I started another and couldn't seem to stop. Sorry if they're getting repetitive, the two of them are just so easy to write.
Disclaimer: Me=owning nothing
A Midsummer Dream
Some nights, although they are becoming fewer and far between, she sleeps in his bed and tries to remember his arms around her. It's easy in the dark, to imagine he is next to her. Just out of reach. And when light creeps through the curtains she'll lay for hours with her eyes closed. Because once she opens them there's no way to hide the truth.
He is gone. And she is left behind.
It's weak and pathetic. But most of the time it's worth it. She's started to live for the moments in the middle of sleep and awake. That brief second when she starts to believe her own lie. When the line between past and present becomes so blurred it's hard to remember who she is, let alone where she is.
Which is alone. In a bed and house that aren't hers.
Most of the time Damon doesn't comment. Observes her walk in and out but doesn't say a word. Because he's lonely too. And as much as it hurts to watch her mourn his brother, he can't help but feel a sharp pang of guilt when he sees her red eyes. Stefan is gone because of him after all.
But he hasn't changed that much. So guilt isn't all he feels. And it's bordering on stalker but she's beautiful when she sleeps. So he watches. A lot.
It's just about the only time she's peaceful these days. In the calm after the storm she's become all about calculating stares and furtive glances. And he knows for a fact she hasn't laughed in weeks. Because he watches. A lot.
She's staying indoors. "Hibernating" is what Caroline is calling it. Bonnie says she needs some space to process. Jeremy is dealing with his own issues. And Alaric, well Alaric tells him to stop fixating on Elena. As her inevitable legal guardian he's begun to get a little bit overprotective.
And he is trying. But after going through so much together, it's strange not to see her every day. He feels like he's lost a limb. Like there's a vital part of him that should be there, but isn't. So he watches. And really, that's all he deserves.
But it would be easier if she'd stop sneaking into his house. And it is sneaking. Despite her name on the deed and the key under the mat (because anyone truly dangerous wouldn't be stopped by a door) she still skulks around like an intruder.
They're both a little lost. Or maybe more than a little. And as much as he loves her, and it is becoming incalculable, he can't help but acknowledge it was much easier talking to her before Stefan left. When there was a danger around every corner and he was more than willing to play a hero for a few hours.
He's no knight in shining armor. And she knows it. But he would give her anything she asked. And she knows that too. In all fairness though, she's just lost one brother. And with Klaus' recent disappearing act all pretense of a reason for him to stay has vanished too. So she's a little wary. She's sick of everyone she loves leaving. Or being forced to.
Both aches hurt the same.
He's erratic and eccentric. And she knows he follows her around. But it's just before senior year begins that she realizes Stefan's scent has long since faded from his sheets. And that her life is much too short to be spending so much time searching for something that no longer exists. Something she may not find ever again.
The floorboards creek under her weight as she approaches the den. Slowly and with quick eyes. But the scene is innocuous. Reassuring after so much silent chaos.
He's stretched across one of the couches. Nursing a glass of amber liquid and studying a weathered, leather bound book. He knows she's there but he doesn't speak. And it's only after she takes a seat across from him that his eyes even glance to her. At this point he's used to be ignored.
"Do you think we'll ever see him again?" She whispers to the breeze coming in from the open windows. Her eyes are closed. Sometimes it's so much easier to live in the dark.
He hesitates, because of the we but also because he hates telling her things she doesn't want to hear. "I will," he reasons, because he has eternity and her window of opportunity is miniscule by comparison. He should stop, keep it vague, but he can't help but confess, "But I hope you never do."
Time passes. And not so long ago she would have seen him as selfish. A brother who plots against his own blood. Who covets others' possessions and beautiful things. But now she knows better. Knows that he would do everything to keep her from ever having to see Klaus again. And somehow it's harder to view him as three dimensional. To realize a man so easily capable of great violence and intense egotism could love her with such self-effacing abandon.
"Could we save him?" It's the scariest question. Because she then has to ask if Stefan even wants to be saved. If the reason he hasn't chanced contact with her is because he's found his old life more agreeable then the nightmare they'd lived through together.
She doesn't want to believe it. And most of the time she doesn't. Nails his pedestal to the floor and refuses to let it shake. But there is the inevitable proof of the dead body buried a month ago. And the realization that her two brothers might not be as different as she'd first assumed.
"Maybe," he replies truthfully because he's discovered in his centuries of life that there is almost always a way. "But I would die. And so would you," his words catch at the end but it's so quick he's almost positive she didn't notice. His smile is bitter when he adds, "Somehow I don't think Stefan would appreciate the effort."
She's quiet for a long time. Eyes still tightly shut. But he's not looking at her either. And when she finally speaks it's no longer a question but an admission, "I miss him."
The pain is swift. But equally fleeting. He knows the score, knows that whether Stefan is present or not he will always win. That there is so much to make up for and so little time to do it.
He loses breath he doesn't have when she adds, "I'm glad you're still here." It's not calculating, a bargain to get him to stay and keep her safe. Because Elena doesn't do that. She'll manipulate him to save someone else's life. But never her own. And here, just the two of them, he finds that there is no more room for lies. For hiding in the dark. And when his head whips around he discovers her staring levelly back.
She doesn't blink when she admits, "I don't want to say goodbye." And neither of them will say it aloud, but they both know she's stopped talking about Stefan.
His body seems light. His brain slow. And he realizes all at once that he knows nothing about love. About all the shapes and sizes it comes in. And how it can grow even in the harshest of circumstances. Tether people together so swiftly and suddenly that they're blinded. Consumed and unable to see that there's no longer hope for escape.
He'd thought he felt that for Katherine. But now, staring at the brave and beautiful human across from him, he has to accept that he had never come close. That anything he'd ever experienced before could hold no comparison.
He's not going anywhere. And it's more a submission then an assertion. But he doesn't care. He's more than willing to be consumed.
"Then don't."
Thanks to everyone who gave me amazing feedback on my previous Vampire Diaries one shots. I appreciate it so much.