Note: I'm truly sorry for being so slow with this story but it's turning out very hard to write for me, still I recently promised someone an update so here it is, I hope you like it.
#
Bonnie looks wary as she walks down the stairs, her mouth pouting, but he ignores it while he waits for her to follow him into the sitting room, her naked steps making soft sounds behind him.
She sits on the sofa opposite him, her small frame nested and almost ready to be swallowed by the red fabric, while still managing to look at him like she could put him down any moment. It would be endearing if he wasn't so annoyed by the fact that this whole unidentified mess has snuck up on him.
"So," he begins.
"So," she echoes.
Damon grins, feeling his little patience slip already.
"I think you should put your cards on the table, Judgy. You owe me after what happened last night," he reminds her.
"What happened last night?" she asks, making him laugh bitterly. Is she really going to play it like this? He's ready to ask her before realizing she actually really doesn't know.
"You mean you don't remember going around like a woman possessed and suggesting that we sneak behind Elena's back?" he asks, narrowing his eyes, setting to study the little change in her stoic face.
"I would never propose such thing, to you of all people!" she replies outraged, scoffing and turning her gaze from him.
"You did."
"I didn't," she insists blindly.
"Sorry to burst your bubble but the point is that you did make that proposal, and you did wake up in my very spacious bed, and my bed is the way it is not because I like to jump on it like a five years old, " he piques, crossing his legs and relaxing his back against the sofa's cushions. He sees her eyes go wider and her jaw drop slightly and her cheeks go red and he thinks this counts as payback for leaving him out of this, whatever this is.
"We didn't…" she begins, her eyes moving over his face to find a trace of reassurance that she didn't do something that stupid with her boyfriend's roommate, with her best-friend's boyfriend, with the cause of the majority of her headaches. "Tell me we didn't," she almost begs, making him grin.
"Tell me why an old psychopath went around wearing your body like you were the trend of the season."
"What?" She's taken aback and he has no doubt it's the first time that she's heard this story.
"Jeremy told me you left the party without saying a word and I found this dear, old serial killer having a reunion with her recalcitrant family – the female part of it anyway – itching to be the new tenant of your lovely loft."
"My body?" Her eyes give away a vague panic and finally break her forced aplomb, "That's not possible. That's—"
"That's exactly what happened," he cuts in, "And yes, your body, considering the dimension of it, I wouldn't call it a villa; though, she was rather interested in mine, can't really blame her," he explains, "But going back to the possessing part, how the fuck did that happen?" he asks, grinning to cover his anger. "Anything to do with the abuses you were not subjected to?" he presses, tired of having to play the part of the blind idiot when that role is already so fashionable as to be the norm.
She looks down, bites her lower lip and he thinks he's got her. She's about to spill it and he tries to be open about it; only, he catches a scratch and a stain of blood on the side of her feet, remembers her bruises and the doctor's words and gets angry all over again.
"At this point an update would be really nice," he presses again, almost making her jump because of his hard tone.
"I am the new anchor," she explains with no inflection in her voice, raising her eyes to meet his. He blinks, can hear the seconds passing next to him. She looks pale and tired and thinner than usual that he can so easily picture her talking to air, jerking away from invisible threats, chanting to herself prayers for a painless death that he feels his stomach turning.
"You mean you could wear anything you wanted and you thought the crazypants would look good on you?" His tone is almost shrilling as he tries to contain his frustration.
"It's not like I had a choice in the matter, Damon," she replies, her voice hardening in response to his belligerency. "It turns out it's what I get for coming back from the dead."
He looks at her cagily for a long, silent moment.
"You mean I did this to you," he says, his voice stark, his expression emptied of any emotion. She wonders if he's feeling guilty somewhere behind that wall of callosity or he just doesn't want her to think he's going to take any responsibility for what happened.
"No one could imagine it would turn out this way," she admits, starting to feel a little relieved. It's been so long since she could really open up to someone, and now it feels like breathing again after keeping her head underwater for months. Though, it feels awkward to be opening up to Damon Salvatore, of all people.
"The problem is that I'm not exactly their favorite person," she explains, and he narrows his eyes, leaning over to put his weight on his elbows, against his knees. "Some of them enjoy taking the scenic route as they leave, which means that it takes them time to pass," she says, pausing before admitting, "An excruciating lot of time… and it hurts," her voice threatens to break out of all the pain she has silently endured.
Damon holds his jaw tightly. She's tempted to concentrate and see if she can hear the rattling of his teeth, when he suddenly breaks the silence.
"Why didn't you say something?" he's actually yelling at her. Of course, he could never offer compassion – he seems to have none – but some sympathy would be well-accepted, she thinks looking at him, outraged and angry. He stands from the sofa, walks to the liquor cabinet, takes a glass but doesn't fill it. He seems to decide otherwise, so he puts it down, turns and walks back to ask, "What were you waiting for? Are you too mighty to ask for help?"
"No one can help!" she yells back, offended at his insinuation, "It's just the rule of the balance, someone has to—"
"Fuck the rules and fuck the balance. We screw them every other week, we can find a solution to this!" he protests as he remembers Amara walking around aimlessly, whispering pitifully leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone. He won't stay put and watch Bonnie taking her place in that scene.
"The solution would be to die again and pass this curse to someone else. I can't do that," she says, looking away so he won't see that sometimes, when she can't take the loneliness that comes with this secret and the fresh bruises, it seems like the lesser of evils.
He sits in front of her. "There must be a… loophole, something, whatever," he saying, like he's bargaining with her, eager to find a solution, leaving her confused and silent for a moment. She can't understand why he should care to find one. Maybe he's really feeling guilty about it.
The way he talks makes her feel like he could drag her out of this mess by force, like she could trick her way around it. "Sometimes I can send them away," she starts, carefully, "If I can do that before they begin passing through me, it takes them awhile to find me again…"
"How?" he inquires. She's way too vague for his taste. He's used to doing things, maybe not reasonable ones, but doing things and not waiting around for things to happen to him. He needs facts, a not very sound plan to throw himself into.
"Touch," she says, strangely tense in her place. He doesn't care to know why she's so edgy when there's some kind of solution, for however temporary, within her reach.
"Right," he says, nodding, "The old wench left when I touched you," he reflects aloud, not even watching her. "They seemed quite sure she wouldn't be back." If he did he would have seen the final realization hitting her.
"I-I think she's gone," she nods lightly. In her head Armandine's memory bumps from wall to wall, taking space the way she was used to take anything she wanted. "She was pushed to pass," Bonnie says, without giving away what actually forced her to do that. She still can't believe she's having this conversation with him.
"Good," Damon decides, "So all you have to do is touch someone and the contact sends them away," he concludes.
"It's not that generic," she says, "It doesn't work with anyone," she adds.
"Only the handsome ones?" he jokes, his mood suddenly better than a few minutes ago. She gives him a nasty look and he can't be bothered by it.
"Vampires?" he asks. "It does make sense, you know, "he reasons, snapping his fingers like he's just had an epiphany, "there's no space for two supernatural creatures so one must go and the incorporeal guy gets the shortest end of the stick."
"Not all vampires, actually," she says tentatively and he looks at her confused.
"You're losing me," Damon says, his tone flat. "What does that mean?" he grimaces, "Only the old ones? Only those with great taste in fashion? Only the males? Because in that case I think we can count my brother out."
Bonnie purses her lips, looking away before meeting his eyes again. Her voice is soft but steady and sure, like she's not going to admit anything more to what she says. It is hard enough as it is.
"Only you."
He blinks, tries to think straight and fails, swallows something stuck in the middle of his throat, questions if vampires can actually develop a hearing problem. A tiny part of him begins to wonder why Elena can never sound like this when she lists all the reasons why they are allowed to turn a blind eye on all the red flags coming up when they are together. If only she could sound like this only once, if he could be the only one just once, he could actually find some peace, enough to last him a few lifetimes to come. A few lifetimes to share with her.
"Only me," he repeats, his tone incredulous, bitterly amused when he adds, "Never had a girl say that to me before." Bonnie can't find anything to laugh about in that, which makes it uncomfortable for the both of them.
She can't help but stare at him, carefully leaving her expression blank, like they didn't just slip and let their guard down. It's not her place to know what he just told her; and something in her chest twists and rebels at his words. And the silence is heavy.
"I think things are moving too fast between us. It's not you, it's me," he jokes, offering a grin. She just rolls her eyes at him, and everything shift back again.
"I'm not asking you for anything," she clarifies, "I can manage," she says it with such certainty that it looks like she did a great job at convincing herself. But he can smell the blood from the scratches, can see the tiredness of her tiny face, remembers the restlessness of her sleep and he is not fooled for a single moment.
"Right, I saw that," he replies sarcastically with a nod.
Bonnie is about to make a retort when her stomach grumbles and he chuckles at the sound. "I'm sure what you were about to say was totally badass and righteous but you just ruined the moment," he notes as she presses one hand on her belly like she's trying to shush her body. She's been shushing her needs and fears for a long time, after all.
"There are eggs in the fridge, bread in the sideboard… somewhere, oranges to make some juice if you're into the healthy stuff. Help yourself," he says, standing from the sofa and walking away without so much as a glance in her direction, "I'll be back."
#
The Salvatore kitchen is twice the size of hers, and she mumbles to herself almost expecting to hear her echo. The table is set and there's an abandoned paper on it, together with used cups and silverware, like someone didn't bother to clean up after having their breakfast.
She goes to the fridge, opens it and checks her options. There aren't that many, but still there's more than one would expect in a house inhabited by vampires. Following Damon's suggestion, she makes herself some orange juice, though it takes awhile to find a juicer so big is the place. She even hums a song to herself while she coaxes all the juice out, something she hasn't done in a while. She's usually too busy running around and hiding from ghosts; but now that someone knows her secret, now that she has found a shelter – for how unnerving and intractable the shelter might be – she feels more at ease.
Ghosts are still chasing her, and the hurt is still behind the corner, and yet her mind is quiet for the moment. She can push aside Armandine's memories and her own nervousness at what happens next and just eat, because her body needs it — and her nerves too — more than ever. She knows that they might find her even in the Salvatore's house, still there's a silly part of her that feels safe.
She even lets herself crave some scrambled eggs with mushrooms and tomatoes, if only she could find the mushrooms. There's only one little tomato in the fridge, sitting there all lonely and pitiful, and she grins knowingly, "I'll take you out of your misery."
The bread is at the very bottom of the sideboard, wrapped in brown paper, but when she pulls it out she realizes that it's too old and hard to eat, so she settles for a pack of crackers. At least there's coffee, so maybe she will find a way to regain some energy before leaving for the next class. Bonnie sneaks a glance at the clock on the wall only to realize she missed the first one of the day, and she's bound to miss the second, too. There's just one left that she actually cares to attend but that's in three hours so there's no point in running away on an empty stomach.
The idea or running away makes her realize she's actually barefoot at the moment, and she shakes her head thinking about the torture that will be going back to campus in heels. She saw them abandoned on the floor of Damon's bedroom.
She rubs her feet together once she sits at the table, and she eats slowly and comfortably in the quietness of the place, until Damon pushes the door open and walks inside with a plastic bag dangling from his hand and an annoyed expression on his face.
"Your only one is back," he says, stealing a glance at the table but not at her, "I hate when people don't clean after their messes."
He's probably talking about Jeremy leaving without bothering to clean up, but it stinks a bit all the same because it could actually apply to her, too. After all he had to save her from a crazy lady-ghost that wanted to jump his bones – clearly an effect of going without getting laid for many, many years.
He sits, putting the bag down on the table, and pours himself a cup of coffee, resuming his reading. The bag falls letting her see that there's a rectangular box inside, but she pays no attention to it.
"I can take you back to college once you're done eating," he informs her absentmindedly, as he concentrates on the page of the paper.
Bonnie turns her eyes on him and goes back to chewing her food.
"I see there was something left in the fridge," he observes, distracted, once again, "it was Jeremy's turn to go grocery shopping but he conveniently forgot. The kid comes and goes like this place is a hotel."
Bonnie almost chokes on her food. for He sounds almost like a grumpy parent. It's a side of Damon Salvatore she's never seen before.
"It's fine," she says, trying to be polite. It's an awkward position, owing Damon something. It feels odd to say the least. "I made myself some scrambled eggs with veggies. Well, one tomato to be exact, but it's a veggie nonetheless."
"It's actually a fruit," he corrects her, not making the conversation any less strange than it is. Bonnie fills the space left by his silence with a big sip of orange juice before going back to eating. It's less comfortable than when she was alone because she doesn't know what to talk about with him. They covered the life or death matter and this is usually the part where they state how much both care about Elena and how they are ready to do anything to save her. Only this time it's not about Elena; it's about her and she doesn't really expect him to eagerly throw himself in a suicidal mission to save her ass. Though, he wasn't indifferent to her crappy fate less than half an hour ago.
His eyes are on the empty plate when she puts down her fork, and she is perplexed by the familiarity of the picture they offer. It's like being in the Twilight Zone, which is something considering that less than ten hours ago she was possessed by a ghost, and it's news that barely got a reaction.
"I think there's a yogurt left in the fridge, and some chocolate chips in the cabinet where we keep the coffee."
"I eat the yogurt only with fruit; but it's okay, I'm not hungry anymore."
"Suit yourself," he says with a shrug, folding the paper and leaving it on the chair once he stands from it. "If you're done, we can leave. Put your shoes on," he says patting the box. "I'll wait for you in the car," he says rudely, leaving her to stare at his back.
Bonnie blinks, eyeing the bag suspiciously. She pulls it towards her slowly, opens the branded box to find inside a pair of socks sitting on a pair of running shoes for women, the kind used for triathlons. Where does he want her to run to?
She doesn't realize she's smiling while she views her new shoes. It's not really the type of shoes she would go for, not when she's trying to blend into the background. Still they are a beautiful make in white, flash yellow and plum, and they feel especially comfortable when she tries them on. They make her feel a bit lighter when she goes to put her dishes in the kitchen sink and then walks out of the house.
#
She mutters, "Thanks," when she gets out of his car and is about to shut the door before she stops herself to add, "For the shoes, too."
Bonnie can feel herself blushing like an idiot to the tips of her hair because she is totally unprepared to have a reason for gratitude for him of all people. Because he's an ass and he's rude and he's selfish. But he is the same person that covered for her and paid attention to her when all her friends accepted her half-hearted excuses. Clearly, the Twilight Zone.
She takes a shower, changes, and puts on something clean. And Damon's shoes.
Like any girl in the world she's thrilled to wear new things, and she looks down at her feet and jumps in place to see if they are really as comfortable as they seem. They are, and she runs to her next class even though she's not even late.
#
When he proposed for her to meet for coffee every day he had given her two choices — one at eleven p.m. which she missed today, and one at four p.m. So, in the afternoon she leaves the library for a short break and a coffee.
When Bonnie arrives in the cafeteria there's the usual buzz and the table where Noah usually sits is occupied by someone else, a woman with her nose buried in a book that is not there anymore once she grabbed two cups of coffee. She supposes she can buy for once, since he's usually the one to pay for hers.
She waits to see his blonde hair and his clean yes appear in front of her at any moment, but the coffee gets cold and she sips her own ever so slowly just so that people won't look strangely at her for sitting there alone with two untouched coffees.
"Oh, hey," she raises her head when someone approaches the table, "Bonnie, right? The one that was not dating Doctor Rowe."
The girl smiling at her looks familiar, and it takes her just a moment to recognize Savannah.
"I'm still not dating him," she confirms with a smile.
"Shame," the girl replies without losing a beat. "So the coffee is for the mysterious boyfriend?" she asks, pointing her finger at the cup sitting in front of hers.
"Ehm, no, that's for… the doctor that I'm not dating," Bonnie replies grimacing, "Really, I know how it looks, but I swear it's not like that."
"I believe you, because any girl dating him would make banners and tattoo him with their name and a not-so-obscure threat," she says with a nod, making Bonnie laugh, "But if you're waiting for him you're going to wait for a long time. There's a huge line outside his office, which is really nothing new, so I doubt he will be able to take a break to breathe, let alone drink a coffee."
"There's a flu running around?" Bonnie asks perplexed.
"No, he's just very hot and girls sneeze romantic tunes to catch his attention," she jokes, "I suppose he looked especially dashing today, or maybe it's a coincidence every girl on campus has had the same brilliant idea, so now he's confined inside his office. Poor boy," she sighs, "Anyway, I was looking for a quiet spot in the library because my roommate is having a private moment with her boyfriend, if you know what I mean, do you know where there's a space left for a desperate student?"
"I was there ten minutes ago and it was full," she grimaces, "But I think I'm going to take the rest of the day so you can sit in my place. I left a pile of books and a blue pencil case."
"I own you!" the girl declares, grabbing her shoulders to squeeze them.
#
Even taking a simple walk around the campus makes her nervous due to the possibility of finding a ghost on her path. She tries to take comfort in the fact that she's perfectly equipped to run away now, but that's silly. Still, she can't live every second bracing herself for the next passing so she tries to breath in, enjoy what's left of the day.
She looks at couples lazily reclining on the grass, group of girls chatting over their open books, one guy playing around with a soccer ball while listing one element of the periodic table at every kick. Looking around she sees the back of Doctor Noah from a window as he flips through the pages of a medical record and she smiles, walking back to the cafeteria with a quick step.
Bonnie holds the espresso with both hands so that it won't get cold too fast and goes back outside, walking until she's right under the window of his office. Luckily, it's a raised ground floor because there's no way she can reach higher than that. She tries to peek inside but when she's not able to make out if he's alone she just shrugs and stretches her arm up to knock on the glass.
Bonnie is staring up hoping she won't have to remain like this for long. Her muscles are so tired already that she doesn't need a sore neck. The window opens just when she's about to give up and Noah looks down with his warm brown eyes and his picky blonde hair. He blinks at her and smiles, genuinely surprised to see her but looking very happy.
She doesn't leave him the time to voice his surprise before stretching her arm again, handing out the cup of coffee. He sniffs the air before taking it from her hand, brushing her fingers with his in the process. He does look especially dashing today, Bonnie thinks.
"I thought you might need it," she says, shielding her eyes with one hand so that the sun won't blind her.
"I was desperate for a cup," he admits, "I even considered escaping through the window, but I don't want to end up on YouTube. If you have a tablespoon with you I might try and dig up a tunnel."
"You're not in luck," she says, shaking her head. He's looking down at her with a serene expression and a smiling mouth when he tells her, "You look good," leaving her confused and a bit embarrassed.
"I mean, rested," he corrects himself, "You know, more relaxed," he clarifies, feeling like an idiot. "Are you feeling well?"
"Yes, don't worry, I won't get in line outside your office," she jokes, thinking of the girls waiting outside his door to get his attention.
"I wouldn't have minded visiting you," he replies, before realizing what he just said. "I mean, if you're not feeling well, of course I should visit you. But I hope you're fine. But if you ever want to come by, and bring me a coffee passing through the door, I wouldn't mind that either."
Bonnie smiles brightly at that. He's very nice, very good looking and a breath of fresh air in her messy days. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.
"Well, thanks, I guess," she says, taking advantage of the hand shielding her eyes to hide her look from him so that he won't see her embarrassment, or the interest he sparked up in her. It's just that it's flattering to have him look at her, not like an obligation or an inconvenience like the girls that are taking him away from his break and his beloved coffee, and she likes that.
He smiles again, before turning his head to look at the door, where someone is insistently knocking.
"I have to go," he rushes to say, raising the hand holding the cup of coffee, "I owe you."
Bonnie smiles looking around her when the window closes. She spots Caroline coming from the opposite direction and waves at her, getting a big smile in return. Her step seems incredibly light when she walks towards the rest of her day.