Here we are, in the darkest place. To keep from forgetting, I picture your face and I wonder, while we count the cost, which is sweeter: Love or its loss?
So I curse you, my vampire heart, for letting me you love you.
Love you.
For letting me love you, from the start.
My Vampire Heart, Tom McRae
Damon Salvatore had never been one to allow a woman to fully enter his heart. This was especially true when he became a vampire. He had learned his lesson with Katherine. She was the reason Damon was afraid to love. She was the reason he was guarded and jaded.
Damon morphed himself to fit the mold of the eternal player- cold and bad, yet too alluring to pass by. Yes, being the oh so good bad boy was an art. It took years to perfect; years for it to become habit. To get in, get done, and get gone, is not part of human nature. Of course, Damon was no longer human, but his heart was. Every time he slipped out of the bed of his latest conquer, he couldn't help but feel remorse. Damon sometimes stayed in the shadows and waited for his one night stand to awake in an empty bed with only faint memories of the night before. The look on their faces was always the same: hurt fused with pain that then laced with shock, which finally blended with self doubt. Aristotle once said though, 'we are what we repeatedly do'. So, Damon Salvatore became the playboy; the bad boy; the eternal stud that was unconquerable. He created an image for himself. An image, which damned him to the life of a good time, and then slipping away before the sun made its way over the horizon.
He couldn't complain, though. His life was pretty damn perfect. He could get any girl his vampire heart desired. They would praise him like a god. He could hear them say 'he's beautiful', 'he's hot', and 'I hear he's great in bed'. Yes, comments like these only expanded his already massive ego. But it was comments like those that kept him going. Oxygen fuels the fire; flattering reviews and comments fueled Damon.
Damon Salvatore's life had been perfect. Then, Elena Gilbert had to happen.
She made him feel things his heart had buried deep inside of him, centuries ago. Humanity began to have cameo appearances in his life, which then turned into a permanent spot on the 'show'. For the first time, really, in 146 years, Damon's heart felt completely human. He felt every ripple of pain, every surge of regret- every feeling of love. Love. It was an odd word to Damon, after several years of banishing it.
He hated to admit it, but he loved Elena Gilbert. There were so many reasons why he shouldn't:
She was his brother's.
She only saw him as a friend.
She was a goddamn replica of Katherine.
She screamed heartache waiting to happen.
She was his brother's.
That was the reason that hit Damon the hardest. Sure, she only saw him as a friend; but people's feelings are always subject to change. Yes, she was the doppelganger of Katherine, but looks are simply looks; they don't define a person. True, she screamed heartache, but he had already endured that with her. Since the moment they met, Elena Gilbert caused Damon heartache; there was nothing new with that. So, that left the one lone and final reason he shouldn't love her- she was his fucking brother's. It left a bitter taste in Damon's mouth every time he thought or spoke of this. He would never understand what she saw in his brooding, overly serious, tragically noble brother. Yet, it was the hard cold fact- Elena Gilbert loved Stefan Salvatore. Not Damon; never Damon.
"Damon," Elena said, entering the parlor of the Boarding House. It had been a week since Elijah released Stefan from the tomb. He and Elena were now inseparable. This killed Damon. It felt as if someone had driven a rusty nail through his heart, and left it there, just so the burning pain would never cease.
"Howdy," he drawled flatly, taking a sip of his bourbon. He hated being this cold to Elena- he loved Elena. But he had to be. It was his only form of defense against his heartache. Make Elena suffer as well. They could drown together. Together. The word taunted him.
"Look. I don't know what I did to make you so pissed off, but cut this out. I thought we were on the verge of mending our friendship." She crossed her arms.
"On the verge on mending our friendship?" he let out a chuckle. "Elena, I've been trying to do that for weeks now. It's you who has been resisting. So please, do not even begin to make this out as my fault." Was Elena being serious right now? Mending their friendship? Friendship. Damn that word. Damn it to hell.
Elena sighed. "I don't pretend to know why you're acting like this. But I'm ready to forgive you for- for Jeremy. So, talk to me- as a friend." Elena made her way to the couch Damon was slumped on, and took a hesitant seat next to the vampire. What the hell was he going to tell her? 'Oh, yeah, I'm sad because you're back with Stefan and totally ignoring me'. No. So, Damon just sat silently, taking another sip of his bourbon. The duo sat in silence- Damon, staring at the burning fire in the fireplace, and Elena switching between the floor and Damon. Elena let out a sigh.
"Look, I'm trying to make things better. And you're just going to sit there?" Elena's chocolate eyes darkened with anger.
"Why. Why, all of a sudden, do you want to fix things? The thought didn't seem to cross your mind a few days ago."
"I-" she sighed. "I don't know." She ran a hand through her hair.
"Well. If you don't even know why you're here, it must not be important." Damon took one last sip of bourbon before slamming the shot glass on the table by the sofa and walking out of the room. Why the hell was he doing this! He loved Elena. Yet, he kept walking. She doesn't love me. She has Stefan.
Truth be told, Elena did know why she was going to talk to him. She wanted to tell him something. Something that she had known for a while, but refused to accept. She loved Damon Salvatore. Completely, totally, and utterly loved him. Stefan had simply become a distraction from that truth. But, there Damon was, walking away. He doesn't love me, she thought, he has Rose now. Elena sighed. Goodbye, my almost lover. Sniffing back threatening tears and holding her head higher, she walked out of the room. Elena belonged with Stefan; Damon belonged with Rose. Right?
While they are in a dark place, they can't help but wonder which is sweeter: love or its loss?
~So, this is just a little one-shot. I figured; why not start off the New Year with a Delena one-shot? I grant you, it is kind of depressing, but well, that's life. Haha, I wasn't in a fluffy Delena mood. So, for right now, this will be staying a one-shot, unless I get and overwhelming amount of reviews saying I should turn it into a multi-chapter story. Well, Happy New Year, and best of wishes in 2011!
Remember, reviews are love, people! ;)