Stefan's POV
"Leave my friend alone!" I yell as I punch him in the face. All the alcohol I drank is now helping me set my anger free and deal with this guy. He pushes me back and I hear Lexi yell from behind the bar. The fights usually drive all the people away, not that there were many left out there, it was three in the morning and the only ones remaining were drunken idiots like me, who didn't have a life.
I was hoping that Lexi's boss wasn't around, cause I didn't want her to get fired. I see her trying to push the other guy from me, because we're already on the floor and he's punching me in the face, but someone pulls her back, probably for her own safety and I fail to even get a glimpse from her again. The guy is very tough, he picks me up and I realize he's yelling at me, but I'm not making any sense of the words. All I could think of is my brother on his dead bed, begging me not to grief him too long after he's gone. But the truth is-I got completely broken the day they called me to tell me he collapsed while at work.
I rushed to his place, I haven't seen him in the past week and as a whole he's been avoiding me, for no apparent reason. He's been pushing me away, he's been yelling at me, telling me he doesn't want to see me and only when we ended up in the emergencyROOM , I realized why he was doing this-he wanted to protect me. And I was stupid enough not to see it! I blamed myself for all those times I went by his house and begged him to and see a game and fail to notice his pale face or the big circles under his eyes. What kind of a brother was I? How could I not know that he's sick! That he's dying? The doctor told me that he thought I knew by now-Damon has promised to tell, but he never did, because he didn't want me to be happy and not burden myself with his disease.
Where are you now Damon? Can you see me? Do you think I'm happy brother? Are you proud of me? Or do you hate everything I do with burning passion just like all my friends?
Maybe one of these nights I'll get into a bigger fight and lose consciousness, maybe I'll give up on life and end up with you? Or maybe I'll get so drunk one day that I'll get into my old truck and drive away into the night and never come back home? Would it be so bad?
They guy puts me down and hits me a few times in the stomach which makes me angry and gets me back to reality. I smile at him and he cocks his eyebrow wonderingWHAT ON EARTH is wrong with me and why am I not fighting back.
"Come on, fat ass" I say "Is that all you got?" I feel Lexi's hands, this time on my back, but I shake her off and grunt at her to leave me-she would only get hurt if she remains close to us and I don't want that so I try to push her away from here as gently as I can. The other guy punches me again and I hear someone opening the back door again.
"Oh my God!" I hear her voice. I can recognize her voice anywhere and I've only talked to her once. It's so sweet, so different-it's calming and it makes me even smile for a moment. I turn around and look at her, the moment our eyes meet, she gasps and I see her hand move to her mouth. She's suddenly feeling scared, maybe because she managed to take a look at the other guy, whose nose is bleeding after the only time I punched him, only so I could start this thing.
I'm so consumed by her presence that I fail to realize when the guy has gotten even angrier than before, simply because I'm not even fighting him though I was the one who started this thing. He raises me up again and tosses me to the liquor cabinet behind me. I close my eyes and I fail to catch my breath when I feel the glasses cut my back and get stuck in there. I can feel the blood coming down my back and refuse to open up my eyes.
"Stop!" I hear her yelling again and I wonder why is she even bothering with me. She cut me off already, she should've just left. I had no idea why does she even bother to come and try to stop this -I wanted to get my ass beaten, I was glad that my back was bruised and that my ribs hurt already-pain was good. It took my mind off things. And even if I ended up in the emergency room, they gave me painkillers.
Painkillers were good, cause they gave me more time to sleep and these days I couldn't get more than four hours at best. The guy continue beating me up even after that and at the distance, I can distinguish the beautiful girl, gasping in surprise from all his actions. She seems to naive and innocent-she can't believe one human being is doing this to another.
And the moment I think this, she proves me wrong, picking up her guitar case and hitting the guy on the head with it. My hurt jaw, hangs open for a slight moment as I watch her there and I realize what an idiot I am-she's not weak, she's a bad ass girl. She's probably been through hell and back and she thought how to protect herself.
And right now she was protecting me. Which is something she shouldn't be doing, because I could take care of myself-I just didn't want to. I also didn't want any pity or her help-she has just cut me off when we were outside, God knows what she was thinking about me, but it certainly wasn't anything positive, especially not after this.
She throws me an angry glance, out of some reason, she's angry with me and what I've done, but she doesn't give a damn that I'm drunk-I can see it in her eyes, she thinks I shouldn't have started this.
"Why did you do that?" she yells in my direction and I look around myself confused, starting at the guy on the floor and the broken glass around me, the bigger part of it, still stuck in my back. The pain and the alcohol make me delusional and for a moment I don't ever make sense of where I am until a very angry Lexi throws her apron on the bar, walking through the door behind her which would lead her outside, yelling that she's off work. I'm thinking how right I was-she would give up on me, it was inevitable. You could only care about someone who's trying to destroy themselves so much. She had her own life as well and she didn't have to deal with an idiot like me every other evening.
The anger and confusion I've been feeling are replaced by sadness, once I realize how alone I am yet again. I take a look at her and notice her putting the guitar case down with shaky hands-she might've been badass, but we surely scared her off. And I hated myself for it.
"You didn't need to do that, I could've handled it" I say angrily, realizing how hard it is for me to make at least a decent sentence. My voice is hoarse and my back hurts like hell, I also feel a distant pain in my ankle, but I don't pay any attention to it and try to cover the pain I'm feeling with anger.
"Oh, sure get yourself killed" she says sarcastically but she has no idea how right she is and that's another thing that hits me-she doesn't know I don't want to live this life anymore, that I don't find any sense in it. I'm angry-at her, at the world for taking my brother away, I'm angry for being alone, I'm angry that she think I'm just a greasy drunken guy who has no other purpose but to fight with people-and who is there to blame her? Certainly not me. I know that, I realize it, yet I feel the anger build up in me.
"Why do you even care?" I move my head abruptly towards her as I clench my jaw, because the cuts on my back are killing me. Yet that's what I always wanted from the start-for pain to consume me. But now the problem was-it was turning into anger. She did not deserve my burst outs, but she shouldn't be here either-it was dangerous. Yes the bar was mostly empty by now with the exception of a few people collapsed somewhere in the corners, I didn't know if there was anyone left at all this time. But sometimes there were idiots like the one on the floor who picked up on girls, and I didn't want anything bad to happen to her.
"I don't" she responds harshly as well and I feel even worse than a minute ago.
"Then why are you here?" I ask the logical question and I see her shrug her shoulders, which makes me furrow my eyebrows as I get more confused with her by the second. What is with this girl? She seems so different than anyone else I knew. She first cut me off when we were outside and I asked her, yes foolishly, to go out with me and now she's here, helping me out.
"I'm a good person" she gives me a simple answer and I feel my anger disappear, she is a good person, she's a damn good person and she didn't deserve my cold attitude
"I would help anyone, even a drunken fool I just met" she adds and her words almost make me laugh, but then the pain in my back announces its presence again and I wince from it-she notices it and I see the sadness in her eyes once again.
"Wait here" she furrows her eyebrows again and I think of how sweet she is when she's angry. She goes behind the bar and grabs a couple of washcloths, dunks them in the water and comes over me. She kneels and hands it to me
"For your cuts" she explains, probably trying to make the silence surrounding us less uncomfortable, I take it and try to sooth the pain on my back, however unsuccessfully since I can't see exactly where they are, I guess I look really pathetic because she yanks it off my hand and makes it her mission to help me feel better. She slightly moves my dirty shirt and applies pressure on the cuts. I groan in pain and bury my face in my hands, feeling the blood there as well, which makes me curse
"Goddammit" I spit out and she gives me another compassionate look as she moves the washcloth to my face
"Close your eyes, dumbass" she orders and I'm about to chuckle when I feel her cleaning the blood away. My nose however keeps bleeding and she picks up a couple of napkins from the closest table and orders me to stick them in my nostrils. I'm sure that I look pathetic, but she doesn't make fun of me. Instead she grabs my hand and helps me stand up, even if I don't want her to. I feel worse than before, because I'm letting a girl help me-I can't even begin to understand what a compassionate soul she is, if she has the patience to deal with an ass like me.
Once I'm up, however, I try to take a step forward, but I stagger and I would've fell if she hasn't been there to catch my hand
"Ugh" I grunt unpleasantly as I look down at my right foot-I feel a sharp pain in my ankle and she takes a moment to realize that me not being able to walk normally isn't because I'm drunk. I actually feel way too sober for my own good now and I'm afraid, I'll lash out at her when she doesn't deserve it. Her gentle grip on my elbow keeps me elevated, but I feel worse with every passing minute, I don't let her know that of course, I'm never gonna let her know if I feel weak, even if she was brushing my bloody face just a minute ago
She leans down and pulls up my pant leg only to let a slight gasp and shake her head
"Well this is way too swollen" she says, concern evident in her voice as she looks up back at me-You must've sprained it.
"I'm fine" I say through teeth as I pull away from her and try to make another step forward-she did enough, she shouldn't be anywhere near a person like me. However, I stagger again, the pain is way too much even for me to swallow, but I manage to grip the end of one of the nearest tables and keep myself standing.
"You're not." she crosses her hands on her chest "We need to get you to a doctor."
"No way" I start limping to the front door "I don't need any doctors. And you should go home, it's late" I say in a caring way, not because I want to get rid of her, on the contrary-I want to get to know her better, but she already pushed me once and I don't want to keep pressuring her. I'm not that type of guy. I stagger to the next table and find someone else's unfinished beer so I decide to take a sip, until she yanks it off my hand
"Seriously?" she puts it on another table, as far away from me as possible. "You can't walk straight and want to drink right now?" she judges me and her angry expression makes me smile again, which one the other hand pisses her off.
"It will help me with the pain." I try to explain in order to calm her down as I begin limping to the door again. She hurries by my side and grabs my arm "I'm fine" I try to explain again, but she doesn't give up
"When will you stop saying that? And we should really go to some hospital, your eye has swollen as well" she notices though I don't need her telling me, I'm not able to open it up completely already so I decided to just close it.
"I don't need hospitals. All the emergency rooms know me by name already" I exclaim irritated, not with her, though, I'm still angry at myself and the fact that I'm letting her deal with me right now "I hate doctors."
"Then you should at least let me drive you home." she suggests when we finally get in front of the bar after minutes of me trying to limp my way out of it
"No" I cut her off way too harsh and she gives me a confused look "I don't want to go home" I say it with disgust, but the truth is that I'm afraid to get back to the empty boarding house, especially not when I'm already sober-I won't fall asleep and even if I did, I will only torture myself with painful nightmares.
I'm in too much pain to fall in the first place-the cuts on my back has blooded my shirt on the back-I'm dirty and greasy, I smell like a homeless idiot and yet she's not even slightly disturbed by it, or at least she's not showing it. I know I'm not presentable to go to any place, but I decide I should give it a try once again and after a minute of uncomfortable silence between us, silence in which we're wondering what to do next
"There's a small diner just around the corner" I suggest and I give her a hopeful look "Let me repay you for taking care of me" I offer and I feel the rejection in her eyes yet again, which pains me so much more than any wound could
"That is, if you're not ashamed to get in there with me looking like that." I smile and she does as well, which makes me relax just a little bit-I promise, I'm not some creep, I just want to apologize for being so rude earlier. I know you only wanted to help me.
"Okay" she finally agrees and grabs my hand as she helps me start walking down the street. Every five feet, I stop and take a deep breath, because the pain is too much and she gives me sympathetic looks, probably mentally scolding me for not agreeing to going to the doctor, but I don't pay attention to that at all-I'm smitten by her. She is just so perfect that it makes it hard for me to breath.
"I never caught your name, you kind compassionate stranger" I say and she chuckles foolishly like a girl, but in fact I know this is the most beautiful laugh I've ever heard
"It's Elena" she says shyly while still holding my hand and helping me take another step forward. I stop and look at her-it really suits her, it's such a nice name, but I'm not gonna make that cliché compliment, so I just smile and nod
"It's nice to meet you, Elena." she seems quite confused by me staring at her like that and I guess I've bothered her to an extent until I feel her hand relax in mine again. We get in the diner and I wave at waitress, who is my friend. As soon as she sees me she shakes her head and sighs, knowing well enough that I've been in a fight. I order us coffee and burgers, because we both realize how hungry we are, and we settle down in one of the corner tables, away from the rest of the people who are awake and trying to sober up in four in the morning.
"Well she didn't seem surprised to see you like that" Elena states the obvious and I nod as I shrug my shoulders and pick up my first fry. I'm glad she ordered a burger as well, it meant that she wasn't some pretentious skinny girl who would always be careful about what she eats-she was different. And I loved different. Different helped me feel less awkward.
"I often come here after I've been out drinking all night. They know me good in this neighborhood" I joke about myself, cause I want to make her smile again.
"Do you work here somewhere?" she asks curiously and I'm glad that she feels like she wants to know more about me, though I guess she's trying hard to avoid talking about her own life, or she's just making small talk, who knows. I doubt there's anything to like about me anyway
"Yeah" I confirm "I'm a mechanic as you might've guessed" I look down at my greasy shirt and my dirty hands, which I couldn't clean properly even after I've taken a good shower. "A simple guy with a simple work" I explain sadly, but she furrows her eyebrows, disagreeing with me
"There's no shame in what you're doing. You're earning your living with hard work, I can't imagine why anyone would judge you for that." her comment makes me smile and for the first time after the divorce, I actually feel good about myself. She's the first person, who didn't make me feel bad for being a simple guy with a simple job at the age of twenty five.
"You, Elena, are wise beyond your years" I state with certainty, even though I have no idea how old exactly she is. She looks as if she's in the beginning of her twenties and that breaks my heart, because there shouldn't be so much sadness in her eyes if she's so young.
"So I'm told" she responds quite confidently and it's the first time I sense this about her. I'm glad she's surrounded by people who don't fail to remind her how good she is, in whatever it is she's doing besides playing the guitar.
"What about you, what do you do?" I ask curiously as I take a bite from my burger and she gives me a simple smile, as she looks at herself like she's nothing special, just a regular girl, and I shouldn't get my hopes up. I don't know why a minute ago she was proud of herself and now she seems confused as to how to respond in a way which wouldn't make her work any less significant.
"Well, I play the gutiar, write music, on the weekends I work at a office, a secretary." I furrow my eyebrows as I try to hide my smile. I don't want to make her feel uncomfortable in any way. She's the first girl who made me feel like myself when I talk to her. But this isINDEED a strange combination. Though who am I to judge-I work on cars all day long and get myself drunk to oblivion while fighting other guys in the meantime.
"A rock star secretary?" I say with a light smile and she grins as well, probably realizing how ridiculous it all sounds "Never heard of such thing." I am indeed surprised, she doesn't look like a girl who works in an office. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't suit her-she seems quite responsible and caring-she must be working her job with passion.
I watch her take another bite from her burger and again, this doesn't fail to make me smile-she's so sweet and innocent like this and she even gets some ketchup on her chin, and just as I'm about to stretch my hand and wipe it off, she feels it and clears it out. Maybe for the better-it would've turned our too cliché if I've done it-like on the movies. So stupid. And I didn't want to be cliché with her-I wanted to feel good and real, though I didn't even know I I'll see her again after this.
"When did you start playing the guitar?" I ask, trying to keep the conversation going, however I notice that my question startles her, and her expression suddenly changes-she gets sad out of nowhere and I curse myself for asking "Sorry if I crossed a line" I add as I see how uncomfortable she is with my question. Really Stefan? Do you have to be such an idiot?
"No, it's fine" she shakes her head, trying to reassure me everything's alright, though I think she's trying to calm herself down from some awful memory. "I was eleven."
"Eleven?" I speak up again before thinking twice. I'm just so surprised that she began playing from such a young age. There must've been someone out there to inspire her if she fell in love with this instrument when she wasn't even a teenager. But I don't keep pushing further, since I could see how bad she's feeling already and when I realize that I'm the cause of it, makes me want to punch myself in the face.
"Wow" I let out impressed, not even sure what this means. I'm such an idiot, I couldn't even get out a decent sentence. I feel too uncomfortable for bringing up a subject that she doesn't like talking about so I'm glad when she decides to speak up again and disrupt the awful silence between us.
"Music always helped with a lot of things" she lets out vaguely and I wonder what ruined her-it must've been something pretty heavy if it drove her to such a state only in matter of minutes. I wonder what made her suffer like this. Maybe she lost someone as well? I don't know, what I'm sure if is that I'm not worthy of her sharing it all this with me-not yet at least.
"Well, I started working on cars when I was fifteen" I admit, remembering how Damon was the one who got me into this in the first place. He himself was working in a garage by that time and I never left his side-I was always somewhere near him, being the annoying younger brother, so he thought that if I'm going to waste my time, the least he could do is teach me something useful, which now is my profession. For him it was just a job at the time-later on he began working in a construction firm-he was really better at building things instead of repairing something. But working with cars was my thing-a passion and something which will always remind me of him, just like I guess playing the guitar was reminding her of someone special.
"Is that your only passion?" she asks and I chuckle as I shake my head, wondering whether or not to tell her what's on my mind, afraid that she might think I'm an idiot. Not that the thought hasn't passed through her mind by now, but still.
"Well, believe it or not" I begin shyly "I keep a journal." she laughs and I want to kick myself in the stomach for being so naïve with her yet again. Here-I knew it! She thought I'm a total idiot. A boy who keeps a journal-who even does that? God knows what's going in her mind right now. I frown at her laughing, not intentionally, I often get quite brooding and sad or appear angry and Lexi always told me I have to change that.
"No, no, I keep one too" she explains and I stare in disbelief, figuring out that she must've been laughing, just because of this coincidence.
"If I don't write it down.. I forget it." I try to explain myself though I probably just sound like a fool. She gives me a compassionate look as she stares into my green eyes
"Memories are too important, don't you think?" she asks and I nod, happy that she manages to understand me better than myself-she's so good at expressing herself, she must be really good at writing as well. I wonder how deep and sad her own songs must be.
"Yeah." I respond shyly, feeling a little bit too exposed now, though I don't know why, considering she saw me at my worse already.
About 6:30 in the morning she decides it's time for her to go-she probably has to get to work soon and I feel bad for making herSTAY so late because of me.
I get quite sad when she is ready to just jump off the table and disappear in a flash and I'm guessing she saw the sadness in my eyes, because she stops and gives me a caring look-I must still be looking so pathetic. I thank her again and she puts her hand on mine in a supportive way-it's the kindest gesture anyone has done for me in months. I ask for her number and I see how she's at first reluctant to give it to me but I guess once she takes another look at my pathetic appearance, she changes her mind, for which I'm glad.
She offers to drive me home and I agree, even though the last place I wanna be is there. She helps me raise up and I put my hand on her shoulders-she smiles and it makes her feel uncomfortable, being so short and vulnerable so I hurry to reassure her that everything's fine.
"Don't worry, I didn't see your smile" I promise and she doesn't look at me-I'm guessing she feels to exposed or embarrassed. We get outside slowly, but only after I insisted on paying our check, she tries to argue with my but I convince her that it's the least I could do.
I have a hard time getting in my car and she notices it, but she doesn't scold me or say anything to make me feel uncomfortable-she only waits patiently until I can hop up in her old truck. It doesn't take us long to get to my place which is why I guess I feel so sad all of a sudden-maybe I'll never see her again, who knows if she even gave me the right number or if she'll pick up if I called her. I don't want us to separate, this night was the best thing that ever happened to me in ages and I know that now when it's over, I feel like crap all day and wish to drown myself in alcohol once it gets dark-I just can't bear the thought of Damon not being anywhere near me.
"Thank you for driving me" I say once she pulls out in front of my place "And I'm sorry that I kept you awake for so long."
"It's not a problem" she responds shyly and I feel how she's trying to distance herself from me again, probably having the same thoughts I did until now-it was a great evening, but now the day has settled in and reality was kicking us in the stomach, announcing its presence-it was over, we were back to being strangers. The moments we shared were now in the past and that hurt like hell
"Just take care of yourself and go get that ankle checked up" she says again, concern evident in her voice, which makes me realize again how compassionate she is.
"I'll be fine, I have to take a shower and get to work"
"You can't go to work like that" she exclaims, quite pissed off at my behavior. I must look like a total immature idiot to her. "You need to rest"
"I'll be fine, trust me" I reassure her "I've been far worse. I don't know how they haven't kicked me off this place already."
"You must have a patient boss" she says and I smile
"He was my brother's friend" I explain and she furrows her eyebrows as she notices that I speak in past tense. She's probably wondering what happened "He doesn't have much of a choice, so he bears with me and my hideous behavior." I get off the car and close the door, but I don't leave right away, instead I lean on the car window, which is opened up, since the weather is quite warm and this truck didn't have conditioning
"I hope I can see you again, Elena."
"Easy there, cowboy" she smiles as she tries to cut me off the kind way
"Well even if I don't" I say, thinking that my suspicions from earlier will confirm and she'll probably just want to forget she ever met me "Thank you for this night" I try to sound sincere, I really am grateful for what she did. It's the first night in months when I don't end up in the emergency room, the police or in Lexi's house "It's the best one I've had in months."
"I enjoyed myself as well" she says with a light smile, but I don't know if she's honest or just being polite.
I limp back to my house and hear her leaving behind. I don't have the heart to turn around and look at her one last time-it hurts me, knowing that probably I won't see her again. My ankle is killing me-she was right, I should've listened to her, I don't know how I'll go to work today, but I will, because the possibility of me staying alone at home is simply unacceptable.
I barely manage to get a shower, but somehow I succeed in it-it takes all the blood off my back. I get out and put on the only clean shirt and jeans I find-the boarding house is a mess. It was an enormous lonely mess that I lived in. Actually, lately, I've been spending all my nights outside, so I can't really say I was living here-all my clothes were dirty, my fridge was empty-Lexi would come here occasionally on a Sunday evening to check up on how drunk I am in my only free day and fill up my fridge, put my clothes in the washing machine and try to talk to me, but I usually was in no condition to do that, so she just waited patiently until I was too drunk to go to bed without fighting her and tugged me in-I hated everything about this house. It reminded me too much of Damon, of Katherine as well. I take a look at the clock in the big messy kitchen and notice that I still have some time until work so I hop up on the chair and sigh at the pain I feel in, then open up my diary, which I found out under the table-it didn't even bother me even if Lexi found it and read it-I was way past the time when I cared about this.
Dear diary,
I met a girl today, we talked, it was epic…It's the first time I felt good after Damon died, it's the first time when I didn't only exist, but actually lived. It was a regular night-I wanted to get drunk and forget Damon's face right before he left this earth. I wanted to forget about Katherine and the day she left me, so as usually, I wanted to just get my ass kicked. I wasn't trying to kill myself, you know, but fighting was just a means to getting me through the night-just like alcohol was. I usually lost¬ ¬consciousness and woke up somewhere else, but not this time. This time she was there to change this-she helped me. Her name is Elena and she's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, but there's also some sadness in her eyes-I saw it. She's going through something big and whatever it is-it changed her in a way similar to me-I felt close to her even if we spent just a few hours together, she's the first person, who saw me as a person after Damon's death, and not just like a drunken mechanic idiot. I want to see her again. I doubt it will happen, though, she is most probably disgusted by me and my drunken beaten and broken state. I guess I should be used to it by now, losing everything I ever get close to-maybe it's better this way, she needs to find a better man, a better person than me. I'm sure one day she'll find it.
I smile sadly to myself as I flip a few pages back at times when I was writing while I was still drunk and try hard to swallow my tears as I read about me and my brother and the last days we spent together.
Dear diary,
Damon is getting weaker with every passing day. I can't keep watching him like this-it's killing me. The doctor said he doesn't have much left and I have such a hard time getting in his room with a weak smile on my face trying to make him feel better. He isn't a fool though-he doesn't believe me, which is why today he said I have to start thinking about myself. Is he kidding me? Thinking about myself? What is there to think of? I was a twenty five year old guy with who just got divorced and who doesn't even have a stable job. He said I shouldn't cry much after he dies and I wanted to leave the room once he spoke those words, but he grabbed my hand and pulled me down on the chair-he was stern and very serious and said I have to listen to him good-he said he wants me to continue with my life the best way I could after he's gone, that I should get myself together and keep going to work and taking care of regular things. I laughed at him and pulled away-I couldn't watch him do this. I wouldn't let him. I left outside and cried in the hallway until one of the nurses took pity on me and helped me get up and clean myself. When I got back Damon was doing worse, I held his hand and watched him go through hell all night. I don't know how much I will be able to hold on, but I have to, for him. For as long as he's alive, I won't stop fighting, even though he has given up himself.
I stopped reading-it makes me too damn angry, knowing that I was so helpless and couldn't do anything to anything for my brother. I toss the diary back on the floor and brush away my tears-I can't remember when I began crying so much.
Elena's P.O.V
"God dammit." He mumbles, burring his face in his hands. I know he is in extreme pain.
I look at him with compassion and lightly sigh.
I move the washcloth to his face, tending to the cuts there.
"Close your eyes, dumb ass." I say, still angry at him.
I can tell he is suppressing a chuckle while he closes his eyes.
I wipe the blood from his nose but it continues to bleed more.
I look around and see some napkins on a nearby table, I pick them up heading back to him.
Once back, I kneel down and twist the napkins so that they will fit his nose. I'm no nurse but I do know how to treat a nosebleed, my brother used to get them time and time again.
"Stick these in your nose." I order, he takes them from me and obeys.
I suppress the urge to make fun of him but knowing the current night he had, and his mood. I stop.
I gently grab his hand, standing up.
He looks down at our hands.
I furrow my brow and wait for him to stand up.
He reads my mind.
He stands up and tries to walk
I watch him, keeping a close eye, making sure he doesn't trip from being drunk.
He starts to walk but immediately stops and tripping backward.
I quickly grab his hand, to catch him.
He allows me, balancing on me.
I look down at his ankle, realizing he's in pain.
My first thought is doctor, I get him to the doctor, he'll be ok. I can leave and we can pretend like this never happened?
I lean down and pull up his pant leg, surveying the damage.
My eyes widen as I let out a slight gasp, shaking my head His ankle is swollen from the foot. He must of messed it up pretty bad, why did he do this? I internally sigh.
"Well it's way too swollen." I say in a concerned voice after a moment.
"I'm fine." He grits his teeth.
He pulls away from me, stubbornly to show me, how "fine" he is. I mentally shake my head and prepare to catch him as he falls. He starts to move, gripping the edge of a bar table for support.
I watch him, wanting to slap him in the face for being so stubborn.
He was practically one of the most stubborn person I have ever met.
"You're not." I say, crossing my arms over my chest, giving him a pointed look.
"We need to get you to a doctor." I say, raising my voice.
"No way. I don't need a doctor, and you should go home, it's late." He says calmly, limping away.
I want to tell him how pathetic he is acting but I refrain myself. How was I supposed to help him if he wouldn't let me? I begin to grow frustrated.
He limps to a nearby table where a unfinished beer is, I watch in disbelief as he raises it to his lips, wanting to finish it.
I march over to the table and grab it from his hands.
My expression could cut knives, I'm aggravated.
"Seriously?" I yell, jerking the beer out his hand and putting it on another table, it's a miracle I didn't break the glass.
"You can't walk straight and you want to drink right now?" I question him, seething with anger.
I look up at his expression to see him smiling at me.
I glare at him, growing more pissed off by the second.
"It will help with the pain." He tries to explain to me but seeing my expression of hate, he stops and starts to limb to the door.
I let go of my grudge and hurry to him, grabbing his elbow.
"I'm fine." He starts to say but I cut him off, annoyed.
"Will you stop saying that? We need to get you to a doctor." I say in a gentler voice.
"Your eye is swollen as well." I notice but I think he already knew because he shut his eye quick.
"I don't need a hospital! All the emergency rooms know me by name, already."
I can see he is beyond irritated but I'm not about to give up. Why would they know him by name? Is this a nightly ritual?
"At least let me give you a ride home." I say, hoping he'd say yes and be done with it.
I get him to the front of the bar with ease.
"No." He says coldly and I look at him confused.
What was the guy's problem, I'm just trying to help.
His expression softens when he notices by disgusted face.
"I don't want to go home." He adds, and I know it's the end of that conversation.
I silently take him in, his greasy shirt, pants, hands, disheveled hair, sunken form.
What has made him like this? What cruel things has this world done to him?
"There's a small diner just around the corner." He suddenly suggest.
And I almost smile at the irony, me turning him down and then saying yes the next second..
He notices the expression on my face.
"Look just let me repay you for taking care of me." he says.
I study him for a moment, he has put me through one hell of a night and all that worry and stress and fighting has made me hungry.
"That is if you're not ashamed of me to go, looking like this." He says with a gentle smile.
When he smiles, something in me relaxes. I offer him a small smile.
"I promise I'm not some creep, I just want to apologize for being rude earlier. I know you only wanted to help ."
I knew he wasn't going to hurt me, but something in me wanted to say no. No, I won't go out with you. I repeat the words in my head but then I think about the night he's had, my compassion comes to play. I guess one burger and coffee couldn't hurt. Just tonight. I remind myself.
"Okay." I finally say, taking his hand in mine to help him out of the bar.
Once we get out of the bar, he steady's himself on me, and we walk to the diner. A couple of paces in he stops, holding his breath and I can tell the pain is eating him alive. Should of went to the doctor, idiot. I scold him in my head but still offer him a sympathetic look.
"I never caught your name, you kind, compassionate, stranger." He says, looking over at me.
I giggle.
The noise that just came out of my mouth surprises me, I never giggle, he must think I'm some sort of ditz now.
"It's Elena." I say, shyly.
Why was I acting this way? this guy should mean nothing to me.
His hand is warm in mine, I ignore these oncoming feelings I'm beginning to feel and help him walk a few feet more.
He stops abruptly to stare at me.
I don't dare acknowledge is staring because it starts to make me feel uncomfortable. I could not tell what he was thinking and it was driving me crazy. He was staring at me like I was the last drop in the ocean and he was desperate to drown. I looked at him, furrowing my eyebrow, begging for him to stop looking at me like this.
He just nods and smiles.
When he smiles, again I feel my hand relax in his.
He makes me feel... I search the words in my mind.
Safe.
Why are you acting this way? I beg my mind.
"It's nice to meet you, Elena." He says.
I just nod and mentally sigh in relief as we get to the diner.
He instantly waves at the oncoming waitress.
She recognizes him and lets out a sigh shaking her head.
Suddenly the answer to my question becomes clear: this was a nightly ritual.
Stefan quickly orders a burger and I agree my stomach grumbling loud with hunger.
A burger and fries sounds so prefect right now.
We sit down at a corner table, away from the drunks that are trying to sober up at 4 in the morning and as soon as we pull apart for each other, my hand instantly feels cold from the loss of contact.
It's an awkward silence and I search my head for a conversation, I decide to state the obvious and satisfy my curiosity of this mystery man.
"Well she didn't seem surprised to see you like this." I say.
He glances at me for a second and then shrugs his shoulders.
He picks up a fry and starts to eat.
I decide its time to eat and pick up my burger, taking a big bite.
"I often come here after I have been drinking all night. They know me good in this neighborhood." He jokes.
"Do you work here, somewhere?" I ask, curious of his appearance. But also, I didn't want to talk about me, nobody has to know about my problems. They don't matter anyway.
"Yeah. I'm a mechanic as you might of guessed." He looks down at his greasy shirt and his filthy hands.
"A simple guy with a simple job." He says, sadly.
I crease my eyebrows, immediately disagreeing with him.
"There's no shame in what you're doing. You're earning a living with hard work, I can't imagine why anyone would judge you for that."
He quirks an eyebrow at me, smiling softly.
"You, Elena Gilbert are wise beyond your years."
"So I'm told." I say, giving him a soft smile.
"What about you? What do you do?" He asks, looking over at me.
"Well, I play the guitar, write music, on the weekends I work at a office, a secretary."
He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, but I can tell he's hiding a smile.
"A rock star Secretary? Never heard of such thing."
I laugh, lightly.
"Well, it pays the bills." I say.
He nods, understanding what I meant.
I take another bite of my burger, not sure what to say to him anymore, it's been awhile since I have talked to anyone like this.
"When did you start playing guitar?" He asks, dipping some fries in ketchup.
I close my eyes for a second.
Why did he have to ask that question?
I will myself to calm down, he probably thinks I'm some freak now who can't talk about anything.
He notices my expression, understanding.
"Sorry, if I crossed a line." He says, quietly.
I shake my head.
"No, it's fine. I was eleven."
His eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
"Eleven?" he repeats, dumbfounded
I want to smile but stop it.
"Yes, eleven." I confirm.
"Wow." He says, impressed.
"Music always helped with a lot of things." I say, picking and choosing my words, he didn't need to know about all the baggage I had under this fake smile.
He nods.
"Well, I started working on cars when I was fifteen." He states.
I smile. "Is that your only passion?" I find myself asking.
"Well believe it or not, I keep a journal."
My skin grows cold.
I laugh, not out of stupidity but of the irony.
He stops smiling, and frowns a little at my laughing.
"No, No. I keep one too." I exclaim.
He stares at me in disbelief.
"If I don't write it down.. I forget it."
I cock my head to look at him from a sideways angle.
"Memories are too important, don't you think?" I ask, feeling like a fool for asking such a deep question.
He surprises me with a gentle smile, but I see his eyes crinkle in the corner, knowing it was a genuine smile.
"Yeah." He says shyly.
I smile small, entertained at the idea that he also keeps a journal.
My eyes drift to from his face to the clock on the wall.
6:30 am it reads.
My face falls, I have work in a couple hours.
"I have work soon, I better go." I blurt out, instantly feeling bad when his face falls in a sad manner.
He looks me in the eyes, his green eyes burning into me.
I almost lose my breath.
"Well, thank you again, Elena." He says, taking me by surprise.
I nod and reach out to touch his hand again.
"Take care of yourself, Stefan." I whisper, quietly, meaning it.
He gives me a crooked smile.
"I will... " He trails off, lost in thought, I supposed.
I feel bad for leaving him there, but I had to salvage some sleep for today, even just two hours, I was exhausted. I just hoped I'd be able to sleep tonight, usually I had terrifying nightmares about my parent's car crash, their bloody faces etched into my brain, telling me it's all my fault.
I shudder at the thought and still notice he's staring at me.
"Would it be weird if I asked for your number?" He asks.
I start to shake my head yes but then I stop. It won't hurt to give me his number, besides I wanted to check up on him, anyways.
"Hey, let me give you a ride home before I dip, I don't want you walking on that ankle." I suggest.
In my surprise he nods, slowly.
I quickly scribble my digits on a napkin from the dispenser and hand it to him.
I stand up and take his warm hand in mine, pulling him towards me.
He responds automatically and I try to hide the smile on my face.
Once he's up and leaned against me, we start walking to the door.
He chuckles down at me, and I don't look up to see why.
Sometimes I hated being so short.
"Don't worry, I didn't see you smile." He whispers, close to my ear.
I just keep looking at the door, walking past it, with him, refusing to meet his eyes, but when he says this, an unexplainable rush goes right through me.
It's the first time in months I feel this good.
And it's all thanks to him.
He pays for the bill and I almost refuse him, he can't pay for my meal, it just won't be right.
I decide to let him and make a mental note to pay him back.
I pull him closer to me, helping him out the door.
We get to my dirty old truck and I'm instantly embarrassed of the sight of it.
I'm praying he doesn't start asking questions.
I open the door for him and go around the other side to get in.
I get in my car, moving around some things so I can see where I am going where I'm driving.
God, I'm such a slob, he must be thinking.
I see him struggling to get in.
I wait for him, patiently, not nagging him, for once.
It was choice to not go to the doctor's and I respect it.
He tells me the address and we drive there in silence, I see the sun begin to rise and smile to myself.
Then thought dawned on me: Time was robbing me and Stefan, I knew some where deep inside me, I wanted to see him again, my heart said yes, but my mind reminded me of the repercussions. Reality was setting in, love doesn't exist. I remind myself.
I'm so lost in my thoughts I don't realize that were at Stefan's huge house.
I glanced at the big boarding house.
Wow.. what a big house.
I turn to him, seeing his broody expression.
I want to ask him if he's ok but I refrain myself.
"Thanks for driving me." He says, finally breaking the awkward silence.
"It's not a problem." I say, shyly. I hope he doesn't notice that- I'd hate for him to think I'm distancing myself on purpose, it's just how I deal with things now- distance yourself, don't feel anything, nobody cares anyways.
"Just take care of yourself and get that ankle checked up." I concern secretly hoping he will.
"I'll be fine, I have to take a shower and get to work."
And here we go, back to stubborn Stefan.
"You can't go to work like that." I declare, getting a little pissed
This guy was crazy if he thinks he can fix cars on that ankle.
"You need rest." I add, looking into his eyes, gently.
"I'll be fine, trust me, I've done worse." He says.
It makes me wonder how messed up his body is, what scars he has..
"I don't know how they haven't kicked me off the place, already."
"You must have one patient boss." I say, a smile threatening to appear on my face.
"He was my brother's friend." He explains.
I catch the word was, what happened to his brother? I decide not to push it, because he hasn't pushed me at all and I really respected him for that.
He gets out of the car, and I watch him
Goodbye. I whisper to myself.
I'm about to drive off when I see he's outside the passenger door, leaning on it.
I catch his eyes on me, I am startled for what he says next.
"I hope I can see you again, Elena."
I smile despite myself.
"Easy there cowboy." I tease, but after, I worry he thinks I actually meant it.
"Well even if I don't thank you for this night." He says with sincerity
My heart bursts in joy at his words.
"I enjoyed myself as well." I say earnestly with a light smile.
Because it was true, I had a great time, probably the best time in months, but now I have to get back to the real world. I'm just a girl with dead parents and too many scars, too messed up to love.
He walks away after that, and I feel the joy start to fade.
I watch him go into his house, the sadness creeping back into my heart. I know this is not what my parents would want but I carry so much guilt, no one else needs to be burdened with it.
I drive home, back to my apartment, I warm up some tea and sit on the couch, lost in my thoughts, I begin to write in my journal:
Dear Diary.
Today I met a guy, we talked, it was epic.. but then reality set in, love doesn't heal problems, faults don't disappear with true love , how can I love someone else when I cannot even love myself, can't even forgive myself? I'm glad I have you diary, I don't know how I would get through the night, without writing anything.
Suddenly, I stop writing and flip to a page I marked:
Dear Diary: me and Matt broke up, it's for the best I tell myself. No one can love someone with such grief, I cry every day, I can't help it, I'm just so emotional. I know it's been awhile and Matt always said he would help me. He has tried, lord has he tried, But I keep pushing him away. I don't need him, I keep telling myself. No one can love someone so messed up. I still remember the last thing he said to me: "No one will love you with such heartache"
And I have to agree, there's too much-
I stop reading and wipe a tear from my eye, I look up at the clock and realize it's 7:30. Time for work. I throw my long hair up in a bun and put on some makeup, hiding the dark circles under my eyes from sleepless nights. I pull on my blouse and skirt, straightening it so it looks nice. I give the mirror my best fake smile.
I grab my keys from the counter and walk out the door, making sure to lock it.
As soon as I get into my truck, I close the door, popping in some tunes.
I put the key into the ignition, starting it up.
My engine grumbles in frustration and I sigh.
I try it again, after a few failed attempts I realize that the engine won't be coming back to life anytime soon.
I grumble and grab my phone.
Great, I didn't have a mechanic- my thoughts float back to Stefan.
Looks like I was going to see him again.