ELENA'S POV
"Soooo," Caroline watches me intently as I go through every piece of clothing I own, "How was it?" after keeping quiet for quite some time, and biting her nails, she finally speaks.
I suck my lower lip in between my teeth, nibbling it gently to suppress a smile that was trying to attack my lips. "How was what?" I play innocent.
I can basically hear the squeaking sound of her eyes rolling. "You know what," she says through her teeth, pretending to be calm.
I shrug, not sure I want to talk about this, because I'm not sure about what to say. How to explain what I'm feeling, this elevating bliss. "It's Stefan," I say simply, pressing a dress against my body and checking it out in the mirror.
"It's Stefan?" her voice echoes between the four walls of our room, "Even I know it's not that simple," she huffs, displeased by my lack of will to share information with her.
This dress is all wrong, it doesn't flatter neither my body nor my complexion. "Sometimes it is," I grab for another dress, yanking it violently out of my closet.
She stays quiet for a while, before answering, "Not with you. Never with you."
Her words make me come to a halt, and I stop obsessing over my clothes. She's right, with us, things never were simple. Even now, when I'm trying my best to simplify them. Our relationship, us, we're a volcano waiting to erupt, to cover everything in flames. We almost made the world burn once, already.
If things go wrong again, they're going to swallow us hole. I wish I could say with absolute certainty everything is going to be alright, but I've come to learn that, in life, nothing is absolute. And nothing is certain. I don't want to be too sure or too blinded this time, I don't want to rush into things and I don't want to spoil them again.
I don't want to simplify it, I don't want to complicate it, I want to keep my balance. I want my perfect middle.
After it happened, when the party wrapped up and he went home, I spent the rest of the night pondering did we just make a colossal mistake. Last time we decided to act upon our feelings, the universe almost exploded. Our love is bigger than the two of us and, sometimes, that scares me.
It's a big responsibility, holding such power over another person in your hands. It's like owning a time bomb that can start ticking depending on your feelings.
Panic washed over me, panic that so often resides in certain parts of my mind. Fear of not knowing what I want, of making a mistake, of not being sure about what I'm getting myself into.
But then the panic went away and I realized something. I know what I want.
I want Stefan. I have always wanted Stefan. This is it, my now, my always, my forever.
I can allow myself mistakes, just not fatal ones. I can't run away. I can't turn my back.
I don't want to.
I have to do all the grown up stuff.
And it doesn't make me feel trapped like once upon a time it would have, but it makes me feel calm.
"To me, Stefan's like a map I know by memory," I find myself saying, "All the paths, dead end ones and the ones that lead to the destination. I'm the same to him," I smile at the thought, "When he kisses me, he does it with certainty, and when he touches me.. well, he knows all the how's and where's," I blush, unable to look Caroline in the eyes. "So when I say it's Stefan, I'm not simplifying it, I'm stating a fact. I'm doing it in such a way because I can't explain. Even if I did, you wouldn't be able to understand. Now one who hasn't been loved by Stefan the way I did could," my last sentence carries me into oblivion when a thought strikes me - no one but me has been loved by Stefan the way I have. I'm the only woman he has ever loved with such ferocity that it almost destroyed the universe. No one will ever know how much his love weighs, no one but me. I guess it's one thing I'm glad to be lonely with. I lift my eyes to in the mirror only to see Caroline's reflection staring back at me with peeking interest. "It was wonderful. Mind blowing. Earth shattering. It was like swimming in the sea in the middle of a storm or flying during a blizzard. I finally got to know how it is to have wings. I felt like a piece of paper and a rock at the same time," my smile goes wide, wider, until it turns mischievous, "But let me warn you, all these words don't even cover half of it."
She smiles to me in return. "Maybe you should take your own advice," she says, her eyes falling on the clothes in my hands. I look at her questioningly as she gets up from the bed and walks into my direction. "It's Stefan. He fell in love with you when you were wrapped up in jeans and sweaters," she takes the dress out of my hands and throws it back in the closet, "This is unnecessary."
I guess it is.
Unnecessary.
There's no reason to worry, or to be nervous.
There is no new beginning for the things which never had their ending.
STEFAN'S POV
I'm nervous.
I don't know why, but I am. My palms are sweating, which I didn't even know is possible. Sweat is dripping off of my eyelashes. I'm shaking as I button up my shirt - I can't keep my hands steady, or any other part of my body for that matter. It seems that my feet cause an earthquake whenever I move. If I didn't know better, I'd say I have a fever.
I feel like this is the most important thing I'll ever do.
I guess, in a way, it is.
Loving someone is the most important thing anyone could do.
I pick her up before sunset, when the colors are most beautiful. When the sky looks like it's on fire.
When I arrive, I notice her sitting on a bench. I tilt my head to the side, watching that hidden crooked smile on her lips.
She's smiling from the inside, and I can see it. When it comes to her, I have an X-ray vision.
When it comes to loving her, I'm a Superman. I can save the world. I can save her. I can save myself.
Or maybe she's the one who does all the saving.
I watch her for a moment, in her skinny jeans and skin tight top and a leather jacket in her hands, ready for later. Just in case it gets cold. I want to tell her carrying it around is unnecessary, she has me now. I'll wrap myself around her and make her warmer than any piece of clothing ever could.
I watch as she swipes her palms down her pants and wonder is she nervous as well.
I wrap my fingers tighter around the bouquet of flowers I bought for her, unplanned, on my way over. I can give her an eternity and big cities and adventures she never even dreamed of, but I also feel like small things like flowers and sudden texts and good night kisses count more.
Love is woven out of small, everyday gestures. Big ones are a luxury.
When she sees me walking in her direction, her expression turns somber. Something flashes in her eyes before she smiles at me, widely, with that million dollar smile of hers. As I approach her, her look falls on the flowers in my hands.
"For me?" she asks questioningly, a little bit surprised by my gesture. It pains me, how surprised she is someone would bring her flowers. She deserves to get them everyday. If I could, I would plant them on the ceiling of her bedroom. They would coming out of her walls, so she never has to be surprised at the sight of them ever again.
I raise my hand in the air, bringing flowers closer to her. "Of course."
She takes them from me, her fingers brushing against mine in the process. Light current goes through me, shaking me from the inside as a consequence of her touch. She buries her face in the flowers, inhaling their smell. I'm jealous of them, because they get to inhale hers in return.
"Thank you," she says softly, "They're wonderful."
I've been thinking a lot about this date. Where to take her. A dinner, a movie, a romantic stroll in the woods? How to proceed a relationship with someone you've already been in a relationship with? How to act? To continue where you left of or start from the beginning? What's allowed, and what's not?
Is there room for old memories?
After thinking it through, I've found the perfect spot.
"So, where are we going," she asks curiously.
"It's a surprise," I say, offering my hand to her, "Come on."
She puts her hand in mine and off into the sunset we go.
ELENA'S POV
I recognize the place as soon as we approach it.
It's an important place.
He brought me here once before, urging me to say what I needed to say, the truth which was the last thing he wanted to hear. This is a place where I fell in love with him a little bit more because he loved me enough to stand me saying exactly the opposite of what he had allowed himself to hope for. This is a place where I cried in his embrace. This is a place where he carried me when I wasn't strong enough to carry myself.
He's is my rock, and I am his. We lean onto each other, closer, helping the other one stand. It's a job for two. It's a partnership. It's a relationship.
Recently, whenever I'm in Stefan's company, everything drifts right into place. Every piece of the puzzle finds its match.
I don't know if it's me who changed, or him, for me to feel this way. Maybe nothing changed, maybe this is a natural progression of things. First love is a feeling no one ever forgets, everything after that is chasing after that feeling. I'm lucky enough that I don't have to chase after anything, I'll never have to live with that pit in my stomach caused by losing something.
Maybe a part of me grew up. Maybe every part did. But I don't have a feeling I'll be missing out on anything anymore. My silly teenage comedy came to an end - now I realize why every one of them ends so vaguely. Because there's nothing afterwards, it just drifts into space like nothing has happened.
I can see myself rolling into Stefan's arms hundred years from now. I may be a different person then as well, but now I know that he's one part of me that will never change. His love is one stable constant in my life.
"I don't even know if this counts as a real date," he says nervously as we climb up.
"Oh, Stefan, no," I reach for his hand to squeeze it, afraid that somehow my behavior has implied that I'm not happy with where we're going.
It's refreshing to not have him cringe anymore every time I touch him. He doesn't try to pull back either.
I'm afraid of little things now. That he will take my words the wrong way. That my actions will hurt him. That I'll do the opposite of what I was planning.
I carry fear in me again, fear that keeps pressing against my brain, but it's good. It means I care for something strong enough that the fear of losing it is constantly present. I've missed that feeling.
"I see how dinner dates would be boring to you," I smile at him, but swallow hard when he doesn't smile back.
"They're not boring, not if they're with you," he shakes his head, "Nothing that has some connection to you could be boring. For you, I'd go in every restaurant to eat the food which taste I don't enjoy anymore, and I'd sit through every movie you choose for us to see. But - "
He doesn't get to finish his sentence because my hands fly to his face. I place my palms against his cheeks, gently, and make him turn his head towards me. Before he gets a chance to react I'm already climbing on my toes and pressing my lips against his.
It's not a big, passionate or monumental kiss. It's soft, gentle, cautious, slow, quick. There's a waterfall in the distance and if I didn't know any better I'd say a drop of water traveled through the air and settled on my lips.
But, most often, those little things are what have the biggest influence on our lives. Which is why when I kiss Stefan, even with an insignificant kiss like this one, my whole body shakes and my mind goes fogy.
I detach my lips from his and my heels touch the ground again, "I'm sorry, you were saying?" I say, my breath short, my voice hushed.
"We were talking?" he says in return.
His words push a smile up my lips. Words are unneeded now.
He takes me by the hand a we climb on the top of the world.
STEFAN'S POV
It's amazing how easily we fall into our old routine.
How comfortable I feel with her words wrapping around my ears, like cotton. How time seems to pass by when we talk, exchange words, when our thoughts intertwine like vines. I missed the sunset, when the sun and the sky touch the top of the mountains and the colors drown into the waterfall, because I was too busy trying to find answers in her eyes. Time just flew by and night came too soon.
The ground was so soft under me, like butter, when she leaned into me so we could watch the moon being born.
There was no use of her leather jacket tonight, even though the air was quite chilly. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her so close to me that she felt like a part of me, as essential as an arm or a leg.
When I take her home, the part where we say goodnight becomes extra hard. She has a problem with detaching her body from mine, and I don't complain.
Our lips never touched, except that one time, earlier in the evening.
"I wish you could come with me," she says into my shirt, her voice muffled.
I bury my lips in her hair. "I know," I reply softly.
"We could always go to your place," she offers.
"I don't think Caroline would approve," I laugh lightly, "It's only a matter of time before the light in your room starts flickering."
She knows what I mean. She knows why I'm saying the things I'm saying. She also knows how hard it is for me to say them.
To refuse her company. To wake up one more morning without her beside me.
So she inhales my scent one more time before turning around and walking away from me into her dorm.
And I realize that's the hardest thing I ever had to do, and it keeps happening over and over again.
I have to watch her leave.