Hi! I'm sorry it took so long, I got caught up with college. Hopefully, I will be free in two weeks and the chapters will come a lot quicker. I might have most of them already written, but I still need to re-read to post and all that. I hope you can understand.

Anyway, this is basically how deep is Damon's love for Elena!

The chapter's title is from the 80's "Don't go breaking my heart", because there will be a scene with the song on it ;)

Hope you like it!

DAMON POV

My tongue tastes like peppermint because of all the candies I have been eating all day, due to the toothpaste that felt weirdly gross in the morning 'cause it was, in fact, hair gel. Great. So, yeah, thanks baby bro for letting your products around for me to misplace with my stuff until I'm fucking spilling everything out disgusted like a newbie who never swallows.

And, to answer your question, yes, Stefan is in town. Partially, at least, he does spend almost twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week at the office. Blondie is hosting this huge event in England, so the golden boy has been my roommate for about a week now.

Surprisingly, the incident with the hair gel was not even near the top on the list of the shit I had to put up with on this gray, gray Thursday. My secretary, Andie, called me incredibly earlier in the morning to tell me that one of the patients I've been treating for almost a year, the seventeen years-old Devon Miller, committed suicide.

It's the fucked up part of my job, the rare days when I doubt myself because it always feels like it was, somehow, my fault. And all these dangerous possibilities kept playing in my head over and over repeatedly. I should have chosen a different approach to treat his depressive thoughts. I should have known he was cutting himself, it doesn't matter if the wounds were in a part of his body that weren't suspiciously covered because teenage straight boys rarely leave their tights exposed. I should have said a more effective line to answer the confessions I heard when he was sobbing with a tissue in his hands. I should have. I should have. And it's all lies, because there's no way you can really predict anyone, yet I should have. But I didn't. And now a mother is burying her only son while I'm riding to the Grill to be applauded by strangers who love my food and don't have a clue that, to myself, I just killed someone.

To top all that, cooking never works for me when I'm feeling like shit. In my moody days I just need to put my apron on, and suddenly, I'm God himself baking what most would call the heavenist ambrosia. Today, I'm a homelessness magician who lost his tricks and was kicked out of Neverland, after being condemned for murdering the kids.

Oh, and not to mention the fact that my buddy Alaric called in the afternoon to give the greatest news ever: his ex-fiancee sent him a fucking marriage invitation. Apparently, the bitch thinks it's a good idea to rub on his face how she not only fucked the guy who tried to take Ric's place in college, but it's also now marrying him. Then, I joked about how I'm still taking the caking of worse days since my patient shot himself. "Fuck it, let's get wasted." Ric declared on the other line of the phone, and that, ladies and gentlemen, is why this college professor is my best friend.

Next thing I know we were drinking at his place. No need to embarrass myself in front of my customers after I so completely fail in serving decent meals for them, right?

Too soon, though, Ric fell asleep on the couch, dripping alcohol all over his expensive carpet and drooling some more fluids on it. I do smell badly, yes, but I'm far from being drunk, or at least it was what I thought, so I just did the only good thing I could still do at this point: drag the man to his bedroom and change him to comfortable pajamas before heading off.

On the way home, I got a text from baby bro telling me he's flying to Virginia to visit our mother thanks to dad not being there for a few days; and surprise, surprise, he and Guiseppe are not in a really good place at the moment. I cursed. Sure, Stefan is not your best bet if you want to get wasted, but he's the second male in my life that is capable of talking the shit out of head. And, alhtough I do have the option of texting one of my booty contacts, because sex is always a welcomed distraction, the true is there's only one face that hasn't left my mind the whole day, the only one I do want to see.

So, I turned the car around, driving all the way back to her place, a loft that is located somewhat next to the main hospital of the neighborhood. I'm praying to all the gods that she's not working tonight, or hanging out with Bonnie, Kol, or any of her coworkers. Because, fuck, I need to see her. And I'm not even shitting with you about this or being dramatic here when I say I need to see her. Shit, the last time I had to spend more than two weeks away from this girl, I flew all the way to Mystic Falls on Christmas evening just so I could hear her voice without being filtered by the phone. A trip in which I completely ignored the fact that my own tometown, Fells Church, is also located in Virginia.

This is why the only advice coming from Alaric I never followed is telling her how I feel. She is, as matter-of-fact, the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I can't and I won't screw up just because I'm in love with her. Even if, which I seriously doubt, we could be amazing together, I would never risk our friendship just to give it a shot. I would never forgive myself if it all went to hell and I wasn't allowed to drive to her on days like these. Deep down, I know it's selfish that she will never know just because I'm too much of a coward and I'm so fucking afraid of losing her, but if keeping this secret is the price I have to pay to have the garantee that she will be in my life forever, then so it be, 'cause I can't live without her.

I knock at her door using the knuckles of my fingers, and a boy shouts "Coming!". A few seconds later, Jeremy Gilbert is staring at me with widened eyes. — Yeah, I'm irresistible. Please, don't let your jaw hit the floor. — I tell him with a tired tone that doesn't match the sarcasm I'm using, while I enter the apartment without asking for permission. — Is Elena home?

He sighs, deciding that it's better not to ask much or argue since I'm on one of those days. But when he opens his mouth to answer we are both interrupted by an angel coming into the room. — Jer, who is it? — Elena asks. Little Gilbert is already throwing his hands in the air, defeated, by the time she says. — Oh my god, Damon. What happened to you?

Ignoring the fact that Little Gilbert is standing watching and listening to us, I spit it all out. — Patience killed himself. — I tell her, not minding at all that her hands are now all over me, even if it's just to search for injuries or anything remotely likely. Nonchalantly, like if I was talking about the news or the weather, I continue. — Ric passed out drunk because the Bitch with capital "B" just sent him an invitation to her wedding. — Elena's mouth opens in shock in a reaction to all the bombs I'm throwing at once, but I'm going to explode if I don't, and I'm only doing it because I know Elena, she is the strongest person I know and is pretty much the only one who can handle my shit. — Also, Stefan flew back home, so. — I shrug.

And then she is hugging me. — Oh, Damon. You should have called me. — She says, her worried voice being muffled by the white shirt I'm wearing beneath the jacket. I have my arms wrapped around her, but I'm not saying a word, which is probably why she must have remembered that her brother was still around. She sighs, steps back, then turns to Jeremy who seems to be much more concerned with his tiny sister helping a big guy like me walk towards their living room. Elena gives him a reassuring mouth-closed smile. — It's fine, just have a good time with Kol at the party. I've got this.

Not very convinced, he nods at her, fixing his leather jacket that happens to be the only decent piece of clothing he has, which is no surprise since it was a gift from me. — Call me if you need anything. — He tells her and gives me a sympathetic smile before leaving it.

I like Little Gilbert. He's twenty-one, being four years younger than Elena, and he kind of became a kid brother to me over the five years I've known him. He was on a rough path by the time I met him after becoming besties with his sister in college; but, a few punch bags later, three tattoos and a thousand midnight talks with his cool buddy who studied Psychologist, me, he was back on track, ready to do all the boring things he likes and is good at.

He judges me far too much for the fights I have with my dad, argumenting that "at least you have a breathing one", but he's a cool kid, kind of weird, although decent enough to be treated as my emo baby baby brother. And, honestly, I do not blame him for projecting his own shadows in my relationship with my father, that it is, however, very much different from the loving one he had with his old man. Yes, part of my empathic attitude came as a side effect of being a therapist who has a degree in Jung's psychology, but, the other part, is just 'cause I like the kid.

Also, Jeremy shares the apartment with Elena. He is the reason why she chose to go to New York University. And they never spend a day without checking one another, whether he is at their place or crashing someplace else. She told me he needed a fresh start after their parents died in a car accident, they both did, so she decided to take the opportunity to move to the Big Apple where she had always dreamt about living, which gave me the chance to met the girl I never knew I was looking for until I found it.

Jeremy was still a mess for a couple of years, though. Turns out it is not that easy to let go of your past or be responsible in the city that never sleeps, where a bunch of junkies are offering you nights out to spray rebel sentences all over the buildings. The kid got arrested twice for smoking pot and vandalizing properties, I flirted his way out of jail once, while Elena cried his way out the second time.

Then, came the overdose episode, when he tried to kill himself by swallowing a whole box of medicines. Elena was crying outside the hospital bedroom he was in, when I talked him out of it, mixing both of the big brother facade with the therapist approach I was yet learning in college.

After that he would pop up at my place in all of my free days to talk, drink alcohol under supervision and beat me at video games. I didn't mind because I, too, freaked out when I got a call from a desperate Elena asking me what she should do with an unconscious brother. It was this event that made me sure I wanted to actually do something with my bacharole as well, it didn't matter how eager I was with the prospect of being a chef slash mixologist, I wanted to be there for kids like Jeremy.

Plus, having two successful jobs would also give me a lot of money, make my momma proud and piss the shit out of dad's balls, it was a win-win either way. So, even today, when I look like shit and feel just the same, I don't regret for a second the decisions I have made.

The door closed behind us; and Elena is helping me to sit on the couch. Yeah, drinking on the way here wasn't the best idea, it seems I do get drunk quicker if I'm already a few steps closer to hell. She sits next to me, gently taking the sweaty fringe out of my forehead, putting it backwards with her fingers, and she sighs. — Why didn't you call me, Damon?

Her voice is low and soft and I'm melting already because that girl could have saved Devon Miller with a smile. I'm not her patient, yet she is saving me all the time. In the end, I suppose it's a good thing that she was never interested in following this career, because there would be no place for me in the field if she was my competition.

I close my eyes before answering, quilty. — I didn't want to bother you.

— Damon.

I take a deep breath and stare at her. — Look, you have a lot going on in your life already. And after everything that happened with Mr. Right, I couldn't bring my shit to you. Plus, there's also your job at the hospital, the whole "helping Jeremy to find a good school", your research project at NYU… — I trail off. — I didn't want to burden you as well.

— You would never. — She says firmly, her hands resting in my face. — And none of the things you just listed are more important to me than my best friend. I would have dropped anything in a second if I knew.

— I know you would have. — I let my fingers touch her shoulders, resting on it. — And that's exactly why I didn't call.

She takes a deep breath. — And I love you for looking after me. But you need to let me look after you, too.

I pout cutely at her. — Well… I'm here now, am I?

Then, she laughs. That low, sweet laugh that always hits me painfully in the most warming way possible because I know I'm the only one who gets that part of her. It's the most sincere and heartfelt smile she has, and it is all mine. It always has been.

Elena shakes her head. — See, right there, the exact reason why you are not a burden to me and never will be.

And I give her a smile of my own that it is also only hers. — I'm happy to play the fool for you.

— I'm glad that you do. — She says sincerely. — But, — And pretending to take off the imaginary red nose from me and placing it in her own face, she smiles proudly and announces theatrically. — I will be your clown tonight.

My head goes backwards while I'm laughing widely. And she's cracking, too, because that's us. It doesn't matter if the world is burning, neither if the sky it's falling on our heads, or if the earth is drowning in despair, when we are together nothing else matters because everything fades away when we are laughing like that. You can see, dear reader, why I needed to see her so desperately, she's the only one who can take my pain away to the point that, by the end of the night, I know I will be questioning myself if the pain was ever there.

When the happy tears of laughter cease to fall from my eyes, I glance over at her, the smile still intact. — You're doing an amazing job.

She buffs. — Don't I ever?

— Since when have you become so cocky? — I tease.

— Since when have we known each other? — Elena teases back. And, just like that, all is right in the world again.

Remember when I said Stefan wasn't the best drinking buddy? Yeah, well, Elena mostly definitely is. From the first moment I met her I knew that behind that composed exterior of a girl who studied too hard, there was a wild little thing that knew how to have fun. And even though I didn't have the chance to satisfy my curiosity that day in class, for obvious reasons, my guesses revealed to be corrected when I later spotted her at one of the NYU buildings' rooftop.

Of course, in her very family-oriented fridge, all I could find was beer, because Elena only drinks the heavy stuff at my bar since, quoting her, "it wouldn't be appropriate for me, as Jeremy's big sister, to let such temptation be freely exposed like that." Right, as if he didn't have access to cookies of marijuana in any corner of New York, including at the fraternity parties he would be attempting very soon.

Still, a few beers later, and Elena was dancing like crazy in the living room to my own amusement. She had connected her 80s playlist to the stereo and was now looking at me expectantly. I gasped instantly because I knew exactly what was coming next.

I shake my head. — No way.

She gives me a look.

— No way in hell, Elena. — I tell her, making myself more comfortable and spreading my legs on her couch. — You can make me listen to this crap, but I'm not dancing to it.

— Is this a challenge? — She raises a brow mischievously.

I point my index at her as a warning. — Don't.

But her only response is to laugh drunkenly at me. She turns around and kneels in front of this light-pink speaker that is shaped nostalgically like a vinyl record, plugs her cell phone back on it and starts to tap the screen in a rush. It's funny that drunk Elena jokes every time about how her tolerance goes "way. up. here", while her hands gesture to reach the sky, but it is true, in the end, because she quickly finds the song she was looking for and not even stumbles when she dances back in my direction.

Elton John is now asking Kikki Dee to not break his heart as she replies that she couldn't even if she tried. — Low blow, Elena. Low blow. — I tell her.

That is the softest ballad you will ever find and it's the only song from the 80s I do enjoy since it reminds me of us. Elena might not know this particular detail, although I'm sure she does, even if she probably just reads it as a platonic thing, but I am very much aware that she knows for sure that I can't say no, not to her, not to Elton John.

"Oh, honey, If I get restless.

Baby, you're not that kind"

Elena takes my hand to pull me to the center of the living room. And, in spite of the fact that I'm shaking my head in disbelief, I still follow her without a second thought.

She starts to move along with the rhythm; and while her hips are dancing in front of me as she leads, I can't help but to check her out. Elena Gilbert is stunning, the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. Oh, and that low laugh of hers? It's fucking adorable. I'm pretty sure that her silly drunk personality is making me stare with the very definition of heart eyes right now. But I'm so head over heels to give a fuck about being foolish.

And I'm refusing to move.

— Uh-uh. Don't go break my heart. — Elena sings, terribly, holding an invisible mic. She turns the thing to me so I can sing the next line, but I just shrug it off.

What are we, twelve?

— Damon, come on. — She complains, forgetting all about her imaginary item and taking both of my hands to shake it.

"Don't go break my heart.

You take the weight off me.

Oh, honey when you knock on my door.

Ooh, I gave you my key."

While she moves my hands in an attempt to connect me with the song, I am, stubbornly, doing my best impersonation of a statue. Whereas I do love dancing, especially with Elena, and we both know that, it's also common knowledge that I love to piss her off just for the sake of it. Hences why I'm pretending this isn't the most fun I had in days.

Elena let go of my hands to dance around. — Whoo hoo. — She sings, her hair is bouncing, and there's no other way I would rather be spending my night.

"Nobody knows it.

But when I was down.

I was your clown"

— Damon, it's no fun to do it alone. — And when she stops the dance to beg me with her doe eyes, I know I'm doomed.

I don't tell her that she won. It's only when the next line starts and she's turning around, sadly sighing in defeat, that I grab her hand, pulling her back against my chest, meeting her surprised chocolate iris grinning gladly at me. And I'm ready to sing just as badly as she.

Elena is smiling so widely it makes me grin from ear to ear. She doesn't wait and she's already signing with Elton. — Whoo hoo. — I shake my shoulders playfully along with the beat because I might hate it most of the 80s, but I can move, ok? — Nobody knows it.

(Nobody knows it)

And when we are ready to duet; she's shaking with me 'cause that girl can "Twist and Shout" like no other. — Right from the start. — Elena says loudly.

— I gave you my heart. — I sing back with the biggest smile on my face that makes my cheeks hurt. — Oh, oh, I gave you my heart.

"So don't go breaking my heart.

I won't go breaking your heart.

Don't go breaking my heart."

Elena let go of me just enough to twist around. She is holding the edge of her pajama dress with the tip of her fingers, moving it so the tissue can float in the air. Her hair going up and down in the same way with the melody. And she's smiling, that smile that makes men start wars just to see it. How lucky I am that I don't even need to battle to have it?

And I love her. I love her. God, how much I love her. I'm never taking any of our moments for granted. Ever. Because she makes me feel alive, infinite, epic, eternal, all the fucking adjectives you can find in any rom-com movie or cliche novels.

She stretches her arms pointing her indexes to me while moving them slightly up and down in a fun, lively way. — Nobody told us.

And I can't believe I'm doing this, but my hands are mimicking her moves while I shout. — 'Cause nobody showed us.

— Now it's up to us, babe. — She's walking slowly toward me, doing the same thing with the shoulders I always do when I'm dancing these, softly taking them backwards and forwards with a shake.

Elena is so close I can feel the alcohol smell of beer as she breathes on me. It shouldn't taste this good, but it does, because everything does with her, and I'm intoxicated by it. — Whoa, I think we can make it.

If we know that we are often trading the singers we personate at every strophe? Yes, we do, and we don't care because it's our performance, therefore it's our rules, so fuck it.

Now, I got Elton's.

— So don't misunderstand me. — I sing, not resisting the urge to touch her again; my hands close on her back, pulling her tightly but gently against my chest. And I can swear she is staring at my lips, but I'm also slightly buzzed so I can be mistaken.

Elena's hands are in my torso; and she's so fucking near me that it's impossible for my body not to respond, so to say I'm hard as a rock right now is an understanding.

Her eyes are sparkling when she says. — You put the light in my life.

And my lips reach her ear so I can whisper husky next to it. — Oh, you put the sparks to the flame.

She wrapped her arms around my neck, pressing our bodies together. — I got your heart in my sights.

"Whoo hoo.

Nobody knows it"

— But when I was down. — I sing-song breathless, which comes a lot more seductively than I intended.

Elena still wins the round of sexiness and adorableness by kissing the tip of my nose where my red imaginary thing is supposed to be. — I was your clown.

"Whoo hoo.

Nobody knows it."

(Nobody knows it)

I will be dead by the end of the night because after I sing "Right from the star", she taps my chest, the tip of her finger right at where my beating organ is and… — I gave you my heart. Oh, oh, I gave you my heart. — Finishing with a kiss on my cheek that you would be damn right to guess it made me blush.

It is stupid, right? Because it's just a song, she's not exactly saying any of those things to me, she's just singing the verses. Yet, my heart still skips a beat at every line because each of it speaks to the deepest places of me, right at my core. And it's hard not to melt when her hands are dancing on me so shameless.

Also, because even if it looks like I'm just saying the lines as well, I still meant every word. I just wished she knew I do. I wished she knew that, most of the time, I'm dying on the inside because of all the things I want to say to her, so, this, her best friend disguised as her playful clown, is me professing my undying love for her hoping she will see between the lines.

And, at the same time, hoping that she will never notice it.

Then, we let go of each other again. And she shouts.

"Don't go breaking my heart"

I twist.

"I won't go breaking your heart"

She laughs.

"Don't go breaking my heart"

I jump.

"Whoo hoo"

She shakes her shoulders.

"Nobody knows it."

And I shake mine.

"(Whoo hoo) But when I was down.

She lifts her hands to me.

"(Whoo hoo) I was your clown"

I take it, interlacing our fingers.

"Right from the start"

Our eyes are locked.

"(Whoo hoo) I gave you my right"

We pull each other closer at the same time.

"Oh, oh, I gave you my heart"

And she gives me a peck.

It's a playful peck. It is short. It is quick. And she's already twisting around to dance in the living room again. Yet, it surprised me so much, taking me so off guard, it takes two fucking strophes for me to regain my conscious and run to dance with her again.

"Don't go breaking my heart.

I won't go breaking my heart.

(Don't go breaking my)

(Don't go breaking my)

Don't go breaking my heart"

And, hell, if love doesn't hurt painfully good.

Elena is shaking her body making her pajamas round graciously. She is jovial, carefree and wild. She's everything I want. And while she moves, her laugh shines widely, lightning the whole room, brighter than anything. I love every version of her, but it warms me that this one, this Elena, is all mine. Even with Kol and Bonnie, she's never this free. I'm the one who gives her real freedom and joy just like she gives it to me. We are the perfect match that will never actually be because as Bono once sang "we fear to win so we end before we begin."

"I won't (ah-ah) go breaking your heart

Don't go breaking my heart

(Don't go breaking my)

I won't (ah-ah) go breaking your heart"

I can't stop staring at her. Maybe it's the trance of that peck, since my fingers are touching my lips right at where hers were a second before. Maybe it's her breathless undying beauty. Maybe it's the cannon moonlight of her eyes. It is, with certainty, her. It is definitely her. My drug, my morphine, my painkillers, my addiction. All at once. And my heart is beating so hard in my chest that it hurts. It aches. But I still want more because I'm a crack junkie when Elena Gilbert is concerned. Too much with her is never, never enough.

"Don't go breaking my heart

(Don't go breaking my)

I won't (ah-ah) go breaking your heart

Don't go breaking my heart

(Don't go breaking my)

I won't (ah-ah) go breaking your heart

Don't go breaking my heart

(Don't go breaking my)

I won't (ah-ah) go breaking your heart"

Did I say I eventually ran towards her? I lied. I got stuck there, paralyze; until she rolled her eyes and came to pull me to the light. We jump, we shake, we twist, we shout and we roll some more. I grab her by her waist, spinning around just like I did this one time we danced in the rain. I'm younger as I've never been. And she's laughing just like before.

Here and now, dancing around, we are the same kids we used to be. I'm just in love with her as I had always been. And she's just as clueless. But her hands feel the same, so I guess the "some things never change" sometimes tastes as bittersweet as champagne.

But I can still play pretend, like I'm flying to Wonderland. Because today I'm her lost boy. And I never wanted so badly to be stuck in any other Neverland.

She is my magic.

She is my fairy dusty.

She saved me tonight.

"Don't go breaking my heart

(Don't go breaking my)

I won't (ah-ah) go breaking your heart

Don't go breaking my heart

(Don't go breaking my)

I won't (ah-ah) go breaking your heart

Don't go breaking my heart

(Don't go breaking my)

I won't (ah-ah) go breaking your heart

Don't go breaking my heart"

When the song ends, she hugs me tight and we collapse on the ground, our bodies' fall being softened by her fur-ish carpet. And we are young, so, so young.

Elena is in my arms, with a smile just as big as mine. I let my head hit the covered floor, she lays and rests on me. We are cracking in laughter; breathless, sweating. And, just like that, I forgot all my problems. I don't even remember why I came here in the first place. All I know it's that I'm right where I should be because I'm holding the most precious thing I have in life.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. Feedback is really, really important, especially in this earlier phase of the story, so *pretty please*

Thank you for reading. Have a nice weekend!