When Stefan gets up from the chair, leaving right after her white pawn on f5 took his via en passant on g6 (Bonnie suspects he's letting her win enough to keep the game going and thinks it's sweet of him) she's disappointed, most of all she's nervous at the thought that she's about to be alone in the house with the other Salvatore.
Damon is usually a wild card; she managed their enmity well for a long time, even enjoyed the polite aggressions at each other expenses, but now he became the one she cried in front of, the one who held her. He forced her to see this unknown side of him and she feels frustrated.
It was so much better when she could protect him treating his well-being like a collateral damage she could not avoid if she wanted to keep the others alive.
Her life is getting out of hand and – looking at her white pieces on the chessboard - she feels like she's about to lose it.
#
She usually likes her coffee black but she feels a bit low on her spirit so she looks for the sugar holder in the kitchen's closet and she opens a drawer to take a spoon; that's when she realizes there are no knives in the drawer, and the wood knives block on the counter is not there anymore.
"What the hell!" she says, putting down the mug to go to Damon, whom is watching tv in another room, sprawled on the coach.
"Where are all the knives?" she asks, with an imperious tone.
Damon was never one to acknowledge humans enough to let them get easily on his nerves; he still barely take notice the existence of many of them, and at the same time he's used to his sparring sessions with Bonnie so he shouldn't feel his patience already slipping, but he does.
With each passing minute – as she was playing with his brother and he was stuck to think - something he couldn't decipher started to corner him and now it's just hard to contain himself, because this mess is her fault and she has even the nerve to use that tone with him.
"Exactly where I put them," he says, flatly.
She made him feel so close to her, made him feel so human and he's too frustrated to be patient now.
"Who do you take me for? Huh?" she asks, placing herself in front of the tv screen.
Damon's reaction is to raise one eyebrow, because he was doing zapping and he was not holding his breath – figuratively speaking – to watch Seventh Heaven reruns. God spare him, he hasn't even got a rope to hang himself.
"Bonnie Bennett, pain in the ass extraordinaire," he answers with a sarcastic grin.
This battle of wills is familiar, reassuring. He wants to go on until the moment when he feels like he doesn't want to see her face for the next decade minimum.
If she wants to pick a fight he's all for it.
"You keep on forgetting that the one needing a babysitter here is you."
"That's a favorite fantasy of mine, how did you know?" he asks, faking an amazed expression, "Are you trying to volunteer?"
"If you were the last male being on the planet I would still pick celibacy," she spits between her teeth.
She wants to press down on the accelerator of this mess they're so eagerly getting into, so that she'll soon find herself in the place she was before. The place where she could pretend Damon Salvatore was nothing to her.
"That's why you're so bitter," he says, "But if I was actually the last male on earth, I would still be too busy making necklaces with bottle's crown caps to take any notice of what your Judgy persona has not to offer."
It stings. She's not the one surrounded in suitors and love proffers. She's never the one that turns heads in the room. She's the one that can only aspire to hold the gaze of her friend's little brother until he realizes even a ghost is better than her, and his words sting.
"You're insufferable," she accuses him, "And the only way for me to use a knife not to prepare lunch would be to kill myself before you could even think of touching me with one finger."
If he was ever anything, it was being attractive to women, as long as they didn't know his feeding habits; he has that power. He can charm a woman with a smile and have her wrapped around his fingers. Maybe they don't fall in love with him, but still they want him, desire him. Women pretend they don't see him once he enters the room but fail, swooning and throwing glances his way, blushing from head to toe.
But with her he's powerless, more so since they knocked down that first wall and he saw her.
And he hates it.
"That's because, as we saw, you're insane beyond saving," he bites back, angry.
And that silences her. She was just about to say something but she closes her mouth and looks like she's running away, even if she stands still in front of him.
Fuck. They both got what they wanted, didn't they?
Just, he doesn't feel pleased about it. He does not want this but he doesn't know how to take it all back.
"I didn't mean it like that," he says, getting up.
"Yes, you did."
She's suddenly sober from her rage. He couldn't even catch the hurt in her eyes before they went blank.
And he doesn't find anything to say other than "Wait-"as she turns her back and disappears behind the door, leaving him standing there like an idiot.
#
Damon raises his fist to knock at her door, but stops his hand midair.
He can hear her on the other side; has been listening to her for the past ten minutes. Her heartbeat fast and heavy, and he thinks that she probably was being angry and snappy because of another crisis approaching.
Of course he had to ruin everything, just because he got scared.
Maybe she needs him now. Maybe she needs him and he called her insane, and now there's no way she'll let him get near again, and as he amply demonstrated, he is unable to put together the right words for a proper apology, worthy to be called as such.
He was too proud to apologize to his father when it was his filial duty, too hurt to apologize to Stefan whenever he was wrong in blaming him; always too much something, or too little something else.
Damon lowers his hand and leaves her door.
But the idea of Bonnie doesn't leave him. This is why he starts playing.
He hasn't done it in a while. It's usually his strangest way to soothe himself; because music reach feelings and he's not been ready to admit he had any for such a long time.
But it usually works somehow, and maybe it will work for her too, he thinks.
Maybe she'll lay down on her bed and will listen to the music, and won't hate it because she won't know it's him.
This is why he starts playing.
He picks Nyman first, and then switches to Einaudi, and that's when he hears her.
Her light steps on the linoleum's floor. Her heart beating on the other side of the closed door.
And he mutters under his breath. He begs "Come in," knowing she won't hear him over the music.
"Please," he mouths, not making a sound "I'm sorry, come in," while his fingers dance over the keys.
At the end of the song she's still not coming in, but she's still not going back.
Bonnie is stuck in the hallway, or whatever place in her heart she decided to hide herself into.
And Damon starts playing again. He will keep playing, calling to her and waiting for her to turn the knob and come to him for as long as it takes.
It feels so important that she comes to him now. So important.
He has his eyes closed when she crosses the space, giving in to that calling she feels. He can hear her step, her heartbeat that's closer and it takes a moment for him to find the courage to open his eyes to see if she's really there.
Bonnie has her hands on the varnished wood of the piano and listens intently to the music, so much that he's not sure she realized he's there too. But then she turns her eyes on him, and one corner of her mouth goes up, and even if it's not really a smile is something close to it. It's something.
"It was beautiful," she says.
He moves on the stool to let some space for her, and points to it with his chin. His eyes smile.
"Want me to play again?" he asks.
"Yes."
"Any preference?" he asks, again.
"The one you were playing just now," she says "What's the name?"
"Nuvole bianche," he answers, "It means White Clouds."
"What's it about?"
"What everything's about, little bird," he says, "love."
"But it's not a happy one…"
"Not exactly."
And he starts playing again.
It's been awhile, and he doesn't like to have an audience, but it's okay for her to stay; he's glad that she loves it, and even if his hands are sore because he is out of practice he can play for her until his fingers bleed and fall off.
He's in the middle of another piece when he raises his eyes to see Stefan entering the room. If he's surprised by the picture of them sitting next to each other on the piano stool, he doesn't show it.
Stefan smiles at Bonnie offering her his hand, to ask her "My lady, would you grant me this honor?"
It's so like Stefan to just walk in and charm the girl into doing whatever. And he doesn't need to manipulate or use smile number 43 to do it. His brother is the prince of the fairytale, the ultimate gentleman, the man of honor, and he is proud of him, even if at times, like now, he would really like to kick his ass.
Damon keeps on playing, and turn his head over his shoulder to look at the dancing couple when he hears Bonnie's giggle.
He pushes his open hands flat against the keyboard and the music ends abruptly.
Stefan and Bonnie turn to him, confused, and he turns on the stool to shrug and say "Tired."
His brother holds his eyes; he knows him from forever and there's no need for him to say the words to understand that Damon is bothered.
"It's fine," Stefan says, "Bonnie and I do have a game to resume, don't we?"
#
He's bored and he doesn't care who Bonnie chooses to play with or who she chooses to smile to. In fact, it's only better for him if Stefan decides to keep her occupied, so he can have back his freaking life.
So he can go back to Elena.
To Elena and her big, brown doe eyes, which now look up to him amazed.
"I thought you were still mad at me," she says with a timorous voice that always make him feel like comforting her.
"I could never be mad at you," he says, and it feels somehow good to be back here. Be back to her, be back to this relationship, because this is something he can manage. He knows how it works, he knows how to move. It's like a dance he has mastered perfectly.
She'll let him come close, then will take a step back. He'll take one forward, and she'll take half one towards him to then move to the side. He'll let her turn around him, then will take her hand to lead her until she'll go to his brother's side.
It's like a dance from the XIX century, and he's always been a great dancer.
Damon cups her face with both hands and look at her face: there's a tearful look painted there, and she looks very fragile, needy. Needy of him – he doesn't care if she needs Stefan too; if she always needs Stefan more.
Elena, oddly enough, makes everything easier. There's nothing unknown with her. No uncertain, no unexpected anything.
She always had his eyes, because she looked like Katherine. She always held his hope, because she was nothing like Katherine. He knows that when she is in the room he'll look at her, and he doesn't expect any less.
"Now that Caroline is away and Bonnie…" she doesn't finish her sentence, just leaves Bonnie's presence hung for a second between them, "Now more than ever, I need you," she says, "I don't want to fight with you anymore".
And it feels so good to hear her say that, even if she means that she needs him and Stefan. Even if she already made her choice and it wasn't him.
He doesn't know why being lead around by her feels so safe now. He doesn't care to know.
#
Note: this chapter is been checked out by 1beaut (thank you again).