"Hey," says Elena.
"Hey," answers Emily, sitting at the edge of her bed. She'd entered her room to answer the call that night. "How'd it go?" she urgently asked.
"…It…didn't go so well," Elena replies. Emily's brows furrow.
"What happened?" she worriedly asked.
"We managed to open the tomb…Things got complicated, and that Anna girl came out with her mom, then Damon and Stefan. And Grams and Bonnie resealed the tomb…but…he couldn't find her…
He couldn't find Katherine…"
…
Emily is uncertain of what she'd heard.
"He…didn't find her? Damon didn't find Katherine?" she asks for confirmation.
"Yeah…He looked…devastated."
…
Emily attempts to process what she was being told,
but is quickly concentrating all her focus on Damon…and the fact that he was devastated…
in so, things become gravely clear.
"Oh my god," she Emily, the situation just setting in.
For what little time she'd known Damon, all he'd ever wanted to achieve, all he'd ever wanted in general, was to get that one woman back into his life…
For that to suddenly…
"Wh-what do you mean? She wasn't there?" Emily repeats.
"Stefan says she was never there to begin with…they just didn't know…She never needed saving…"
"…Oh my god…"
It was worst than she thought…
"…Do…Where is he? Where are you?"
"I'm at Bonnie's. Her Grams looked really worn down by the spell. Stefan left. I think he went to look for Damon…I…also think you should call him."
…Emily's expression changes to one of determination.
"Okay. Let me call you back."
"Okay."
She hangs up, brings out Damon's number anxiously.
…Her button freezes atop the call button…
She remembered, in ill-time, the way they'd ended things just then…how neither were intent on seeing the other again…
What if he was already gone?
What good would calling him do? For either of them, if all they wanted to do, is to try and forget one another?
She brushed off all ifs.
She pushed the button, and brought the phone to her ear with a foot tapping nervously the carpet laid beneath her bed.
…It rings…
Damon, who was downing the contents of a tequila bottle, he put the bottle down on the surface of the closed grand piano, and fished his phone out from his pocket absent-mindedly.
The caller id catches his interest, and for several seconds, he debates answering.
He didn't want to talk to anyone.
Didn't want to see anyone.
Didn't want to talk.
Talk about what?
All he acknowledged, was a greatly upset stomach, an aching heart, and racing, incomprehensible thoughts revolving around one impossible revelation.
…Never had he felt so lost.
…But…her name, on the phone…it called to him, quite literally too, and he felt the need to pick up, so he did.
Emily's heart jumps at the reply.
He doesn't say anything though, just has the phone up, as if waiting for her to speak first, or not waiting for anything at all,
perhaps something to affirm all that had gone down as a prank.
"Damon…are you there?" she warily asks.
He wants to speak, but words escape him.
What would he say?
What in the world would he say?
Well, maybe answer her question for a start.
But he doesn't need to.
"…I don't think…there's anything I can say…to make this in any way better, Damon…" she says. His brows furrow as if in pain, and he purses his lips, fighting back those god forsakenly stubborn tears. "…How about I come over?" she offers out of the blue.
She wasn't actually considering it till she'd said it. But why not? Despite assuming he wouldn't wanna 'talk it out,' she felt confident that her presence would bring him some ease, if only minimal.
Damon took in her suggestion. "You're at home, right? So, how about I come over…Just," 'be there for you,' "…you know," she resorted to saying instead.
…He knows…Yeah he knows.
He could hear Stefan's car drive in outside.
"No," he finally replied.
Emily furrows her brows in some disappointment, before he said: "I'm coming," instead. Her eyes widen in surprise, and he hangs up before she could get a word in. 'That could work too,' she supposed.
Emily gets to her feet, and tidies up her room a bit. Fixing her set up pillow, and closing the laptop screen on her nightstand. She grabs the clothes on her chair, balls them up, and tosses them into her closet, turning at just the right moment to spot Damon, sitting at the edge of her bed.
She pauses, acknowledges his presence for a moment, then begins to think over something to say, as he seemed intent on remaining quiet, gaze afar, and seemingly unaware of his surroundings. She mulls it over as she made way to sit at his side.
He felt the bed slightly dip as she settled down, her shoulder resting against his, and her gaze fixed on him before it turned to the ground in thought.
For a moment, neither said a word.
Emily actually considered asking him if he wanted to 'talk about it,' but was near certain he'd mock her, or say nothing at all.
Instead, she asked: "What happened?" despite already knowing the answer.
Her tone was soft, but her question was not simple.
"Hmh," Damon smirks grimly. "What happened?" he repeated quietly, in a cold sarcasm.
At least it got him talking.
"…I was an idiot…that's what…" he said. Emily eyed him sympathetically. Was it idiocy, for a man to be so deeply in love, with such loyalty?
To Emily, it sure as hell wasn't.
Damon got to his feet, and made way to her desk. He placed his palms against it surface, grasping at its edges firmly till his knuckles grew white.
He felt he was breaking. It was as if his heart was physically sinking into him, sinking into a raging fire that grew larger by the second suddenly, as though he'd activated it somehow, again.
He was a second away from breaking the desk with immense physical strength, when he felt her hand on his shoulder. She slid beneath his arm and stood between him and the desk to catch his eyes. She grasped his face and tried to get him to face her as he stubbornly refused to show his cold tears falling. "Damon," she softly called, tone intentionally reassuring.
He finally looked up, but his gaze remained low. She cradled his face between her warm palm, a look of pain in her own eyes, for him. She was in pain for him.
She did what she felt was right, and embraced him. She lay his head on her shoulder, keeping both hands atop as she massaged it. Damon breathed out sharply, as if it hurt to resist the pain much longer. He brought his arms around her needingly, accidently pushing her back onto the desk. She was quick to climb it, and instead had his face against her chest. She hugged him affectional, her cheek against his ever-soft, inky hair, and he held her tightly, crying heartedly, and as quietly as he could, into her chest, her audibly comforting, beating heart.
Seeing him this way truly hurt her, especially him because, she was so used to him being tough, or refusing to show pain, but for him to fall apart this way, it was a horrible thing to witness,
yet, at the same time, she was somewhat content.
Content that…he wasn't hiding from her…that he chose to come to her…that he was letting her be there for him…that she felt she was actually helping…
After several intense minutes, he calmed somewhat, and pulled back. He sought her eyes, and fixed where he found them, letting their foreheads touch. He could feel her breath against his nose and lips. He leaned in, and erased whatever distance was left between them with a kiss. Emily's thoughts simply vanished, and her head started to spin when Damon deepened the kiss and consumed her lips passionately. She was completely absorbed by the sweet, urgent sensation he filled her with from head to toe as she wrapped her arms around his back to bring him closer. Then he cradled her head in one hand, and began trailing kisses down her neck leisurely. She sighed in intense pleasure, but releasing her lips and allowing her breath also made way for some of her awareness to return.
'This isn't right,' she thought, her heart rate increasing in some distraught. "Damon," she called, but it was very hard for her to concentrate as he sucked on the side of her neck. She tried to push him back, and attempted to pull up his face, but she couldn't find the strength to do much of anything, her knees growing weak.
He loved the way she tasted, and started to actually crave a taste of her blood as well, but was snapped out of it when she said: "Damon, look at me." He absent-mindedly complies, not minding the soft request. It took her a few seconds to re-gather her thoughts, as it was fairly difficult to think when looking into his grey-blue eyes.
"Damon…Don't…Don't make things weird between us," she says. Damon processes what she'd said in vagueness, before finally understanding it, the idea awfully negative. "Just…let me…be here for you…"
Yes. That's what he wanted.
But he also wanted to kiss her again, felt he needed to.
Oh he had no idea how much she wanted the same, and how hard it was to push him away.
She decides to brush aside the idea altogether.
"What do you say we go for a walk?" she suggests.
The air was cool at night, and it was late enough that the streets would almost be their own. The open air and night sky were naturally therapeutic. But Damon honestly wasn't up for it. "I don't wanna walk," he shook his head. She lightly smiled.
"You look tired," she affirmed. He felt tired. "How about you get some sleep?"
"I don't wanna sleep." It was more of a matter of capability. He didn't think he could ever shut his mind up about what had happened, certainly not to sleep.
…It was quiet enough when they were kissing though.
He refrained from making another move on that as she said: "Then how about you just…lie down with me?…Just lie down."
He takes it into consideration.
He was tired.
He felt tired.
He liked the sound of her offer, especially the part where she'd be there, because being alone meant he'd think, and he didn't want that.
She sees him mull it over. He doesn't decline, so she slides off the desk, takes him by the hand, and guides him to her bed.
He kicked off his shoes and placed his head back on her pillow. Being physically straightened felt incredibly relieving. She shut the light, and followed beside him, then pulled the blanket on top of them.
She fixes it caringly on him, and he turns on his side to face her as she lies down, as if seeking her out for comfort.
Face to face, she lightly smiles at him, putting him at some ease.
Two minutes pass, and Emily decides to ask: "How are you feeling?" Damon absorbs her question. As if it had triggered his thoughts again, he inhales sharply.
"…Like I'm gonna kill somebody," he says, only half-sarcastic. Deciding to take it as a joke, Emily grins, causing him to spare a smirk. His gaze then drifts, and he turns onto his back, facing the ceiling with his arm on his head. Emily studied him carefully, calculating her next words, but there is no need; he speaks first. "A hundred and seventy years…wasted trying to save someone who never needed saving," he buffs air from his nose, as though trying to smoke out the fire in his chest. Emily frowns at the fact. "After I found out she wasn't in there…I went after Annabelle…I saw her getting back with her mom, and I just snapped." Emily gets greatly concerned at that, wondering what he'd done. "But then she told me that…she'd seen Katherine…Nineteen eighty three…Chicago…Said she knew where I was…and that she just didn't care…" he bitterly said.
Emily takes in the story, listening intently.
"Stefan said she used to compel him to love her…but she never compelled me…never had to…" Damon feels tears well up in his eyes again, and exhales irritably. Emily has never loathed someone she'd never actually met before,
but she absolutely hated Katherine Pierce.
"…What the hell do I do now?" Damon continues, thinking his depressed thoughts out loud. Emily acknowledges the question, fixes herself up on her elbow, and speaks her mind carefully.
"This…might not be…the best time," she starts. Damon faces her curiously. "…but…just take into consideration that…you're finally free…" she says in all seriousness, optimistically.
Damon takes this in. He doesn't know how to feel about it, let alone what it really means.
"…You can finally…look after yourself…look for yourself…Do what you want…Find…what's good for you," she explains. Damon faces the ceiling again.
"After what?" he asks in despair.
"What does it matter, Damon? You're immortal…" she lightly smirks. Her words fall un-cared for. "Look. I know you won't actually be able to think this way right now, but I just need you to be sure that this isn't the end of things…It's just another beginning."
He finally faces her.
That, he could understand.
Even though it seemed impossible to believe, the idea, the mention, that this indeed wasn't an end…and the way she was looking at him as he searched her eyes for the assuring confidence behind her words…The thing he felt certain of, at least in that moment, was that he wasn't alone…and it might have been the only thing that made what she'd said somewhat believable.
He gets on his side again, and she puts her head back down on her pillow. They each inch a little closer to one another, persistently, till eventually they just pull in and embrace one another once more.
Sleep was minutes away then.
XXXXX
