Mila

I have never been a big fan of celebrating the amount of months one has been together but I guess that when the person you love lies in a hospital bed with a vicious mysterious infection, you come to change the way you think.

It has been six weeks and the doctors are still puzzled. Damon is beginning to get frustrated, and to be honest, he scares me some times.

There are moments when he just changes. I can see it in his eyes. It is as if they become a shade darker. He is angrier but I think it has gotten better since the doctors took him out of isolation and allowed us to see him. I don't know if it has gotten worse but he is definitely losing patience, and I don't know what to do.

In the beginning I reduced some of my classes but even if no one said anything, I could tell that the students were not happy about it. I guess that it is the problem with us dancers; we are just too damn passionate.

I must admit that I was happy to return to the usual schedule. It was nice to think about something else than Damon's unexplainable disease which just won't go away. There are no improvements, and biologically he is not getting worse either… but it is changing him.

He was in bad mood today, and I walked in on him yelling at the nurse. She took it well, considering that he was calling her "brain-dead moron". She even smiled to me as she walked out and I was too embarrassed to say anything.

Damon would not look at me until I asked him, "What happened?" I brushed his hair back and ran my hand down his face, which seem to him calmer.

He took my hand in his and kissed it. "Nothing. I am just tired of this. I have no energy. I am always burning hot, and I can't sleep" He looked at me with his sky-blue eyes as he pulled me closer.

Vanilla and chocolate, that's how it must seem when we kissed. His fair skin must become even brighter when it mingled with my brown skin. He always said that I was like a box of chocolate because my brown eyes and dark brown hair were like different nuances of chocolate.

He did not let go of my hand, and I did not mind at first but then he looked up at me. "Mil, I want to go home".

"Damon, you are too sick." I answered, putting my other hand on his.

"Mil, Please" he begged

"You know that they won't allow"

Suddenly, his expression changed. His eyes were harder and his hand tightened around mine. "I want to go home", he repeated.

"Damon, …"

"Tell them to send me home" Again, his hand tightened.

"You hurting me…" I tried to pull my hand back but couldn't.

"I want to go home, Mil!" His voice got louder.

I don't how far it would have gone if Stefan did not show and pulled me back from him, and I prefer not to think about it.