Elena's breath hitched as she reread the end of Bonnie's entry over and over again.
I wasn't talking about her.
She brushed her fingers along the indentations where Bonnie's pen pressed against the paper all those years ago. An image flashed in her mind of her friend putting these words to the page as Damon slept soundly with his head in her lap.
"Did they ever get rid of the scar?" she asked quietly. Caroline looked at her, bewildered by her first question. She expected anger. She expected her to demand to know how far this went. She didn't expect immediate concern. She forgot how much Elena loved Damon. Elena loved Damon with every part of her soul.
"No. He still has it."
Elena felt a physical pain in her chest from reading about the torture. She felt both gratitude toward Bonnie for protecting him and crippling, burning jealousy. Water droplets fell down on Bonnie's confessed feelings, and she realized she was crying. When had she started? She looked up at Caroline, unsure how to begin to sift through the chaos. An hour ago, Damon had her in his arms, promising her forever. Now, Stefan was dead, and Bonnie had fallen in love with her boyfriend. She wiped the tears from her cheeks furiously.
She got lost in rapid-fire thoughts. Bonnie fell for Damon. Okay. That was okay. She could handle that. Maybe he felt something back, too. It would hurt. God, it would hurt, but she could handle that, too. If Damon could love her after so long with his brother and never throw it in her face, she could accept whatever connection he had once felt with Bonnie. This was so long ago, anyway. Fifty years. Practically another life.
An optimistic voice in her mind told her that, perhaps, Caroline was having her read these excerpts because one of Bonnie's dying wishes was to confess her fleeting, though intense, long-dead feelings for Damon. Maybe that was it.
Another part of her brain started to rework the fantasy she'd replayed over and over as she waited for him in the crypt. The image of Damon lifting her off the ground in a warm embrace and kissing her fiercely was slowly replaced with an image of him grieving in her arms. The smell of bourbon on his breath. Constantly feeling on edge, waiting for the impending self-sabotage. Helping him recover from the loss of the other woman he lov—.
She stopped, shaking the worst-case scenario out of her head. No, it couldn't be that. Bonnie felt guilty about a moment in Portugal and wanted her to know about it. That's it. Caroline would drop her off and Damon would crash into her with decades of longing, and he would take her home, wherever that was now. He would teach her about this new world she had woken up in. He would make her laugh and tell her about all of the ways he missed her. He would confess that, yes, he needed to put her in a mental box for a while because, yes, it had been too painful to live without her, but he never forgot her for a moment, and while he may have lived his life, as she told him to do, she was the greatest love of his existence, and that had never changed. It would happen just like that. It would.
She thought about Bonnie's letter.
My biggest piece of unfair luck is I never had to face you.
Caroline gently pulled the diary from her hands and replaced it with the next. Elena looked up through blurry eyes at her friend's face. She finally figured out the expression Caroline had been trying desperately to suppress since she picked her up.
Pity.
April 3rd, 2021
Dear Elena,
I'll just start from the beginning.
"Do you want to do it alone?" Bonnie asked.
She and Damon stood shoulder to shoulder outside of Stefan's bedroom door. It had been three years since she closed it. Through nine months of mourning and drinking, Damon never took the leap to go inside. Now, he stood outside the room after two years traveling the world with the woman beside him. He looked down at her. She had her hair back in a bun and exhausted bags under her eyes. She never could sleep on planes, and the flights home from South Korea were long. She was dead on her feet from sleep deprivation and didn't have a stitch of makeup on. She was breathtaking.
Damon looked back at the door and placed his hand softly on the wood.
"No," he replied simply. She took his hand in hers and gave it a light squeeze. She prepared to drop it, but he held onto her. She tethered him here.
When Damon opened the door and flicked on the light, memories hit him like a furious ocean wave. The room smelled like his brother and his musty journals. The floorboard creaked in the same place it always had when he stepped on it. He took a slow tour of the room, looking at the framed photos around the room one by one with Bonnie beside him. Caroline was a heavy feature in the pictures. Her bright grin lit up every edge of the room.
The corner of Damon's mouth twitched as he picked up the picture closest to the bed. Damon, Bonnie, Caroline, Alaric, and Stefan had gone to the grill the night before three of them went off to Europe after Jo died. In the picture Alaric snapped, Caroline had her arms tight around Bonnie's waist, and Stefan grinned at the camera with his forearm resting on Damon's shoulder. Damon threw bunny ears up behind Bonnie's head, and she dug her elbow into his side, seeing right through his predictable antics.
Damon grinned down at the picture and angled it for Bonnie to see. She rested her head lightly on his shoulder and burst into a short, loud laugh at the memory.
"God, Stefan and Caroline were so awkward that night," she said.
"It's because he did that whole 'I will wait for you' Nicholas Sparks speech. He was such a fucking sap."
They continued to walk silently through the room inspecting every photo and trinket until Damon spotted it. His brother's journal laid open on his desk. His breath got stuck in his throat as he walked over to pick it up. He dropped Bonnie's hand so he could flip through the pages to the last page with writing. Stefan had kept these journals for well over a century, and Damon always made fun of him for it. Why write it all down when there'd never be an end? We're immortal, brother! Quit writing everything down; it doesn't matter. None of it matters.
Except there was an end. It all mattered.
His eyes flickered over to the shelf of Stefan's diaries. He'd never exactly respected his brother's privacy regarding the journals. He'd flipped casually through them over the years. He resolved that he would read them all again. Sometimes drunk, sometimes not. Sometimes to Bonnie, sometimes to himself. He would keep his brother alive in the only way he could.
Damon carried the journal over to Stefan's bed and flipped over the pillows to their dust-free sides before leaning back against them. Bonnie laid down next to him, looping her arm through his. She drew comforting patterns on his bicep with her thumb. These were his brother's last words. The fact lingered in the air around him, biting and tragic. He began to read aloud. The words echoed through the otherwise silent, still room.
"This time tomorrow, I will be a married man. I'm sure I'll be nervous when the time comes, but I'm not yet. Knowing that Da-," Damon's voice cracked. Bonnie laid her head on his shoulder and strengthened her grip on his arm.
"Knowing that Damon will be next to me, marrying me and my best friend, will inevitably make tomorrow the greatest day of my life. It'd be easy to sit here and claim I have no regrets about the years I've known Caroline. Obviously, everything worked out. I could look at every bump in the road as just another part of our journey here. All's well that ends well. But that would be a lie. I don't regret the days she doubted marrying me or the times we hurt each other, no matter how hard they are to think about. I regret that I didn't make her my wife sooner. I didn't see her. Really see her. Tomorrow will be the only measure I can take to rectify that mistake. I will look at her and promise her a future, even if I couldn't give her the past. I will love her kids like my own. I will make her laugh. I will hold her. I will love her until I take my last breath on this Earth."
Damon cast a look down at Bonnie. She was fast asleep, breathing deep and twitching occasionally. It was easier to look at her when she was asleep. He didn't have to worry about darting his eyes away at the right intervals.
He disturbed her slightly as he reached over to turn the lamp off. She unconsciously shifted onto her side and laid her head on Damon's chest. There was something so comforting about lying there listening to her heartbeat, surrounded by tokens of his brother's memory. Peaceful. He lightly stroked her hair as he felt her chest slowly rise and fall against his side.
He wondered what Stefan would say to him at that moment if he were still alive. What would he say if he knew Damon had fallen in love with Bonnie? Would he scold him? Tell him he'd managed to do the one thing that would both hurt Elena and tie Bonnie's human life to his chaotic, doomed existence? Maybe he would tell him that he wanted him to be happy, and Elena wanted him to be happy, and everything would work out okay. He chose to believe the latter as he rested his hand lightly on Bonnie's hip. She was drooling on his favorite shirt. He didn't mind.
When Bonnie stirred hours later, her body flooded with panic. The wedding was today. Her eyes settled on Damon's watch. 5 AM. She thanked her jet-lag. At least it was good for one thing. As her heart rate steadied, she realized Damon's watch was in view because his arm was draped around her torso. His face rested in the crook of her neck, and she could feel his steady, warm breath on her skin. She froze in place, noting his left leg sprawled out across hers. He sleepily pulled her in tighter, pressing his chest hard against her back.
She meant to ask if he was awake. She meant to inch out of his grasp. She meant to leave to make breakfast or find something else to do to busy her hands and mind. She didn't mean to weave her fingers into his. She didn't mean to let her eyes flutter back closed as she fell into an indulgent second wave of sleep against him, lulled by the warmth of his body around hers. Sometimes she got too tired to fight. Sometimes she succumbed to what she didn't mean to do.
When they finally woke, panicked at the late hour, they untangled from each other quickly. They didn't talk about it. They never did.
Bonnie adjusted Damon's tie as they walked up to the Lockwood mansion. They were so, so late. Bonnie's pale green dress ran down to her heels, and the slit down the side revealed her long legs with every frantic step. A silver bracelet Damon bought her in Thailand dangled on her wrist as she ran her hands down the fabric of his suit.
"Nobody strained any brain cells on venue selection, did they?" he asked.
Bonnie looked up at the house. It'd been done up in a classy display of twinkling lights and a carefully curated entrance of draped pink and white silk. A rolled-out carpet led to the front door, surrounded by striking green foliage and pale pink flowers. The house looked different done-up like this, but it still reminded her of where she was: back home. Back to reality.
"Are you gonna judge the whole time?" she asked. He raised his eyebrows. Do you even know me? they asked. She shook her head, tightening his tie around his neck. They walked arm in arm through the elaborate path and into the crowded great room. They were relieved the ceremony hadn't begun without them. Bonnie's relief was quickly replaced with vague discomfort. They recognized nobody. Stephanie's family and Matt's cop buddies flooded the old mansion they'd spent so much time in over the years.
"Are we mingling or being wallflowers all night?" Damon asked.
"Oh, it's in my hands?"
"Well, I can be your super-stud arm candy if you want to be passed around to tell old high school tales. Then again, Donovan actually splurged for the open bar! Best contribution he's ever made to the world."
She did a long scan of the room and, just as she was about to resign herself to cozying up to the bar all night, she spotted a familiar head of curly blonde hair. Her heart skipped a beat. She hadn't seen or heard from Caroline Forbes in almost three years.
Bonnie's stomach turned to knots. She'd tried to be understanding of Caroline's sudden absence, and for the most part, she was. She couldn't help but feel abandoned, though. She hadn't seen the girls go to Kindergarten. She hadn't been able to gush to her about all of her adventures abroad or confide in her about the strange relationship she had built with Damon. She used to think bitter thoughts after a shot too many. She'd reflect on how devastated Caroline had been when Stefan did exactly this: disappearing without a trace after Damon died.
Caroline exchanged small talk with Matt's dad, nodding politely at whatever he was saying through a proud grin. Bonnie's eyes traveled over her. Her smile didn't quite meet her eyes. Her wedding ring stayed firmly planted on her left hand. Her hair was unwashed, her nail polished chipped, and her dress an old one from high school, clearly fished out of the back of her closet that morning. This was far from the Caroline who spent two months minimum preparing for any even semi-formal event, let alone her friend's wedding.
Her resentment faded as she looked at her friend's weathered appearance. Many people would look at Caroline's convincing, polite smile and think she was fine. She knew her better than that. Caroline was falling apart at the seams, held together with water and off-brand Play-Doh.
Damon put a comforting hand on the small of Bonnie's back. She looked up at him, confused.
"Your heartrate is…" he pointed toward the ceiling and whistled. Of course. He could tell she was nervous. He could always tell.
"Wanna talk to Barbie? Or try to avoid her in what will likely be a five-person groom's side?" he asked.
"Yeah, let's say hi," her voice cracked. Damon took her hand in his own and brushed her thumb with his. This kind of gesture wasn't uncommon since Portugal, but Bonnie couldn't help but feel the crushing weight of her typically buried guilt. Engaging in such a display in front of strangers in Greece was one thing. Caroline was another. She held tight anyway, not willing to pull her hand away. If she pulled away, she would have to admit it felt wrong to do. She'd have to acknowledge the guilt. She'd have to acknowledge why it was there.
When Caroline spotted Bonnie, she uttered excusing words to Mr. Donovan and pushed through the crowds to get to her.
"Oh my God," she whispered, throwing her arms around her the second she was close enough to reach her. Bonnie hugged her back with her free arm. She realized how much she desperately missed Caroline as she inhaled the familiar scent of her perfume. There had been a hole in her life where Caroline belonged. Caroline, who called her every day she mourned Grams. Caroline, who helped her mother through her transition, and told her off when she decided to leave again.
"Hey, Care. How are you?" she asked, warm but shaky. Caroline smiled at her softly then turned to Damon, dodging the question.
"Hi," she said. She gave him a light, fast hug. She couldn't look at him long. He was her brother-in-law for only hours. He was a walking reminder that she hadn't been Stefan's wife longer than twelve hours. She hadn't been Caroline Salvatore long enough to binge all of the Harry Potter movies, do a ten-thousand-piece puzzle, or drive to Miami. Damon was her tragically temporary family.
"We've missed you, Blondie," he said, returning the brief embrace. Caroline's eyes flickered down to their entwined hands, but she didn't comment.
"I saw your travels on Bonnie's Insta. I assume you compelled all the tourists away from the Colosseum?"
"Yeah, that one took a while," he said. He'd wanted her to enjoy it without the crowds. Caroline nodded, a little too knowingly. She looked back at Bonnie with a million apologies in her eyes.
"Bonnie, I-,"
"It's okay. I probably would have done the same thing," Bonnie said. Caroline shook her head, smiling at her attempt.
"You don't have to let me off the hook like that. You still came to our wedding," she said.
Bonnie faltered. She wasn't talking about Enzo.
The ushers opened the doors to the back yard, sparing her from finding a way out of the topic.
The three were seated together in the second row, only behind Matt's dad and a few aunts and uncles. It was a relatively small ceremony; only about thirty people filled the short rows in the crowd.
"So much for sorority sisters," Bonnie whispered. Damon smirked at her and put his arm lazily around the back of her chair.
Matt stood at the altar, wearing excited nerves on his face. His father stood behind him, holding a bible. Seeing that he was doing the ceremony brought a smile to Bonnie's face. Matt deserved his dad in his life. Alaric stood in the groomsmen line and sent them a small wave. Damon nodded back at him.
The wedding was quick, and for that, all three of them were grateful. Caroline's hands balled into fists throughout the ceremony. The vows reminded her of her own: the many promises she and Stefan made to each other they never got to fulfill. Bonnie leaned into her, and Caroline rested her head on her shoulder.
As Damon watched Matt and Stephanie devote their lives to each other, cruel, intrusive thoughts flooded his mind. They had only been back home a day and he found a small voice in his head asking the question he'd avoided for years. What were they doing?
They'd spent nearly three years at each other's side. Three years of loaded silences and too many mornings longing to close the small gap between them in their shared beds. Three years and not one acknowledgment of the future. They were just friends. Best friends. Best friends who never corrected anybody who thought they were more. Best friends who could not imagine a day without each other. Best friends whose stomachs felt acidic when they saw others flirting with or staring at the other. Bonnie was almost thirty. Her long-time friend was getting married right before her eyes. How long could she play G-rated house with her comatose best friend's boyfriend?
He physically shook his head, willing the small voice to leave him be and let him fall back into blissful denial.
He dutifully clapped as Matt kissed his new bride and hazily returned to the reception, sitting with Caroline and Alaric at the end of a table. Damon was acutely aware of their old friends' eyes following his and Bonnie's every move. When she took a sip of his drink or he brushed her elbow with his own, their eyes followed. He grew increasingly agitated by the attention.
Matt and Stephanie waved the other couples over as their first dance concluded, and Damon took the opportunity to lead her away from Alaric and Caroline's prying gaze. Matt's unyielding adoration of his new bride shown all over his face as he clumsily led her around the dance floor. The sight made Damon queasy. He put his back to the newlyweds and placed his hand on Bonnie's waist. She took his outstretched hand with her other and placed her other hand lightly on his shoulder.
"You're pissy," she observed as they swayed to the music.
"We're a damn sideshow. Barbie could have brought Klaus and they'd still write in a notebook every time we blink at the same time," he said, bitterness on his tongue.
Bonnie rested her head on his shoulder and brought their joined hands to Damon's chest. Damon moved his hand to the middle of her back, tracing small patterns through the fabric of her dress. It wasn't the standard Mystic Falls slow dance, where they were supposed to bust out the intricate choreography their small-town events had them learn. They simply traveled in small circles together. They had to remind themselves to continue to sway so they would not simply be holding each other in the middle of the dance floor. Damon almost forgot about his outburst as they danced silently for the minutes that followed.
"Don't be mad. It's just weird for them," she whispered. Her voice was serene and calm as they moved.
"What is?" he whispered without thinking. She pulled her face away from his shoulder and looked him in the eye. She swallowed, thinking of the possible answers. How close we've gotten? How comfortable we are now? How aware I am of you at every moment?
The music stopped and everyone around them clapped. They stayed where they were, a question hanging over them. A bell rang, indicating everybody should return to their seats for dinner. Bonnie broke the eye contact and shuffled toward their table toward the safety of their old friends.
The four exchanged pleasant catch-up over the meal. Caroline and Alaric gushed about their daughters. Co-parenting was suiting them well and the girls were loving school, though Caroline had to compel a couple of people already to forget about the occasional display of magic. Alaric was even seeing somebody, though it was too early for a wedding date. Damon was notably absent from the conversation, his mind far away as he reflected on Stefan's journal entry and Donovan's beaming face.
"So, Bonnie. Now that you're back from your grand world-tour, are you re-enrolling at Whitmore?" Alaric asked, taking a sip of his champagne. She spared a glance at Damon's contemplative expression as he sorted through his thoughts.
Bonnie took one, broken breath.
"Actually… I got into UVA," she announced. Damon's head whipped fast toward her. His mouth fell open slightly. Caroline ran around the table, delighted.
"That's so amazing, Bonnie!" she said, squeezing her tight.
"Wow, congratulations!" Alaric said.
"Thank you," Bonnie smiled stiffly. She was aware of Damon's eyes locked on her.
"So, you're moving to Charlottesville?" Caroline asked.
"Well, I'm too old for the dorm life. I don't exactly wanna be the beer buyer. But maybe an apartment off campus-," she began.
Damon got up suddenly and walked toward the house. A few of the wedding guests watched him with judgmental eyes as he disturbed the dinner.
"Excuse me," Bonnie whispered, following him back into the house.
She searched around the main floor of the house until she spotted him through a familiar pair of glass French doors.
She walked into what was once Mayor Lockwood's study, pulling the doors closed behind her. The room remained much the same: a couch in the center, the desk near the window. Now, Matt's case files and notes sat on the desk, along with photos of him and his new bride. Damon ignored his surroundings, staring at the blank wall away from her.
"I see we've reached the part where you run away," he said.
"I just got in last week. I was going to tell you-,"
"You didn't even tell me you applied," he said, spinning around to face her. To anyone else, they would see pure rage on his face. She saw the heartbreak and betrayal beneath it. She crossed her arms defiantly.
"It's one of the best universities in the country, Damon. You can't be mad at me for-,"
"Stop, Bonnie. I'm not mad you're going to college! You died. You got stuck in a prison world. You spent three precious years of your twenties taking pity on a vampire. Your life has been delayed enough. Go forth. Drink cheap beer. Get a nose ring," he waved her off.
"Is that what you think this has been? I felt bad for you?" she asked, stepping toward him.
"Why don't you tell me what it's been?" he glowered
Bonnie's mouth shut hard and fast. She hugged her arms closer to her and looked around Matt's office to avoid his gaze. She took a deep breath and forced herself to meet his furious, vulnerable eyes.
"I can't," she whispered.
"Why?" he asked, taking a step toward her. She stepped back to keep the distance between them.
"If we say it, it's real. And..." she trailed off.
"We have to stop?" he finished.
Damon pinned her beneath his stare. The knowledge that she planned to leave pushed him to shatter the illusion they had created the last few years. It was an affront to the silent deal they had slowly made over their time together.
"But I am. I'm stopping it," she said firmly.
"Great. 'Thank for the good memories, Damon! See you when I see you.'" he mocked her in a cold, unfeeling imitation. He let out a short, disbelieving laugh. "Guess I had it coming, huh?"
They both shared a silent moment, recalling when he'd abandoned her to desiccate. Bonnie shook her head and dropped her arms to her side.
"It's not like that. It's not revenge. UVA is an hour away, Damon. I can visit, and we'll still talk. We'll still be-," she began.
"I am begging you to say friends."
They looked at each other for a long, tense moment. She threw her arms in the air, exasperated.
"How about you say something then, Damon? Say her name."
"What?" he asked. He looked away from her, revealing the truth behind his feigned misunderstanding. He knew exactly what she meant.
"Say. Her. Name."
"Bon Bon-," he began, walking across the room toward her. He took her elbow in his hand, but she ripped her arm from her grasp.
"No, Damon. No 'Bon Bon'. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of covering everything in five fucking layers of irony and your stupid nicknames. When we were in 1994, she was all you could talk about. After Stefan died, our conversations were a series of drunken eulogies for them and Enzo. Now? Nothing. Not since Portugal and barely before that! Say her name," she demanded. Damon crossed his arms and glared at her, planting his feet.
"Elena," he said in a voice dripping with resentment.
They went silent. The ambient noise of the ceiling fan overhead filled the study. The stillness in the air felt palpable as they acknowledged the long-unspoken truth.
"She wanted us both to be-," he began.
"Not with each other!" she interrupted.
"You don't know that," he said, desperate and longing. He felt embarrassed by the tone, but he shook it off. If she was moving on, then he was going to make her admit all the possibilities she was turning her back on.
"And what? I get old? We move around when people catch onto you not aging? I die, and Elena comforts you?" she asked in a cracking voice. He grabbed her shoulders.
"Don't stand there and list all the big cons of loving a vampire when you were prepared to do it with Enzo."
"I'm not here to keep her side of the bed warm!" she yelled, pushing him backward. Damon glowered at her.
"I'm giving you a chance to take that back," he growled. Her breath hitched. She wasn't a placeholder. They both knew that. She grabbed at reasons, desperately hoping one would hold true.
"I'm sorry," she said, reaching out to him. He pulled away from her.
"Don't you think I've tried not to?" he asked, his voice naked and raw. "Don't you think I fought it? Every second for three years, I've tried."
Bonnie bowed her head down at the floor.
"I know you did. I know I did. But… going away like that together…" she whispered.
"And whose idea was that!?"
"I know! I know. God, I feel guilty enough, please. I never thought we—I didn't expect-," she paused and gathered herself. "I know we tried, but we should have tried harder."
Damon shook his head furiously and held her face between his hands. He looked exhausted.
"Well, I'm done. I set a new record in 'Damon doesn't do the selfish thing'. Three years. Congratulations, Elena, you got my best effort, but I'm done. Be done with me."
Bonnie leaned into his touch, and he stroked her cheek with his thumb. She felt the familiar hum of her skin beneath his warm hands. She closed her eyes hard, willing herself to scrape together the will power she had left.
"I can't do this to her," she whispered, looking back up at him.
"Do what to her? Because, Bonnie, we might as well be fucking. You know that, right? There's nothing we can do to her that we haven't already done. I already love you. You think ignoring that makes this any less of a-," he didn't finish the sentence, but the word hung in the air. Betrayal.
She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her forehead into his shoulder.
"I love you, too," she whispered, her voice small and profoundly sad.
He held her close, wrapping his arms around her and pressing his cheek into the top of her head.
"I know I left, and I know I let you down, and I know I've fallen apart when you needed me, but I won't leave again. I'm here, I can do this right, I know I can. I've never known that before, but I know now. I know I can do this," he said. She nodded slowly against his shoulder.
"I know... this isn't—it's not about you. I just— she will never forgive me. She will have time to forgive you, but—," she stumbled through her thoughts. He felt so right holding her. He felt solid. The guilt ripped apart her gut.
Damon pulled away from her gently, holding her arm in one hand and lifting her chin up with the other.
"What do you want, Bonnie? If finding your own normal Donovan and living a guilt-free life is what you want, look at me and tell me that."
Bonnie brought her hand up to his face, brushing the tips of her fingers along his hairline.
"I don't lie to you, remember?" she said.
"It's not your way," he quoted her, daring to smile softly.
"I've never been happier in my life," she confessed, feeling her heart race as she realized what she was doing.
"Then rip a page out of the Damon Salvatore playbook and choose yourself for once."
"I still want to go-," she began.
"I'll go with you to Charlottesville," he said dismissively, like it wasn't even a consideration.
"You want to?" she asked.
"What's another city with you? College towns have good bars, anyway. If you're ready," he said.
"Ready for what?" she whispered. Damon's gaze darted between her eyes and her lips. He took the tip of one of her curls between his fingers and moved his other hand down to her waist.
He brought his face to hers, slowly, holding her gaze. He gave her one last chance to pull away. She didn't wait for him to. She met him in the middle and held his cheek in her hand as she brought her lips toward his. She chose him. They chose each other.
Damon and Bonnie kissed each other slowly, feeling themselves shattering an invisible line they'd carefully kept between them. As they fell into the kiss, it hit them how long they'd wanted to do it—far longer than they had ever known. The kiss was every kiss they could have shared making pancakes together in 1994. The kiss was a kiss of forgiveness after he recited the letter on his porch. The kiss was in front of the Eiffel Tower, on a canoe in Croatia, and in the sand in Bali. It was every goodnight and good morning they had ever squandered.
As they pulled away from each other, Damon thought of the words he had read the night before. His brother's only regret, in a long and complicated relationship with Caroline, was not marrying her earlier. He emphatically understood that now.
Bonnie grinned, and a light laugh escaped her lips.
"What?" he asked, beaming back at her.
"We're so stupid," she said.
"I know."
Damon kissed her again, lifting her up by the backs of her thighs. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he walked her over to the couch in the middle of the room. She waved her hand at the door, pulling her mouth away from his only long enough to murmur a spell.
"Claudo."
She pressed herself against him again as fast as she could manage. The door locked itself, and a curtain closed on the glass.