Chapter 24: You've been wanting me forever, and you just can't say goodbye…
"Why would he not tell me that he was dating that bitchface Moreau?" She howls.
"Do you know how awkward it was when he introduced her? I hate her. Jeremy deserves better."
She is still not over the shock of watching Camille Moreau standing with her brother in the living room when she came down for snacks.
"He brought her home! Why would he bring her home if it wasn't serious? And what about my poor Bonnie? She'll go ballistic!"
He snickers at that.
It has been a year since that particular news channel had a collective meltdown over how Damon Salvatore annihilated Salvatore-Mikaelson. They have continued their routine of clandestine phone calls. She hasn't told anyone about it.
It feels nice, keeping him to herself like a secret that only she knows and pulls out at night to examine.
He doesn't utter a word. Not even one except the customary greeting and the farewell. When she tells him to say something, his answers are usually monosyllabic.
To know that she wields such power over him makes her giddy sometimes. It's unhealthy to be so happy about it, but she is.
He sends her cardless bouquets on her milestones.
The roses in them are never red. She had imagined a time or two, about getting red roses from him, but she isn't ready for it yet.
"Should I just ask Jeremy about Moreau?"
"Hmm."
"You're right. No matter how much I despise that woman, she's his choice, and as an individual I have to respect that."
The conversation moves on to different topics. She has bullied him into reading the books she likes. He sent such scathing criticism of "The Great Gatsby" by text that she spent over an hour defending Gatsby.
They don't like all the same things, but the ones they do, they love absolutely.
Like her love for Pushkin.
And his for romance novels. He reads them by dozens. Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Elisa James, Lisa Kleypas, he has read them all, and he isn't ashamed to admit it. He recommends one to her from time to time and she has to admit, he has excellent taste.
But then, she always knew that.
He is someone who knows her.
All of her.
'Cause he did a background check on you, her mind supplies snidely. With him, she doesn't need to pretend that her life started the day she met her dad. She isn't afraid or ashamed to tell him about her dancing days, the snippets and the stories that now seem funny but once reaffirmed the helplessness of her situation.
He has become a hermit.
Well, he wasn't much of an entertainment section star even before, but now, he's only seen in rare charity events and UN sessions. The only photos she finds of him are the ones that come out in the "Recent Activities" section of e'Lena's website.
There, through the screen she watches him play football with kids in Tanzania, cradle sickly babies in Chad, distribute medical supplies in Gaborone, wade through knee deep flood water in some part of India to reach a stranded village, providing first aid to the injured in war torn cities. Unlike the other photos of this nature, the ones on e'Lena are not publicity shots. They are the photos that people take and upload on the website.
He appears thin in most of them, a week old scruff on his chin, eyes twinkling the same merry blue.
She knows the weeks when he's gone. He usually texts her in advance, apologizes for the inconvenience before he takes off, and until her phone pings or rings again, she exists in a state of nervous anticipation, combing the web for any untoward incident at the place he's about to land.
They call him "the Philanthropist" despite the fact that Cacciatore, his money making machine is the most valued company in the world.
He is even nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize this year, and Elena knows she will lose her shit when he wins.
He is doing good things, her Damon.
But he isn't yours, her mind supplies unhelpfully. She tells her brain the shut the fuck up.
"I think I am falling asleep," She says as she yawns.
"Goodnight, Elena," He whispers before the call disconnects.
Her phone rings with an oncoming text.
You should ask Jeremy right now, if you can, otherwise you won't be able to sleep. And even if he's serious about her, as you said, it's his choice and that liberty to choose is the most important right an individual has. Don't worry. It's gonna be okay. And…Angel's Kiss by Susan Elizabeth Phillips. It's one of my favorites. Sleep tight. Sweet dreams, Elena.
She falls asleep with a smile on her face.
~UV~
When she calls him next time, she's bawling her eyes out, big fucking sobs and fat tears rolling down her cheeks, she's a picture of inconsolable grief.
"Why does Alex do that?" She asks, crying.
"Elena?"
"Tell me, why does he hurt Daisy?"
"I…I-"
"Tell me!"
"Because he doesn't…. doesn't know better," He says softly, a yearning in his voice that sounds all too familiar. "Because Alex doesn't know what it is to love. He doesn't know that what he feels for Daisy is love. Alex is so scarred by his childhood that he can't comprehend loving anyone. He has decided that he won't have kids, won't pass his cursed blood to any child, won't continue the Romanov legacy, and in comes this woman who is sunshine and smell of apricot lotion, who has decided she loves Alex and doesn't mind his prickly personality, who doesn't care for his idea of revenge but decides to go with it because she respects him as a person…" His voice is painful to listen to. It's scratching over the scabs that have formed over her wounds.
Why the hell did she read this cursed book again?
"Is there a happy ending for Daisy and Alex?" She asks in a small voice. She doesn't know what exactly she is hoping the answer to be. Maybe, she just wants a happy ending for someone unlike her distasteful memories.
"You haven't read any further?" He asks.
"I couldn't," She confesses, not too keen to admit that she was crying the moment that whip landed against Daisy's tummy, remembering the way she had been sitting helplessly on the ground as he walked out.
She hates Alex. She hates Damon. She doesn't know what she's doing.
But she's a needy creature, always has been for those bits of affection Damon sends her way.
"Will you read it to me?" She doesn't know if he will acquiesce to or deny her request, but a small part of her wants him to not read it to her because if he does and if Daisy and Alex happen to have a happy ending, she will want it for herself.
"Hold on. Let me fetch my kindle," He says and her heart pounds in anticipation.
She has done this to herself, she thinks in resignation. She has let him become a habit, an addiction, something she wants for herself with an intensity that terrifies her.
She knows where this all is gonna end. It's gonna end with his lips on her lips, his hands in her cunt and her thighs around his waist. It's gonna end against a wall, a door, in a fucking bed only to start again. She will punish him, keep on punishing him till her heart tires of the idea of revenge and he will take it, she thinks in surprise. He will take whatever she dishes out because he knows what he did was unpardonable.
Just like Alex.
She was setting herself up, building a trap one piece at a time to cage the moral pipsqueak that lives in her. She knows Daisy and Alex have a happy ending.
And she knows she wants it for herself.
His voice starts to narrate a story where repentant Alex searches for Daisy only to come up empty handed and she can't help but ask, "did you come to see me at the hospital?"
He doesn't reply and she smiles, for she knows how to hurt him too, and in this they're evenly matched.
How did she ever think of herself as some powerless little chit unable to inflict the pain her love had left her in? She's part Rhen and part madwoman, she can return his hits hundredfold.
"Yes," He admits, by the tone, none too pleased on having to admit it.
She doesn't say anything and he continues with the story. Alex finds Daisy and she isn't pleased about it or him. She says she isn't in love with him anymore and he says he loves enough for both of them.
Does Damon love her? Elena thinks as she listens his voice flow in a rhythm.
She loves Damon, that much is a certainty. There hasn't been a moment when she hasn't. Even while hating him, she has loved him and that says something, doesn't it.
They haven't even kissed, let alone touched, so she knows this isn't physical. Something that she took great joy in while informing Mason that she might be a little obsessed over him, but ain't because he can hit the spot like no one else.
Daisy ends up forgiving Alex.
She is going to have him, Elena decides. It might be tomorrow, in a week or in a year, but she's going to have him.
Of that she's absolutely certain.
~UV~
Sorry for pulling a Houdini. I just needed a little bit of break.
Hope you guys are all hale and hearty. Would you like to read more Delena after I finish this story? If you have ideas or prompts or specific scenarios like that, drop them in the reviews. I love y'all. Loads and loads.