AN: Dear readers!
Mark the 25th of every month in your calender because this will be my future update-day! The next chapters are written and are waiting for translation. Have fun with a piece of Damon's mind and remember: reviews are love! Also I would like to announce that I am currently writing a Delena one-shot. It will be posted in the next few days.
~ Ria
Disclaimer:
All characters belong to their rightful owner. I'm just messing around with their lives.
Though I'd like to own some mysterious dark-haired guy named Damon Salvatore!
CHAPTER SIX
Just another stone on broken walls
– Gallant / Bourbon –
SEPTEMBER 6, 2009
The stone cubes in his bourbon glass jingled softly as he led the glass to his lips to sip the liquid. Preoccupied in thoughts, his gaze wandered around the room, pausing at the roaring flames in the fireplace before his attention was drawn to a dark corner and the piano standing there. How long had it been since he played on it? Fourteen month? Or sixteen month? Damon couldn't remember. It must have been before the last so-called break between him and Katherine. Because after they had reconciled, nothing was the same as before. He wondered how much dust had gathered on the furniture. Because currently it was no more than a piece of furniture. An object to decorate the room but not an object to use. No more. Maybe never again.
The three stones jingled again as Damon realized that there was only a small slug left of his bourbon. He rose from the heavy armchair with a groan and went to the serving cabinet. He intended to partake only a finger-width of the brown-golden liquid. But when he removed the stopper of the crystalline decanter and started pouring the alcohol into his glass, it was more. The slight burning, which the bourbon left in his throat, was reassuring. Something he could rely on. Nowadays he couldn't rely on much. At least not on Katherine. Not on the woman who had his heart in her claws. From day to day it felt more like he was trapped in a snare and there was no way out of this situation. He had fallen under her spell; was devoted with his body and soul. As if he had signed a binding contract with his blood … with the queen of hell. He couldn't leave her. And no matter how often and how many times she had pulled the ripping cord, they had found each other again and again. At least on a physical level
Damon wondered when it had begun to go so rapidly to the south but couldn't pinpoint the moment. Like his last memory on playing the piano, that one was blurry. But how many people were able to designate a certain moment as the beginning of the end? One out of ten? One out of a hundred or even just one out of thousands? The man with the blackish hair sighed, stepped back to his armchair and sat down, slowly swinging the crystalline class in his right hand back and forth. Katherine. Katherine's eyes were the color of golden bourbon. Maybe a shade darker. But who knows. How long had it been since he saw her in full daylight? Since he looked in her eyes? In eyes that didn't despise him?
Brown eyes. Elena also had brown eyes. But dark ones. Warm ones of the color of dark chocolate. Another brown which despised him. Why was he thinking of Elena now? Maybe because her contempt was justified? Nearly, just nearly, he regretted his words which he spoke yesterday. Still, it was the truth. And Damon always spoke the truth. Maybe he had even felt a little sorry for his brother's girl. She didn't know to what she had herself embarked with, which encumbrances and what lies Stefan brought with him. He was always the good, golden boy but inside he had always craved more attention. Even more than the attention he already had from everyone.
The loud bang of the front door startled Damon and he lost the focus of his thoughts.
»Damon?« The tone of his name sounded through the lobby. His brother's voice didn't sound friendly, more angered. Another person who had merely contempt for him? Stefan should join the end of the queue, Damon thought to himself, and made no move to answer his younger brother. He would find him anyway in a few moments. And there he saw the silhouette of the younger Salvatore appearing in the doorway. But the presence of Stefan wasn't enough for Damon to raise his glance. He continued to focus on the well-filled glass in his hand and raised it to his lips again.
»Damon,« Stefan said and now there was real annoyance in his voice. Paired with reproach … or disapproval? »It's not even six o'clock.« The dark-haired man shrugged. He actually didn't care.
»Did I ask for the time, little brother?« He replied listlessly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Stefan approaching and after a few moments he finally bothered to look at him. A smug grin graced his lips and Stefan's jawbones showed clearly as he pressed his lips together in disapproval.
»Damon, why?«
The person in question frowned. »Damon, why what?« He answered with several questions: »Damon why is there so much bourbon in your glass or Damon since when do you own stone chillers or Damon why are you at home and not in your own flat or Damon why are you sitting here in the dimness or another Damon why? I certainly can answer the first questions, little brother. If there's another ›Damon, why‹ then you have to clearly specify your choice of words. I'm talented in many things. Unfortunatly, reading your thoughts isn't one of them. To be honest, even without this ability, I'm exceptionally good in between the sheets.«
Watching Stefan, as his face was now sprinkled with a slight shade of red, he chuckled in amusement and took another sip of his bourbon. It would clearly—and from experience—take a few moments for his brother to find his voice again. Inwardly, Damon counted from ten down and as if right on cue, Stefan cleared his throat when Damon reached the zero.
»Damon, why did you talk to Elena?« The voice of the younger Salvatore quivered slighly but Damon could read him like an open book. Stefan tried to act calmly and confidentely but internally he was nervous and insecure. Above all, his eyes spoke volumes. He was afraid. He didn't fear Damon per se, but he was afraid of his answer.
»Which Elena do you mean?« Once again Damon frowned, tapping his chin with his left index finger in slow intervals as if he were thinking hard. Did he enjoy winding up his brother? Yes, definitely. It was simply terrific how he stood in front of him, almost desperately waiting for an answer. »Elena, Elena, Elena … I don't think I know any Elena, Stefan.«
»Stop this shit, Damon,« huffed Stefan angry. Damon straightened up in the armchair and focused on his brother, an amused glint in his eyes.
»Well, well, well—« he rebuked his brother with a wagging finger, »—this wasn't an appropriate phrase, little brother.«
»Damon, please. What did you say to her?« Stefan tried obviously a different approach since anger didn't help him. Now he had a pleading tone in his voice and his body was literally slumping down. Stefan slouched his shoulders, his head dropped by a few inches and he breathed out softly and deeply at once. Damon felt almost sorry for him. But only almost because the dark-haired man knew his brother and he knew that his submissive behavior was only pretended.
»I can't resist this request,« Damon sighed theatrically. He placed his glass of bourbon on the small sidetable but not without taking another sip first and closing his eyes with pleasure when doing so.
»Well, what did I say to your Elena? Let me just think for a moment.« Damon could play this game forever. In front of him, Stefan stepped from one leg to the other, shifting his weight constantly from one side to the other and he seemed more nervous by every passing second. Well, this was not insincere. This nervousness was real and the expression in Stefan's green eyes told Damon everything he needed to know. And a little bit more.
»Judging by your appearance you already know what I said to her,« Damon finally said, looking his brother straight in the eyes. »I told her the truth. The truth you have kept from her for over a year.«
Stefan snorted in frustration and clenched his hands into fists. »You had no right to do that, Damon!«
»You bet! I had the right,« Damon hissed, leaning forward before he got on his feet. Slowly, he really lost his patience with his brother. Although there were about the same size, Damon could look down to Stefan because he still hadn't straighten up. Stefan's clenched fists trembled but Damon didn't care. His little brother didn't have the balls to mess with him. He never had.
»But when we are already philosophizing about right and wrong … did you have the right to bill and coo with Katherine and hide it from your oh-so-beloved girlfriend? Did you have the right to come between me and my girlfriend and make goo-goo eyes at her for weeks? Did you have the right to dump Kat after Elena suddenly showed interest in you? So don't give me this shit about your fucking morals when your're the one who lies to his girlfriend and pretend like everything is puppies and kittens while you fuck my girlfriend behind Elena's and my back.«
Damon took a deep breath. He wasn't finished yet and the alcohol had loosened his already loose tongue even further. »You don't deserve Katherine nor Elena, Stefan. You can't treat women like that. But how shoud you know to treat women,« Damon bit with a smug grin.
»What do you know about how to treat women? You're the one who can't or won't commit. Don't believe for a second that I haven't heard the rumors. Katherine left you not only once,« Stefan sneered and Damon's eyes flashed with amazement. He hadn't expected that his brother will fight back. The dark-haired man was also interested in the fact that Stefan didn't even deny that he have slept with Katherine. A hot ball formed itself in his stomach and solely through deep inhaling and exhaling he could bring is sudden anger under control. Damon was tempted to finish this conversation but he wasn't the type of man to let a discussion rest without having the las word. So, for the time being, he contented himself with a questioninly raised eyebrow and gestured for his brother to continue with a smirk while his stomach contracted painfully and he nourished the resentment inwardly.
»Don't let me stop you,« he added to his gesture with an amused tone and Stefan immediately puffed up.
»I didn't pinch Katherine from you. You know it as well as I do. She left—«
»And yet you were the one who wagged his tail like a puppy at the first sign of availability,« Damon interrupted him sharply. No, he couldn't listen one second longer to his brother's beating around the bush. »Did you also serve Elena the pretty story of how you just wanted to comfort Katherine? And the evil, evil Katherine was the one who threw herself on you?« Damon laughed wickedly and looked Stefan into his eyes. »And did she believe you? Did you tell your innocent little girlfriend that she can trust you? That everything you experienced with Katherine wasn't important? Because if you believe that, little brother, you are lying t yourself.«
Again, Stefan's shoulders slouched and as if someone let the air out of him, he suddenly seemed so much smaller than before. »Did she forgive you? Embrace you and telling you that she still loves you? If so, you know that that peace won't last merely until she has the guts to talk to Katherine. And if I have to bet, I would say it won't be that long. Because Elena possesses courage. You've got to hand it to her.« A corner of Damon's mouth curled itself up. »Or did she send you packing already?« With those words, the dark-haired man finished his outburst, picked up his crystalline bourbon glass and downed the rest of the liquid at one before slamming the glass back on the sidetable—of course with controlled force.
»Any questions, little brother?« He shot a warning glance towards Stefan, who stood in the middle of the room like a pile of misery and no longer had any cocky answer. »No? Good.« After all, it was Damon who had the last word. At least this time. He turned on his heel and towards the stairs. »If you'll excuse me then.«
Damon could barely keep himself from pounding his fist into the wooden paneling when he was on his way to the first floor. It wasn't that he didn't love his brother. However, Stefan's talent—to survive every hairy and risky situation unscathed and as a hero—was unbearable. Damon hadn't need an answer to his last question to know that Elena hadn't lovingly taken him in her arms again. The expression in Stefan's eyes and his posture had spoken volumes. His anger was far from subsiding but he couldn't resist a chuckle. Perhaps this would finally teach his brother that certain acts had consequences. Thereby, Damon didn't even think of himself and the contempt he had for his brother. He had nearly supressed the thought of Stefan sleeping with Katherine. At least he told himself those lies. No, he merely thought of Elena and her oh-so pure and innocent relationship with Stefan which he liked to refer to as a fairytale world. Only that this fairytale wouldn't have a happy ending. If he took the measure of Elena correctly, she wouldn't be able to overlook Stefan's secret.
Damon opened the door to his room and for a moment he just stood in the doorway to take a deep breath. Where were his thoughts before Stefan had interrupted them? Oh yes. He had admitted to pity Elena. She deserved to know the truth. He didn't know much about the Gilbert-girl but she had a good heart, even though Katherine always talked pejorative about her cousin. An invisible fist enclosed around his heart and a deep sigh escaped him. Finally, Damon crossed the threshold, closed the door behind him and locked it. He would really be able to live without another visit from Stefan or any other intrusion into his privacy. Although, Giuseppe and Lily Salvatore were at some charity event in Richmond and his sister was back at the university campus, he could never be too careful.
As he crossed the room, he slowly unbuttoned his black shirt. Button by button, until he could strip it off and he threw it carelessly on a nearby chair. The deep-seated jeans followed and only clad with his boxers, he dropped onto the bed. Katherine. Elena. Damon hadn't seen such deep and so many emotions in a while now like he saw them last night in Elena's dark eyes just those few minutes. He closed his eyes and tried to remember her face. At first, he only imagined Katherine. The distant mask of the woman, whom he loved dearly but whose cold heart he couldn't warm. Slowly, the facial features of the older Gilbert vanished and Elena's soft features took their place. Involuntarily, a gentle smile formed itself on his lips. During the first few moments of their meeting, he had seen the compassion in her eyes. But instead of reacting like a decent man—as Stefan would have done—he had caused fear in her. And yet, the fear of him was so much more refreshing than Katherine's lack of emotion. And then … how Elena had defended Stefan.
It was almost an utopian dream for Damon to imagine that someone would do that for him. He always denied that all the rumors would affect him deeply but truth to be spoken, the bad opinions of others destroyed him piece by piece. If only he knew who hated him so much to make his life worse by those untruths. It rarely passed a week in which he didn't hear another ugliness about himself. But even if a little of them contained a grain of truth, Damon saw no point in denying anything. Who would believe him? Now, years after the rumors have begun to wander through Mystic Falls. And even if he tried to rebuild his reputation, it would be exceedingly difficult for Damon to act like the model and well-behaved son, the upright and good student or the loving and loyal boyfriend. That wouldn't be his true self.
He sighed and his gaze followed the cooling fan on the ceiling, which was slowly making its rounds. He couldn't get out of his skin. Damon would never embody the definition of good. Because when people see good they expect good. And Damon didn't just want to meet other people's expectations. He may have been good at heart but he lived too much for the adventure, the burning passion and the danger and so he couldn't live a boring life like Stefan. Damon snorted in disgust and rolled on his side. Stefan's life wasn't as common as anyone assumed. For a short while, the dark-haired man wondered if he should spread rumors about his little brother. Only that those wouldn't be the untruth. But he immediately rejected the idea. Elena's reaction would be punishment enough for his little brother. And even though he despised the younger Salvatore for his actions, he was still his brother.
Damon straightened himself, stood up and walked to the window, looking out into the night. He didn't know what time it was now but the moon appeared already bright at the nightly sky. He wasn't entirely full but the luminosity of the heavenly body still illuminated the garden of the Salvatores. His thoughts now wandered from the heated discussion with Elena to their second clash last night. A mischievous grin grazed his lips. Well, that anyone would bother him and Katherine while they were screwing wasn't really planned. His girlfriend didn't realised it anyway. He had already thrown her into a delirium at this time. And if Elena hadn't stepped on a rotten branch, or whatever it was that cracked the evening silence, he wouldn't have noticed her presence either. But he had seen her and Elena's gaze, intervowen with innocence and shame but also attraction and a hint of dirty interest, had only made him hornier. At this specific moment, he had known that—despite all the disagreements and despite all the contempt—he liked it to make a lasting impression on her. And for some reason, this ignited a deep, animalistic desire in Damon. He couldn't name what it was but he knew he had to see this expression in her eyes again. That restrained lust, the pretty girl was so ashamed of. And so, a plan started to assume a shape. A plan that not only involved giving Stefan a taste of his own medicine but also to win this innocent girl. Maybe she—and her big heart—were the key?
