaten-up school folder next. Opening it revealed three pencil drawings tucked inside: a portrait of Vicki, a goofy cartoon of something labeled "Pot Monster," and the silhouette of a boy and girl holding hands on top of a cliff, their bodies angled in the moment before a jump.
"Jeremy's version of love poems," Matt explained needlessly. "Vicki loved those pictures more than he could ever know." His sister had always been so lonely and insecure, and that seemed to go away whenever Jeremy presented her with a drawing he created just for her. A sudden flood of sorrow threatened to consume him, and for a moment, he had to press his lips together to keep from crying.
"Well, he was talented," Elena said, and Matt wondered if she was purposefully ignoring the emotional force behind her brother's art, or if she could no longer recognize it.
He counted the reds lines marching across his arm like tally marks. He took the knife once more and added to the count. Elena sucked at his blood with as much hunger and enthusiasm as the first cut, and he couldn't help but think he was losing the game they were playing.
"Big, strong quarterback is shivering," Elena remarked once she finished.
The next thing he pulled from the box was a small photo album, not much bigger than a paperback novel. "I think even you would like this," he said, giving her a weak smile.
She frowned in curiosity as she took it from him and flipped it open. Pages of yellow-tinted photos greeted her. "Oh my God," she laughed in a near-squeal. He found himself grinning at her delight, relieved and pleased. "It's my mom! Oh my gosh, look at them!"
"Yep. Miranda and Kelly as little girls. Who'da thunk it?" He chuckled. "Even Liz and Abby show up in a couple of them."
She shook her head as she thumbed through the pages. "Wow. Look at those awful clothes. And that hair!" When she reached the end, she looked up at Matt and gave him a smirk. "Okay, these are just adorable, Matt."
He smiled back. "Well, they're yours now."
It was the wrong thing to say. As soon as he spoke, the smirk slipped from her face and she jumped to her feet. Her eyes narrowed cruelly as she gazed down at him. "What makes you think I want all this junk?"
Her words slammed into his gut so hard, he wished she had punched him instead. His mouth went dry and he trembled in the suddenly-cold air.
Instead of replying, he fumbled for the knife. Before she could walk off, he slashed at his forearm, now cutting into the skin by his elbow, the only space left. It worked, and she fell to her knees to feed from him.
As she drank, he used his free arm to reach into the box. After rummaging around the bottom, he pulled out the last item he had and then tossed it to the ground by her legs. She didn't even flinch.
His heart pounded as she sucked on his arm. He was getting so close to the end - but nothing was working. He should have let Damon or Stefan take care of it. Maybe they actually knew what they were doing.
Because this last gift he had, it was more of the same.
At last, she pulled away from his arm, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She glanced down at the ground. "Really, Matt? Another photo album?"
He nodded. This one was brand new, one he purchased on the way home the night before. The pictures inside, though, had been kept in a shoebox for years. Some were not quite two decades old. Others were taken just a couple of years ago.
Her watched her face as she opened the album. He let her look at a couple of pages before he spoke. "Your mom loved taking pictures. She was always giving my mom copies of the ones she thought we'd want."
Elena gave no sign that she heard him, but she continued flipping through the album, and to him, that was good enough. There were photos of Matt and Elena sharing a crib, of the four children swimming at the lake, of their parents grilling outside – almost every good moment shared between the two families was captured on film.
"I know you lost all your photos in the fire, so I went through them all and pulled out all the ones that had your family in it. Sorry, there's at least one Donovan in each picture. Those were the only ones she gave us."
He watched her face for a moment longer, and then couldn't. Maybe the blood loss made him vulnerable, but the relentless apathy he saw there became too much for him to bear. He tore his gaze away and it fell down at the album, and immediately wished it hadn't.
It was Fourth of July, and the two families – Gilbert and Donovan – stood together in a group, with every member smiling at the camera. Standing at one end was Mr. and Mrs. Gilbert, each with their arm around the other's waist. Vicki, a new teen at the time, was posing with a hand on her hip, while Matt wore a carefree smile next to her. Their mother stood behind them, her arms thrust cheerfully in the air. And beside them was Jeremy, a boyish grin on his face, and a laughing Elena, leaning against her brother with her arm draped around his neck.
He squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head. When he'd placed the photo there the night before, the sight of it had made him smile. Now the memory poured through him like acid against his already raw nerves.
He only allowed himself a moment to compose himself. She was too good at spotting weaknesses, and he knew he couldn't give in.
So he began speaking. "Our families have always been inseparable. It's all I've ever known. And I thought it would always be that way, for the rest of our lives." He allowed himself a small, self-deprecating smile. "I had it all planned. You and I would get married someday. And if my mom didn't show up at our wedding, that would be okay, because your mom would be there, and that was good enough. And your dad and I, we would find an old, rusted Chevy someday and rebuild it together, part by part. Jeremy and I would become drinking buddies, and we'd take up fishing once we're old and gray. And his kids and our kids would all grow up together, just as our moms did, just as we did."
She tossed her hair. "Ugh. Thank God that will never happen."
"You know, there's never been a Donovan without a Gilbert," he told her. "And as far as I'm concerned, there never will be."
His stomach plummeted as she flung the album aside. Her long limbs unfolded as she stood up, towering above him. "You're wasting your time. I'm done with you." The air seemed to grow darker as she began to walk away.
"I'm not giving up. I need you, Elena."
She regarded him for moment and then swung her hips as she stalked closer. "You know what, Matt?" she said, her voice dripping with seduction. She bent forward, bracing her hands against her knees. "All that you just said-that was never going to happen. I never loved you, even when I was a stupid, innocent 16-year-old. How I could ever love you now, after I've been with two powerful, passionate vampires? They're real men, Matt, not some pathetic future townie."
"I don't care. I still love you, Elena," he said. "Just like I love Vicki and Jeremy and your parents and even my mom."
With his chest full and his stomach hollow, he looked at her. "But they're not here. You and I are the only ones left."
"Brilliant strategy, Matt," she sneered at him. "Reminding me of everything I've lost?"
"No, of everything you loved."
"Well, that's all gone now, isn't it?"
"Some of it, yeah. And you destroyed every painful reminder in that fire. But you didn't get it all, did you?" he said. "I'm still here, and so is everything I brought here."
"So?"
"So, if you really want to get rid of your past, why don't you finish what you've started? You don't need me anymore. You don't need this junk."
"Are you done now?" She crossed her arms.
"I love you, Elena," he repeated. "And I still think we'll end up together." She snorted derisively, but he didn't care. "Because someday, you'll be the godmother to my children, and I'll come over to fix your plumbing in the middle of night."
The words rolled out of his mouth as he quickly grew desperate. "You'll be there to tell me when I'm being stupid, and I'll tell you how Damon didn't mean whatever dumb thing he said, or that Stefan is only pulling away because he's worried about you. We'll help Caroline figure out what she wants, and we'll make sure Bonnie finds happiness, and then we'll all go out and get drunk together, because we're friends who should have fun when we're around each other. And then you'll go home to someone you love and who loves you back - whether it's Stefan or Damon or whoever - and you'll be happy."
He pointed his arm at the items scattered on the ground. "And these crappy little remnants of your childhood—you'll cherish them. Because they'll remind you of your past, of the people who raised you and loved you and created the woman you are," he told her. "A woman who cares so deeply, who laughs and fights and everything else that makes her human-even when she's a vampire."
For a long moment, silence hung in the air. "I don't want to do this anymore," Elena said at last.
Matt held up the knife, clutching it like a threat. "I only have one more thing to show you," he told her. With his left hand, he pulled the collar of his shirt away, stretching it towards his shoulder. He brought his right hand up and held the blade to the crook of his neck. Staring at her, he sliced a line down to his collarbone. His hand shook but never faltered.
She went to him slowly, as if mesmerized by the sight. Then something snapped, and she fell hard to her knees in front of him. In the next instant, her hand clutched his shoulder and her mouth latched onto the cut at his neck.
Despite the still-throbbing wounds torn into his flesh, he wrapped his left arm around her back and drew her closer in a deranged version of a hug. With his other hand, he took her free hand and dragged it up his chest until it lay over his heart. She tried to pull free, but he only pressed it closer.
"You promised," he told her, knowing she could easily break his hold. But she relented and let her hand remain.
"I want you to feel this. It's the last thing I can give you." He licked his dry lips, feeling sweat break out along his hairline. "You can drink until it stops beating, if that's what you want. It's your choice."
Her mouth went still against his skin. "You think I won't?" she challenged.
"I know the Elena I used to know wouldn't. I know she would never be able to handle the guilt if she did."
She drew away from his neck to give him an arrogant look. "I'm not her anymore."
"Then fine, go for it," he replied. "But if you think that there's even the slightest chance you'll ever accept your humanity again, you won't let me die. You won't do that to yourself. But if that Elena is gone forever, if there's no chance of her ever coming back...Then I'm okay with dying."
"Maybe I just don't care enough to finish you off."
Matt shrugged. "You're a vampire. You'd take as much blood as you can get, right?"
There was a pause as she considered it. "They'd never stop giving me crap about it. I'd get in trouble."
He shook his head but quickly stopped when the movement made him nauseated. "That box's not empty yet. There's a weight and chain inside." He gestured towards the lake at the bottom of the quarry. "No one will ever have to know."
Her face remained carefully controlled, and Matt wondered if she was concerned or intrigued. "They'll notice you're missing."
"Took care of that, too. I left letters in my mailbox for Bonnie, Caroline, and the Grill, telling them I'm leaving for college early."
She raised an eyebrow. "You'd let your friends think you've abandoned them?"
He'd hated that part from the moment he started writing those letters, but he saw no alternative. "I'm not going to survive this town," he told her. "If I don't die today, something will get me tomorrow, or next week, or hell, maybe even a year from now. So if I'm one less body they'll have to bury, then good. It's not like my absence will have any impact, anyway." Bonnie had her parents back, and Caroline, well, he'd noticed the friendship that sprung up between her and Stefan—as well as the one between her and Klaus. They'd be fine.
He gave her a small smile. "So you see? There's nothing to stop you from draining me. Except for one little thing."
She understood immediately. "What, my compassion?" she sneered. "I should snap your neck right now just to shut you up." Her eyes were hard and cold as she stared at him. "But you know what I think? You want to die, but you're too much of a coward to do it yourself. I mean, just look at your life. Why wouldn't you?"
Blood trickled down his neck but he was too tired to wipe it away. He tore his gaze away from her as he struggled to find words. "It sucks so much," he finally admitted. And once he started, he couldn't stop. "Every day, I feel so depressed and alone and helpless. I keep thinking how much better everything would have been if Stefan had saved you instead. I wouldn't have to feel guilty all the time. I wouldn't have to worry about my friends anymore. I wouldn't...I wouldn't have had to suffer so much when Jeremy died." He drew in a shaky breath, struggling to keep a sob from escaping. "The sacrifice you made...I'm not worth it."
It was a moment before he could lift his gaze again. When he did, Elena was cocking an eyebrow at him, obviously satisfied to be proven right.
"But you know what, Elena?" he said. "My life...It's beautiful." Elena jerked in surprise. She looked at him with something like amused confusion. As though he'd gone delusional.
But he pressed forward, undeterred. "I have great, amazing friends. I have this sweet, new truck because a 1000-year-old vampire likes me enough to make amends. I mean, come on, I own a freakin' mansion now." He grinned at her, even though to him, Tyler's house was only a symbol of another loss, and more responsibility he didn't want.
Then the smile fell from his face as he thought of his next words. He could feel his brow furrow, guarding against the emotions that threatened to break loose. "I grew closer to Jeremy than I ever have before. Moving in with him, that was the first time since my sister died that I felt like I had a home. That's why...that's why his death hurt so much. I miss him so bad, Elena. Sometimes I can't take it." Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes.
"Are you seriously trying to compare your pain to mine?"
"No, no, of course not. What I'm trying to say, that pain-that just shows me how lucky I was to have that bond in the first place. It shows how special and great of a person he was, and how much it means to me that I got that chance to get to know him and be there for him. That friendship will always be one of the things I value most in my life."
He tightened his grip of her hand. "And I'm so incredibly lucky to have a friend like you, a friend who cared so much about me that she gave her life for me." He stared hard into her dark eyes, trying to make her see how much he meant it. "If I can ignore the pain and trouble it's caused you and everyone else, the selfish side is grateful it happened. I'm so happy I get to be here with everyone I love.
"I can't imagine how hard your life is, Elena, or how painful. But I do know there are good parts, parts that can still make you happy. You have friends who still love you and would do anything for you. You have Damon and Stefan, who give you a kind of love and passion and happiness that you've never had before. And you never will if you stay like this and ruin it forever. So yeah, maybe everything seems dark now, but I still have hope, Elena. Our past is gone, but we still have a future that can be just as good."
He kept gripping her hand against his chest, waiting anxiously for her response.
"I don't buy it," she said flatly.
A flood of despair filled him, and he could only gape at her in response. But she was merciless. "Even under all those lame platitudes, you admitted how much your life sucks," she spat. "You pretend you have hope, but just a minute ago, you said you won't even last a year. You're lying to me."
"I'm not."
"No one throws away their life like this unless they want to die."
"Or they want to save someone," he pointed out.
She spread her hands and smirked. "You're not saving me. I'm good," she said. "Maybe you're convinced you're playing the hero, but really, you're using me. You just want an easy way out."
He shook his head, snorting humorlessly. "But there is no easy way out. Not for me." His eyes suddenly began to burn as tears filled his vision. "Because even when I die-Vicki and Jeremy-" He stopped as his throat closed hard on him. "I won't get to be with them. Or with you, whenever you finally die. Or any of my friends." He looked at her, pleading. "Don't you see? Even in death, I'm still alone."
She offered no comfort. Instead, her eyes narrowed in thought. "You'll be with my parents..." she pointed out at last, as though she found a hole in his logic. His lips began to tremble and he gave her a pained look.
"And tell them I'm the reason they'll never be reunited with their daughter?"
He shouldn't have said that. He'd wanted to prove that he wasn't suicidal, not give her more reason to shut down. Then again, if anything could spark some kind of response...
But her face remained impassive. Cold. He waited for a sign, a change in her expression. It didn't come, and his world began to fall away.
He was so stupid. He'd meant to only talk about everything good—that was his entire plan—and once again he screwed everything up.
Unable to look at her, he pawed at the ground for his knife until his fingers closed around the handle. "That's it. That's all I have to say," he told her hopelessly. Her gaze followed the knife as he lifted it to his neck. He dug the blade into his skin and began to drag it, but his hand was shaking and the grip was slippery with blood. He barely nicked himself before the knife tumbled from his fingers.
He dropped his head back, exhausted. "Just...use your teeth. It's okay."
Black veins weaved around her eyes. She bent towards slowly, her gaze never leaving his pulse point. He didn't know what she was waiting for, but soon enough she was at the crook of his neck. His arms hung limp at his sides yet her hand, perhaps out of habit, came back to cover his heart. Maybe she just liked the feel of blood pumping through his system.
Before she bit him, her face hovered inches above his skin. "Why, then?" she asked against his throat.
Tears leaked into the corners of his eyes. He worked his mouth, struggling to speak. Pain exploded from his neck as her fangs finally pierced his skin.
"All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Elena," he said at last. As he spoke, the movement pulled at the skin around her bite, sending a shudder through his body. Blackness began to dance around the edges of his vision and the trees before him popped with white sparks.
Closing his eyes against the sight, he forced himself to speak, though the words came out slow. "But if you decide you don't want that happiness...if you think it's not worth all the pain and crap that comes with it, then..." The dryness in his mouth had worsened, leaving his voice hoarse and weak.
"Then that's fine," he finished. "But I have nothing left to hope for."
– To be continued...