A/N: No apology, no lame excuse, we're going straight to the story. Because, simply there ain't any excuse to justify the delayed updates. So my dear readers how are still interested for this story please be patient, you'll get to read this one to the final point.

Chapter 3~ Acoustic

Like a Violin, you sing to me,

Silent melancholic yet beautiful...

The two figures hobbled through the steps, arms wound up around the other, one intoxicated the other simply intrigued. It was no child's play to support his weight throughout the length of the staircase; however she maneuvered the task with expertise. Once reaching the door, she glided the key in and walked into the apartment. Tenderly laying Damon down on the sofa cum bed, she went towards the door, securing all the locks in place she moved towards the awaiting man seated up front.

Damon continued to stare at the enticing girl, through hooded eyes and foggy mind, he could vaguely register the black leather gradually sliding off her shoulder. Flashes of the night were floating in the line of his vision, only to be replaced by patches of warm brown skin. Tantalizing, radiating yet intangible, his trembling fingers roamed over her exposed skin, caressing the air, absorbing the heat but never quite touching.

With each sharp inhale of his breath she took a step forward, evoking something primal deep within. She hovered above his frame, her palms on either side of his head, her breath caressing his face. Her dainty fingers twirled around his damp locks, lightly brushing over the skin underneath, causing goose bumps to erupt all over his body. He let his eyelids join with the other, as she took hold of his hands entwining her fingers with his.

Tonight, he needed to be numb, all his senses, he wanted to flood them over with euphoria of alcohol and exhilarating bliss, even if it was momentary, even if the memories came rushing back the day after, at this second, he sought the ecstasy of nothingness.

Observing the marred expression splayed over his face, she leaned in closer, her lips touching the soft cartilage of his ear, "Don't hold back, don't think of anything. Give yourself to me, pretty boy." She whispered. Her sultry voice set his blood aflame, his hold tightening on her soft palms. She smiled against his skin, feeling his nails dig into the back of her hand. Lightly untangling her fingers she placed both his hands on her lower back and pressed her body flushed against his heaving chest.

Damon's quivering fingers didn't dare to move from their position; he clutched her small waist tighter, desperate to sustain himself from the impending turmoil. Taking this as an invitation she attached her mouth to his exposed neck, transferring the red of her lips to the pale expanse of his skin. Her fingers weaved through his dark tresses, tugging slightly, needing more of the delicious flesh.

Unable to extricate from the Pandemonium he felt in every fiber he let out a guttural moan. His mind was bombarded with various images of the night, the busy streets, throbbing music of the bar, his friends, their laughter, their concern, Logan… His accusation, taunts. His mother, her never ending agony. 'Filthy Parasite' these two words kept on chanting inside his brain cells in an endless loop, like a slow burn poison, spreading through his very core, inch by inch transforming blood into acid. Through the tattered mess of blood and fire he saw those eyes, a mere glimpse of the twin hazel pool, innocent yet prevailing.

"Open your eyes… Let me drown into those ocean blues, Damon…" she rasped. Damon fluttered open his lid, his eyes locking with her tinted lips, he felt a gnawing pain clutching his head. As if he was reliving the night, the familiar burn of Vodka returning, he could see her leather clad body, her luscious lips, the jolting pain in his ankle, the touch of her soft arm around his torso, the night wind blowing on his face as they drove past the street lights, her lips on his cheek, her name… her lips murmuring against his skin, "300$, I'm yours for the night" before his mind obstructed all rational thought.

His insides screamed; this was wrong, so devastatingly wrong. Was he now to seek pleasure in exchange for money; was he to stoop down this low, yes he has relinquished to fate, drowned himself in alcohol, but he couldn't bring himself to continue with the act. Sure, he might be able to achieve solace for a flitting moment, but he didn't have what the girl demanded in return. As perseverance settled in, all signs of dilemma evaporated. Her touch that soothed him mere moments ago, agitated him to no end, the stench of her cheap perfume made him nauseous, the proximity now sizzled his senses.

Hastily he grabbed her wrists, pushing her off his body creating the much needed space to lurch himself from her grasp. Unable to sustain his weight, he fell back on the floor, landing on his bottom for the second time that night. His face contoured in pain as his foot bumped directly with the tea table.

Surprisingly she wasn't fazed by Damon's abrupt movements; gracefully landing on her side she dropped her weight on one elbow watching his bewildered expression.

His hand reflexively went to his injured foot, caressing it gently to sooth the pain, his eyes downcast when he decided to speak, "I… I'm sorry… I can't, I just can't. I don't know what came over me. One minute I was on the road, the next I was inside the taxi, with you… you sitting beside… I…"

"Is it the alcohol or that's the normal way you speak?" she said tilting her head to one side, still holding her position.

Damon took the harsh jive without any protest, his self esteem had been shattered before, one couldn't break something that's already in pieces. "I'm sorry." He said breathlessly, "I should probably leave." Gripping the side of the armrest he tried to pull himself up on his feet but failed miserably, his feet just wouldn't agree to it and the alcohol running through his vein certainly didn't benefit the condition. He drew in a few deep breaths before trying once more, when he found the dainty fingers gripping his forearm.

"Give it a rest, will you." She rebuked, "If you continue to put pressure on that ankle I'm sure you'd develop a crack, if you didn't already." Cautiously lifting him from the ground, she placed him on the sofa. After ridding the table of the décor she bent down to his foot, carefully elevating the injured leg she laid it on the table. "Now listen to me, Pretty boy, you're not to move your ass one bit from the couch. There's no way you can climb down the stairs on your own and chances of getting a cab at this time is next to impossible." She said with authority, noticing his perplexed expression she leaned in closer, a ghost of a smile caressing her lips, "You're to stay put, until I return."

Damon sat motionless in the unfamiliarity, his hooded eyes roamed over the surrounding; there wasn't much to catch the eye. Other than the sofa and tea table the living area consisted of a TV cabinet and a wooden shelf, on left was the small kitchen and on the right his vision was stretched till the white door, presumably it's the bedroom, behind which she disappeared moments ago. He fought against his weariness, trying hard to stay awake, soon the white lamps became a blur and behind his drooping eyelids the world turned black.

Behind closed eyes he could feel moisture dampening his cheeks, as all his senses started coming to live, the first thing he registered was the familiar ache in his foot. He fluttered open his eyes and noticed the white bandage tightly wrapped up around the injured flesh. The pain didn't disappear, but he could move the foot without pain surging through his entire leg.

"Don't worry, nothing's broken, just a little sprain. You're good for now, I've fixed you up." She said nonchalantly, busy tending to her own business.

"How did you…?"

She dropped the pile of clothes into bin and turned to him, "People like us don't have the luxury to run to a fancy doctor for every little scrape." She said with a smirk, but Damon didn't miss the melancholy behind her crude remark. Still fazed by the whole event he closed his eyes momentarily to get a grip. The long forgotten tears reappeared, not wanting to breakdown he wiped those traitorous drops with the back of his palm. Lost in the trance, he didn't realize when the much needed distance was taken away from him.

With feather light touch, she brushed the moisten trails from his cheeks, taking time she wiped the dried traces from his face. She could feel him flinching at the contact but to her relief he wasn't detaching himself. "Open your eyes; look at me… Let me see you, Damon."

None has uttered the familiar syllable in this manner, his own name sounded foreign to his ears, for the first time in a long time, it didn't sound like an insult. As their eyes met in a smoldering gaze, all he found was innocence swirling in her twin pool. But how, his mind demanded. How someone from her line of work could nourish such purity. Unable to hold her gaze any longer, his eyes roamed over her now pajama clad figure, he'd seen all traces of makeup had vanished from her face, giving her a much younger appearance than before. Once his eyes returned to its prior position he saw her inching closer.

"I don't have any money on me." He blurted out in a hurry.

"I know." She replied, pulling away from his face, "What, you didn't think I'll check your wallet?"

Shaking his head, he tried to swallow the disgust that crept its way up his throat. "Thank you, for wrapping my leg. I really appreciate it. If there's something…" he trailed off, clearing his throat he started once again, "I'm sorry to waste your time. I shouldn't have…"

"Gotten inside the cab?" she finished with a shrug, "Either way we didn't go through with it. Besides it's your first time I'm letting you off the hook." Flashing him one flirtatious smile she went to the kitchen. Only to return with a glass of water, Damon thanked her once again and gulped down the liquid.

"So, are you gonna tell me?"

Damon nearly choked with the water, sending it spluttering out of his mouth, he coughed until he felt his breathing even out. "Wh-What are you talking about?"

"Come on, Pretty boy." She heedlessly looked at the wall clock, "It's what, 3 in the morning, we have an entire night. Obviously you don't want to get into action, the least you can do is talk. Keep me entertained." She said with a mock pout.

"I… I don't know what to say…"

After settling herself down in a chair opposite to the tea table she pressed once again, "Um, tell me something about yourself."

"There's nothing to say…" he lamented looking down at his sweaty palms.

"Oh, come on." Letting out a sigh, she started, "How about the basics? Like what do you do, where you live, work and stuff…"

He gripped the armrest, his nails scrapping the faux leather covering, "I don't work."

"Don't tell me you're a student!" Her eyes suddenly coming alive, scrutinizing his features with new found enthusiasm. "Um, you don't look like one, how old are you?"

"I'm 25, unemployed, and I live with my mom. Are you happy now?" He all but screamed, making her recoil in her position. For a brief moment, none of them spoke, him being terrified yet eased to finally to be able to utter the words out loud, her being shocked and a bit frightened by the sudden outburst.

"Um, I thought all the weird goofs live with their parents, but you're handsome as hell! And that's something coming from me, I don't complement people that easy. But trust me, with one look I was practically swooning for those pretty pretty eyes." She said with a dreamy face.

Damon's eyes were threatening to bulge out of its sockets, is she even real, he wriggled his eyebrows, mouth slightly parted, he contemplated for a second before bursting into laughter. Her puckering lips only fueled his amusement earning an eye roll from the later.

"Glad I brightened up your face." She went to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, after returning she took a seat on the far end of the sofa, careful to keep a safe distance between the two.

"Now that we're done with the basics, mind telling me why you were gulping down an entire bottle of Vodka, while strolling down a busy street." She asked in a tender voice, afraid to lose the fluidity.

He straightened up, the tingling signs of anguish sufficing once more, "I… I don't want to talk about it. Please."

She inched closer, yet careful to avoid direct contact, "Damon, look at me." Her voice was like a soothing spring breeze, "Don't keep it locked up. You need to let it out. Tell me, what is it, what happened? You can trust me…"

A part of him wanted to let out a sardonic laugh, all these words would have made sense coming out of a counselor's mouth. Isn't that what his friends tried to accomplish, fixing him up with a psychologist, albeit the method, their intensions were pure. Ya right! He scoffed inwardly, but then why the same damn thing from her mouth seemed to have a completely opposite effect. She was anything but a counselor, he'd never seen her face before tonight, she was nothing but a stranger. Then why?

As if like a jolt of electricity, his mind flashed the answer in gigantic neon letters, dancing in front of his eyes. It's because she's a stranger everything was effortless, there wasn't any fear of judgment, no dread of inferiority clutching his heart, not an ounce of fear, she was a mere silhouette; that would fade with the rising sun.

"My friends, we had a reunion after two years. I had been detached from everything soon after the convocation. I've desperately tried to avoid all connection, keeping my distance from everything and anything that was familiar. But I guess the cycle had to end, I couldn't forever run from myself." He let out a deep sigh, before narrating the entire night, right from his entry to the point where he bumped with the girl sitting beside. By the time he concluded, the tell tale signs of prickling tears made their appearance, spilling over his lash line, they trickled down his face, however he made no attempt to hide the signs of weakness. He was broken, bit by bit with each passing day, gradually exhausting the last shred of hope. He was just waiting, waiting patiently for this tyranny to end, for his life to succumb to oblivion.

Unable to restrain, she reached for his hand squeezing them gently, while her other hand crept it's way to his face, wiping off his tears. She cradled his face within her soft palms, pulling him to face her, "If someone taunts you, if they hurt you knowing you're vulnerable and takes pleasure from your suffering, they're anything but your friends, Damon. Their opinion shouldn't matter to you, I mean there are over a trillion human being living, breathing on the surface of earth. If you listen to each and everything they have to say, I don't think you'll have ears left by the time that rambling ends." She shudders visibly at the thought, but he doesn't move a muscle.

"Having said that, did you ever think whatever they said/did might have been a tactic to stimulate your confidence, people resort to desperate measures just to set something straight. Agreed it might seem harsh, downright ruthless, but in the long run it might be the push you needed."

"How do you know so much?" he asked frazzled by the ordeal, "You know, you would give a professional hard time with all your knowledge about one's emotional and mental constitution."

She simply shrugged, "What can I say, I'm a woman of many talents." And she was back with her witty retorts. No matter how nauseating and agitated it made him feel, but he couldn't help but laugh his heart out. He didn't dare stop, they laughed and laughed until their stomach ached, and the facial muscle clenched to the brink of pain.

None of them could pin point the exact hour when they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's embrace, letting the memories of the horrendous night evaporate, leaving a sense of tantalizing solace wash over their being.

As the morning sun peeked through the glass, bright and shining, illuminating the space with the radiating beams, pronouncing the end of their elusive fleet. He pried his eyes open, a ghost of a smile adoring his face, though the orchestra inside his head didn't cease its performance, his broken self esteem didn't get rebound my some mystical force, but he felt a tentative heat enveloping his heart.

Detaching his limbs from her, he carefully rose up to his feet, putting minimal pressure on the injured leg.

"Good morning, pretty boy." She rasped with closed eyes, she stretched out her limbs. When she didn't receive a greeting she turned back to face him, realization dawned upon her as she took in his expression.

"I…"

"Don't." She warned.

"Listen, just…"

"Don't say anything, Damon. Not a word."

He gave a curt nod, before glancing down at his hands. Sucking in a deep breath, he unclasped the silver band of his Daniel Wellington and placed it over the tea table. "Thank you for everything, this is worth more than your…" Lifting his head up he met her gaze. "Goodbye, Elle." With the parting words he pivoted towards the exit, standing at the threshold he was about to step out of the door, when he felt her small arms grasping around his wrist.

"It's Elena…" Albeit her glassy eyes, she flashed him an exhilarating grin, "My name, it's the name my parents gave me."

He leaned in to place a wisp of a kiss to her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut, wanting to savor every second of the tranquilizing touch, not bothering about trivial factors, time, day, surrounding she stood immobile. Once the spell was broken she found herself in the familiar doorway, staring into the vast nothingness. A lone tear crept its way down her face as she uttered the words, "Goodbye, Pretty boy."

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