AN: Hello all you lovely people! So terribly sorry for my lack of writing on here lately. I've been focusing on my schooling and as a result have just graduated from high school :) So... It's summer and I have a lot of free time on my hands, most of which I hope to share with all of you! I realize that it's been over a year since I've updated and again I'm very sorry about that, but education is important! Anyway, I'm back with It's Complicated and thank you so much for being incredibly patient with me :) More to come you beautiful readers :)
~*It Must've Been Love*~
Damon
As his hand raised for another round of bourbon, Damon spotted Alaric down at the end of the bar. Through hazy eyes, he glanced upward to see Ric walking toward him.
"I think you've had enough, man," He said, and despite Damon's drunkenness, he could hear the concern leaking through Ric's voice.
"When I can't hear myself think…I'll have had enough," Damon hiccuped as he unintentionally slapped his arm on the counter. When he looked up, Ric was observing him with sympathetic eyes. Suddenly, Damon's blood boiled.
"Don't look at me like my puppy just died, Ric," He mock-pouted, his lips pursed out as he consumed the last drops of his bourbon. As his expression hardened, he shook his head. "I'm fine, Dad."
Ric shook his head. "Come on, man," he sighed, "If you were fine, you wouldn't be sitting here drinking three shots of bourbon at-" Rick glanced down at his phone-"ten to midnight."
"Aw, come on," Damon shook his head as he turned to face Ric. "You know I'm in here every second," He smirked, but Ric's face remained the same: wary and sympathetic.
"For someone who got pissed off because Elena wasn't being truthful about how she felt, you sure are as hell are acting like her right now," Ric said, and even through his drunken state of mind, Damon couldn't help but easily translate the meaning behind Ric's words.
Screw him, Damon shrugged off as he stood up from the barstool and made his way toward the door.
Elena
I can't believe this.
I can't fucking believe this.
Never in my twenty-one-years of life did I ever imagine that I would feel this way.
Fuck.
It's 10:30 in the morning and I'm lying in my bed.
Fan-fucking-tastic.
I would've bet money on the fact that the country's debt would've been repaid before I could be found in bed at 10:30 a.m. for reasons not related to an illness. Hell, even then I'd make myself get out of bed.
I'm a morning person. I get up and dressed before 9 every morning. I'm never in bed past 8:30 (Note to self: never say never). Instead, I'm lying in a bed that's too big for me, silently sobbing uncontrollably. Seriously, you'd think I'd just finished watching The Fault in Our Stars or something. I can't express how monumentally pissed off I am that this entire morning sums up my weekend: Lying in bed with the sole companionship of a box of Kleenex. And don't even get me started on the waterworks. The last time I've cried this hard or even remotely so was when my dad passed.
And that's saying something.
My blurry gaze drifts upward to the glossy Kardarshian-filled TV that hangs up above my dresser. I've taken to watching crappy reality shows, much to my shame. How much sisterly drama and controlling momagers can the world take? Although, I have to admit how hilarious Scott is. Even in this state of semi-depression I've found myself in, I am not immune to his audacious one-liners, even if he is a total douchebag.
As the show cuts to a commercial, an add for some romance reality show pops itself onto my screen. I don't even blink before I snatch the remote from beside me and catapult it toward the monitor. Before I can stop myself, I realize I may have just cost myself $1,432 dollars.
Fuck my life.
When I hear the meeting of the wall with the remote, I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I don't care for pride; if He Who Must Not Be Named would've cost me $1,432 dollars, I would've marched over to his apartment and demanded a check in hand. Screw morality at this point.
A soft buzz shatters my thoughts, and I reach over toward the end table, snatching my phone from the surface. Without checking the caller ID, my finger slips over the green phone icon.
"Hello?" I rest the phone against my ear slowly, silently praying to whatever God exists that about three people aren't at the other end of the line.
"Oh, thank god, she lives!"
Okay, Shakespeare.
"Look, Caroline," I sigh as I sit up in bed, bracing myself for getting my virtual head chewed off. "About last night, I-"
"Damn it, Elena, save it. There is absolutely nothing that you can say that will make me forgive you for last night. I order the DJ, rent a photo booth- Hell, I even put my own money into a shot ski. Damn it, Elena, a shot ski!" she whines.
"I broke it off with Damon," I blurt into the phone impulsively, and my hand can't land on my forehead fast enough.
I've just committed treason against myself.
"Wait, you guys were actually a thing?"
"No," I shake my head as I let out a sigh. "We just...shared a bed from time to time."
"Ah, that old chestnut," she sighs and I can suddenly imagine her smoking a pipe fireside. "What happened?"
What did happen?
"I just...realized that we were better as friends...without the benefits."
"Well, that epiphany of yours cost me about $300," Caroline bites through the phone.
"You seriously paid 300$?" I gasp. "I've seen a tone of shot skis on eBay for 100$ or so,"
"But this one lit up!"
"Well, then," I scoff, trying to hide my amusement because we've come this far.
"Forget it," She sighs, and even though I can't see her, I can still imagine her waving her perfectly-manicured hand in dismissal. "I can use that shot ski during happy hour at the Grill. Just..stay home and relax. You deserve it, Mrs. Perfect Attendance and all."
"Thanks, Klaus and Elijah. You sound a lot like Caroline." I playfully snide. Like she has the authority to tell me to stay home or not to stay home.
"Shut up. As long as Elijah's in charge, you could be riding a hippogriff in Oz and he'd still find a way to send you a check."
"Wrong movie," I utter.
"Do not invalidate my exaggeration!"
"Okay, thank you so much for the information, but I'm perfectly happy with my current service. Have a good day, now."
Bang.
That's what you get, Forbes.
...
Aaand welcome back, tears.
Damn it.
As the silence of my apartment sets in, I stare blankly into space, realizing that I've become everything I said I never would: A girl who lets her life revolve around a guy.
R.I.P., feminism.
But for some God-forsaken reason, my heart aches like it's been ripped from my very insides, stomped on, and left in the cold.
Fuck.
I could really go for some motherly bonding right now.
In fact…
I make no mistake of waiting to reach for the phone, dialing my mother's number faster than you can say 'mother-daughter weekend.'
"Elena?" My mother's voice echoes on the first ring.
Damn.
What is she doing all day? Lounging by the pool?
"Hi," I choke, immediately cursing myself for not holding it together until she forced the truth out of me.
"What's wrong?" Her panic is evident as she demands an explanation for my call.
"I'm fine." I clear my throat as I fiddle with the split ends of my hair. Damn, I need to get my hair cut.
"Are you sure?" She asks, her tone softer, more nurturing.
"Can I come visit?" I find myself sniffling, but when I hear her own cries of what I assume to be happiness at my request, I know that I've made the right call.
Pun not intended.
Damon
Pain.
That's all Damon felt envelop him as he came to. His head hurt, his legs, everything. He just…hurt.
The first thing he saw through clouded eyes was the bourbon-colored sofa that smothered him in the face. His arms attempted to push themselves away from the furniture as he struggled to set himself upright on the couch. As his conscious jumpstarted, Damon began to wonder why the hell he had to wake up. He was having a far better experience in the land of the fantasy. Something about riding a three-headed unicorn.
As a lazy smirk spread across his face, his questions began to answer themselves as the earth-shattering cry of his phone called to him. An exaggerated groan escaped willingly as he reached for the cursed thing.
"Sorry, I can't come…to the phone right…now… Please leave a…message and I'll…you know the drill." He slurred as he went to hang up.
"Damon! Thank God!" Klaus' relieved voice was enough to force him out of his hangover. What the hell did he want? Hell, he was surprised that the man had his number.
"Klaus," He straightened up. Drunk calling- er, answering- the boss? Not a good idea. "How may I be of service to you?" He nearly whispered.
"I have some good news that you might want to be of witness to." Klaus said formally, and somewhat distant. Then again, the guy was English.
"Alright," Damon breathed hesitantly as he leaned into the phone. When what seemed like half an hour passed by, Klaus' voice resumed over the line.
"As you and practically every one of ouf employees know, Elijah and I have been at each other's heads lately." He sighed, and a sense of remorse dripped through his words.
Wow.
Klaus remorseful? That's a sight to see.
"Okay…?" Damon responded. "And the good news?"
"Well, I've been missing the motherland lately. In fact, so much so that I've decided to open a branch of MVP there in London. All run by myself…and you."
As he stood there with his mouth wide open, Damon's mind went into overdrive. Move to London? Work with Klaus?
"Well?" Klaus' voice broke the silence that lingered for nearly two minutes. It could've been five hours later and Damon still wouldn't have an answer for him.
"I don't know what to say." He confessed breathlessly, scanning his brain for any indication of an answer. Obviously he wanted to. Moving to London itself was a far-fetched dream, let alone running a publishing house. How could he pass this up? Why couldn't he just say yes?
"Just say you'll think about it," Klaus suggested encouragingly.
"When do you need an answer by?" Damon asked, hopeful that he could take at least a few weeks to digest the news, and another to make a decision.
"Well, I'm flying back in a week, so as soon as possible."
Fuck.
"I'll get back to you by then." Damon said nonchalantly, feeling as if the weight of the world rested upon his shoulders.
"I eagerly await your response, Damon." Klaus' smile resonated through the line as Damon pulled the phone away from his ear.
What was he going to do?
As his mind showed no sign of slowing down, one thing was for sure:
He needed to get his ass to the office.
Whether or not it was for the last time.
Elena
Two days later.
"So." My mother's voice becomes serious as she sits up against the back of her lawn chair. "How's your boo?"
Dear god.
"He wasn't my really boyfriend," I shake my head, pushing my sunglasses down over my eyes as I catch my voice cracking much to my annoyance. There's something about this place...
"I'm sorry, wasn't?" She blinks about a dozen times over, her eyebrows raised to the sky. "As in past tense?"
Sighing, I sit up as I level her gaze. "Yeah."
"Really, that's all you're gonna give me?" She frowns. "I'm assuming you flew out here for more than just a 'he wasn't really my boyfriend' moment. Spill."
"I just-I decided that we were better as friends."
Not that we're even friends now.
"Elena Marie Gilbert." My mother chastises. "I've birthed you, I've fed you, and I can tell when you're lying. What really happened?"
Sighing, I glance over at her.
"You won't judge?" I ask hesitantly, waiting for her confirmation.
"I swear," She holds her right arm in the air. This is some serious shit right there.
Am I really about to cross this line?
"He said it." I confess, averting my gaze from what I know will be my mother's wide-eyed, mouth-hanging-open facade.
"He what?" She squeaks.
"Yeah, and I-I didn't say it back,"
What seems like hours pass by before she comes to again.
"Did you want to?" She challenges.
Did I?
"I-I don't-I don't know." I stumble, not sure of what to say, or what I am saying for that matter. All I know is that I'm starting to regret coming here and pouring my secrets to my mom like this.
"Again with the lies." My mom sighs as she sits up toward me. "Listen, sweetie." She removes her sunglasses from her head as she grabs my hand.
Oh no.
"You've always been so guarded since your father died." She assesses with watery eyes, causing me to look down at my feet in attempt to resist my own set of watery eyes.
"I know that you're scared. It's normal. Everyone is scared of something, but you can't live your life in fear. That's not even living, sweetie. You can't live your life happily if you're afraid that the next person you let in will be someone else that you'll end up saying goodbye to."
"You wanted to. You wanted to tell him that you loved him, too. I know how scary it is opening yourself up to people. But you deserve to be happy. And I've seen you two. You were happy."
"Why are you saying all of this?" I whisper softly as her sleeve brushes my cheek, surely catching a tear or two.
"Because I know when two people are supposed to be together. And I also know that you made the wrong choice with Damon by ending things between the two of you. Running away from the truth does no good for anyone, especially if that person is yourself."
"I know you're afraid of letting him in. I was afraid of letting your father in, and by doing so, I lost him. I let him go without fighting for him, for us. And I don't want that to be you, because let me tell you something: Love is just the beginning of a wonderful life."
"I do," I confess, looking up into warm green eyes. "I-I love him,"
"A mother is always right," She smiles wistfully as she pushes a stray lock of hair behind my ears. Everything makes sense when she says it. I was scared. I was scared of loving and losing. But I can't let that get in the way of happiness. My happiness.
"Go get him," My mother encourages, and before I can hesitate, I nod in agreement as I get to my feet.
"I will."
Again, so sorry for the short chapter! More to come soon!
AN: Well, hope you liked it! Review for more! Love to hear your thoughts! They're greatly appreciated/welcome and strongly motivate updates! :)
PS: Feel free to check out my other DE stories!
PPS: Follow me on Twitter (MdntEpiphanies) for updates and Spotify (Midnight Epiphanies) for playlists!
~Songs that were either mentioned in or inspired this chapter (full list on Spotify)~
THEME: Beneath Your Beautiful by Labrinth feat. Emeli Sandé
How to Save a Life by The Fray
- Damon drowns his sorrows at the Grill; Ric lectures him.
The Man Who Can't Be Moved by The Script
- Damon stumbles out of the bar.
It Must've Been Love by Amy Stroup (originally by Roxette)
- Elena in bed upset over her fallout with Damon.
This Town by Niall Horan
- Damon gets a phone call from Klaus.
penguin by Christina Perri
- Elena and her mother discussing her and Damon.