In the morning, she's trying not to think about what she saw – the tense, large muscles in his biceps as he held that woman, the way he thrusted up behind her, the smirk on those lips – but her hands tremble around her cup of coffee and her stomach is in a knot. In the morning, she's trying desperately not to think about what she felt – the intense, gnawing need to feel his arms around her, to discover the way he could thrust up behind her, the lewd sounds falling from those lips as he nibbled at her lobe – though she does her best to forget it, deny it, trample on it with her heels.
Bonnie is trying to tear herself away from Damon only to end up in Elijah's magnetic field, and vice versa. The more she rebels against it, the closer they get. And, though she really should, she doesn't mind. What does that say about her life? She's tried to be good, and avoid conflicts, and spare lives, and she's between a rock and a hard place. And, still, she doesn't mind.
She's reproaching herself, as she leaves the brick building to lock herself up into the public library and avoid falling behind with her studies, when his voice breaks her thoughts and makes her paper cup slip from her unsteady fingers. "I was thinking of you," he says, leaving her breathless.
"What?" she asks, turning her head in his direction, large green eyes taking him in and ignoring the dark liquid spilled on her ankle boots. Elijah is wearing dark tailored trousers, a white button-down shirt and a grey scarf as he holds a folder into one hand, the other is sunk into the pocket of his trousers.
"I was just thinking of you," he repeats, looking at her like he wasn't implying anything else. "We haven't seen each other for a while." He walks towards her and hands her a handkerchief. "I didn't mean to scare you." His voice is low, hoarse, seductive. He smiles at her, holding the offered handkerchief between two long fingers. Her eyes linger on them. She can still see them around that woman's neck.
"You didn't," she replies, trying to look perfectly cool when she feels like there's not a piece of her skin where her heartbeat is not reverberating.
When she doesn't move to accept his offer, Elijah simply gets down on one knee.
"What are you—" She doesn't have time to finish her question as he takes one foot into his hand, wiping her ankle boot as he looks up at her with a teasing smile. "You got wet because of me," he says, smile firmly planted on his lips. "I'm merely trying to help."
She's the one holding all the cards, knowing what he will never know again, and yet the weight of her young years, or her lack of experience, pins her down.
He's being purposely suggestive, pulling her once again into the room with him, letting her envision what could happen between them. Oh, she's been envisioning that for quite some time, though he's become blunt only very recently.
That's not what she's into, watching people having sex. She feels her cheeks go up in flames even when there's a sex scene in a romantic movie. And Damon's solid presence next to her doesn't make things better. In Elijah's case, things are different because he means for her to see. He means for her to know. It's a private message between them.
Despite his words he wants to scare her, scare her into submission. Submission to the mutual attraction, to the vivid fantasies that spill into her dreams. To him.
She's too proud to give in.
"A few drops," she concedes, looking down at him with a fiery gaze, though she feels like her knees could give out any moment. "Nothing too serious," she adds, dragging her foot away from him.
Elijah stands again, the way he rises from the ground making him look like he's so tall he could hold up the sky the moment it falls. She can barely breathe without feeling intoxicated by his luxurious scent. He's always had such exquisite, elegant taste, looking refined in every occasion with his fine manners and moderated gesturing. But behind closed doors his Machiavellian mind is dangerously free, and his appetite is stark, harsh, bordering on ravenous. And she doubts she's seen the extent of it just yet.
"Truly?" he asks, in his best impression of genuine curiosity. "It didn't look like that to me," he adds with a smile.
"Maybe you didn't look hard enough," she shrugs, bushing her hair back from her shoulder.
"Do not doubt," he reassures her warmly. "I do everything hard enough." And before she can come up with a decent reply he nods his goodbye. "Have a nice day, Miss Bennett."
It's not a nice day. In fact, she feels feverish the whole time, trying to sit still on a chair and not rock herself against it just to try and alleviate the tension coiled between her legs.
When Bonnie comes back to her building, half scared to meet him, half hoping she will, she finds a cup of fresh coffee on her doorstep and a post-it on the lid. "For your late night learning".
#
Elijah is hanging his pristine clothes, freshly picked from the dry cleaning, into his wardrobe when the phone rings. He answers distractedly, "Yes," using one hand to smooth a wrinkle on a jacket when she speaks.
"Just so you know…" she begins with no preamble, "…I like my coffee with a splash of milk."
He smiles sardonically at the sound of her voice, meets his image in the mirror. "I will make sure to remember your taste, Miss Bennett," he assures her, turning around to walk towards his study.
"There's no need," she replies, "You shouldn't disturb yourself so much on my account."
He wonders if it is a tactic on her part, if she's playing hard to get so that he'll try harder. Yet her voice sounds nervous. She's not teasing him. She's trying to dodge a bullet. It's endearing and it does absolutely nothing to change his mind.
"How did you find my number?" he asks instead.
"I asked nicely." Her answer is vague. His number is not easy to track down. He's not exactly the type of freelance professional one finds in the Yellow Pages, though he doesn't really care because it means that, for all her reasoning, she made an effort. For all her reasoning, she's still attracted to him.
Nice girls finish last, they say, but she's so lovely he can make sure she comes first.
"Yes, you do strike me as a nice girl," he agrees amiably, looking at her through the window. She's wearing a cream sweater and a pair of skinny jeans He often mingles with the pretentious kind, the ones that try to seduce him like it's hunting day and he's luxury meat, women whose names he doesn't bother to remember even as he's inside them. But he's broadening his horizons now. Bonnie Bennett does strike him as a nice girl, one that says please and thank you and meows sweetly as he pounds inside her with a savage staccato.
"A nice girl would do me good," he says. He doesn't intentionally try to play on the innuendo, but he doesn't stop her from drawing her own conclusions. "And maybe, I could do you good, too."
"What makes you think so?"
"It's late, and you're alone," he begins, sinking one hand into the pocket of his trousers and leaning back against the wall as he stares openly at her, "And you're ineffectually trying to weaken my resolve, because you can't find a reason good enough to stay away yourself."
"Your resolve?" she asks, not questioning what he said, but moving her weight from one foot to the other, like she's pulled in two different directions at once. "What's your resolve?"
"Was my message not clear enough?" Elijah asks, gruff, aroused. Her breath breaks. That underlying fear he can detect stimulates his appetite, and her will makes him want to bend her to his own. "I wasn't particularly subtle, was I?" He presses, "I showed you. I showed you many times. And I told you."
He can see her chest rising and falling as she tries to catch her breath. When she can't get a hold of herself rapidly enough, she takes a step back.
"Goodnight, Mr. Mikaelson."
#
Damon is late, and though the window is open he doesn't make his usual entrance. In fact, there is a knock on the door and that should warn her.
"You better have a good excuse because—" she begins, opening the door to give him a dirty look. But Elena's doe eyes are looking at her and she fears she's hallucinating. The brunette loses no time throwing her arms around her, almost making her fall back onto the ground.
"Bonnie!" Elena is laughing happily and holding her way too tightly, even with her human strength, because Bonnie can barely breathe. "Oh my God…"
It's like suddenly she's lighter. Now she has no reason to feel guilty for the things she can do that her friend cannot, for the things she holds, for those she loves. And then it catches up to her, the simple notion that her return has made her wish come true – Damon is behind Elena, looking at her, and it feels like he's miles away.
She ignores the pang of pain, doesn't dwell on the way he awkwardly stands close to them both. Cannot consider the fact that he's facing a truth that was supposed to catch up to him in sixty years. Bonnie only knows that Elena is back, and with her, the friend she cared about, the life she knew, the second place she's used to.
"How…" she begins, thought and words scattered around like the walls have come crashing down and she's trying not to stumble over what remains of her. "How did it happen? How could you… I mean…"
Elena laughs at her as one drags the other to the couch – Bonnie wouldn't know who. "I just…woke up!" she says happily. "I think this spell had some sort of… expiration date or something."
Bonnie looks from Elena to Damon and back again; and tries not to notice her own heart sinking. That would be horrible of her, to not be over the moon seeing her friend alive, vibrant, happy. But now that bond that kept tying Damon to her has snapped.
If it hadn't, she wouldn't feel so astray. Like a shipwreck after a storm.
And yet, it's over, the guilt, the hurting, the perpetual second guessing. What would Elena think if she saw me now? As her heart beats like crazy because Damon as kissed her forehead. What would he do if Elena was here now? Whenever he looks at her like she's the only girl in the world.
Now she knows what he would do. He'd bring her along to use her as a pair of scissors and severe the bond between them.
"She wanted to see you," he murmurs at some point while Elena is taking a tour of her new apartment. "It happened so fast. Suddenly she was there, and when she heard you weren't, she insisted I take her with me."
Bonnie doesn't know why he feels the need to explain to her in so many details, only those at fault have to use so many words just so say what it boils down to – it's over. She only nods before her friend reappears from behind a corner to smile at her.
"It looks fabulous here. I don't know how you'll manage to come back to Mystic Falls."
"I won't," Bonnie replies readily, not even thinking about what she's saying.
"What does that mean?" Damon's tone is so abrupt, Elena's smile falls away.
It is silly to think she'll be able to run away, just like that. She can't just disappear and expect people not to ask questions, but she needs the space, the distance. She needs to clear her head, empty out her heart, get a grip.
"What reason would you have to stay here?" Damon asks, this time around in a more neutral voice. Elena looks at her like she's starting to connect the dots. She blinks as she observes the two of them. There is a rock in the middle of Bonnie's throat while Damon is quiet in that creepy way he alone can be, like he's about to snap and kill someone because they looked at him wrong.
"There's someone?" She asks with a growing smile on her face, holding both her hands like it's her first crush and she's so excited about it.
"Maybe," Bonnie replies with a tight smile. Damon turns on his heels, like he needs to breathe and he cannot.
"I can't believe it," Elena giggles while Damon claims he'll leave them alone to have some girl time, "I can't believe I get to be alive and see you live yours."
Her eyes linger on Damon's back as he's pouring himself a glass of whisky, neat. "Everything's perfect."
#
It's comforting, the insistent ringing of her cell-phone as she lays on the couch and watches the shadows on her ceiling. She only answers because she fears he'll show up in the middle of the night and they'll have to give one too many explanations about why it was so urgent for him to cross states only to talk to her immediately.
Well, maybe she answers because she misses his voice a little.
"Is he there?" He sounds accusatory, on the verge of vamping out. "Is that why it took you so damn long to answer the phone?"
It makes everything more real, her own heart beating, the sounds of the city, Elena's return. Everything.
"No."
Bonnie sighs, sitting up on the couch, watching the empty glass of whisky she's poured herself. A cushion has fallen to the floor and she can't find one slipper. The TV has been turned on for awhile but on mute. She's just noticed that She's All That is airing.
"I'll pay for the rent and everything," she continues, ignoring his temper entirely.
"Like I fucking care," he growls, "You told me you'd leave Charleston soon."
"Yes, soon, not immediately," she insists, growing irritated. She needs some time to mourn a relationship she never had, and maybe it's a bit pathetic, but it's her life and she'll do what she wants. "I just want to stay a little longer. Enjoy what the city has to offer."
"There's no one," he says, more like he's trying to erase this phantom man than because he's completely sure of it. "I would know if there was."
"How would you?" she asks bitterly. "It's not like we live together, Damon. You don't know everything I do. I've been here for more than two months. You think I'm not attractive enough to find myself someone?"
Bonnie is actually itching for a fight, and at least with this, she'll always let Damon fully satisfy her.
"That's not—" he stops. "You know damn well that you are absolutely…" He cannot go there. She's relieved he doesn't, and yet she wants to hear him say it, to hear him call her beautiful. But if he does, it will be her undoing. So, they're stuck.
"I'm your best friend," he continues, and it sounds like there's a sour taste in his mouth, like she's making him swallow rotten flesh. It makes her grin, spitefully. "You would have told me if there was," he insists.
"I don't need to send a newsletter every time I fuck someone."
He stays silent. She wonders if she's defeated him. She shouldn't be this cruel. She's been pushing him away all this time just to spare Elena's feelings, just not to feel like a horrible friend, and now that things went exactly like she wanted them to, she wants to hurt him.
It's not fair of her, but what is? After all, it was just a silly fantasy. It's just reality to hurt. Elena has always been the thing to change Damon's reality, to make it harsher or sweeter with the curve of her lashes.
"Damon," she says, her voice infinitely soft and he can't stand it.
"You're trying to take yourself out of the equation." He sounds disappointed, like she's breaking up with him. It will pass. They had a symbiotic relationship and maybe the lines blurred, but it will pass in a few days and they'll be comfortable again.
"You think it'll be that easy?" Damon asks, his voice velvety and dark, with that predatory edge she hadn't heard in so long. Bonnie can hear the distinct sound of his tongue licking his lips.
She shivers unintentionally.
#
Bonnie watches his window, waiting for him to appear. Her private, X-rated show. She wants his broad, muscular chest, those long fingers biting into soft flesh, the bestial rhythm of his thrusting, and so she waits. She waits with her nerves on edge, her mind in overdrive, and the need to escape her own skin and get under someone's else.
But he doesn't appear, not him nor one of his many companions, and the disappointment burns.
Elijah Mikaelson's nightly encounters are a loss she had not braced herself for, because all her strength had been in salvaging pieces of her heart. And now, somehow, it's her pride to bleed. Because it feels like being rejected and he's got no right to. He had said that her attempt at weakening his resolve was ineffective, had said that he always thought about having sex with her. He had guided her thoughts, tremors, and he had promised he would be there.
He'd said all those things and now he was nowhere to be seen, and she needs it. She needs to see what he wants to do to her, the way he can't let her escape from his most visceral desires. Because when she's so eager to discard her own feelings for the sake of someone else, she needs him not to.
She needs to feel alluring and wanted, but she feels denied instead. So, she dons her boots, biting away the traces of her lipstick as she takes the stairs and leaves her building. She forgets she's supposed to ring the intercom, lets herself in with a jolt of her magic, and marches up to his apartment like she's going to teach him a lesson.
Elijah opens the front door in his robe, hair perfectly styled. He's wearing pants but no shirt and she can see the lines of his pectoral muscles under the loose attire. Only it's not quite enough.
"Miss Bennett," he greets her politely, though clearly surprised by her late night visit.
She raises her hand to press it against his chest and push him inside the apartment, kicking the door shut behind her without even turning around. She's too tiny to move a man of his size, but he lets her, smirking at her aggression. Elijah is somewhat impressed.
It seems to come out of one of his many fantasies about her. In one his favorites, she just marches inside his study silently, radiating that fieriness that seems to translate into a magnetic field about her. She pushes him down to sit on his antique chair, sits proudly on his lap and proceeds to mount him, riding him within an inch of his life without uttering a single word, except for scattered moans when she lowers herself to have him fill her up, eyes speaking of a rapacious hunger only his sex can placate.
Yes, it is quite the self-assured fantasy, but he has a sort of classic taste, that primordial need to have ownership, a complete undisputed seigniory. Sometimes he fiddles around with it trying to decide if he should risk the momentum by having her take off her underwear (she wears a g-string and a buckle garter when he wants her to be an exhibitionist and impudent in her need of him, a culottes when she's still trying to fight the irresistible attraction between them) or if he'd prefer to have her so lust-driven and eager to show up in his house that she wears nothing underneath her dress.
"You said you always think about having sex with me." She's throwing it back in his face for a reason which escapes him at the moment. Maybe if she hadn't gotten him already half hard it would be easier to untie this bundle, but the only thing he'd rather untie right now are the loose strings on the back of her short flowery dress.
He doesn't know if she's decided to give him the fantasy of the innocent girl torn by her awakened sexual needs or if it's a happy coincidence – he suspects the latter – but his dick seems to agree with the choice.
"You want me to write it down for you?" he asks, taunting, "Or maybe you'd rather listen to the details of one of my graphic fantasies?" he asks again, provocatively. "I am told I'm a very good storyteller," he tells her as his fingers reach for her cheek, thumb brushing over her lower lip. "It will seem to you like we are doing it."
Bonnie stays still, breathes through her mouth closing her eyes at the touch of his fingers as he brushes away every unspoken protest. She doesn't know how he does it, but she feels herself immediately grow wet between her legs. Bonnie must hold herself up gripping his open robe. Her fingers slip on the silk and she tries to use her nails, grating the flesh underneath the fabric.
"What are you doing?" She asks more to herself than to him. And yet, hadn't she always known? Maybe Elijah is not the love of her life, the ground under her feet, but she's wanted what he has to offer for awhile now.
Elijah gets closer, leans in to smell her, his nose brushes her cheek and she trembles.
"Nothing, yet," he says, smirking against her lips, hands sliding down along her body and holding so tight around her waist she's having trouble breathing properly. "I'm open to your suggestions, though," he murmurs, letting her inhale his warm breath.
Her pupils are large as she looks up at him. She's standing tiptoe, every muscle of her body leaning towards him. And in this moment, he knows that no matter what drove her to his apartment, he's the only thing on her mind. This is how he wants to keep it.
"I'm sure you can come up with something." Her voice shakes with a repressed moan.
"Let's see…" he mulls, before kissing her. At first, it's like he's biting the kiss off her lips, but when her resistance weakens his tongue sinks into her mouth like he's trying to reach her pussy from there.
Her blood feels deliciously hot. There's a familiar slow dripping starting between her thighs. Her brain is fogged, and she would be surprised if the window wasn't as well.
It is so enrapturing the way he pushes his tongue into her mouth, and the way his erection brushes against her stomach, that she can hardly pay attention to the light pull of his fingers on the string at the back of her dress.
She moans as the fabric slips off her shoulders and get pushed down, to pool at her feet. Her stomach drops nervously, but she's too high to care, and Elijah grabs her by the ass with both hands, dragging her up to wrap her legs around his waist. His bulge presses against her sex as he walks towards his bedroom, kissing her mouth and her shoulder as he goes, murmuring his appreciation against her skin as his hands pull at her boots making them fall with a thud on the floor.
He leans over to let her fall onto the bed, his fingers immediately hooking around her panties to pull them down her legs (he'll buy her some nice new lingerie, a g-string and buckle garter maybe). And though she's always been too shy to keep the lights on with her boyfriends before, she finds no embarrassment, for the way he looks at her is intoxicating.
So, she lays there, watches as he takes off his robe, brings a hand to his length to grab it over the silk of his pajama pants, but makes no move to take them off. Instead, he offers her a sly smile, taking her by the waist and turning her around like she weighs nothing.
Bonnie's first instinct is to grasp at sheets under her, but she has no time to move before he presses down on the mattress, one hand riding along her spine, the other grabbing her ass. She can feel the bed dipping because of his weight and his mouth biting the plump flesh.
But more than that is the warm breath hitting her sex that makes her inhale almost violently.
"This is the pussy that's going to milk my cock," he murmurs, startling her with his obscene words. The way she lays face down and grips the sheets awakens something primal in him.
And with a long, flat tongue he tastes her.
The long lick seems like slow torture, her hips move to escape him, not ready for such pleasure, but he uses both hands over her ass to keep her in place, to massage the flesh with hard fingers, making space for his mouth where he wants it, slipping his tongue inside when he's tired of just lapping at her, toying with a bundle of nerves that has her pushing her ass back into his face.
She makes whiny sounds as she presses her face down into his pillow, breathing his scent and feeling her pleasure rise like a tide. His nose nuzzles at her clit when he pulls away and rubs against it when he thrusts his tongue in, and it's maddening and incredible.
It is so strong her release – so full of all her frustration and second guessing and doubts – that she feels all her limbs surrender and it's a bit like floating on water.
Bonnie dozes off peacefully, and when she opens her eyes, she finds herself on her back, looking up at Elijah. At some point, he's taken off her bra and she's completely naked. He's staring at her like they have unfinished business and he must collect his prize.
"Are you more relaxed now, Miss Bennett?" he asks, smugly and so well mannered. Though, she suspects, propriety would impose him to try and hide his erection under the thin fabric of his pajama pants.
"Yes," she admits, looking up at him without shame. "Thank you," she adds, politely, as she pulls herself up to sit on the bed. "But maybe, considering that you had your tongue in my pussy, we could skip formalities and address each other by name?"
"You honor me," he sneers, cupping her breast with one large palm, the thumb making a circle around her nipple.
"I do."
The fact that there are no deep feelings involved in this, the course of this affair not depending on the integrity of her heart, makes her feel strangely free and incredibly powerful. There is a change in the way he looks at her. She can sense his instinct rising to meet her.
"You seem rather confident, Bonnie." He pinches her nipple startling her a little.
She shivers, "And you aren't?" She asks, almost sounding like she doubts him.
Elijah smiles, leaning towards her to speak at her ear and spell out, "That delicious pussy of yours…" He licks his lips like he's remembering the taste of her sex, "I'm going to pound it for all that I'm worth."
Suddenly he drags her over his lap, pulls at the elastic band of his pants to let his erection jut out. He thrusts up in one hard stroke, almost filling her. Bonnie grips his shoulders because of the force of his intrusion, and uses them as leverage when he starts moving, giving back all that she receives.
It's almost like a challenge, one they do not want to lose and it's a savage thing between them. Elijah grunts, slamming himself into her. Bonnie makes it a point to do the same, and it seems to seduce him, her strong will, the way she refuses to give in completely.
He can't help but stare at her, fingers biting into her soft flesh while she rides him like there is no tomorrow. Maybe there isn't one for them, he realizes, but he wants it, so badly, he feels the animalistic need to mark her.
"This is what you needed all along, Bonnie," he grunts, "my cock…me," he repeats as he guides her up and down his length, trying to win her over, nestle his words into her brain and make her as needy of him as he is of her.
"Eli-jah" she moans, letting his name roll on her tongue for the first time, muscles squeezing around his member and making him crazy. He growls between his teeth, rolling them over and wrapping one of her legs over his hip to drive himself more deeply into her.
From that moment on, only obscenities leave his mouth. Obscenities, and promises.
#
When she opens her eyes, he's sleeping on his stomach, and Bonnie gives herself the chance to look over his naked form before slipping away from the bed.
Bonnie is very grateful for the passionate night, wouldn't mind picking up where they left off, but she fears it would complicate things. She doesn't want to explain her life, her reasons, most of all herself. She doesn't want to find the appropriate words to say goodbye, doesn't even know if there are any after the plundering way they have had each other, so she doesn't want to risk waking him up.
Bonnie cleans herself up with a towel just to look a little less indecent, hoping that at 6 a.m. not many people will be around to see her leave his building to reach her own, so close. She picks the clothes off the floor adjusting herself as she walks to where her flowery dress has been abandoned, trying to smooth it with her hands once she has it on.
She discovers she might just be a bit of a tease because she leaves him a cup of coffee. A post it on the lid that reads, "Thanks for the late night learning."
Because no one can ever say she's anything but a nice girl.
#
She didn't have many things to begin with. It was never in the plan to stay over and buy a house with a picket fence. It's still not in the plan; though, it has been a rather enjoyable diversion in her dull routine made of self-sacrificing choices and bad surprises.
She packs quickly, leaves the rest to a cleaning company. When she contacts the landlord, she finds out Damon has already settled everything, making it so that she wouldn't be able to stay in Charleston, the asshole. It irks her, the way he thinks she is his. The way she forgets she is not.
Sometimes, she stops to feel the lingering touch of Elijah. The bruising way he held her and had her all night still can't tear her away from the mess that is her life. For all he did to her body, he's only slightly brushed her heart.
Her heart is firm in Mystic Falls, and one way or the other she must go back and take it back. But maybe not immediately.
She decides to take a few days for herself, pick a random pretty city, spend a few of days sightseeing, relaxing and thinking about herself only. She owes it to herself.
Once she's back home, she'll have tiny pieces to glue back together and she needs strength for that.
It doesn't occur to her that the first mending she must do is not of her own heart though, because the moment she closes the door at her back and lets the bag fall to the ground her cell phone starts to ring. It takes her a moment to recognize the sound, too used to the pay phone she was using in Charleston, so she only answers on the fourth ring.
"Hey there," she says, putting the key in the plate of the front door. "Missed me?" She asks, getting the rush of words she expected, but not quite about the topic she believed they would be about.
"Bonnie, finally," Caroline sighs, the distress so clear in her voice that Bonnie knows she has no good news to offer.
"What's wrong?" she asks, warily. She knows how the story goes, most of all she knows how the story ends and she doesn't like it.
"It's Elena," her friend starts, and Bonnie can hear it in her head, the laughing voice of Kai, mocking their short happiness, their blind trust, squashing that tiny hopeful voice that, every time, tries to convince her that good things might actually happen to them.
Bonnie feels breathless for a moment, feeling like the walls might just crumble around her once again. Funny how Elena's presence and Elena's absence can ruin her life all the same.
"I don't even know how to explain," Caroline says, "I don't know what happened…"
"Caroline, if you don't tell me now…" Bonnie interrupts her, unable to let her go on and on mercilessly delaying the moment the world falls down, "…I swear!"
"They broke up," she says, suddenly.
"What?" Bonnie is confused still. It doesn't make any sense.
"Yes, they – actually, Damon – broke up with her."
"What?" she asks again, still unable to let her words sink in.
"I know!" she almost shrieks on the other side of the phone. "And she's taking it so calmly. I'm scared she's going to have a breakdown when I least expect it and I need help."
Caroline's words ring in her head like the aftermath of a hangover. She doesn't even trust herself enough to drive, but she has no other choice. She needs to be there for her friend, let her see that life goes on, tell her she's still alive to grasp her happiness and make of it what she wants.
She can read it in her eyes, when Elena looks at her, that question both her friends want to ask but have no courage to. Does he love someone else?
In her bag, the display of her phone goes bright.
If you aren't back by the end of the day, I'm coming to find you – D.
#
When he opens the front door of the boarding house, he can almost smell the air of Charleston around him. It's an overrated place, Damon thinks as he watches Elijah turn his eyes on him.
"Good morning," he says, offering a polite smile while Damon tries not to show his disdain for his presence.
"I have my vacuum cleaner, thanks," Damon says, giving himself the opportunity of seeing the offended expression on the elder Mikaelson's face before trying to close the door. The man though puts his foot inside, blocking before he can slam it in his face.
"That's not the reason why I'm here," Elijah says, trying to remain composed, though his coolness is slipping quickly. He's hunted her down like one of those precious masterpieces people pay him to retrieve, and he's come up with an address in Virginia, only to find that man that used to occupy half her evenings and God knows how much of her heart.
"If I gave you the impression of being interested in knowing, I'm so sorry." He mocks him, but this time around Elijah doesn't need to physically try and stop him because all he needs to say is her name.
"Bonnie Bennett," he utters, watching Damon's face hardening, morphing into a thinly intimidating expression. It's like watching a mirror – in a row of mirrors – because the man is a magnified version of a predator.
"Stay away from her."
Still, he is not intimidated.
"I have a…friendly relations with Miss Bennett," he says, trying to take a swing at him, find the wound and cover it in salt, "And I would like to get in contact with her."
Damon Salvatore remains still for a moment, watches the length of his body like he's measuring him up, like he's deciding how much of hassle it will be to throw his body in a ditch after he's done with him. Then maybe decides for a more civilized response because he does a sinister click sound with his jaw, like an animal itching to rip into his jugular, and says calmly, "Forget about her."
Elijah is about to protest when he sees the man's pupils grow larger and larger, and the blackness of them spreads into his brain, until he must blink the emptiness away.
"Thanks for the directions," Elijah says.
"No problem, man," Damon replies with a tight smile, watching him turn on his heels and walk away.
At the gates around the boarding house he stops to politely take a step aside and let Bonnie pass. He looks subtly intrigued "Please," he says, gallantry. They stare at each other for a moment.
Bonnie seems unsure about what to do and then nods at him, walking away towards the front door.
Elijah is already gone when Bonnie stops in front of Damon, hitting repeatedly the concrete with her foot like she's waiting for his explanation. One brow arched as she stares at him like a reprimanding teacher. It makes for a sexy fantasy, he thinks.
It would be self-centered of her to think that he fucks up on purpose just so she needs to stay around and clean it up, and she's not self-centered; and yet, she is out of reach for a few days and he dumps his girlfriend, compels Elijah Mikaelson, and turns the world upside down.
"What did you do?" she asks, entering the house.
Damon looks impassive, towering over her so closely she stops breathing for a moment. It's the reason why he's lethal, the moment he slips into you, it spreads into your system and you'll never get rid of him, ever again.
He welcomes her with a smile that has her alarms going off, ignoring her question and pushing the door closed at her back.
Maybe Elena doesn't know, and Caroline doesn't understand, but Bonnie has spent so much time learning his expressions and his moods, that of course she would know.
When it comes to her, Damon has a shitty poker face.
"I hope you had fun," he says, dirpping sarcasm.
#
Elijah finds a few calls from women, a couple of messages from possible clients and tries to decide if there's one he'd like to pick. Both the women and the work they are proposing are easy to attain.
He'd gone to Virginia a couple of weeks back to talk to a feasible client, but somehow had decided against it. He doesn't even remember why. It just didn't seem interesting enough for him to make an effort. He'd like to hunt down something more special, more precious, more enticing (the petite girl with caramel skin and large green eyes flashes into his mind, making him smile).
He's easily bored.
He looks at his reflection in the mirror to make sure his hair is perfect, his eyes fall on the jar of coconut and fig conditioner he can't remember buying. Maybe one of his conquests had wrongly deduced it was going to be a longer affair, he supposes.
It's strange, but not as strange as the sexy, almost sordid, lingerie set – a g-string with a buckle garter and a balconette bra - he found in a sophisticated white box ornate with a crimson flower on top that was laying on his bed.
Maybe someone is trying to play some trick on him. He'll look into it soon, he decides as he sits at his desk, a fragrant breeze coming from his window.
He takes a notebook, writing down a couple of notes, before his eyes are drawn to the building in front of his own. It's a nice one. He considered buying it at some point. He's got enough money to do it, but he's waiting for a more favorable price on the market before he does so.
The third floor – the one that overlooks his own – has been unoccupied for almost a year. That's why it suddenly catches his eye.
One window is open.
#
Note: I left a sort of open ending, because I feel like it's the most fitting for this story, the only way this could go, really. Maybe the window is open because Bonnie has decided to go back and indulge in all that Elijah has to offer. Or possibly Damon has had enough of letting Bonnie slip through his fingers and finding relief elsewhere. Your pick. As usual, if you read leave me a review and entertain me duriong this quarantine. If you can/want you can buy me a kofi (link in my ffdotnet profile).