He's walking back to the heath centre, bringing with him the paper cup with the last tiny bit of his coffee – it will have to keep him charged for the rest of the afternoon – to sip it while he fills out the forms on his desk, when he peeks by chance at the scenery offered by one of the big windows he's passing by.
He doesn't recognize her immediately, he just slows down in his steps curious about the running figure down in the courtyard, to stop once Bonnie comes into focus. Just a few minutes ago she was calm and smiling to him on from the other side of the little table they shared, while they chatted upon their coffee.
His eyes follow her as he takes peeks back to see who's following her, because she's not running towards something but rather running away from someone. Noah is about to throw away his cup and run down, but he barely manages a step back before he sees her crushing against the cocky boy he had met just the day before. Her arms wrap around him tightly and she almost hunkers down against his chest.
It is sudden and unexpected for both Noah and the boy, it seems, because he stands awkwardly there, unmoving.
There's a little sting inside Noah's stomach, something he doesn't analyze. He has no need to know the cause of that sting, he's more interested in what has scared her so, but behind her there's nothing.
#
He's stopped breathing, not that he needs to, really, but she just leaves him breathless as his eyes look down and his body stays perfectly still into the frail cage of her arms.
The scent of her fear fades away in his nostrils, like touching him made has dissolved it.
The commotion caused by her little scuttle made someone turn around and stare – a thing of which she seems totally unmindful of - only to turn to their business a few moments later. To Damon it feels awkward, upsetting, slightly uncomfortable; there's a subtle pain, like a needle piercing him in the middle of the chest, it gives him only the slightest pang as his heart swells.
And in the middle of all that, she's still pressed against him like she could carve herself into him; for a moment he thinks that she will, and he takes her arms, ready to pull her away, and yet it's not every day that Bonnie Bennett gets scared like this, it's not every day that she runs to him. There's pride biting at his heart, it's is inconvenient and unsettling.
Bonnie opens her eyes and breathes in, breaking the moment and giving him the courage he needs to disconnect her from him.
She looks up at him, as his arms are stretched to keep her at arm length, and it doesn't really matter because his fingers are around her arms, and the safe hiding place she found is still very, very close.
Damon wants to crack a joke, talk about how she couldn't wait to get her hands on him, so much that she didn't even care about the possibility of being arrested for obscene acts in a public place, instead he asks "Aren't you supposed to say something now?" as he takes his hands off her.
Bonnie doesn't know what to say, how to begin and explain that there are two worlds pulling her and she's gonna break, but her candid voice stops her.
"You must really trust him," the old woman sighs at her back. Her calm spirit does slightly chill her, but it has nothing to do with that cutting cold she had felt before, "In your own way you're lucky. In my times I never met one single vampire that wasn't just interested in humans when they were a mean to their purpose, and here you are, confiding in such a pretty creature."
And as the old woman speaks, she remembers of the good reasons he gave her to not trust him.
Her eyes move in his face for a second.
"Thanks," it's all she says.
There's something wrong about this, he feels like he's got his hands tied while she's sinking down.
"That's not what I meant," he says, keeping at bay his apprehension.
"I know," she just answers, fueling his anxiety. The way he looks at her makes her want to tell him the truth, and despite it all he's there for her. She's so tempted to tell him because, after all, things are already this bad, it is hard to think that they could get any worse.
"Damon…" she begins, but Elena's louder voice dominates over hers, and she fakes a smile as her friend takes his attention.
Elena talks softening her voice, like she's about to speak in God's stead and give him absolution for all of his sins and a few he's yet to make "Jeremy told me you were looking for me," – of course, Bonnie thinks, what other reason could there be for Damon to be there?
Jeremy moves from Elena's shadow only to come at Bonnie's side, and plant a kiss on her cheekbone.
"Hey," he murmurs, trying to share a short, private moment with her.
"Hey," she murmurs back, faking a smile.
In the back of her mind her whiles are turning, her reasoning is trying to come up with a way to survive. All it takes is a inch of Damon's skin, a nail of his finger, and she's good – of course it all must be attached to its owner, and this what makes things a little bit tricky, but she can work it out.
There's no need for him to know, to be conscious of his use. The word bothers her, she tries to tell herself it's just a slip, a misplaced word, but things are never this simple.
"I just… " he shakes his head, "He needed a ride, and I volunteered," Damon explains, still Elena smiles at him like he's just made a public declaration of love. So much so that he himself wonders about his real reasons, about the meaning behind his words. Until five seconds ago he was pretty sure he took the occasion Jeremy had thrown at him to check on Bonnie, and yet Elena's obvious firm belief that he can't possibly have any other interest for being there then her makes him unsure for a moment. After all, he has never done anything other than trying to please her, get her.
"I'm glad you did," she says – her tone as sweet as a public declaration of love requires in response.
Only, the fact is that right now there's something he wants a bit more then getting in her pants – for how astonishing it might seem even to himself - and Elena is the one stopping him from getting it.
He takes a pick at Bonnie, she's giving lovey-dovey eyes at baby Gilbert, holding her hand like he could get lost in the park any minute and she must keep watch as any good babysitter would. He looks away , annoyed, because they're all busy talking shit and no one notices the giant elephant in the room, and it's not his job to address the question. He is not Bonnie's best friend, nor her boyfriend, nor her guardian.
"I think we could talk, maybe… what do you say?" the way she looks at him makes him think they will not talk much – they never do, after all - but rather fuck each other until they can forget for a moment why he broke up with her in the first place. Right now the idea kind of titillates him; he's got some tension to release, maybe it's not the most romantic attitude he could have but Elena won't mind.
#
Damon follows her into her dorm room, looks around to acclimatize with the place, know where she moves and sleep and laughs. Her bed is the one in the middle, he doesn't even have to look at her flowery duvet to know. Somehow she's always in the middle of everything, the centre of attention. He has never doubted that was her place in the first place, so it feels quite odd to notice so cynically the telling location of her bed.
In stark contrast with it Bonnies' bed is in the darkest side of the room, attached to the wall that does not have a window. Yes, very telling indeed.
Damon is unsettled by the sudden turn of events – the way Bonnie has run into his arms rushes to his head with a gush of blood, and he must keep himself from stumbling back in surprise as Elena approaches him unaware of it all – by his bitterness about a situation everyone but him is so lucky to be blind to.
Well, it doesn't concerns him. He's only ever cared about Elena, always, really. Yes, maybe he entertained himself with the mission to bring Bonnie back from the dead, and so what?
Whatever it's happening to Bonnie that's her business, her problem, and he does not care - Elena opens her mouth to speak but he leaves her no possibility to - in fact he's too busy kissing, quite violently, his ex-girlfriend, that's poof enough.
Elena moans in his mouth, she bites down on his lower lip, the taste of blood fuel his aggressiveness. He thinks this will be over rather soon but the idea doesn't bother him, eager to lose himself into her, only it turns out to be over even before it starts because there's a knocking on the door and he growls as he pulls Elena away.
He turns his back on the door as Bonnie enters, he can feel her move around, opening drawers and closet that she's trying to put together her clothes as fast as she can "I'm about to go out with Jeremy, okay? Don't worry about me. I'll be gone in a minute."
She's obviously talking to Elena, when in fact Damon is the only one worrying over her. She should at least have the decency to recognize that much, he think, only to remember suddenly he's supposed to not worry and not care about her.
Fuck. She's such a pain in the ass. Why didn't her remember that before bringing her back to life? He could have spared himself a lot of nuisances.
He catches a sparkle of turquoise from the mirror on Elena's night stand, before hearing the key turning into the keyhole.
Elena speaks once the bathroom's door is closed, "We can go back to our… conversation once Bonnie is gone," Elena says, with a low voice so that her roommate won't hear her. He's not in the mood to converse with her anymore, and this room has gotten suddenly too small for him. He unconsciously brushes his hand over his chest, where Bonnie's cheek had been pressed, as he replies, "I think we'd better talk another time, it's probably not the moment, you're…busy," he says, "you girls probably have to talk about makeup tips and protection. The best one is abstinence if you ask me," he says walking to the door and closing it behind him without a second glance.
#
She's taken a shower, wore in a rush a pair of jeans and a long sleeves blouse, because her bruises have not faded away yet, and she's noiselessly waiting for the next one, after all. But she concedes herself to wear a pair of turquoise heels, because lately she's so plain, so shabby and banal she feels like she can't find her own personality anymore; she needs a burst of color, a flash of light.
Maybe if she wears something pretty at her feet, she will be able to stand on her legs and see this through. For how stupid it might seem she feels better, or so she likes to think. These days the difference is quite fleeting.
"I'm ready," she announces with a brave smile, making Jeremy turn around, "Shall we go for a walk?"
"A guy told me there's a party at the Delta Zeta, I think you need to let loose a bit," he suggest, "How does that sound to you?"
She feels a cold shiver, and is tempted to turn around to check if there's any ghost around her, but Jeremy put an arm around her gently, "It's good you wore something with long sleeves, the weather is getting bad tonight," and she relaxes, smiling more. The days is almost over and she can say it has been a good one, finally.
The headquarters of the sorority is quite crowded, a natural consequence of opening up to the student body a place provided with pretty girls and alcohol. All the drinks are made of pretty color and delicious smells.
The boyfriend of one of the sorority girls is from the Kappa Alpha Order and he's the party genius. He was a shy boy when he entered College and he took a diploma in flair bartending during his first year so that he could make an impression on the girl that is been his girlfriend for the last three years and counting; he's an impossibly nice guy and, needless to say, he's quite popular in the campus.
Bonnie knows him because of the echo of his popularity but has never seen him in action until tonight. Watching him it's so funny that for a minute she can forget her troubles. She manages, with Jeremy's help, to move up to the front so that she can better watch the show he's putting up.
He smiles, winking at her as he makes one bottle in the air with the left hand, before using that same hand to cover his eyes as the bottle falls perfectly into the metal tin he holds with the right one.
A giggle escapes Bonnie's lips and she claps her hands in delight, like a little girl.
He makes the bottle fly back in the air, takes it in a smooth movement and bending his arm down, release it over his shoulder, the bottle comes over on the right side of his body, he bumps it over with the elbow, pushing the bottle back over making it flip around again.
"That's called The Bump," says the pretty girl next her, noticing her interest in the show. Bonnie can easily guess her to be his girlfriend from the loving way she looks at him. They are a odd couple of people in a place packed with stereotypes and forbidden substances.
"The pretty lady here looks in need of a good drink, doesn't she?" he asks the crowd, before stealing a glance at his girlfriend, practically yelling over the loud music, which transitions for a moment, going from "I'll do you like a truck" by Geo Da Silva to remixed version of "Smells like teen spirit" by Nirvana.
He takes three bottles, making them roll in the air like the best circus juggler, mix bumps and head grips and more moves then she can count, it is so entertaining that she doesn't even count the liquors he uses, and she's not really educated in the drinks department anyway, so she's pretty sure she would never guess what he is preparing.
He lashes the air with the last bottle, pour something else in the tin, then takes it and pushes up making the alcohol go in the air like a column that he collects again with another tin, which he flips in the air again without making a wasting a single drop.
In the end he presents her a glass of "Invisible, for you" with ice, while everyone clap their hands.
Well, if it isn't a very appropriate drink for a girl that is just that, invisible.
#
She found herself a calm corner on the fire escape to sip on her drink and watch the stars while she waits for Jeremy to come back with something to bite. She was supposed to wait at the door but she's just a few steps away and she supposes he will easily find her. It looks like a good night and she's trying to enjoy it as much as she can.
The noise behind her makes her turn, expecting to see Jeremy, instead she finds herself staring up at the pretty bartender she's been watching all night, pulling along his girlfriend.
"Hey there," he says with a smile, "This corner is usually empty."
"Sorry," she rushes to say, standing up from the step she was sitting on "I didn't know-"
"That's okay, don't worry," he interrupts her raising one hand in the air, as the other one is still holding on to his girlfriend's "I'm Ezra, and she's the Queen of my heart," he says playfully, gesturing at the blonde girl next to him, "I confidentially call her Your Highness."
"I'm so generous. Lucky you," the girl says, lightly elbowing him in the side.
"I'm Savannah for you," she adds, reaching her hand out to shake hers.
"I can't tell you the honor you given me," she can't help but reply dramatically, "I'm Bonnie."
"You look lost and in the middle of asking yourself what the hell you're doing with your life," Ezra says, making her falter for a moment, before he adds, "You must be a freshman."
"Is it so painfully obvious?" she ask with a smile.
"Painfully is the right word," Savannah replies, "But it gets better. With time and a loyal subject."
It's like they're interchangeable. She ask a question to one of them and the other one answers, and vice-versa.
"My loyal subject is taking his sweet time," she says, peeking behind their backs to see that Jeremy is nowhere in sight.
"Then find another one," the girl piques easily, leaving Bonnie a little perplexed.
"You're cruel Your Highness."
"I know. Beware," she says faking a threatening tone.
Their bizarre interaction has something very sweet about it, she feels just a tiny bit of envy watching them be so in sync with each other, they fit together and that's all. She wonders if from the outside Jeremy and her look just like that. She wonders if she's ever felt like that with him, and has never actually realized it.
"Oh but wait!" Savannah cries out pointing a finger at her, "Freshman, pretty… are you the one that had a date with doctor Rowe?"
"A date?" she asks confused, "I have a boyfriend."
"Which doesn't mean much here," the girl replies, adding "Unless you're so lucky to have a loyal subject that happens to make the best scrambled eggs in the world."
"I only know how to make scrambled eggs," he explains to Bonnie.
"I didn't want to say that, but he managed to burn to a crisp everything he tried to make for me."
"Still, I try," he says, looking at the girl next to him with puppy eyes.
"He tries," she says, nodding towards Bonnie and holding back a laugh.
"Anyway," she continues, "Are you going out with doctor Rowe?"
"I'm not," Bonnie answers shaking her head.
"A lot of girls will feel relived. Last year we had a record of unknown illness. Girls threw out the first symptoms that came to mind only to be checked out by him. I think one of those girls had to be put into quarantine because she had just came back from a tropical country and from what she had told him it seemed like she had cholera."
Bonnie can't help but giggle at the idea, "That's crazy."
"I think he did it on purpose so the girls would stop going to him for no reason."
"Did they? Stop, I mean."
"Of course not!" Savannah tells her making a face.
#
So now she's doctor Noah's sweetheart and every girl wants to be in her place. Oh, if only they knew how uncomfortable her place actually is.
She's amused thinking of it and she gulps down her drink in a go. It's very good, she should compliment Ezra next time she sees him.
The liquid spread a pleasurable warmth inside her stomach, she's not used to it and it makes her head light and her knees weak. So much so she has to sit down again, sliding against the railing this time.
Every wall inside of her is coming down one by one.
It's like her muscles are instantly relaxing at once and she feels a little laugh come out from her throat. It feels really good. In the distance she can hear people chatting, the music coming out louder any time someone opens the door at her back. Someone decides to take the easy way and actually leaving through the fire escape because inside is too packed to reach the stairs.
She doesn't hear not care to, when the old woman at her back speaks.
"Oh dear, you're making things way too easy for me. I will try not to complain though."
She smile with her white eyes and ominous smile, as Bonnie's head lolls on her neck.
#
The shutting of the door makes him peek from the sitting room and curiosity has easily the best of him. He's not good at resisting temptation, no matter what kind.
"You're the poster boy of the broody teen-ager. What now?" he asks stopping Jeremy from taking the stairs to his room.
"Nothing," he replies, irritated.
"It doesn't look like nothing," Damon insists, "That front door is hand-made and it's worth more than you are," he protests, making Jeremy turn and look at him with a surly expression.
"Bonnie has disappeared on me," he explains, trying to keep at bay his bother at the idea, "We were at a party and I went to go take us a drink, only when I got back she wasn't there anymore."
"Maybe she found someone with a car and a license to actually drive it," Damon suggests with an amused grin.
"I looked for her everywhere," he says, having learned to ignore Damon's ass-like comments "If she was tired she could just tell me," he adds before walking up the stairs.
Damon turns his eyes, thinking of her strange behavior. Miss Perfection has actually done something very ill-mannered to her precious boyfriend, which is nothing compared to what he did to her, but still is very unlike her.
But throwing herself into his arms and pressing against his heart like she was going to break down its door was no different. The memory is so vivid he can smell the fear fading away around him as she holds on to him.
He claps his fingers against his thigh as he stands there and thinks that he's not going to do anything about this, because it's not his business. Only, everyone else seems blind to her odd behavior and if they don't care enough to find out for themselves it's not his place to tell them. Which still does not mean he wants to take care of it personally.
In fact he won't.
He goes back to the living room, pours himself a drink. Marker's Mark Straight Kentucky Bourbon, a sultry redhead that can seduce a man to a point of permanent infatuation with its aroma, an unique and full-flavored, hand-made bourbon, made using the old-style sour-mash that must be tasted slowly because it would be sacrilegious to do otherwise.
He watches the amber-colored liquid in his crystal glass, smells it closing his eyes. Behind the closed lids his can see the tension of her features leaving her face, her relived expression as she holds him tight with that little strength she's got.
Damon opens his eyes, forcing himself to sit down on the sofa. It's not like he can do anything, is it? But if worse comes to worst there's still that little phone application she has planted on everyone's phone when Elena was in trouble once again, and they had to make a deal with the devil's second mate. Maybe he could use that, he thinks taking his phone out - if he cared to, of course, which he doesn't.
Damon gulps down the bourbon and leaves the house in a rush. He's just bored and feels like partying, nothing more.
At the sorority headquarter he doesn't find anything but drunk girls. And a pair of turquoise heels abandoned at the foot of the fire escape.