~ Little Pieces of Nothing ~
Sometimes Damon wakes up in the middle of the night. He feels a familiar weight on his chest, and smiles because the nightmare isn't real. He brushes a soft kiss to his lover's forehead before going back to sleep.
Some mornings he wakes up, afraid because the familiar weight isn't there. He turns his head and sees long waves of sable hair spread out on the pillow beside him. The nightmare was real after all.
Elena wakes up, turns over, smiles upon seeing him awake, and tells him that she loves him. Those words don't thrill him the way they used to. It doesn't taste like victory anymore, when he would rather hear those words from someone else instead.
Sure, he'd managed to steal away his brother's girlfriend. And while that had been a novel experience at the time, it's hardly a good foundation for a stable relationship. Theoretically, it should have been great. In practice, they make a terrible couple.
Some nights Damon doesn't bother going home. Instead, he hikes out to an unmarked grave in the woods, bottle in hand. He gets drunk, with his favorite bourbon as his sole companion, and he wonders what would have happened if he'd fought harder to save the only woman who'd ever fallen in love with him without looking twice at his brother first.
He never wonders if it's the wrong spot. He remembers exactly where he buried her.
~oOo~