Note: chapter title from "holding on and letting go" by ross copperman.

wasnt gonna post this til sunday but here's a bonus chapter because i'm just so excited about this story! happy thanksgiving y'all!

... ... ...

2. everything you wanted, everything you don't

… … …

He parks far enough away from the Grill to allow him to blow off some steam, thinking the walk might give him time to clear his head. Instead, by the time he gets there, he's practically seething.

He walks into the Grill, spots Elena in their usual booth, makes his way over to her. She looks up and waves, but something about the look on his face makes her frown.

"Uh oh," she says.

"Hello to you, too."

"You don't look like you're in the mood for pleasantries."

He clear his throat, takes a deep breath. "My father has decreed that I am joining the football team this year. Tomorrow, to be exact."

Elena blinks at him. "What?"

"Yes. My 'silly writing hobby' isn't going to get me anywhere in life, and it's time for me to live up to the family name."

"Just when I thought your family couldn't get more screwed up."

"I want to break something."

"Well, don't break the table." He looks down and finds that he's gripping the table so hard his knuckles are white, and he clasps his hands together instead. "Damon can't be happy about this."

"Oh, no. He was just his usual smug self. 'Congratulations, brother,'" Stefan sneers. "I should've told both of them where to shove it."

"What did your mom say?"

"She just stood there like a puppet and smiled."

"I can't believe this. Doesn't he know you're terrible at football?" He glares at her. "Okay, sorry. Fine. Let's just get our milkshakes. Maybe the ice cream will cool down your hot head."

The waitress comes by, and she orders a Rocky Road milkshake, while he orders his usual vanilla. Elena kicks his shin teasingly. "Aren't you ever going to order something different?"

He scoffs. "I thought the whole point of a tradition is that it's the same every time. You're the one screwing everything up. Since when do you like Rocky Road?"

"Since I read it on the menu and it sounded good." She rolls her eyes. "Have you thought about your predictions?"

"I've been a little preoccupied."

"Well, think about them now."

"It doesn't matter, anyway. Anything I thought this year might be has been completely shot to hell now." He lets out a long breath. "I don't understand why he's so intent on making me miserable."

"Listen to me," Elena says sternly. "This is going to be a great year, okay? It is. I'm giving you one day to wallow in this, and then you're going to suck it up and make the most of it. You might get a spot on the team because of your name, but you suck at football - ouch, don't kick me for being honest! Odds are you'll never even see the field. So really, you just have to bide your time at practice, and then live the rest of your life the way you want."

"If that was a pep talk, it needs some work."

"Come on, Stefan," Elena sighs. "This sucks. I know it sucks, and I know you hate it, and I hate that you're so upset. I hate that your family hurts you this way. But it could be so much worse, and just think of it this way." She smiles. "Now you get to spend your Friday nights with me while I cheer instead of holing up in your room, waiting for the game to be over."

He thinks of her parents, feels like a complete dick. He knows that's not what she meant, but still. He knows she misses them every day, wishes she could have them back. His problems suck, but they'll always pale in comparison to hers. "You're right. Sorry."

"Don't apologize. Just… take a deep breath," she suggests as the waitress sets their milkshakes down in front of them. "Drink your milkshake, and try to think through some positive predictions for the year."

She pulls the small box out of her purse, and he smiles at the faded logo on the metal. They started this tradition on the first day of fifth grade. Her parents died that spring, and Stefan was trying to find whatever way he could to cheer her up. He told her to think of something good she wanted to happen this year, to write it down, and he would do the same. "We'll put them in my secret Ninja Turtle box, and we'll open it at the end of the year and see if they came true."

Over the years, the predictions became less like predictions and more like wishes. Things they wanted to happen, even if the odds were slim. In ninth grade, he predicted that he would make Katherine fall in love with him. (Elena may have thrown her shoe at him when he read it back to her at the end of the year.) But he succeeded in his original goal - to make her smile. No matter how sad she is that her parents are missing another first day of school, their tradition makes her smile every year. It gives her a little glimmer of hope, something to hold on to. Something to look forward to.

He thinks this year maybe he needs it a little more than she does.

… … …

Every year, on the first day of cheerleading practice, Elena wonders why she joined this stupid sport in the first place. And every year, as she pulls her hair into a tight ponytail and ties a red ribbon around it, she remembers the proud smile on her mother's face when she helped Elena dress for her first cheerleading competition when she was five, and she feels a piece of her heart break.

She might hate it, but it makes her feel close to her mom, so she's gonna take her own advice and suck it up.

The first practice of the year is always awkward. She doesn't hang out with the girls on the cheerleading squad because she can't take the drama. It's always about who's dating who, who's wearing what, who's house to get drunk at that weekend. She's got enough complications in her life without wasting her time and energy on stupid gossip.

Exhibit A: Caroline Forbes.

Captain of the cheerleading squad, Miss Mystic Falls favorite, star of every school theatre production since middle school. Last year, she started dating Matt Donovan, the up-and-coming quarterback who won a state playoff game while Damon was sidelined with an injury. (There's talk this year that he might take Damon's spot as the starting quarterback, but if Elena knows one thing, it's that the Salvatore family is football royalty in this town, and Giuseppe Salvatore would rather die than let his son lose his starting spot to an underclassman.) She lives and breathes drama, and she's always the star of the show. Even now, as Elena takes her place to stretch with the rest of the girls, Caroline is leaning over the chain-link fence for a quick make-out session with Matt.

Elena rolls her eyes and looks to her right. "Do those two ever come up for air?" She asks.

Bonnie laughs. "Eventually." The whistle blows, and Matt finally breaks away to join the rest of the team. "They have to be forced, typically."

"It's a wonder they haven't suffocated."

Suddenly, Caroline calls her name. "Hey, Elena, isn't that Damon's brother?"

Elena looks at Caroline, looks over at the field, sees Stefan talking to the coach, rolls her eyes. "He has a name, Caroline."

Caroline rolls her eyes. "Isn't that Stefan? You hang out with him, right?"

Elena eyes her suspiciously. "Yes."

"Is he single?"

"Caroline, you have a boyfriend."

"Well, obviously." She rolls her eyes. "I'm just curious. He's hot. Why have I never noticed him before?"

Probably because he's never been on the football team before, Elena thinks. "I don't know, Caroline."

Caroline shrugs and claps her hands to welcome the squad back for the new year, and Elena turns to Bonnie again. "What the hell was that?"

Bonnie rolls her eyes. "She's my best friend, but even I couldn't tell you how her mind works."

"Excuse me, Elena, Bonnie," Caroline says politely. "If you don't mind, we have important cheerleading squad business to attend to."

Important cheerleading squad business. Sometimes she wonders why her mother loved this sport so damn much.

… … …

Damon doesn't love a lot of things. He likes a lot of things. He likes the way he can have any girl he wants just by flashing his baby blues and his smirk. He likes being drunk on a Saturday night with his buddies. He loves his family, sure, he guesses, but his dad's overbearing and his mom's a pushover, and don't even get him started on his brother. There's not much he loves, but he loves football.

He loves the game. He loves the rush of running through the tunnel on Friday nights to an entire town's worth of screaming fans. He loves the calm feeling he gets right before he throws a perfect pass and hits a receiver in stride. He loves the way the world slows down when the ball flies through the air, loves the way his teammates pat him on the helmet. He won't lie, he even loves the camaraderie with his teammates that only comes from endless practices on hot August days. He loves everything.

He grew up with it, naturally. His father is a Mystic Falls football legend. It's common knowledge - at least if you ask Dad - that Giuseppe Salvatore would have been the greatest college quarterback in history if he hadn't blown his knee out his sophomore year at Ohio State. Damon didn't really get it until he picked up a football when he was four, but the first time he threw the ball to his Dad was the first time he ever saw him smile. Not smirk, not sneer, but smile. He's been groomed to follow in his father's footsteps ever since.

But it's come at a price. His father doesn't care if he enjoys it; he just wants him to be the best. At first he thought his dad was just trying to help him, trying to make him a better player because he cared. (Ha.) It took him a while, but Damon figured it out a few years ago - his father is living vicariously through him. He's grooming Damon to be the best college quarterback there ever was, just so he can turn around and say that he would've been better. He wants it so badly he's willing to tear down anyone in his way, including poor, innocent Matt Donovan. The kid played a hell of a game in the playoffs last year, and there's been a few rumors that Damon's starting spot is in jeopardy. Damon knows his father won't let that happen. He just wishes Matt didn't have to get caught in the crossfire of a Giuseppe Salvatore crusade.

"Poor kid doesn't even know what's coming his way," Enzo comments as he catches another lazy pass from Damon.

"Yeah, Dad's got a pretty serious vendetta against Donovan," Damon agrees, grabbing another ball from the basket and throwing a perfect spiral toward his best friend. "Kid better watch his back."

"I was talking about your scrawny little brother," Enzo clarifies.

Ah, yes, the elephant in the room. (On the field? Whatever.) "Stefan sucks at football, but he can handle himself. He'll be fine."

"Remind me again why your dad is so hell-bent on him joining the team?"

"Because Dad has this stupid idea that our family legacy is in jeopardy if Stefan doesn't carry it on after I graduate." Damon rolls his eyes. "It doesn't matter. He won't see any playing time. Not if Lockwood has anything to say about it."

"Or you?" Enzo smirks and throws laser at Damon's chest.

Damon smirks. "I don't care either way, as long as he figures out how to catch the damn ball." He watches as Stefan fumbles his way through a few drills while the coach and his father watch intently. "I don't care that Stefan's on the team. Maybe now he'll understand he's not the only one who has to deal with Dad's bullshit."

Enzo catches another ball, tosses it around in his hands. "You think Donovan's got a legit shot?"

Damon mulls it over, watches as Donovan throws a few passes to Tyler Lockwood, the team's best receiver. They're good, but he knows he's better. "Nah. And not just because Dad would throw a fit."

Enzo sighs, throws the ball back to him. "Your daddy issues are exhausting."

Damon watches as their father yells something at Stefan and fights the urge to wince. "Something tells me it's about to get a whole lot worse."

… … …

Stefan's the last one into the locker room to shower, and he's thankful. He can't deal with any more of their snarky comments today, and he needs to get the hell away from his father before things get ugly.

He doesn't understand any of this. He doesn't know why his father can't just be happy with one athletically gifted son. Damon's excellence should make up for whatever talent Stefan missed out on in the gene pool. He's thankful practices are generally closed to outsiders, because if he has to hear his father scream at him about not working hard enough one more time he might break his own arm just to give him an excuse to quit.

It's later than he planned by the time he finally makes it to Elena's house, but he can't (won't) go home, so he walks in without knocking. "'Lena," he calls.

"Kitchen!" she calls back. He hears more voices from the kitchen, hears Alaric's laugh and Jenna's indignant cries. He can never quite get over how much her house feels like a home. He supposes that's why he spends so much of his time over here; he needs a sense of home that he can't ever get at his own house.

"You look beat," Elena comments, sliding out the stool next to her at the kitchen counter. "Do I even want to ask how it was?"

Jenna slides a glass of water in front of him, and he gulps it down gratefully. "Will you break my arm for me?"

Elena snorts. "No."

"Some friend you are." He slides the empty glass across the counter and Alaric refills it for him. "How was cheerleading? How was your tutoring session?"

"Cheerleading was boring, but tutoring was great, because I'm super good at my job. Don't change the subject. I saw your dad over there while you were practicing."

"Your dad showed up to practice?" Alaric asks, trying to sneak a finger into the pot of whatever Jenna's stirring before she smacks his hand away.

"He wanted to make sure I actually showed up," Stefan grumbles. "But he took the opportunity to tell me that I'm doing basically everything wrong, including breathing."

"What about Damon?" Elena asks. "Did he say anything to Damon?"

Stefan scoffs. "No, of course not. Damon's perfect. Damon doesn't need any instruction."

"Damon's an asshole, so you still win." Elena smirks. "Hey, I have something that might cheer you up."

"Doubtful."

"Caroline Forbes asked me about you today."

Stefan glares at her. "There's no need to make up lies, Elena."

"I'm not kidding," she laughs. "She asked me if you were single, said you were hot."

"Isn't she dating that Donovan kid?" Alaric asks.

"You know far too many things you shouldn't know," Jenna teases.

Elena laughs. "She was sucking face with him about twenty seconds before that conversation."

Stefan frowns. "So basically, you're telling me that a hot girl who I can't have said I was hot. How exactly is that supposed to cheer me up?"

Elena rolls her eyes. "I was wrong. You're beyond saving."

Alaric sneaks a taste of Jenna's concoction while she's distracted. "You want my advice?"

Stefan rubs his temples. "Have I ever wanted your advice, Ric?"

Alaric ignores him. "You should have some of this spaghetti sauce, because it's delicious."

"Ric!" Jenna cries. "Stop sticking your finger in the pot!"

"I can't even compliment your cooking without getting scolded," Alaric complains. "Is this what it's going to be like when we're married?"

"Keep sticking your finger in the pot and you'll never find out."

Alaric widens his eyes at Elena. "Did you hear that?"

Elena just chuckles and turns back to Stefan. "Look, your dad won't be back to practice, because he's not allowed. Coach Tanner is much more forgiving than your dad, so I wouldn't worry too much about your performance. And as for Caroline…"

"Watch out," Alaric warns, pointing a wooden spoon in Stefan's direction. "That one'll get you into trouble."

"Like I have any intention of getting involved with Caroline Forbes."

"Famous last words, my friend," Alaric mumbles. "Famous last words."

… … …

When Damon walks into the locker room the next day, he finds that he's dreading practice. He never dreads practice. Usually, it's the best part of his day. Sometimes it's the only time he actually feels like he knows what he's doing. He hates school, and yeah, he's got friends, but only Enzo really understands the problems he has at home, and Enzo's a fucking shithead at least 85% of the time. But practice? Practice is his safe haven. It's where he feels most confident, most in control, most at ease.

But when he throws his bag down next to his locker, there's a note on the door to see Coach Tanner ASAP.

It's the third day of school. What the fuck could he have done wrong already?

"Salvatore," Coach greets him when he enters. "Shut the door, please."

Damon warily shuts the office door and takes a seat in front of the desk. "What's up, Coach?"

Coach Tanner leans back in his chair, links his fingers together, studies him carefully. Damon fights the urge to squirm under his gaze, and instead just stares back at him. "Do you have any idea what your grades were last semester, Damon?"

"Uh…" Damon wracks his brain. "I mean, I know they weren't great, but I passed everything."

"You made straight C's," Coach Tanner corrects him. "Do you know what that makes your current GPA?"

"I'm guessing it's not good."

"You're a hundredth of a point away from being ineligible."

That gets his attention. "Wait. Ineligible, like…"

"Like, if you don't get your act together this quarter, you won't be able to play. And I know you're looking at getting a scholarship for next year."

"Coach, I-"

"I don't want to hear any excuses," Coach Tanner says sternly. "You're a hell of a player, Salvatore, but your primary goal here is to graduate high school, not to win football games. No matter what your father has drilled into your head. Football comes second."

"Yeah, I-"

"Here's a referral to the tutoring center." Coach hands him a slip of paper. "I want you in tutoring after practice a few days a week. I'll let you figure out the details, but I want a better report card on my desk at the end of this quarter, or Donovan's starting the rest of the season."

Damon quickly shuts his mouth. He's sure his face must be white as a sheet. "Yes, sir."

He doesn't know how long he sits on the bench in front of his locker, staring at the strip of paper in his hand, wondering how the hell he's come so close to losing everything without even realizing it. He must look like a zombie, because when Enzo finally shows up, he says, "What the hell happened to you?"

Damon can't even answer. There's just one thought running through his mind on repeat.

Dad's gonna kill me.

… … …