Hii. Sorry it took me a few more days than usual this time, I've got caught up in a family drama and it consequently made me stuck on the writing as well.
As promised, we're picking up right where we left off, on their rooftop night.
At last, I hope you like it!
Chapter 10: Something about rooftops
ELENA POV
The Lunar Eclipse didn't have that blood-red tone I was expecting. It actually looked more like an orange moon with light shades of yellow, but it shined so brightly in the sky it made it beautiful all the same. The shivers, however, that made Damon assume I was cold and grab a blanket to cover us, had nothing to do with the weather and everythingto do with how close our bodies were as we cuddled in our pallet couch.
Because it is our couch, our rooftop. Just like it has become our apartment too, our home. And the funny thing is that, with the exception of the apartment, I had always used the "our" pronoun to all the others.
Yes, Bonnie and Kol were a little too forward with it, and for as much as it bothered me at first, I'm also thankful that they did it. Damon and I are so conjoined, so branded in one another, that I doubt I would ever let myself go anywhere near that hidden box if a third person hadn't interfered. I decided very early in our friendship that trying to be anything else would be too complicated, I just didn't expect to develop very romantic feelings for him along the way.
Surely gazing more at him than at the Blood Moon we actually came here to see definitely counts as an indicator of something, right?
I ran my fingers through the smoothness of his raven locks, colored with the blackness of the night. He felt a bit warmer than normal, and he coughed a little when we were eating, but he assured me he was ok when I asked him about it, and I believed in him.
My argument for having him lying on my lap this time was that I wanted to repay for the dinner he cooked for us; but it was really just because I wanted to look at him. If not even the spectacular above is stunning enough to compete with the sight of his pale skin, moon-darkened by the soft light coming from the sky, then it's no surprise my college readings were soon forgotten the second he stepped in here tonight.
The smell of his signature Creeds Spice & Wood cologne hovered in the air and I happily breathed in feeling at ease. It's amazing how just being around him makes me calm. I don't how he does it, but whenever I start to overthink my growing feelings for him I just need to sense all things-Damon that are surrounding me and I'm reminded that he's also my best friend, the one person I trust the most in this goddamn universe, and I have nothing to be afraid of when I'm on his arms.
Damon purred in the contentment, his eyes closed. — This feels nice.
The breaking of our comfortable silence made my movements stop, and he complained immediately. My mind was quiet but it wasn't it at all still, I had been secretly enjoying every sensation he awakes in me so smoothly for the last thirty minutes.
Damon turned his face slightly so he could make funny noises in my belly that ended up being muffled by my t-shirt. — Nooo. Don't stop, Lainey. — He pleaded, taking my hands in his and guiding them back to his hair. — I like when you spoil me. — He scowled adorably, and everything in me wanted to kiss that cute pout on his lips.
I swallowed dry, returning with my treatment. It feels nice to me as well, a lot more than nice if I'm being sincere, I just don't know how to say it because I wouldn't know how to make it sound as playful as you do. And I don't want to mess things up between us, not when I'm still unravelling all the things I feel for you.
I meant it, Damon, I meant it every time I said you're everything to me, because you are the most important part of my life, you always have been; and if taking care of me it's your full-time job, then making you feel at peace it's mine. I never want to let you go and my life would be awfully dull without the rock and roll you put in it. But this is the first time I'm allowing my mind to wander in the what-if's and the us-hidden, and I'm battling every single day to figure out all the millions of reasons why I melt when you're around.
I like to believe I actually learned something with the amount of romance novels I've read; and if there is anyone that needs me to be generous is you. I can't travel, Damon, not with you, and that's why I won't open my mouth until I'm absolutely certain that I'm not just dreaming that I might be in love with you. I don't want to guess, I can't guess, I want to know.
And I just hope you will read all of this in my eyes, in my touch, even if I'm not brave enough to let you look at it for too long, or bold enough to linger my hands in your skin like I want to. Because my body seems to be begging, screaming, for me to give in, but I still haven't synchronized it with my heart… Although I'm pretty sure we move with the same rhythm.
It's a good thing I have you to confide in, dear reader. I used to save my memories in an old journal when I was younger, but everything changed when my parents died. I wrote for a while before Jeremy and I moved to New York. See, mom and dad are buried in my hometown… And it was in the sacracy of the graveyard, with my back leaned against their engraved names in that grey-stone, that the words stuck on my throat found their way out of me to the papers of the diary I used to carry around everywhere.
Those unlined pieces of dead trees are still blank and still safe in my drawer, but the sentences left my soul when I left Mystic Falls. If I ever intended pursuing a writing career, as a parallel to my doctor dream, like Damon does it with the clinic and the Grill, this wish faded when I realized that no amount of time would bring the poetry back to me.
Do you know what does help? This, whatever it is that I'm doing here by telling the longings of my soul like I would've told my mother. It's not the same as keeping a journal and it's definitely way too far from being any kind of fiction. The words just flow in here, they don't really make it anywhere. But this place, located somewhere in between the connected paths of my heart, body and brain, is the only making of art I have left.
And, mostly, it exists because my feelings for Damon have always been so fucking loud they need to float in any way they can, in any place I can't let them. And if he gives me this, and so many other things; if he gets me through my bad days and makes my good ones memorable; then all I know is that I need to be careful with these precious crystals, because they are so fragile, and I am so vulnerable. I can't lose what makes me glow. I can't lose him.
— Did I lose you already? — Damon asked softly, looking up at me with that boyish smile that always makes me smile back.
I frowned. — What do you mean?
— You were in Elena lala land. — He said, getting up from my lap and sitting by my side. His hand caressed my cheek. — Is everything ok?
I nodded. — I'm ok. — I let myself swim in the ocean of his eyes, and suddenly I really was ok again. — Better than ok. — I said, taking his hand and kissing the back of it.
— Good. But… Do you know you can tell me anything, right?
— Yeah. — I replied instantly.
Then it's when it hits me that I can't really. I've always assumed that he was this one person for me, with whom I could talk about anything. But it turns out there is something I can't bring myself to tell him; and, in the end, it might be the one thing that matters the most.
— But, right now… — I smiled, reaching for my cell phone in the black wooden-made table Damon bought here after our movie session with Adam; he argued it would be easier to place the notebook on it the next time. I waved the device in my hands. — I want to take pictures of the moon!
He smiled, gesturing for me to go. I gave him a little quick squeeze and bounced happily to the half wall of the rooftop, trying to get as close to the moon as possible. I assumed Damon was going to stay swinging on the swing, like he was when he got here earlier and I had the notebook opened in front of me. He said the place could use a few changes in the decoration, but I know that, deep down, it was to surprise his favorite patient. There are also climbing trees hanging around now, and the terrace garden is even more beautiful. But our couch it's still the same, and it kind of warms me when I think about it, because it's a little piece of the world that holds so many memories of us.
God, I'm too emotional today! The sun is on cancer, isn't it?
It must be, because it would explain why Damon is suddenly being so incredibly sweet with me. Not that he isn't, but coming from behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and placing his chin on my shoulder, leaning on me… It is a bit too sweet. And I shouldn't be loving this much.
— It's as bloody as it could get. — He commented, mointoning to the moon.
The shades of orange and yellow had been replaced by brushes of red; and with the universe actually allowing us to enjoy the event without being surprised with a storm this time, I was mesmerized. Partly because of Damon, too, yeah. But… How could I not?
He nuzzled his nose on my neck, making me giggle. I felt his soft laugh against my skin and I, instinctively, flipped the camera and pointed at us. — Smile, bad boy.
I saw him rolling his eyes at the camera, but he did it anyway, he always does. And I think I took more pictures of us than I did of the moon.
Once my phone was back on the wooden table, Damon rounded me by the hips, catching me so off guard I'm sure I stared at his lips for longer than I should've. He wiggled his eyebrows. — What do you say? Wanna dance over the moonlight with me?
I laughed. — There is no music, Damon.
— Hmmm. I could always select one on Spotify… — He took my hand and guided me to the center of our rooftop. — But I don't need a melody with you, Elena.
I swear if he keeps saying these things… But he is right, you know, because the last time we danced here the drops of the falling rain was the only song we needed. And it was perfect. If anyone saw Damon and I that day they would have judged us as crazies, but those who are seeing dancing are thought insane by those who cannot hear the music. And no one would ever be able to hear it because the music is us.
Damon placed his right hand on the bottom of my spine; the fingers of his left one closing on mine as he repositioned us to a more traditional dance position. We started to sway, and we moved in synchrony, because he is my perfect match as a dance partner, and as everything else.
I eyed his leather jacket outfit and smiled. He can really put on a bad boy facade, and it's one of the things that attracted me since the beginning, even if I tried to ignore it for so long. But it was never about his smug confidence, although this often makes me laugh as well, it has always been about the vulnerability he only shows it to me and how he can so easily reach the Elena that usually stays hidden from everyone else, too.
Damon just sort of snuck up on me. Every walk I had ever built to protect me fell when he walked in my life. He once described me as the girl in the sand castle; and, to tell the truth, even if everyone used to see me like this after my parents' death, it was only the touch of his fingers that had the power to bring my forts to the ground. He got in, he reached me, and there was nothing I could do about it. Because once I noticed how important he had become he was already so branded on me that I wouldn't be able to shake him even if I wanted to. And I never did.
I sensed his fingers hovering on my back; it sent my whole body alight, and eased me too, all at once. I leaned forward to rest my temple on his cheek, tentatively tracing patterns on his back. His fingers flexed around my hip, then he slid them ghostly into the curve of my waist, climbing slowly from my lower back and all the way through my spine. Is a dance supposed to be this much? To feel this much?
Because as Damon waltzed me so graciously, I felt like a flame, like we were two flames that would eventually join and merge into one. There's more to waltz than just moving your feet, there's a sawing grace that can be put into the movements, a leap flame of joy and oneness — with the right melody that plays in your head, with the right partner. I never understood when people spoke about waltz like it was a dancing form of poetry, but with Damon's firm lead and with his warm hand holding me, I certainly did comprehend.
I am made of sand when I'm next to him, I've always been. But I need to hold my armor in place for as long as I'm capable of, for the sake of us. So I just swayed and swayed, hoping that time could stop just so we could stay frozen in this moment forever.
He pulled back half of an inch just to look at me, flashing that 250 kilowatt smile that makes him look so young, younger than I ever saw him before. And when he looked me in the eyes I found the answers to all the questions I've always been too afraid to ask. I dare say they have been here, somewhere inside of me, ever since the first moment he laughed at me.
Because I never wanted to stop dancing. I wanted to tango with Damon — a real tango, the kind you were supposed to have to get married after. And, God, I shouldn't have these kinds of thoughts! No matter how much a dance like this can amplify everything and no matter how much he fits me so damn perfectly. This is my best friend. And this is not a rom-com, for as cheesy as it may be that it took a dance for me to realize that I'm in love with him.
Because I am in love with him.
I'm in love with Damon.
But the dance was over all too soon. All I wanted to do was to push the Replay button and do it from the beginning again. And there was a moment, this one moment, just when the silent music in our minds stopped playing, and we looked at each other with what I'm sure it can only be described as equal exaltation and yearning and—
And then Damon bowed over my hand. — Thank you for giving me the pleasure, Miss Gilbert.
I laughed. — You can really be the gentleman in a leather jacket, can't you?
He grinned, and from the spark in his eyes I knew he was remembering the day I first said these words to him as well, on another terrace, five years ago.
— There's just something about rooftops. — His hands intertwined with mine and he gently walked me back to our couch. — There's just something about you. — He whispered, staring at me so nakedly exposed I felt the desperate need of breaking the moment before any of us did something I wasn't really for.
— Can you… — I gulped, feeling the lump on my throat and trying to focus on anywhere but his lips. — Can you bring me some water?
My voice sounded a lot more breathless than I intended; and he would be an idiot to think there's anything to do with the slow-dancing we just did, though it kind of has, but for entirely different reasons. However, he just smiled warmly and nodded. — Yeah… I think we both need it. — His knuckles caressed my cheeks and he leaned in to kiss my forehead. — I will be right back. Enjoy the view, Lainey.
When Damon finally came back, I was swinging lazily, holding the black ropes of the new swing and gazing at the nothingness of the night. I was so wrapped up in my own head that I didn't even notice he was by my side until he chuckled in amusement.
— You're daydreaming a lot today, princess. — He said, holding the glass of water for me.
I smiled and took it gratefully, drinking slowly and absolutely hating that the water did nothing to refresh me. Not even the breeze helped. My body was hot, warm, and I could only trynot to give in too easily… Even if all I wanted was to close the distance between us and taste him, just so I could figure out if his flavor was as good as I imagined.
Yeap, definitely having very romantic feelings and thoughts. Definitely in love with him.
Once I had finished, Damon gently took the empty glass from my hands and put it on the wooden table, next to my notebook, our keys and our cell phones. I followed him, coming from behind and repeating his movements from earlier by hugging him too. Of course, it wasn't as pretty because I'm way too short and all I can actually do is rest my head on his back, but it calmed my mind just like before.
He laughed softly and turned around to hug me properly. — You're quiet tonight, Lainey. Are you sure you're ok?
I'm ok. I'm more than ok. But… I've just realized that I'm in love with you and it's scaring the hell out of me. And, at the same time, it seems that I can't seem to stay away from you, not even for one second.
— I'm happy. — I managed instead, saying the most honest answer I could give him right now. And from the beaming smile he gave me in response I knew it was enough.
He kissed the top of my head. — You make me happy too.
His bluntly confession and the huskness of his velvet voice sent shivers through my body. Damon misread my reaction, again, and pulled away, already taking off his leather jacket. — Is it really this cold here?
— You don't have to… — I tried to protest, but he was already putting it on my shoulders and caressing my arms kindly. I smiled. — Thank you.
He smiled back, gesturing towards the couch. — Now, come on, let me warm you up with the blankets too. — I let out a yawn and his smile grew. — Oh boy, and you're sleepy too. How can I be the one who was feverish?
— Wait… What?!
My sudden awareness seemed to amuse him even more. Damon sat us on our big couch and pulled me to his chest. — I just had a little fever in the morning, that's all. — He shrugged nonchalantly.
I punched him. — You've got to tell me these things!
— Lainey. — He laughed. — I'm fine, ok? If I said something you've made a big deal about it and would want me to reschedule my appointments, ask Rose to replace me… — The trailed off.
— Yeah, I would have. That's exactly why you should have told me!
He started to say he was fine again, but before he could even finish I was sitting straight and narrowing my eyes at him. — And we shouldn't be here, in the cold! — My hands went to his forehead so I could check his temperature. — You seem ok.
— Because I am. I only needed to take one aspirin during the whole day, ok? Don't worry. — He sang-song, giving me a reassuring smile that I didn't buy it. — Just come back here and we can sleep by the moonlight until the morning.
— No. We can't sleep here! Damon, you… — And this time he was the one who cut me off.
— I'm fine. — He argued. — But if you really want to go with the whole "poor Damon is sick" card, then just make me happy and let me enjoy the rest of the night with you, 'kay?
How could I ever say no with him looking at me with those adorable puppy eyes?
So I just gave in and let him hold me. I had plans to take us home later that night, but I just didn't have the courage to wake him up once he was sleeping so peacefully. I tugged him with the blankets and hoped that this would be enough to keep him warm.
And… I may have or may have not given him a peck while he was asleep.
I didn't plan, ok? I didn't even consider that he could have woken up and caught me, I just… I don't know, he was there, back on my lap again, resting so serene. And he's so, so beautiful. And he was holding me so firmly. And… he was dreaming of me. Or is what it looked like given that he whispered my name in his sleep.
That's all that it took. That unconsciously Elena, so low and yet so loud. My chest constricted tightly and it ached. I whispered that I loved him and leaned in to kiss him, just a little, just for a second. His lips were as soft as I thought they would be, but I didn't get to feel them properly because it was a real quick peck.
To say my heart pounded in my chest afterwards it's an understanding.
If he noticed he didn't say anything. But he slept like a baby and woke up with a huge smile on his face, so I guess that even if he didn't hear it, the words and it's real meaning must have sunk in on his heart somehow. The only problem was that, if his temperature got slightly warm during the night, it was absolutely burning in the morning.
Good thing I was there to stop him from going to work with a fever.
— No! Damon, no. Absolutely not. — I said defiantly as he gathered our things.
He sighed. — Lainey, I don't even have the clinic today. I will stay at a bar, no cooking, no hard work.
I shook my head. — No way.
— And I will take another aspirin. — He tried to reason with me, but he should've known I'm a Gilbert and I won't go down without a fight.
— Oh, you will. You will take the aspirin as soon as we get home. And then you are going to rest.
He groaned, rolling his eyes. — You're really stubborn.
I smiled. — And so are you. But you're too sick to argue with me today. — He opened his mouth to fire back a remark, but his fifth cough of the morning got in the way. I looked at him pointedly.
He threw his hands in the air. — Fine. But you better keep me company then. — He said, opening the door of the rooftop and walking with me downstairs. I tried to bite back my smug smile and was only half successful at it.
— I will even watch Fight Club with you. — I suggested, trying to make him feel better.
Damon raised an eyebrow. — Man, you're really determined to lock me indoors.
The coughing only increased on our ride back to the apartment. Damon kept telling me it was a simple cold, as I had presumed too last night, but he was also constantly rubbing his chest, so it was clearly more than that. Apparently the flu that's going around has got him bad; and an evening on the terrace was enough to make it worse. I can't believe I let him talk me out of dragging him home. Damn those puppy eyes.
And, of course, there's the detail he's been pushing himself at work for the last weeks, accepting more clients than he has time for and almost never getting a day off. Surely forcing himself to work with a fever helped the situation, not that he would ever admit that.
Thankfully, I'm not working today, and since I already talked with Shane this week as well, I'm free to keep an eye on him.
As soon as we got home I laid him on the living-room couch. His argument was that Fight Club was a movie we need to watch on the big screen and that the notebook in bed wouldn't do justice to 90s' beauty of Brad Pitt and Edward Norton.
— Here. — I opened his hand and placed the aspirin on his palm. He swallowed with the water; and as he delivered the half-empty glass back to me, I gave him a Gatorade. — You can pout all you want, you're still drinking the whole thing.
Damon smiled, a bit weakly. — You're cute when you're all bossy and doctorly.
In love with him. In love with him. So in love with him.
I left the room saying I was going to prepare some sandwiches for us with the secret agenda of cooking him chicken soup. I texted Lilian to get the recipe of Salvatore's homemade one that Damon always does for me when I'm sick; and after following all the steps very carefully, I think I did ok.
I was just finishing the last touches on it by seasoning with salt when the doorbell rang. Damon, who was probably wondering why the hell I was taking so long in the kitchen, shouted with the rough voice of someone who had a constricted throat. — I will get it!
It must be Stefan. He's staying here most days, but he has the habit of forgetting the keys every single time. Nonetheless, it will be good to have a backup to help me keep his brother glued to the couch.
Once his soup was ready, I walked to the living room, feeling happily proud of myself… Only to be greeted with the very unwelcome face of Rebekah Mikaelson. Great. She stops by sometimes to spend time with Stefan, yes; but right now her Salvatore is not here and she seems to be a lot comfortable with playing nurse to mine.
Geez, when did I get this possessive?
— Oh. Hi, Elena. — She smiled so convincingly I got instantly pissed.
— Hi. — I smiled fakely.
Damon mointoned for her to sit on another couch and I, gladly, took my place by his side. — Stefan is not here. — I said, a little bit too harshly, helping Damon with the soup and not even bothering to glance in her direction.
But she had the nerve to smile and point to the movie that was on pause on the television. — I thought I could just invite myself to watch it with you guys. I love Fight Club.
I was practically fuming at his point.
Damon handed the bowl to me, silently asking for a second, and straightened himself on the couch, coughing a little. — Actually, Bekah, I think I will just sleep after the soup.
— Oh.
— Yeah. — He looked at her apologetically. — I'm sure baby bro will be more than happy to watch with you some other time, though.
She rolled her eyes. — Stop trying to set me up with your brother just because he's single, Salvatore. We're just friends.
— You said that last time too if I'm not mistaken.
Rebekah got up annoyed. — Ok, if you're gonna keep being an ass, I'm leaving. — I was blowing fireworks, until she leaned in to kiss his forehead! Is she serious? — Get better, will you? I would hate not to have you kick me out of the Grill whenever I get drunk there.
Damon laughed. — I'm in good hands. — He gestured to me; and I think I never enjoyed and hated his flirting side so much, because it was being directed to both me and her.
She gave me a mouth-closed smile. — See you around, Elena.
— See ya. — I waved goodbye as I watched her closing the front door behind her. — God. — I complained in the same second the door clicked. — I really don't like her.
Damon coughed a few times. — Right… It's certainly not… Because you're… jealous.
I kittened my eyes, placing the bowl on our center table. — Why would I be jealous? She is Stefan's best friend. You're mine.
— Not jealous. Mm-hm.
— You're sick, feverish and probably having a delirium now.
Damon tried to laugh, but it quickly turned into a cough. — Ok… — He reached for the Gatorade and drank a little before continuing. — Just so you know, she came here to see Stefan. Besides, Rebekah… She's more like an annoying little sister to me.
— I know. — I sighed, feeling stupidly silly for acting so jealous. I may not like her, but she's his friends' sister and he has known her his whole life. Granted, she even went on two trips with him, Stefan and the Mikaelsons, so obviously they are somewhat close.
Still, that doesn't mean I like it. And now it does make sense why I never did; sure, she's not the most pleasant girl in the world, but it's clear that what truly irritates me is that she always flirts back when he plays with her.
And I hate it.
— The soup is good. — Damon said, genuinely surprised, and, honestly, I can't blame him, I'm known for being a disaster in the kitchen.
I smiled. — But…?
— But it's really hot. — He pouted; and it's not fair because he shouldn't be able to melt me this easily when I wanted to be mad at him for flirting with Rebekah. Even if I know it's just his Gemini personality. Even if I know I have no right to be jealous.
Damon finished the Gatorade and put it back on the center table, next to the soup. — So… We can watch a little bit of the movie while it cools.
— I thought you wanted to sleep.
He puffed. — And miss the chance to have you complaining about how you hate Fight Club during the whole thing? Not a chance!
— But-
— I only said that because I wanted to be alone with you. — He said honestly. And I have to admit it felt good to hear it.
A smile appeared in the corner of my lips. — Ok, so move on because you're lying on my lap again, bad boy.
He grinned. And it's amazing because even with tired eyes and a skin that was paler than usual, he's still the most beautiful man I've ever seen. I made us comfortable with the pillows and the blankets; Damon started the movie; and I ran my fingers through his hair, noticing that he was still a bit hot due to the fever.
— This is dreadful. — Damon commented after a while. I smiled. Yes, he got pretty bad from night to day, but he's acting like it's the end of the world and he's suffering from a mortal disease.
I ruffled the fallen fringe from his sweaty forehead. — You will get better.
— I- I'm sorry about Rebekah.
He has no reason to be apologizing, and I know he's only doing it because I overreacted… But although it's cute and it's making me smile, he needs to know I'm not reading too much into it. I may not be certain about what he feels for me, but I do know he's not seeing anyone at the moment.
I sighed. — Don't be. I never liked her. It's not your fault.
— I know. But I do mean it when I say you're my girl, Lainey. — He coughed a little and I smiled fondly. — And I love you so, so much.
— I love you too. — I said with a smile, dropping my head to kiss the tip of his nose.
He scoffed loudly, trying to move away. — Didn't you learn anything in your classes?! — I looked at him like he was insane. He rolled his eyes. — I have the flu! I'm coughing, sneezing and you kissed my nose!
— Oh, so now you do have the flu. — I teased.
— You know what I meant. I already made you spend your entire day off looking after another sick man. I don't want you to be sick too.
I reached for the wet medium towel I had bought it during the movie and used it on his sweat-bathed forehead. The fever was slowly easing down, but he was still too warm and still too clingy. — You're not "another sick man" — I told him, gently rubbing his chest when he coughed. — You're Damon. My Damon. I would do anything for you, including nursing you.
— Yeah, I know… — Cough. — But you don't have to.
— I do. Because you're my guy too, Damon. How many times have you made chicken soup for me when I got sick? This is nothing, ok. Plus, I'm spending time with you. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
He snorted. — Anywhere else than watching a movie you hate with a best friend who seems to be impersonating Mr. Poe from A Series of Unfortunate Events with these unstoppable coughings?
— I love you. — I said simply, because sometimes these three little words can really summon up everything. — I love you, and this means every second we spent together makes me happy, no matter how sweaty and hot you are.
Damon smirked; and, trust me, it's still a killer smirk, even now. — I could make us sweaty and hot for much better reasons.
I blushed, hard. — Stop flirting. Flu is not exactly your most attractive look.
— Hmmm. What is my most attractive look?
— I didn't say you had any.
— Oh, but you did. — He retorted, enjoying our banter as much as it was mortifying me. — If I remember correctly you thought I looked very dashing in the Mikaelson's ball.
I sighed. — So here is your answer.
— Hm, I doubt that's the real one.
My heart was beating violently at this point. He might be sick and a little delirious, yes, but that doesn't mean he won't remember this conversation in the morning. I certainly will, and I would like to maintain some dignity, especially if we will ever be something else. God, I know he will tease me about it if this memory doesn't fade along with the fever.
I mumbled, gesturing to the television where Brad Pitt and Edward Norton were punching each other for fun. — Let's- Let's just watch the movie, ok?
He tried to laugh, but again, it turned into a cough. — I know what your most attractive look is, though. — He said once he seemed more capable of talking. — It's your annoyed jealous face when other girls flirt with me.
— How can you be this much of an idiot even with a fever? — I asked, without bothering to deny his remark. Not that there's anything attractive about it, but there's just no point in pretending I don't make such a face when he saw it happening tonight.
Damon smiled. — Such a talent, huh?
After a few minutes he whispered, barely audibly. — But there's only one woman I flirt with; flirt for real, I mean. And I'm resting on her lap right now.
Flirt for real, I mean.
And to think I always thought it was the other way around and I was the only girl he wasn't being serious with. What a plot-twist to know it's the exact opposite; as it is also the same to me, because I'm definitely corresponding to all of his flirts just like I did the first night we talked on a rooftop.
Or maybe there is no plot-twist at all and we're all just fools in love that were too blind to notice what has always been in our hearts, just like Jane Austen predicted.
— Thank you. — I said, apparently not the most suitable answer for his Casanova comebacks, but what came out next made him smile much wider than any flirting comment would have.
He frowned, looking up into my eyes. — For what?
I smiled in adoration. — The Elena you met five years ago was in a very dark place, and for as cheesy it may sound, you were the light that made my darkness disappear. I don't think I've ever said it out loud, but you saved me, Damon. And I guess I just needed to say and you might need to hear it too.
Damon stared at me in awe. The wonderness that floated between our gazes was an invisible line that connected us in a way only soulmates can be linked. And I think about this one time we were eating pizza in his college dorm, just months after we became friends; he opened Google to research all the lame definitions that could be applied to us until I was laughing so hard it woke Enzo, his roommate at the time.
Soulmate is a person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner.
In Japanese, nakama (仲間) means colleague, compatriot, friend or comrade.
Savvas once wrote of twin flames: When a soul is created, it is split into two parts, mirrors of each other, constantly yearning to reconnect.
He was all of this to me then, and he still is now, and more.
Because I love him. I'm in love with him.
— Turns out I can be a hero, after all. — Damon said; his words taking us back to the night when it all began…
So, their dance was totally inspired by this one moment they have on the books, including the quote about tango. Although the chapter was heavily inspired by a Jonas Brother's song, When You Look Me In The Eyes; yeah, I guess my childhoods' obsessions still help me, who would've thought!
The next one is almost finished, so I will post it quicker, promise.
Thank you for reading; and have a wonderful week, guys!