This Is Me Trying
A/N: Trigger warning for some talk about depression and suicide.
"Come here. Let me help you with that."
Damon looked in the mirror and he saw his mother standing behind him with a smile. and He turned around with a hop as the woman knelt down to meet his face and placed both hands onto his discombobulated tie.
She let out a soft chuckle that spread into a smirk across her freckled cheeks; immediately infecting his, as his mouth did the same.
Her blue eyes met his as her hands carefully undid the mess that he made, and Damon watched her intently before he opened his mouth to speak.
"I almost had it."
"Of course, you did, honey," she grinned, knowing that couldn't be further from the truth as she began to loop the fabric correctly. "Are you excited for the school dance? It'll be your first of many I'm sure," she said, and Damon cheesed excitedly at that before he spoke.
"Uh huh. Papa said that I can even bring one toy with me if I promise not to lose it," he said, and her pink lips formed into a smile at that as he continued on. "If I ask nicely, do you think he'll let me bring two?"
"Don't push your lucky, caro," she said before finishing off his tie and pinching his cheek affectionately. Damon blushed at that, though his smile was still wide. "Won't you be too busy for your toys, anyway? All of your friends will be there; Caroline, Alaric, Marcellus, Elena… Bonnie," she said, and he nodded as he turned to look in the mirror at his newly affixed tie while Lily placed both hands on his shoulders. "A little birdie told me you were excited to see her."
"Yeah, so I could show her my cool scar from the doctor!" he exclaimed, and Lily laughed as he lifted a pant leg to flash his freshly heeled wound on his ankle, from where his stitches had been removed after falling off of his new skateboard. "I also got her a card."
"You did? Is she your Valentine?"
"Uh huh. And so is Elena. And Meredith Fell. Just in case. I asked Caroline too, but she told me to eat dirt," he said flippantly, and Lily snorted at that as he continued to smile. "I think she likes Stefan more than me."
"Well, you can't have all the girls, sweetheart. You've got to let your brother have at least one," she laughed. He grinned and she lifted a brow. "I hope you saved something for me then?" she asked, and Damon nodded as he slid his hands into his pockets almost instantly and Lily watched on.
"Of course, I did Mama. I got you this," he said as he pulled out a purple plastic heart shaped ring from his front pocket with a card attached as her eyes lit up and he turned to face her with a beaming smirk. "It's violet… your favorite color. Papa told me so."
"Huh. Confirmation that your father does listen to me after all," she joked, and Damon smiled as his mother took the ring out of her hand and pretended to inspect it carefully. "Is this real? What's it worth?"
"A million dollars!"
"Did he tell you to say that too?" she asked, and Damon nodded without hesitation and she grinned as she looked into his eyes. "Thank you. I love it, no matter what the cost. And I love you. No matter how many Valentines' you have… I just hope I'll always be one of them, dear," she said, and he nodded before she pulled him in for a hug—her head landing on the crown of his head as he held onto her tightly.
"Always. Promise to never leave me, Mama."
"I promise," she winked as she held onto the ring tightly in her hand and whispered into his ear. "I'm here, whenever you need me. I'm not going anywhere, Damon. I'll be with you forever."
"So much for that," his mind said crudely.
Because forever ended a year later, when she lay terminally ill in her hospice bed; pale, gaunt, but still with a smile as bright as the sun when she took his hand into hers one last time and placed it softly to her cool lips to give his palm a kiss.
He watched as a tear rolled down her cheek and disappeared into her auburn hair. Her voice was sweet and tranquil when she said what would be her final words to him, and he wished he had savored them more if he knew that this would be the end.
But he was too young and dumb to understand what this all really meant. He still felt that way, sometimes, to be honest.
"I'm sorry I broke that promise—about forever."
"You didn't, Mama. Because you will be with me forever, in here," he pointed to his heart and she nodded at that with misty eyes, though her tears were threatening to crash onto her cheeks and Damon smiled obliviously. "I understand if you have to go now… It's okay. Because I'm going to take care of Papa and Stefan. Everything is gonna be fine. I promise."
Spoiler alert— that was a fucking lie, too.
Damon took another long sip from the bourbon bottle in his hand and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before exhaling deep sigh.
He fought back the tears that threatened to roll down his cheeks as the brisk cold air outside tickled his skin, and he continued to stare ahead, out into the empty nothingness of the huge property in the backyard of his father's mansion.
It had been a few hours since he'd stormed out of dinner with Stefan and Giuseppe, and naturally, he'd hit up a few bars with the hopes of getting blackout drunk before he got himself into a taxi and finally came back home.
But not before bribing the bartender with $200 cash for the unopened bottle of top shelf bourbon he had sitting behind the bar.
He thanked his lucky stars that the man didn't seem to realize just how drunk Damon already was.
That, or he just didn't care. Which was even better.
So, here he was— at 1 o'clock in the morning—drinking away his misery and stirring up old, hurtful feelings because his goddamned history was repeating itself again.
Giuseppe was dying. And he was going to have to do this all over again, just like he had when he was a kid.
And he wasn't quite sure he could do this again, if he were honest.
Nothing could change the crippling pain that came with losing a parent. He'd learned that early on, when he tried his hardest not to feel it after his mother died. Damon did his best to ignore the stabbing he felt in his heart—the persistent noise he heard in his head—once it finally set in that she was gone, and she wasn't coming back. Because he'd lost her, just like that. And no amount of praying, bargaining, or atoning would bring her back to him.
She was just dead.
And his father would be dead too. He'd lose them both too quickly, too soon, and there was nothing that he could do to change that. And because of it he felt useless; completely helpless. But he didn't have the time to, because he was supposed to be strong for him, and for Stefan, again—just like he had been in the past.
But how could he manage to be strong for them when he could no longer even be strong for himself?
That seemed to be life's great existential question.
He gulped down a bit more from the bottle—way more than he needed—and he swallowed hard as the alcohol burned all the way down his throat; stinging in his chest and numbing him almost instantly as he no longer minded the cold air, and instead welcomed it, as he pulled his suit jacket off and let it fall carelessly to the grass. He stumbled forward until he was front of the massive in-ground pool and shut his eyes tightly— willing himself to bring back the memories of when he'd seen his mother last; the last time she was happy, without a worry or a care in the world.
He desperately wanted to remember her before the diagnosis; before she started to lose her hair in chunks. Before she'd lost a quarter of her weight. Before her skin evolved from a beautiful olive tone to a ghostly white.
He hated that he remembered her for the shell that she became when she died instead of the strong, thoughtful, loving woman that she was when she was alive.
And he hated that when it came to his father, it was going to be just the same.
Giuseppe was fine now, but he wouldn't in six months, when his health really started to deteriorate and that was the part that terrified Damon the most. Because he soon would have to rewire and rewrite the memories he'd held onto so tightly to match the reality of his situation.
And his situation? Well, he was fucked, to put it lightly.
He still wasn't sure how he'd reconcile with that. He wasn't sure if he ever would.
Damon shut his eyes for a moment as he moved closer to the edge of the pool and he looked down into the dark blue abyss; his mind spinning for a moment as he tried to think about somehow—someway—that he wouldn't have to feel this anymore and he squeezed his eyes shut hard, as another cold tear rolled down his jaw.
He knew what the answer was. He knew what the easiest way to handle all of this would be.
He knew that if he was going to cope, he would have to just turn it off.
He'd have to stop feeling pain—feeling anything—if he wanted to survive.
And that was easy enough. After all, he'd done it before, when his mom died. He'd decided to just stop feeling the pain—stop dealing with it altogether—when her death finally set in and the hurt just became too much to bear, and he couldn't find another way to get out of bed in the morning.
Because after all, he was just a kid. And he didn't have any of the answers, despite how much he wanted to. And he certainly couldn't take care of Stefan or his father when he was like this; hell, he could barely even make it through most days when he looked to her spot at the dinner table and she just wasn't there.
He struggled with losing her—much more than he liked to think about or even admit, and he found himself tempted all too often with his mother's last Percocet prescription that he'd swiped from the medicine cabinet just before his father finally gained the strength to get her things together and clear them out.
He kept the bottle underneath his pillow.
And he thought about taking them—all of them—everyday for a month; as he ate his cereal in the morning and brushed his teeth before bed. He even thought about it when Stefan lay fast asleep just across their shared bedroom in the middle of the night; just a few feet away, snoring soundly, with no idea of the pain and inner turmoil that Damon was going through. And he often wondered just what his younger brother might do if he awoke one morning to find him there, without a pulse?
Would he cry? Would he scream?
Would anyone even notice?
Damon sadly fantasized about it all.
And the suicidal thoughts usually stopped there because he knew that he couldn't do that to them—not to Stefan especially. Because his baby brother was still grieving their mother and if Damon decided to do this, he'd ruin him for the rest of his life.
He knew there was no saving Stefan's sweet and innocent soul if he was just gone, as well. So why damn them both if he could at least give his brother a fighting chance at peace and salvation?
Even if he'd never truly find his own?
So, he held it all in—despite how much it hurt. Despite how many times he thought about ending it all, until he finally flushed the pills down the drain and convinced himself that there had to be another way; there needed to be another way out of this.
And that's what made turning it off after that so easy once because he did finally decide that he wanted to live. He just didn't want to live with this anymore.
So, he was going to live. He wasn't going to end his life. But he was going to cut out a major portion of it if that was what it would take to feel whole again.
If that's what it would take to stop feeling so human.
So, he didn't talk about his mom—not to anyone, not even his school psychologist—and he rid his bedroom of any and all reminders of her—even surprising both Stefan and his father—as he packed it all into a box, shoved it into the attic, and decided that he was never going to look at them again.
And things had finally gotten easier from there.
He started doing better in school. He started helping out around the house. He started taking care of everything—including Stefan—because he'd stopped caring about the fact that his mother had died—and he let go of every emotion that he had tied to that, because it was easier for him to cope, if he just pretended like she never existed.
He didn't say anything on Mother's Day. He didn't cry when it was her birthday. He barely blinked when it came to anything concerning his mother, and while the people around him thought it was progress, he knew he had just had them all fooled.
Well, almost everyone. Because then Bonnie Bennett happened. And he realized his entire plan was fucked.
She was the reason why he started to feel again.
Damon itched at the memory, as he recalled it all; the fact that no one found it weird that he just got over it and he was barely grieving his mother even though the wounds were fresh and should have taken much longer to heal, if he had been dealing with it properly.
No one noticed, except for her. And she called him out on it one day, when they rode their bikes down to the falls and sat in a deafening silence while sharing a sandwich, watching the water crashing against the rocks.
They talked about her grandfather—Sheila's husband—who had passed away recently and she explained how sad it made her, even though they hadn't been particularly close. But she still cried about, nonetheless, on his shoulder for a few minutes before finally wiping her eyes and looking into his.
And that was when she asked him why he didn't talk about his mom anymore, because she knew how close they were; she knew that his mom was his best friend. And Damon told her that he had found a way to fix it.
"I told myself not to feel… It's like she never existed," Damon said proudly. "You should try it. You don't have to sad anymore, Bon."
Bonnie swallowed a bite of the sandwich at that and met his jaded blue eyes before opening her mouth to offer a response. Her brown pigtails swayed with the wind; her green eyes remained wide.
"That's not okay, Damon—to act like she didn't mean anything to you."
"Of course, it is. I can't stay sad forever. She's gone. And I don't care."
"I think you do care," Bonnie said boldly, and he lifted a brow at that but didn't respond as he watched her biting her lip. "Grams says it's okay to be sad—it happens to everyone. And your mom… she did exist. And she loved you. You shouldn't just forget that. Even if it's easier to deal with it that way… I don't think she'd want you to forget her either, Damon."
Damon's knuckles turned white as he gripped the bottle even harder before he took another swig.
And she didn't let it go, for the rest of the fucking night.
Bonnie had been the reason he flipped his switch back on. She was the reason the flood gates re-opened and his own emotions nearly suffocated him when he cried to her at the falls, as it all suddenly came rushing back to him even heavier than it had the first time he experienced his grief the more that she pressed until he finally broke.
That had been the worst day of his life—even worse than the day his mother died.
Because he finally had to confront everything that he had been running from for months. He finally had to feel everything he'd been repressing for the sake of his heart and his sanity—and once he let all of that back in? Well, it changed everything, he realized, as he went right back to wanting to die all over again because what was the point? Why was he still even here?
He quickly realized the reason; and the reason was Bonnie.
Because Bonnie called him—every single day—to check in on him when she couldn't see him face to face. She checked in even when he told her to leave him alone; even when he asked his father to tell her he wasn't home.
And that was a mistake because then she'd just show up to see if he were telling the truth, which he wasn't, and she'd force him to talk about what he was feeling every single time.
He did, eventually. And he realized it didn't always have to hurt, talking about it. Sometimes he actually smiled; there were a few times she even made him laugh.
He told Bonnie his favorite memories of his mom—he told her everything he'd been holding in—and it nearly stripped his soul bare as he realized he'd become to vulnerable with her, to the point that she knew it all and she knew him.
She knew everything.
And though the pain never really went away, it started to subside—as did his urges to find another pill bottle to swallow—and he knew right then and there that Bonnie Bennett had become the most important person in his life.
Bonnie was his emotional tether.
She grounded him—anchored him—during the heaviest storm of his life. And he knew she'd be prepared to do it again, now that his father was dying. She would do that in the blink of an eye for him.
But he couldn't let her. He wouldn't let her, he decided, as he took another sip of his drink and stared blankly ahead.
Because Bonnie had her entire life ahead of her; she always had. And they weren't kids anymore. She was smart, young, beautiful, and successful. She was marriage material—she was the mother of your future five children material. And the very last thing she needed to set herself up to do was become his babysitter, when his father passed, just like she had been when he lost his mother. He knew he was going to be a wreck. He knew he would be destroyed, and in typical Bonnie Bennett fashion, she wouldn't stop picking up the pieces until he was whole again.
But who knew if he'd ever be whole again? And how could he just let her waste her life trying to ensure that, that would happen?
He'd wasted enough of Elena's time. Bonnie did not have to be next.
He pulled the bottle away from his mouth and sniffled back his tears as he quietly ticked his jaw.
He was making a decision now, then—that if he was going to do this, he'd have to make sure Bonnie Bennett didn't get in the way of it again. Because she wouldn't stop until she fixed him. She would force him to feel. She wasn't going to just let him carry on, as he had before; being recklessly strong about all of this, to the detriment of his own well-being and psyche.
Because sure, he'd been angry with his father and with Stefan for expecting him to keep it together the way that he had when Lily died; because they both depended on him, and it was easier to deal with it all if Damon—the certified unstable train wreck—could do it. He'd loved Lily more than anyone and he found a way to pick up and move on. He'd found a way to get out of bed every morning. So why couldn't they do it if Damon had?
And while he hated that role that they bestowed upon him, he had just as easily stepped into it, too. It was just as much his fault, as it was theirs. So, could he really blame them for expecting something from him that he accepted so mindlessly?
Something he was willing to do again, consequences be damned, if it meant that he could survive this and save Bonnie's light at the same time?
He absolutely would survive this and save her in the process if he just turned it off, again.
So, he just had to turn it off.
He knew, now, that it was the only way.
"Damon?"
He swallowed hard and turned around slowly and didn't say a word. Because there she was—an angel, in her own right—staring back at him, from just a few feet away and her arms wrapped around her tiny frame in a pea coat, as she watched him silently with tears already forming in her eyes though he hadn't said a word yet.
He couldn't.
Damon didn't move—he didn't even breathe—as Bonnie gave him the once over; noting the bottle in his hand, his coat on the ground, and most importantly the callous look on his face when his blue eyes hooded and he licked his teeth but still, didn't say a word.
He was standing way too close to the water for her to feel comfortable. Her eyes said that, even without her mouth doing so.
"Relax. I'm not gonna jump," he said, and she didn't respond. "Just enjoying the solitude."
Bonnie took a step in closer at that and Damon remained frozen when she finally appeared just inches away from him, as she swallowed hard and placed a hand to his cheek, carefully. She finally reached down and grabbed his jacket, but he stopped her at the wrist as she furrowed her brows and looked into his eyes.
"You're freezing. You should put it on."
"I'm fine" he said flatly, and she sighed but didn't argue as she folded her arms and Damon's voice remained desolate, just the same. "What are you doing here? How did you know I was outside?"
"I tracked you; Find my iPhone. We've known each other for 30 years, Damon. Of course, I know your password," she admitted, and Damon ticked his jaw at that but didn't respond. "I was worried, when you didn't come back with your father and Stefan. I waited, a while, for you to call but you didn't," she added, and he watched her cold breath leave her lips. "Why didn't you call?"
"I needed to clear my head. And empty a few shot glasses of tequila," he said with a smirk as Bonnie pursed her lips shut. "I had just enough to make me fun again. Do you wanna take me for a spin?"
She scrunched brows at that.
"This isn't funny, Damon."
"Isn't it, though? I mean—this is what I deserve. Right? After everything I've done—to Enzo, Elena, to everyone... It's poetic, I think."
"You think that you deserve this?... You think your father dying is your cosmic karma because you fell in love with me?" she asked softly, and he didn't say a word as she shook her head and swallowed hard. "It's not. This… this isn't karma, Damon. It's just life. And it's tragic. And you're making jokes but… I know it's because you're hurting. And I am… so sorry. I'm sorry that I can't change this for you. I'm sorry that I can't take your pain away," she said. There was a long silence between them at that, and Damon looked away when he felt Bonnie's hand land on his cheek again; her thumb slowly rubbing soft circles against his skin as she desperately tried to capture his eyes. "You don't deserve this, Damon; no one does... No one deserves to go through this twice."
Damon finally looked up at her at that, and Bonnie let out a soft sigh as her palm continued to press to his cheek. Damon's tongue itched and his mouth opened slightly after a few moments when he willed himself to ask her the one thing he'd be dying to, all night, since finding out about Giuseppe.
The one thing he knew would hurt him, as well, but he couldn't resist needing to hear it. Even though he knew there was no chance the truth would set him free.
It would just really, really piss him off.
"You knew... Didn't you, Bonnie?" he asked simply, and Bonnie dropped her hand slowly at that and didn't say a word—but her face said it all, as he watched her perfect features form into a frown and she swallowed hard. "You knew that my father was dying—it's why you've been acting so weird… right? He told you, before he told me—his son?"
"Damon, it's… more complicated than that…"
"Is it? Which part?" he asked bluntly, and Bonnie sighed but allowed him to continue on. "He's dying. You knew he was dying. And here I thought you were getting ready to dump my ass, but… it's because you knew. And you didn't tell me. You didn't say a word."
Bonnie swallowed the lump that formed in her throat as she followed his eyes. And suddenly she felt nauseous.
Because she realized this was what she had been dreading—because this was the worst part of it all. Her stomach twisted into knots as his eyes were filled with a devastating ache she couldn't quite put into words. All she knew was that it was excruciating to watch.
And she hated it. She hated every minute of this.
"I did. I did know," she finally answered, and he sighed, biting his lip.
"How long were you planning on keeping this from me?"
"I… found out the night before the engagement," she said, and Damon again studied the ground as she softly spoke. "I haven't known that long, Damon, and I… He asked me not to say anything. And I promised him I wouldn't because I-I couldn't take away your father's last chance to have this conversation with you… because you deserved to hear it from him. It wasn't my secret to tell," she explained before inhaling a deep breath and feeling tears of her own forming in the corner of her tear ducts as she stepped in closer to him again and fought them back, despite how much she just wanted to explode right now. "I'm sorry. You trusted me and I had to make a choice—and I… couldn't do it, Damon. And I knew; I knew it would suck, no matter what I chose. Because one of you would get hurt. Someone would get hurt."
"Me. I'm the one who's hurt, Bonnie, because you're right. It does suck. It sucks to know that the one person that you would trust with your life finds it so fucking easy to lie to you," he responded evenly, and she sighed but didn't answer that as he continued on. "I would never keep something like this from you. Ever. Whether it was your Mom, your Dad, or your Grams…Because you matter to me, Bonnie. You mean that much to me that I would tell you everything. But was I wrong to expect the same from you? Will I ever mean the same to you?"
"Damon—" she started but pursed her lips as he walked past her. He was nearly twenty feet away when he heard her voice—loud, firm, and strong—and it stopped him in his tracks, even though he didn't turn around to look at her. He squeezed his eyes shut as tightly as he formed his fists and tried to stifle the water filling his eyes. He felt her eyes burning holes through his back all the while as he looked away from her.
It felt like every inch of his skin was on fire.
"Of course, you mean that much to me. Of course, you do," she said, and he remained silent as she stared sadly ahead, absorbing every word. "But if you're going to question that—if that's what you're gonna take away from all of this, Damon—then I am going to call you out on it. Because I know exactly what you're doing. And it's not okay."
"What am I doing, Bonnie? I'm upset—"
"You're deflecting!" she exclaimed, and he remained silent at that as he heard her take a few steps in but he still didn't turn around to face her. "You're deflecting because you're sad and you need something else to focus on. So, you chose hate. You're choosing hate," she said, and Bonnie swallowed hard as she watched the back of his head and she exhaled a shaky breath before she continued. "You want me to fight with you. So that we'll have an excuse to break up… And you'll have an excuse to turn it all off again, right? Because you know I won't let that happen—I won't let you run from this. Not again."
Damon ticked his jaw at that and turned around to look at her finally, and he watched as her arms hugged her body tightly and her eyes remained as serious as her voice had been. He took a step in towards her as he shook his head with a humorless laugh and Bonnie watched on when he stopped just a few feet away.
His blue eyes were shining like daggers.
He was so close. He just needed to get through this conversation, he reminded himself.
"That's exactly what I want," he replied, and her brows knitted at that, but she didn't say anything in response as Damon pursed his lips. "I want to break up."
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"I said no," Bonnie repeated herself and he lifted a brow at that as he watched her strength build within her eyes again before she spoke. "If you've decided that you hate me because I lied to you, then fine, do it. Fucking hate me, then, for the rest of your life," she added boldly. "I can live with that—with you hating me—if it means that you'll finally stop hating yourself," she said, and he remained silent as he listened to her honest words that were cutting like a knife.
Damon blinked at that and she watched as tears filled his eyes, but he offered a flippant shrug and he looked away as she came in closer—his heart was pounding out of his chest with every step she took.
"So, what if I do hate myself?" he asked, faux bravado lacing his voice as she watched on. "So, what if I do blame myself, Bonnie, for everything? Maybe that's what helps me sleep better at night; owning it. I've accepted who I am and what I'm not. I know that I'm not the son my mother deserved—or the man my father wants me to be and that's fine. I'm fine—"
"You're not fine. And that's okay, Damon. It's okay to not be okay."
There was silence between them, and Damon shook his head at that but looked down at the ground again to avoid the emotions her look would cause with one look into his eyes.
Bonnie continued on as she took another step in towards him.
"This will hurt, Damon. A lot. It already does. But… You're gonna feel it; you're not gonna turn it off like you did with your mom, okay? And you're gonna hate this, and me, if you have to, but you're going to process it. You're going to process all of it. You're gonna let it all in. Because that's the only way you will truly heal from this... is if you allow yourself to feel the pain. You have to let yourself grieve, Damon. And… you have to spend as much time as you can with your Dad. Before he's gone and you don't get the chance… because he loves you. He will always love; you will always be good enough—you already are."
Damon blinked hard at that and Bonnie felt her lip trembling as she watched the heartless, ice cold, hardened look in his eyes suddenly begin to melt. It was like she'd found the exact button to push—the correct code to crack the safe—as she watched Damon's compassion, tenderness, and soul re-enter his body in just a matter of seconds—as if it had been waiting there, bubbling beneath the surface all along, begging to be free.
Begging for her to save him from drowning.
And just like that, a pool of tears formed in his eyes and rushed down his cheeks as he stared at her hopelessly—desperately—unable to stop it as he tried to catch them with his hands, but he failed. He failed miserably.
His cheeks flushed with shame—embarrassment—and he turned away again, so he didn't have to face her.
Bonnie moved in even closer—until they were a breath apart—and she placed both hands on the sides of his neck as Damon continued to stare off into space and avoid her eyes.
He didn't want her to see him cry. She hadn't, in so long, and it made him feel weak—weaker than he already was—when he let his emotions get the better of him. It was easier to turn it off; not to feel. And he wanted to—he wanted to so badly right now, as he felt her thumbs stroking his skin and she sniffled before whispering softly. He pressed his eyes shut when she spoke.
"Look at me, Damon,"
He couldn't, he refused; he even shook his head no as Bonnie exhaled softly before trying again, now stroking his jaw.
"You've seen every inch of me; at my best, at my worst… at my absolute lowest. And every single time, you made me feel safe. You made me feel like my feelings were valid and I just… want you to know that you're safe. Your feelings are valid… and feeling this—all of this—doesn't make you weak. It makes you human. And that's okay—it's okay feel like the weight of everything is crashing down on you, Damon. Just as long as you get back up; just as long as you keep fighting."
Damon looked at her at that and Bonnie watched as a tear rolled down his cheek and he opened his mouth to talk but he could barely get a word out. He couldn't even make a sound, he was so upset, he realized as everything inside of him suddenly crumbled and collapsed. His chest tightened, his heart pounded, and before he knew it, he was full out crying, for the first time in years, as he closed in on Bonnie's shoulder as she pulled him in just as quickly and wrapped him into a hug.
A hug that engulfed his bones and nearly set him on fire because he just felt so much that he couldn't say; so much that he didn't even know where to begin, and her eyes told him that, that was okay. It was okay not to know where to start. It was okay not to know when this would end.
But it wasn't okay to stop. It wasn't okay not to want to feel or live, at all.
He buried his head and his sobs into her shoulder as she gripped onto him tightly— feeling her own tears finally fall down her cheeks too, as her hand gently rubbed his back and Damon spoke muffled against her coat, though she could make out every word.
Hell, she could even make out every single thump of his heartbeat right now.
"I can't do this again. I'm scared won't survive it," he repeated through his tears and Bonnie held onto him even tighter as he continued to cry. "What am I gonna do, Bon? It hurts—it hurts so much. And this is just the beginning—"
"I know, I know," she soothed him as she only pulled away from the embrace long enough to look into his eyes and her heart broke even more when she saw his pinks cheeks were coated with tears. She brushed her thumbs along his jaw and found his crystal blue eyes as they stared back into hers. "But I will help you, okay? I'm not going anywhere. It's me and you… forever. I'll look after you, Damon. I promise you that."
He inhaled and swallowed hard as her gentle tone filled his ears—her even gentler hands brushed his messy brown hair back and he tried to talk, but his throat felt like he'd swallowed a thousand rocks.
And that was when it hit him, how drunk he fucking was. He could barely see straight through the tears and the alcohol and he immediately regretted self-medicating himself with the bourbon, because the noise in head was just so loud.
But it still felt lonely all the same.
"Everyone breaks their promises to me. Everyone dies. Everyone leaves. And I'm terrified."
"Not me, okay? Not me. I'm not leaving," she said, and he blinked back his tears as her hands grabbed his—slowly touching his cold skin beneath her fingertips before she tightened her grip. "I'm here. I will always be here… and we'll do this, one day at a time. No matter what," she echoed his words to her; the ones he'd said to her in her dorm the night he came to check in on her—when she decided this man was worth feeling something for.
"No matter what?" he asked—he remembered—and she smiled though there were tears in her eyes and she nodded as she wiped away his. He took in a deep breath as he remained mesmerized, all the while.
"No matter what… You won't be broken forever, Damon. And this hurt—it won't last forever. But we will. You and I will," she reassured as she exhaled. "I believe in that. And you. I believe in you."
He nodded in understanding before she leaned in and hugged him again tightly; the warmth from her body radiated onto his, and he shut his eyes from a moment as the silence passed between them. Bonnie sighed when felt his fingertips crawl against her neck.
He was no longer cold.
Neither of them said a word after that. They just continued to hold onto another, for dear life it seemed before she finally convinced him to come with her inside, where they could figure this all out.
She'd stay up all night if she had to.
XXXXX
When they walked in, emerging from the shadows, only once they had gone, stood Stefan silently on the second-floor balcony connected to his bedroom as he felt silent tears coating his eyes. He watched them disappear into the house and he exhaled a breath that it felt like he'd been holding in for decades once their conversation ended and they finally left. He swallowed hard though the lump in his chest persisted.
It hadn't gone anywhere. He figured it wouldn't for a while, knowing all that he knew now. He'd only been outside to watch the stars that he couldn't see most nights in Mystic Falls, when he watched as his brother stumbled into the backyard with a bottle of bourbon in hand and his tie loose as he placed the drink to his lips.
He didn't call out to him—he knew Damon didn't want to see him—but he watched him the entire time before Bonnie came out to talk. The night was so still he had heard the entire conversation. Including the part about his brother's unhealthy coping mechanisms.
And suddenly he felt like the worst brother in the world because he didn't know. He'd never had any idea until now.
Stefan held onto the banister and mindlessly fished for his phone in his pocket before dialing the very number that had been texting him all throughout dinner with his Dad and Damon, though he had told him that he couldn't do this right now; he couldn't even begin to unpack what he was telling him when the rest of his life was falling apart.
But this was his life—he was a part of it now, Stefan realized, as the phone rung in his ear before finally forwarding to the voicemail to leave a message after the beep.
He cleared his throat, but his voice still felt just as hollow as he began to talk.
"Enzo… I saw your texts. I'm sorry I couldn't talk sooner. There's a lot happening with my Dad and Damon but… I'm happy to meet to talk about Lily, once I get back if you think this is real; if you really think that you, Damon, and I are brothers," he said chewing his lip as he stared ahead, still gripping his iPhone just as tightly as he spoke. "I'll… figure out a way to break the news to him, gently. But not now. Damon's not in any position to hear this yet. He won't be, for a while, so… let's just keep this between us, okay? Call me back… Bye."
He hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket as he walked inside and closed the screen door shut behind him.
It was time for him to do the protecting.
XXXXX
"I'll have another. Thanks," Elena said, as she pushed her empty glass of gin and tonic forward and the bartender nodded in understanding as she walked away, and the girl let out a sigh as she looked at her watch.
Two hours. That's how long she had been waiting here at the Mystic Grill, and she was fairly certain she was being stood up, the longer the minutes rolled by, and she had heard radio silence from him.
She was surprised when Enzo texted her that morning and not only asked to meet up, but requested to do it in a public setting, as he suggested meeting for a drink at the Grill around 6 PM.
It was now 8. And she hadn't heard anything from him, despite texting him a few times to check in, and she could help but wonder if something had actually happened to him or if he were really that much of a douchebag that he didn't find it necessary to just cancel on her like a normal person. Instead, he opted to waste her time and humiliate her in the process.
She pulled out her cell phone again—the last five texts sent between them were from her—and she stopped herself from sending another as she placed it down and shot the bartender a disingenuous smile before she lifted the glass to her lips and took a sip.
Fifteen minutes. She was giving him fifteen minutes before she called it quits, called an Uber, and took her drunk ass home. And then, she was going to erase his name out of her phone book and forget that she'd ever said anything about liking him—about wanting to see where it could go—because it clear at this point that he didn't feel the same way.
It was Bonnie. It would always be Bonnie. And she was pathetic for thinking it could be her this time.
She was an idiot for thinking it would be her ever.
She took another sip of her drink and licked the remnants off her lips, before she felt the presence of someone sitting down in the stool besides her, and she almost laughed out loud, because really?
Two hours later, and he was going to show up, just like that? As if he'd done nothing wrong? As if this hadn't been embarrassing enough?
She was just about ready to tell him that as she turned to face him, until she realized it wasn't him at all. And her brows furrowed with confusion as the familiar set of green eyes met hers and she opened her mouth to speak but muted the verbal assault she was about to onslaught onto Enzo as Nora smiled and she placed her pocket book on the counter before ordering a martini and turning to face her.
Elena cleared her throat and tucked a strand behind her ear as the girl continued to smirk at her knowingly.
"Hi, uhm… What are you doing here?" Elena asked and Nora clapped her hands together as Elena's eyes remained wide, sitting up straighter in her chair and following her chestnut eyes.
"Having a horrific day. Just like you, it seems. I came to grab a drink on my way home from the college and I saw you sitting here, all dressed up but alone… Are you waiting for someone?"
Elena wasn't sure how to answer that. If she said no and Enzo showed up, Nora would put two and two together and that would be bad. But if she said yes, she realized Nora would probably ask for the who. And if she said Enzo, she was liable to have a drink thrown in her face, because from what she knew about this girl, she was fiercely loyal to Bonnie. And anyone who Bonnie disliked; Nora hated. Ten-fold.
Enzo was obviously on that list, twenty times over, because of the stunt that he pulled.
"No one. Not anymore," Elena said and left it at that as Nora lifted a brow and Elena quickly changed the subject. "What about you? Why was your day so horrific?"
Nora scoffed at that, as the bartender placed her drink down and she thanked her; taking a long healthy sip, before looking back up into Elena's curious eyes and biting her bottom lip.
"I'm not sure you want to know."
"I do. I have… all the time in the world, apparently," Elena said honestly, and Nora shifted in her seat as she tucked a strand behind her ear and remained silent. "Bad day of classes? Unruly lecture hall? Or did someone pull a prank? I know Alaric hates that—"
"I had a meeting with the Dr. Maxfield, about reinstating Bonnie."
"Oh."
"Yeah," Nora said as she watched Elena purse her lips shut and she followed her eyes as the uncomfortable silence passed between them before Nora cleared her throat and finally continued on. "Look, I know you two aren't on the best of terms right now, so you probably don't care but… I… tried. I tried really fucking hard to get Bonnie her job back. I did everything short of selling my soul to the devil."
Elena ticked her jaw at that but remained quiet.
She may not have been involved in Nora's crusade, but she knew that part was true. Caroline had told her.
Nora was able to successfully get over 6,000 signatures just from the residents of Mystic Falls in support of getting Bonnie Bennett her job back. She'd written an article for the town newspaper, The Mystic Falls Courier, calling out the college for its lack of support when it came to the female staff members—specifically those of color. She'd held a protest, even, with the help of Caroline, Alaric, and Marcel on the campus; and she was even able to get the majority of the male faculty members to join in, as they demanded Bonnie's case to be re-reviewed and the decision overturned, as they stood with signs and megaphones outside of the 's office until he agreed to a meeting with Nora, and Nora alone.
Caroline was optimistic that they would change their minds, and this would be the perfect birthday gift and surprise for Bonnie once she returned from Italy. She gushed for what felt like forever over Nora when Elena went over for wine the other night, and she all but begged Elena to change her mind about helping with the party because she believed it would be the olive branch that Bonnie needed for the two girls to be able to mend their friendship.
Elena declined, although she commended Nora for all that she was doing.
And she was being honest about that.
She may not have been friends with Bonnie anymore but she didn't believe that she should have been fired over the incident—and it was what she meant to get across to Enzo the first time she invited him over to talk about it; she meant to tell him that he needed to be the one to make it right.
But instead, she fucked him.
And that was what made Nora a better human being than she was; because she was an all-around better friend, too.
Elena snapped out of her thoughts as she watched Nora take another sip. She seemed to be distant within her own musings as well, before Elena finally broke the silence with an exhale and offered a slow and understanding nod.
"I… know. Caroline told me. You were working really hard. I'm... sorry, for what it's worth. I really am sorry."
Nora nodded at that and bit her lip. Elena noticed a slight hint of tears behind her eyes, but she didn't let them fall as she cleared her throat and sat up straighter. She took a long sip of her martini and nearly finished it before folding her hands and offering a shrug.
"Yeah, well, there's only so much you can expect in a town like this," she said looking into her eyes. "The small-mindedness… the ignorance; it's a disease. And… men like that—the one's with power, influence and money—they'll always seek to keep women under their thumbs. Enzo got what he wanted. And Bonnie lost everything… how is that fair?"
Elena shifted uncomfortably at that as she shifted in her seat and shook her head as Nora's green eyes glowered when they met hers.
"It's not fair, Nora… It wasn't ever fair," she said evenly as Nora's tears formed again and Elena tilted her head. "But… Bonnie will be really grateful that you tried; I know her, she… doesn't forget things like that. She doesn't just forget the people who looked out for her and had her back… She's really lucky to have you."
Nora didn't respond to that, but Elena noticed as her lip trembled and she impulsively reached forward to wipe away a tear the moment it hit her cheek. Nora exhaled softly at that—at the soft touch of her skin against hers—and she offered an embarrassed smile when Elena dropped her hand. Elena's stare remained on her all the while.
"I'm sorry for crying, I just felt strongly about it, is all… She's the first person who gave me a chance at Whitmore. I'm in the middle of a suburban southern town and I'm an outsider. I'm just some loudmouth British bitch to a lot of these people—even worse that I'm not straight… so I just… I feel like I owe a lot to her; for looking out for me. For keeping me sane," Nora explained, and Elena nodded before she went on. "You… probably think that's really lame. A far cry from the girl who told you that you look like you'd drive an old beat-up station wagon."
Elena laughed at that as did Nora when she remembered that night; the time Nora came to check in on her because she'd stormed out of this very place, so upset about Bonnie and Damon. And this girl before her—who barely knew her—had been kind enough to pay her a visit and make sure that she was okay.
"No, I think it's endearing. And sweet. I think that you have a big heart and you care a lot about the people in your life and… you'll do anything to protect them. And there's nothing wrong with that… there is nothing wrong with having a heart," Elena said, and Nora sniffled at that as the girl polished off her drink and followed her eyes. "Trust me. Being heartless—or at least pretending to be, anyway—is not all it's cracked up to be," Elena said as she looked down and looked at the drink in her hand. "I've been guilty of caring too much. Then trying to correct it by not caring at all… And it never ends well," she said truthfully, and Nora bit her lip at that as she moved in closer, with a lowered and easier tone.
"I think I probably like you better with a heart," she said.
Elena looked up, to meet her electric green eyes, and she just stared at her for a moment; drinking in the silence between them, before she offered a soft smile and a nod. Elena tucked a strand behind her ear, and cleared her throat; her voice suddenly hoarse, when she finally opened her mouth to speak.
Nora's gaze never dropped, all the while.
"I'll keep that in mind," she said, before taking another sip of her drink.
XXXXX
"How is he doing? Is he… feeling any better?"
Bonnie turned around from the kitchen counter to meet the meek voice that came from behind her. Her eyes landed on his emerald ones and she watched as he swallowed hard; his normally relaxed features turned into a worried frown as he approached her, with his hands slipped into his denim Levi pockets.
Bonnie offered a non-committal shrug before turned back to the cutting board before her. Her hands slightly shaky as she chopped up pepper with the butcher's knife and he sidled up next to her silently; the heaviness only multiplying between them the longer the seconds passed. His green eyes pierced into her skin as he awaited an answer before she opened her mouth to speak.
"Today is better," she said simply as Stefan bit his lip, waiting for her to continue. "I… showed Damon a meditation that I do to decompress… and made him some of my Grams' tea, with herbs from Gail's garden. So, he's been… calm," Bonnie said, recapping the past three days into three sentences while he listened on. "How are you?"
Stefan offered a shrug just a flippant as he continued to watch her tiny hands at work.
"I'm fine. I'm dealing. I'm just… mostly worried about him," he admitted as he ticked his jaw and Bonnie didn't say a word in response. "Listen, Bonnie… if there's anything I can do just… You'll let me know. Right?"
Bonnie looked up at him at that. She watched as his heart broke behind his eyes and she stopped chopping for a moment to turn to face him; her arms folding over her chest. She offered a nod and Stefan exhale at that as he tried to respond with a smile but couldn't, when he felt everything tightening in his chest.
To really answer her question, he wasn't sure how he was doing, to be quite honest.
Because it'd been three days since he found out his father was dying, three days since realizing that Damon had been lying to him his entire life—holding so many things in, just for his sake, to protect him—and three days since his brother had even talked to him. The very last words that Damon had said to him were at that dinner table that night—when Damon told him go fuck himself. When he told him to just stay out of it for once in his goddamn life.
So, he'd been trying to. By giving Damon his space, after he witnessed just how distraught he had been in the backyard during his conversation with Bonnie; the one that neither of them knew he was privy to. He wanted to give Damon room to breathe because he knew this was hard on him.
And it was only going to get much harder once he found out about Enzo.
But he knew there wasn't really anything that he could do when it came to Damon, unless his brother was ready to talk to him, in return. It'd been months since they'd had a real conversation—months since they got into a petty argument about Bonnie and Enzo—and Stefan knew now that he'd been completely in the wrong to react the way that he did. Especially after seeing how well the woman in front of him had been taking care of his brother virtually all his life—even when he hadn't been.
Bonnie was the best thing to ever happen to Damon; she always would be. And he was stupid to think that she'd ever up and leave Damon the way that she had with Enzo, when it clear that what she felt for his brother always transcended that.
She was in love with Damon. She had always been in love with Damon. She just hadn't always been ready to admit it.
Because she didn't even know that there was ever anything to admit.
"Thank you, Bonnie," he said simply, and she lifted a brow at that but didn't respond as he lowered his voice, but it remained firm as he continued to talk. "Thank you for all that you've done for Damon and… I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't treat you and your relationship with the respect that it deserved, right from the start. I was wrong. And I apologize for how I reacted."
Bonnie pressed her lips shut at that she remembered; the dinner he'd set up with her and Enzo at his home in hopes of getting them back together. His chastising when it came to Damon—as he made it clear he was disgusted with his brother and his actions. So much so, he stopped talking to him for months, as she watched how much that tore Damon up inside.
It hurt, because Stefan was her friend, too. He always had been, since they were kids and she thought they would be, for the rest of their lives.
But the way Stefan treated Damon—his own brother—was what upset her the most. Because the Stefan she knew was better than that. And the Damon she knew needed his brother; despite how much they fought, bickered, and tried to axe each other out of their lives.
Damon loved Stefan, more than anyone. He was willing to lose his mind over him. But it was toxic. And it always would be, until they both admitted that, and consciously made an effort to right the ship that had gone so terribly wrong.
And they needed to do it, before it was too late.
Bonnie dug her foot into the tiled ground, and she looked up to meet Stefan's desperate pleading eyes as he watched her in silence; waiting for her to say something—anything.
Hell. He even would've been happy if she smacked him right now.
"I appreciate that," she said instead, and he almost let out an audible sigh of relief as he watched her eyes soften against his. "I don't… forgive you on Damon's behalf. Because I can't; it's not my place to do that. But I believe you—that you are sorry. And… I am choosing to trust you because I believe that you can do better. I think you can do so much better by your brother, if he gives you the chance to do so."
Stefan nodded at that and Bonnie watched as a tear rolled down his cheek. His face was flush as he wiped it away and she let out a soft sigh when she watched him tug at his trembling lip with his teeth.
He was trying. He really, really was.
"I will. I will do better," he said honestly, and Bonnie nodded at that as he fought back another tear that threatened to roll down his cheek. "I just want my brother back, is all… And I hope it's not too late to turn it around."
"It's never too late, Stefan, you just… have to want it bad enough," she said, before she stepped in even closer and exhaled as he followed her eyes. "Damon and I… we happened because he realized that it wasn't too late to go for something that he wanted; because he didn't give up, even though I had, when I realized I was settling for Enzo," she admitted as Stefan remained silent and she pursed her lips shut. "What we did was wrong. I know it was. And… you had every reason to be upset with him—and me—because we hurt someone who cared about us; someone who would have done anything for both of us. But… Damon isn't the reason I fell out of love with Enzo, he was the reason that I realized that I wasn't in love with him to begin with. Because all along, I wanted something else; I wanted someone else," Bonnie revealed, and Stefan furrowed his brows at that as she continued on. "I would've married someone I didn't want to be with anymore if Damon gave up hope. I wouldn't be with the person I want to spend the rest of my life with if Damon didn't believe that we had a chance, so no, Stefan—I don't think that it's ever too late to turn it around. I don't think that you should ever give up or lose hope… I think that you should always fight for something when you know it's worth fighting for."
Stefan didn't say a word at that. Instead he leaned in and hugged her tightly; his head landing on her shoulder as Bonnie's arms wrapped around him as well.
He held her strongly in the embrace for what felt like hours, before finally releasing her and meeting her eyes. She finally offered him a smile and he flashed one in return as well as they just stared at one another before Stefan turned back to the unfinished meal she'd been preparing on the countertop and gestured to the array of vegetables and peppers while she followed his eyes.
"Can I help? It's kind of my forte," Stefan said, and Bonnie laughed at that with a nod as she watched him go over to the sink quickly to wash his hands and roll up his sleeves.
When he came back, she handed him a knife and Stefan smiled in response before grabbing a tomato and getting to work.
XXXXX
"I've told Bon-Bon plenty of times that I think you and I have something going on. Do you think she'll actually believe me if she finds us up here?" Damon asked jokingly and Sheila Bennett snorted as she shut her bedroom door behind him and rolled her eyes; a shit-eating grin was plastered on Damon's cheeks all the while.
"You wouldn't even know what to do with me if that were true, Damon. Stay in your lane," Grams replied, and Damon laughed at that as he watched the woman walked towards her dresser in the massive master bedroom, before opening the top drawer. "Now, if you're done talking nonsense, I wanted to give you something. Before I forget."
"I'm guessing it's important, because you pulled me away from an exciting game of Scrabble," he said as Sheila dug into the drawer and he folded his arms over his chest for a moment, tapping his foot. "I was winning you know."
He wasn't exaggerating about that part. Damon had been whooping some Bennett-Hopkins ass this evening at Bonnie's family Christmas dinner before he was inexplicably pulled away to "get more snacks" from the kitchen with Sheila, just a few moments ago. That resulted in him actually following her upstairs to her bedroom, which would have been salacious enough dream when he was younger—because not for nothing, but Grams washot when he was eighteen—but apparently this didn't have a thing to do with his schoolboy crush at all. Sheila Bennett stole him away from the festivities because she had something to give him. And he could not have been more curious about what it was as he watched her sifting through her things for a few minutes and his eyes wandered around the colossal suite before he finally heard an a-ha pop from her violet-stained lips.
Damon walked in towards her and Sheila turned around with a smile and something in the palm of her hand as he lifted a brow once he watched her reveal just what she had been searching for.
She opened the tiny gray box silently to reveal a breathtaking 4 carat ring with a platinum band attached; the crystal-clear halo cut diamond ring glittered magnificently even in the dimly lit room. His forehead wrinkled at that as a satisfied smile formed onto Sheila's lips before she looked up at him and Damon struggled to find his words.
He finally spoke first.
"Are you asking for my hand in marriage?"
"Do you ever stop joking around?" Sheila shot in response and Damon smiled at that as did she when she stepped in closer; his eyes completely enamored by the ring in her hand. "This was my engagement ring. From Bonnie's grandpa. He proposed with it when we got married. It's never been altered," she said, and Damon watched on her eyes met his, suddenly serious. "I tried to give it to Rudy when he proposed to Abby but he's stubborn; and he didn't want my 'handouts,' but you… I know you don't need it—I'd bet Giuseppe left you a mighty trust fund, but… I want you to have this, Damon. For when you and Bonnie are ready. I want you to be the one to give this to her."
Damon was taken aback at that, as Sheila handed the ring box off to his hand. His eyes widened when he inspected the magnificent piece of jewelry before he looked back up into her eyes and shook his head as he swallowed hard.
"I—I appreciate this. Sheila. I really do. But… maybe Rudy and I have something in common, after all," he said as he handed the box back to her and let out a short sigh. "I can't take this," he said biting his lip. "Besides the fact that Bonnie's not even in the realm of thinking about marriage in the next 30 years after what happened with Enzo, I… would feel guilty if I took away something that gave you happiness while I was waiting on mine," he reasoned and Sheila listened on. "I can't. It's yours. It's your reminder of your husband—"
"It's a reminder that we don't get to choose who we love," she interrupted him, and his dark brows knitted. "I certainly wouldn't have picked James if I had any say in the matter," Sheila added, and he remained silent at that as he watched a smile meet her lips again. "You and Bonnie—you two remind me of him; of what we had… The bickering, the competitiveness, the… tenderness when we were both finally honest enough to admit to what we wanted—when we realized it was each other," she said, and Damon's lips flirted into a smile at that while he remained silent. "I know you don't want to take this Damon—because you think I'll be missing it, but I won't… All of the memories that I have and need from James are in here," she said tapping her temple as she looked into his cerulean eyes. "I just want you to make her happy, Damon—as happy as I was; still am even though he's gone. So," she took his hands into hers and Damon looked down as her fingers formed over his and the ring box was suddenly in his palm again, as she held on tight and he only breathed silently in response, because really, what else could he do? "I want you to have this, Damon. Because even though I know that you're not ready right now, you will be, one day. And so will Bonnie. So, don't give up. Ever. Keep fighting. And just know that one day you will have everything it is, that you've ever dreamed of… Because it is possible to have it all. And you don't have to feel guilty for wanting it."
Damon looked down at the ring box in his hand as he stood in the guest bedroom in front of the dresser drawer. He was fresh out of the shower with his towel draped over his hips and his damp hair on his forehead while he studied it quietly, remembering that Christmas night when Sheila had given her ring to him, just before he and Bonnie set off to Italy the next day.
He obviously didn't plan on proposing with it yet but he did decide to carry it with him here, because there was something about Sheila's story that moved him; gave him hope, when he remembered just what this ring stood for.
And the happiness he would have to allow himself to have, if he could just finally let go of all his pain, mistakes, and trauma in the past.
He needed to heal; he knew that much, if he and Bonnie were ever going to have a future.
If he was going to have a future.
And he knew the first step was acknowledgment; he needed to accept who he was—and what he had gone through—before he could even begin to liberate himself from it. He needed to admit to the way he felt and talk about it, as frequently and as candidly as he had to, so it could stop having so much power over him; so this grief, anger, and impulsivity could stop controlling him. He wanted to recover; he wanted to be able to believe in the people around him—and himself—but he wasn't going to be able to do that if he weren't honest with them, and himself, as well.
Speaking with Bonnie over the past few days began to thaw the ice-cold exterior that he'd formally encased his heart and emotions into. She was perfect, just like she always was, when it came to listening to him not just to respond, but to understand. And even though he knew this was far from over—and he was far from better—it was the first time in his life he actually believed that maybe one day, he could be.
One day, he wouldn't be so wrecked over the fact that his mother died, right in front of him. And maybe he wouldn't destroy himself in an effort to cope, when he came to terms with the fact that his father was dying too—and he couldn't stop this train.
Hell, maybe he could even learn to forgive Stefan. And talk to Enzo. Really apologize to Elena.
But he needed to take it one step at a time. And having Bonnie there; it helped.
He wasn't sure she'd ever truly understand the magnitude of how much her love saved him—because it was a debt he never truly believed he could pay back.
Damon ticked his jaw and he tucked the ring back into the drawer, before grabbing a pair of boxers, dropping his towel, and pulling them on. He swallowed hard and turned around when he heard a knock on the door before it opened and just like that, there she was. An easy expression crossed on her virtuous face, before she leaned in the doorway and met his eyes.
She was positively breathtaking; glowing, even, in this light.
"Hey. Dinner's ready, if you want to come down. Your parents left to meet up with friends and Stefan went out for a run, so it'll be just us… I made peperonata. Attempted to make peperonata, anyway from the cookbook I found in the kitchen," she said with an innocent smile and Damon flashed one in return at that as she bit her lip. "I'll… give you a few to get dressed—"
"Hey, Bonnie," he said, and she stopped in her tracks and turned around to meet him. He remained silent as he walked towards her slowly and she pressed the door shut behind her, never dropping her gaze from his eyes. "Can we talk?"
"Of course, always," she nodded as she folded her arms comfortably over her tank top and inhaled; the sweet smell of his lilac shampoo infiltrating her senses as he stood in penetratingly close proximity to her. "What's going on?"
"Nothing, I... just realized I haven't thanked you for today—this week—and I wanted you to know that I do appreciate all of this. And you and… I'm sorry about the other night; about what I said—"
"Damon, it's fine. I promise, it's okay—"
"It's not okay," he interrupted her, shaking his head and she pressed her lips shut as she stood quiet and listened. "Things fell apart for me, pretty badly, and my first impulsive decision was to try to end things with you… and you aren't the problem, Bonnie. You never have been. It's me; it's… everything to do with me," he said, and Bonnie didn't say anything as she watched him struggling to find the right words to say, while he looked daringly into her eyes. "The last time I ended things—after that stupid rave—I promised you that I would never leave you again; I promised you that, that, was it; that I'd finally get out of my own head and… this week proved that I haven't. The truth is that sometimes I find it impossible to believe that you like me because I don't even like myself a lot of the time. I'm… still not where I want to be as a person and I'm not who I want to be as your boyfriend," he admitted and Bonnie swallowed hard at that as she remained in place and she let out a deep sigh; a mix of emotions hollowing out in her eyes.
"I… know that you're a work in progress. And I know that when you said you wanted to break up, didn't mean it. Both times. You… were running away, Damon. Because that's what you do sometimes. You run when things get hard. Or when it's too good to be true—"
"I know. I know I do," he said before taking her hands into his and forming his warm fingers around hers, as he followed her stare. "But that's not good enough excuse. Not for me and certainly not for you. So, instead of me making another promise, I just want to give you the best apology that there is… Changed behavior," he said, and Bonnie's forehead wrinkled at that as he ticked his jaw. "I will change, because you, Bonnie Bennett, make me want to change. You… make me want to be good, and you make me want to heal from all of this, and you," his fingers dropped her hands and met her cheek—slowly trailing along her skin as she inhaled deeply; goosebumps rising along her skin—"you make me want to be forgiving. Of not just other people, but of myself, too. And I know that is the first step to getting out of all of this. I need acknowledge things. I need to talk about things… and I need to forgive. Just like you've forgiven me. And… I guess I just wanted you to know that; that I'm committed to this, and you. I am… 100% committed to you. And I always will be."
Bonnie blinked back her tears at that and offered a silent nod as he wiped her jaw with his thumb the second one rolled down her cheek. She remained fixed on him, like a movie, that she just couldn't tear herself away from.
Because he was quite possibly the greatest film of all time.
"I think that's a good plan," she said and he licked his lips at that before she cleared her throat. "But I… I do still think there is something I can do to help you, along the way—to help get you where you want to be," she said and Damon lifted a brow at that as Bonnie moved from his embrace and walked over to her pocketbook that sat across the room on the night table; her hands dug through it for a moment before she turned back around to face him.
His eyes narrowed when he walked back over and she took his palm into his own, gently handing over the contents as he looked down and saw a shiny, silver key.
He looked up with furrowed brows and Bonnie let out a deep breath in trepidation while Damon brought the metal up to his eyes.
"What is it? The key to your heart?"
"You are so annoying," she shot back with a grin and he smiled contently when he watched her look down to the ground nervously before her eyes were back up at him; and in that moment, he swore on his own life, he couldn't have ever possibly loved her more, "It's… the key to my place; my condo," she said and Damon remained silent at that though his stare just as inquisitive the same. "I know that you're planning to figure things out when we get back to Mystic Falls—with your dad and Gail moving back next month, but I… was wondering if I could make things a little bit easier if you just decided to live with me?" she asked and he felt his heart suddenly jump to his throat. "It'll be… our place."
They stood in aching, agonizing silence for a moment, as they just stared at one another and Bonnie was the first to speak again as she pursed her lips and offered a shrug.
"I know it's hard to picture yourself living in a condo, what, after growing up on acres of land in a mansion but… I think this is the next logical step for us Damon, after everything. So, I mean… You can think about it, or whatever and let me know how you feel, once we get back. Offer still stands for however long you need it," she said, and he furrowed his brows as she looked down nervously and lowered her voice. "Or you can just say no if you think it's too soon—"
Her words stopped when Damon immediately pulled her in and his lips met hers in a burning, heart stopping, bone-rattling kiss; the kind you read about but would only be so lucky to experience for yourself, as he kissed her so strongly—so passionately—he was practically breathing her in. And Bonnie was all but of puddle of emotion; absolute putty as he held her in his hands.
When he pulled away, he felt the tiny expels of her breath on his lips and she smiled with relief; her fingers slicking back his wet hair while his hands held still at the hips. Her green eyes looked into his and she breathed smoothly though her heart was racing.
It was taking everything in her not to just kiss him over, and over, again.
"So, I take it that's a maybe, right?" she joked, and he scoffed at that as his dimples formed on his cheeks and his lips grazed her own, while he spoke in a low whisper.
"Who's the annoying one, now?"
"You. Still you. Always you—"
Her words were interrupted as she let out a shriek and a giggle when he lifted her into his arms. Her legs instantly wrapped around his waist with their mouths still welded to one another's in a fervent kiss, before he laid her down onto the bed and climbed on top of her.
Bonnie looked up at him silently for a moment, staring in absolute marvel, as her manicured fingertips trailed across his jaw and he shut his eyes to the feeling; the sounds of his breathing remained rhythmic, though his heart was ready to pound right out of his chest.
He leaned in and kissed her again; this time, slower, but no less starving, as he all but devoured her lips and her tongue, as the succulent taste of the wine that she'd been cooking with traveled onto his tastebuds.
Bonnie moaned against his mouth and pulled away softly—regrettably—as she reopened her eyes and grazed her thumb along his bottom lip. His eyes remained carnal all the while.
"The peperonta is gonna get cold," she started, and he stopped her, with an index finger to her mouth; she was dangerously close to capturing it with her tongue.
"Let it," he whispered as his touch sent a chill down her spine, when his free hand made it to her jeans—he successfully popped open the button without even looking, "because I don't plan on allowing you to leave this bed for the next 48 hours, Bonnie Bennett. I hope you're ready for that."
Bonnie grinned in response to that as he kissed her again—longingly and hungrily—while he slid her jeans down her legs and fondled his hands all over her body; his lips practically mauling hers in the process.
He only stopped when he was suddenly beneath her; pinned to the mattress with Bonnie's hand as she employed all of her strength to roll them over, while he now laid beneath her and she straddled him completely over his lap.
He watched on in pure delight and enchantment when she pulled her shirt off over her head, exposing her lacy black bralette. He couldn't stop his eyes from wondering, until he heard her voice again, as he watched her slowly taking it off.
"The better question is, are you?" she asked. "Are you ready?"
A/N: Hey everyone! Another looooong chapter for you all! I wanted to dive into all of things involving Damon's mental health and him finally realizing he needs to properly cope with it, because I felt like the show did a horrible job at addressing it (and basically blaming Elena anytime he went off the rails). I didn't want Bonnie to be RESPONSIBLE fin this story either, but I wanted her to be able to show him that he can grow and change if he wants to (like she did in the canon). I also thought it'd be cliché to break them up over the stuff with his dad so I hope you are all happy it went in another direction with them reconciling instead. Thoughts on it all? Stefan now knows about Enzo and I also threw in some Elena and Nora just because I enjoy writing them. We will see where that goes… Thanks for reading, and review if you can. Until next time! xoxo