Stefan and Elena were on the roof, waiting for the sunset and making plans for their immortal existence like the chorus of some twisted, sappy indie-folk song.
Damon rolled his eyes at the ceiling and drained the remainder of the bottle of bourbon he'd been working on without sitting up.
He rubbed his tired eyes absently and dropped the empty bourbon bottle next to his leg on the bed, careful not to knock over the open laptop that was balanced on his chest.

"I'll get to live. I'll be a sister and a friend and I'll be with you. Forever. If I want," Elena was saying to Stefan. Damon could hear her muffled words from the roof.

Jesus fucking Christ .

Did they fucking have to do this above his bedroom?

Fucking gag me .

Had he really finished the whole bottle of bourbon already?

Fucking fuck .

Two idiots giggling on the roof with stars in their eyes, comparing his-and-hers daylight rings while Damon was in bed binge drinking bourbon like a failed author and looking up one-way flights to Iceland in between emails.
The room was growing dark, just like his mood.
He was a fucking cliché and he didn't give a fuck .
Greenland also sounded like a solid option. Maybe Croatia.
Russia seemed too dramatic, even for him. He wasn't about to send himself to Siberia over Elena.

Especially when Elena was on the roof with Stefan acting like she and Damon hadn't just had a massive argument an hour before.

Damon's hopes of a future with Elena had promptly drowned in the river, along with Elena, last night.
Elena had died on her way back to Stefan.
Matt Donovan had been driving the truck that Rebekah Mikealson had intercepted.
Stefan had been the fuck-up who let Elena die.
Meredith Fell was the one who had given Elena another chance at life in a way Elena hadn't wanted.

And yet, in typical Elena fashion, Damon was the one getting the brunt of her ire.
Through some horrific, osmosis-fueled hocus pocus fuckery Damon couldn't pretend to begin to understand, Damon's blood was now mixing with Elena's.
DNA was being rewritten, cheat codes for death installed, upgrades on vision and dental, strength overload, and other unholy things were happening to her body.
If anything was broken, it was being fixed.

A new version of the woman he'd been in love with the past two years.

An hour ago, she had stood in his bedroom, hyper-focused on Damon being a morally corrupt monster who had taken her memories.
Elena had ambushed Damon in his room while he was reviewing an upcoming expansion proposal for GLS Industries, telling him she remembered everything, the accusatory tone just barely discernible above her anger.
As if he wasn't familiar with the transition from living to undead.
Damon had closed the laptop, slowly, and stood up silently.
His arms crossed across his chest, simmering with anger, letting Elena get it out of her system as she pointed at him while angry tears streamed down her face.
He didn't want to hear Elena talk about how she remembered the night they had met when all that mattered was that she had died last night.

Damon didn't get a chance to save her.
Stefan had saved Matt Donovan but not the woman he claimed was The One .
Damon didn't care about her missing memories.
But Elena had kept pushing, saying Damon had taken her agency away by removing the natural path her life had been on that night.
She had accused Damon of being selfish and wanting to keep the moment they met to himself, to file away and hold over her head forever.

Damon had exploded.

"You weren't supposed to know I existed! You were supposed to grow old! And have gotten the life that you wanted, the life that you deserve. I know that I didn't used to get that, but I do now. I wanted that for you, Elena. I would have gladly given it to you. Had it been me at the river last night and not Stefan, I would have let Matt die because I am that selfish. But you knew that already. The first night we met isn't all that you remember."

Stefan had chosen that moment to walk in holding a bottle of champagne.
He found Elena and Damon facing each other, breathing heavily, eyes pointing daggers at each other.

"What's going on?" Stefan asked, looking from his brother to Elena.

"Damon was just reminding me that he's a dick," Elena said, wiping the tears from her eyes.

"Nice," Damon said, backing away.

Elena," Stefan started. "Your emotions are heightened because of the transition."

"Oh, fuck off. Both of you," Damon spat, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes in frustration.

Stefan looked at Elena and nodded towards the roof.

"It's from the year you were born," Stefan said, holding up the bottle.
Stefan pulled her close and guided her out of Damon's room.

Damon had watched them walk away as he lowered himself back on the bed, falling back on his pillows, reaching behind one of the pillows for the stashed bourbon he kept there.
For emergencies, he had said to Elena once.

He closed his eyes and thought of the first time he told Elena he loved her:

"I just have to say something," Damon had said, holding the delicate chain of her locket in between his fingers.

"Why do you have to say it with my necklace?" Elena had asked, visibly afraid as he walked closer to her.

"Because what I'm about to say is the most selfish thing I've ever said in my life," Damon admitted.

"Damon, don't go there," she had warned.

"I just have to say it once," Damon negotiated, ever the businessman. "You just need to hear it: I love you, Elena. And it is because I love you that I can't be selfish with you. Why you can't know this. I don't deserve you. But my brother does. God, I wish you didn't have to forget this. But you do."

The bed was shaking and it took Damon a moment to realize it was shaking because he was laughing. He was laughing so hard that the bed was shaking. He wished he could compel himself to forget his own stupid words.
What a fucking loser.
He thought he had been so clever. Voicing his feelings to Elena when she had politely asked him to shut the fuck up. It had been a flawless plan at the time. He could tell her how he felt and take it away without fear of her remembering. And now she had the audacity to remind him of his own actions.
He had no right to wallow in his room drunk and alone, close to hysterics.
Elena had chosen Stefan.

She had left Damon to die alone in a storage unit.

He was done talking and thinking about this.

He had timesheets to approve. Pivot tables to create. Market research reports to delegate.
At least business was booming.
It was divine intervention, really.

He and Stefan had agreed that whichever Salvatore Elena didn't choose would leave town.
Sure, life had thrown a curve-ball at the last minute and Elena was now part of the undead club, but that was no longer any of Damon's concern.

Damon closed his eyes again and tried to picture himself in Tokyo. Maybe in Berlin.
Iceland was going to be the winner. Something about it felt right.
GLS Industries was on track to open four international offices in the next year.
His calendar was booked with meetings to discuss location proposals, expansion plans, and budget reviews.
By the week's end the board would have a decision for the new locations, the plans and deal topped off with Damon's perfect signature.

He needed time to grieve and adjust. He couldn't do that if Elena was making lifetime plans with Stefan on the roof.

He'd lost Ric and Elena last night.

Two of the most important people in his life.

Damon would blame Stefan for Elena's death forever.
And yet, selfishly, he was glad that it was his own blood and not Stefan's that brought her back.
Let it serve as a reminder that without Damon, she wouldn't have come back.
Without Damon they wouldn't be making their stupid little plans.
Damon would never tell them how badly he wanted to be there for every version of Elena.
There would be so many opportunities and possibilities for her now that she wasn't tethered to a single lifetime.
She still had no idea of the amount of life she would be able to fit into countless lifetimes.
Damon wanted a chance to know her forever.
Even if she hated him.

"This is getting too depressing and I'm feeling a little self-destructive," Damon sang to the empty room.
He set the laptop to the side and reached for his cell phone.
He called the only other person who was more bored than he was.

The line rang once, twice, three times before an annoyed voice answered.
"What?"
"Let's go get a drink," Damon said.
"Pick me up in an hour," Katherine said before hanging up.

He smirked at his phone as the screen darkened.
He couldn't hear Stefan and Elena anymore.
They must have gone back inside while he was on the phone.

There were faint noises coming from the kitchen.
Stefan was probably making dinner.
A meal Elena would have to choke down, not because of Stefan's subpar cooking, but because she refused to drink human blood.
Damon had spent the morning arguing with Stefan about it, but it didn't matter.
Stefan would do what he thought was best for Elena.
Damon didn't want to point out that the last time Stefan had done what he thought was best Elena had literally died .

After a quick shower, he brushed his teeth and fixed his hair.

He had a date with the past and wanted to look his best for the mistakes he would surely regret in the morning.

The stairs creaked as he made his way downstairs to the kitchen.
It was the first time since Elena's transition from human to vampire that Damon felt the sudden emptiness of the house.
He realized Elena's heartbeat would never fill the rooms of the boarding house again. T
he thought hadn't occurred to him until that moment.
He swallowed thickly.
They'd argued in the kitchen the last time her heart rate had drugged him.

Now all he felt was the chill of her rejection.

He shook his head, dismissing his own melancholic thoughts.

He was drunk.

Stefan and Elena stopped talking when he walked into the kitchen.

Elena looked right at him, ready for round two.

He picked up his keys from the counter, avoiding looking at either of them.

"Where are you off to?" Stefan asked, a spatula in his hand.

"Don't wait up," Damon said as he felt Elena exhale with what he hoped was disappointment in his wake.