Elena cried so hard she choked. When she learned of Kai's spell what felt like only hours ago, she had to come to terms very quickly with all of the humans in her life she may never see again. Certainly Bonnie, but also Matt, Jeremy, and Alaric. Stefan, though, she never expected. She imagined seeing his beautiful face, eternally young, eternally warm with radiant affection wrapping her in a hug as he told her everything she missed.
Caroline moved to sit next to her friend, holding her close.
"Caroline, I am-," Elena started.
"It's okay. It was a long time ago." Caroline had her fill of condolences half a century ago. She missed her husband, she always would, but she could only handle so many losses today. The women held each other for a few quiet moments, and the cruelty of Kai's spell set in in a new way. Even a grief expert like Elena felt overwhelmed as she attempted to rapid-fire process and compartmentalize the losses of two of the people she loved most in the world. She considered asking Caroline about the fate of the others, especially her brother, but she decided to wait. She let herself believe it was only Bonnie and Stefan's graves she would be visiting soon. She would let herself believe until she saw Damon, and he could cradle her in his arms as she learned the truth.
Elena looked down confused at the diary. There weren't any more sticky notes in this one. Caroline reached over and handed her the next journal.
"We only have an hour till we get there. Reading about Bonnie and Damon drinking their sorrows for nine months? Not so efficient. You can always go back," she promised.
"But she stayed with him?" Elena asked. Her heart warmed at Bonnie's compassion. It was just like her to take care of Damon that way. Caroline smiled at her sadly. Elena attributed it to her fresh grief for their friend.
"Yeah, she stayed with him. They pretty much turned the boarding house into their own two-person grief-filled frat house. They just compelled groceries, booze, and clothes where they needed them. They just finally took time to process everything. You, Stefan, Enzo..." she trailed off.
"Bonnie and Enzo. It's weird to think about," Elena remarked, looking down at the next journal in her hand. Caroline laughed. It was knowing and humorless.
"Yeah. It is weird to think about now," she agreed. She pointed to the next journal. "Are you okay to keep going? We can pull over if you need a minute." Elena shook her head furiously.
"No, I want to see Damon," she said. Elena was no stranger to grief. She would process the news about Stefan in due time. She needed to get to her boyfriend. Caroline gave her another sorrowful, encouraging half-smile. She nodded and moved back over to the other side of the car, where she continued to read Bonnie's diaries in another time.
Elena looked down at the journal in her hand. It had only one sticky note on the first page. The leather front cover had been personalized with an embedded script.
Bonnie Bennet
2019
"This is cute," she commented. Caroline looked up at her, and saw the journal displayed in Elena's hand.
"Damon got it for her."
January 1st, 2019
Dear Elena,
Happy New Year! Damon's been on a mission to keep me from leaving Mystic Falls... He is actually driving me crazy.
"Bon Bon, what are you even gonna do on your big solo world tour? I don't know if you've heard but the world? Kind of a big place," Damon complained. He leaned over the Mystic Grill's green felt covered pool table. He'd compelled management to give them free reign over the place for Bonnie's last night in Mystic Falls. He would have done something more elaborate, but it's where she wanted to be. She wanted to embrace the familiarity of her hometown before embarking on her great adventure.
Damon pulled the cue back and hit the white ball with a loud clang. Two solids fell into pockets in the table. He smirked victoriously and opened his mouth to gloat. When he looked up expecting to find Bonnie's familiar scowl, she wasn't in front of him. He scanned the Mystic Grill until he spotted her bent over the bar. She dug around for the perfect bottle to commemorate the occasion.
Damon tried to look anywhere but at the curves in her hips as she leaned over to rifle through the alcohol. Her legs looked long in her short jean shorts and her short white sneakers. Nearly a year cohabitating, and it had become harder to ignore how breathtaking she was all the time. Hot, dull guilt rose in his gut.
"You could walk around, you know," he called over to her, annoyed by the feeling. She ignored him. He rolled his eyes and turned back to face the table. He tried not to think of the way her simple white tank-top clung to her waist. He studied the formation of the balls too carefully, convincing himself to be more invested in the game than he was.
"What brand do you think?" she yelled over her shoulder.
"I'm not helping you pick your poison until you tell me why you're doing this stupid Eat, Pray, Love shit," he yelled back.
"Don't bitch when you don't like it, then," she retorted. They had fallen into this easy back-and-forth over the months. It took the first two months to get him to smile. She credited their HGTV marathons for bringing her Damon back to the surface. Judgmental, opinionated, funny and too aware of it.
Bonnie walked back over to the pool table carrying a bottle of silver tequila and two shot glasses.
"I've already told you why. Several times, in fact!" she said, opening the cap and taking a drink from the bottle. She grimaced, sticking her tongue out the same way she always did when she drank straight liquor. An involuntary grin spread across Damon's face at the sight. She was a wimp sometimes.
Bonnie handed the bottle to him wordlessly and grabbed a pool cue. He scrunched his nose up at the smell of the tequila but drank from it anyway. It was her last night after all, and God knew she'd endured enough whiskey for him.
"Okay, fine. Until you give me a good reason you're doing this," he amended.
"Damon, my answer is the same. Enzo wanted me to go live my life and see the world. Get the hell out of this place…" she leaned over the pool table, assessing her angles.
"Well, Enzo wanted to fuck my mom, so let's not weigh his judgment too heavily," he retorted. Bonnie whipped her head in his direction. It was a risky joke, and Damon waited for her to respond with a cautious smirk on his face. She cracked a smile and swatted him on the arm.
"Ass," she chastised, returning her focus to the game. "Look, I'm done with the crying and Rocky Road parts of grief-," she began.
"And those suppliers will thank you. I got a call the other day; they're worried they're going to have a shortage in Virginia," he interrupted.
"I'm ready to move on," she finished, hitting the ball. A stripe sank into the corner pocket. She celebrated with a small victorious hop. Damon watched such a classic display of Bonnie's competitiveness, and felt warm with tequila and affection.
"And by move forward, you mean move out. Bonnie, the world is boring, trust me. I've seen it all, and you're far better off right here in Mystic Falls, the most happening place on the planet," he said, stretching his arms out wide to show off their empty Mystic Grill.
"You're full of shit," she chided. He raised his hands in faux offense.
"Alright, alright. Proposal! I win, you stay. You win, you go," he offered, talking a step closer to her. She had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes.
"I see we're at the bargaining stage," she observed. "Sorry, Damon. No dice." He sighed.
"Fine, if you're making me resort to Plan C... I'll just get you so hungover tomorrow you can't fathom getting on a plane," he said. He grabbed the liquor and poured two shots.
"Good luck," she said. She almost meant it. She accepted the tiny glass in his hand, and they clinked them together in a toast, tossing the liquor back in unison.
Four hours and an exorbitant about of tequila later, Bonnie had destroyed him at darts and they'd raided the Mystic Grill kitchen, Bonnie climbing onto Damon's shoulders to get the "good stuff" Jeremy told her was hidden. They'd cleared the tables to make their own dance floor and spun around to the music together, mocking each other's moves. They'd laughed loudly, joked too much, and played their own game of Would You Rather: Mystic Falls Edition.
Around 1 in the morning, Bonnie found herself glaring at the vampire beneath her.
"Right foot Grey Goose, Bon Bon," Damon repeated, laughing as he held himself up on one hand and a contorted splits position. Bonnie had wanted to play Twister, but they didn't have a mat, so she arranged a bunch of alcohol bottles on the floor in a small grid: six rows of four. She concentrated as she weighed her next move. Her arm was threatening to give under her weight. Her mood wasn't helped by Damon's knowing, mocking look at her predicament. She could either settle into a comfortable position on the other side of Damon, or put herself in a worse spot, but make him more likely to fall. She weighed her defensive and offensive positions.
"I heard you," she snapped at him. "This is ridiculous. You're wearing a leather jacket and tight pants. You drink constantly and never stretch!" her breath reeked of alcohol as she complained.
"You can whine all you want, but you challenged a vampire to this," he teased. That settled it. She was determined to wipe his stupid signature smirk off his face. Bonnie put her foot behind her next to the Grey Goose so she was hovering above Damon, restricting his movement. Her arms wobbled slightly as she clicked the button on the randomizing app on her phone.
"Left foot Jack Daniels," she instructed. Damon didn't move, but just looked up at her, waiting patiently for her to collapse on her own. He yammered to kill time.
"Okay, would you ratherrrr... wake up every day to a loop of Caroline's saying, 'Seriously!?'" he mocked her shrill tone, and Bonnie bit back a smile. "Or get an appendectomy every time one of Jeremy's girlfriends dies?" She couldn't keep the short, barking laugh from escaping her lips. Her inability to act annoyed by Damon's jokes was a direct result of her alcohol-infused lowered inhibitions.
"Does my appendix just regrow every time?" she asked.
"Don't think too hard about it."
"Full recovery time?"
"Yes."
"Damn it, Damon, left foot Jack Daniels!" she scolded as she caught onto his distraction. Her forearm shook, lightly grazing his shoulder.
"Fine, Rush-y. I'm thinking about where to put my foot. Is that okay with you?" he asked, continuing to delay.
"It's not my fault that thinking is such a long process for you," she bit back.
"Not your fault, but clearly your problem," he moved his foot with ease, shifting his weight like it was nothing. Bonnie glared and hit the button again. Left hand Bicardi. She whipped her head to the Bicardi column, realizing there was no way she could pull it off.
"Uh, oh…" Damon mocked her fate. She could smell the booze on his warm breath. She huffed at him before moving her hand in a fast, desperate motion. She couldn't hold herself up long enough, though, and she fell down on top of the vampire, sending the bottles rolling in every direction. They burst into fits of giggles as Bonnie's forehead rested against Damon's chest. She breathed in the cool smell of him. She almost resented the tequila for being so strong, as it disguised the usual combination of vanilla soap and a hint of whiskey in his scent. She brushed off the thought as fleeting and unimportant, too buzzed to reflect on how comfortable he was to lay on. Neither of them made an effort to move.
Bonnie stole a glance up at him under heavy lashes to find his eyes closed. His right arm was folded under his head and his left laid at his side. She wondered if he'd fall asleep this way.
"You went to Amsterdam with her in the coffin, you know," she whispered. Her voice was soft and careful as she broached the subject. She'd hinted for him to come along with her a few times over the months, but he never acknowledged them. Time was running out. If this was truly their last night, she wanted to know. The two had single handedly pulled each other up out of a deep, dark pit. For nine months, they used each other as foot holds until they crawled up to the surface and found themselves again: without Enzo, without Stefan, without Elena.
Damon clenched his jaw a bit but did not otherwise react. She sighed and rolled off of him to lie on her back next to him, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't stay in the Salvatore house another year. Obviously, unlike some people, her liver needed to remain intact, but moreover, she couldn't stay in a town that felt like a daily memorial. If there was a life after her strange, grief-filled adolescence, it was time to find it, with or without the man next to her.
"I'm just saying, you can come," she tried again despite herself. Her ego would cringe in the morning. Then again, he'd been begging her to stay in his own Damon way: beneath the guise of mockery and light-hearted jabs.
"Oh, I can?" he asked, dodging the question. She rolled her eyes. He was so high maintenance.
"I want you to come," she admitted. She elbowed him lightly to make herself feel less desperate.
When she rested her forearm back on the floor, her pinky lightly grazed Damon's. He turned his head to steal a look at her. Her skin was covered in a layer of goosebumps as the Mystic Grill air conditioning turned on in a low hum. His eyes wandered down the raised hairs on her arms and down to where their hands touched slightly. He wondered if she even noticed. When he found her face again, the witch radiated peaceful contentment from the energy in the air, the alcohol in her blood, and the man lying next to her. Damon locked onto her warm eyes and knew that a single day without her would be miserable, let alone months.
"It's not about Elena. She's not exactly going anywhere," he admitted. His voice cracked on Elena's name. It was harder to say than it used to be.
"Then what is it?"
"Oh, is it the heart-to-heart portion of the evening?" he asked. It was a warning. It was the low growl a dog gave when you got too close to its face. Don't come closer.
"Don't deflect," she pushed.
Damon's eyes flashed with annoyance, and he back up at the ceiling to avoid her stare. All she ever did was call him out. Most times, he welcomed it. Other times, he wanted to get up and walk away. He wanted to throw her out of his life and return to an easier time. A pre-Bonnie era when morality didn't matter and feelings could be buried beneath the right combination of self-medication and a cocky demeanor.
Of course, he'd thought of her offer to come on her world tour. She was the only person on the planet he even wanted to be around. As he felt her pinkie rest against his, he knew that if he left with her, he would cross some invisible checkpoint he could never come back from. Better to stay here, drink for fifty years for his brother, wait for Elena to wake up, and then... stay. Stay the same. Fight with his girlfriend, love her, fuck her, die with her. It sounded easy. So easy. Elena saw him, and said it was okay. When Bonnie saw him, she made him ask himself all of these infuriating questions. Why does he feel this way? How can he change it? How can he be better? She was dangerous. Too dangerous.
"I haven't left Mystic Falls since Stefan died," he spewed obvious sentimental drivel she could buy. It wasn't exactly a lie. He wasn't enthusiastic about the idea of leaving the house behind. Stefan's shoes were still in the corner. His jacket was still over the couch. His room remained behind the closed, wooden door.
"I know, but... don't you think you deserve to be happy?" she asked. Damon's heart thudded fast and loud in his chest. He felt grateful she didn't have his hearing. "Besides, when Elena wakes up, you're gonna stick that fancy little syringe of Stefan's blood in your chest, and you're gonna live a normal life of saving up for trips and waiting in lines just like the rest of us. Maybe you should get one last world tour vampire style," she pitched. His anger gently dissipated. She wanted him to come because she loved him. It wasn't her fault he didn't know how to let her.
"And when did you come to the conclusion that I deserve to be happy? Not exactly rolling in the good karma department..." he trailed off. He still couldn't meet her face. The conversation had veered into the place where he couldn't look in her eyes.
"A few years ago, one breakup from a Katherine in an Elena suit had you off the rails again. You lost your brother, and you haven't hurt anybody," she said. He let out a humorless laugh.
"I haven't killed anyone. That's quite the low bar you've got for me," he said.
"I special ordered it," she teased. The joke was enough to dissipate some of the discomfort between them. She rolled onto her side to face him and folded her arms beneath her head. He missed her smallest finger.
He didn't want her to go without him. She didn't want him to stay behind.
Damon let out a long, quiet breath. He felt both touched and terrified by Bonnie wanting to spend the next small chapter of her life with him next to her. Still, it felt like an unavoidable crash. Would they loathe traveling together, fight, and hate each other forever? He didn't think about the alternative. He just felt a tingling where her finger had rested against his.
He met her eyes and blurted out his answer before he could think himself out of it.
"And how would you compensate a tour-guide who can compel you free drinks and first-class plane tickets?" he asked. Bonnie's eyes widened. A small smile spread across her face as the quiet realization of his acceptance hit her.
"My company obviously," she replied. They joked; it's what they did. Neither would acknowledge the mix of excitement and quiet trepidation resting in their guts.
"Alright, Bon Bon. You obviously can't live without me," he teased. It came out more seriously than he intended. They locked eyes for a hair too long before she gave him a light, familiar smack on the arm, breaking the tension.
"We missed midnight," she commented.
"Happy New Year, Bonnie. Tell me I don't have to wake up early."
"Flight's at 4 PM."
"Good. I can sleep this shit off."
"Are we sleeping on the floor?" she asked.
"Why not? Unless you want the pool table," he nodded toward the green felt. She shook her head slightly and repositioned herself on the hard wood floor. She hiked her leg up slightly, and Damon's eyes involuntarily ran over the goosebumps on her skin. He rolled his eyes and shrugged his jacket off and tossed it on top of her.
"A kinder, gentler Damon."
"That's a new record for how fast I regret doing something nice for you."
She stuck her tongue out at him lightly and covered her torso with the leather. Her eyelids grew heavy as she felt sleep slowly take her. The tequila rested warm in her limbs, and the smell of Damon's jacket filled her nose.
"I think I'm going Caroline alarm clock, by the way," she murmured drowsily.
"Really? Dead girlfriend appendectomy all the way," he disagreed, throwing his arm over his eyes to shield them from the warm overhead lighting.
"Masochist," she said before her eyes closed shut.
Damon peaked out from beneath his arm to see her breathing deeply. Her head rested against her hands in a make-shift pillow. An etching of her last smile faded as sleep took her over. He thought about taking in this view every night in shared hotel rooms in Bangkok, Auckland, and Cape Town.
You have no idea, Bon Bon.