disclaimer. i own nothing of the vampire diaries-not even damon salvatore.

I don't know what day it is,

I had to check the paper.

I don't know the city,

but it isn't home.

And you say I'm lucky,

to love something that loves me,

but I'm torn as I could be,

wherever I roam.

"Elena!"

A five-year-old with long chestnut hair braided into pigtails turned to glance over her shoulder. She was standing outside the school with her father as they waited for the doors to open. Grayson Gilbert had to work early in the mornings and so he would bring his daughter to school five minutes before they even opened the doors—at the ungodly hour of 5:55 in the morning so he could make it to the base on time.

Damon knew this—Elena had told him—and he was able to convince his mother to drop him off early so she didn't have to be alone in the mornings. She had teachers with her, of course, but no one to play with. And they were best friends, and even at the age of six, Damon was well aware of the duties of a best friend.

He stood there, three inches shorter, with bright eyes and his hands held out, a handful of wildflowers in his hands that he'd picked from his backyard. His grin was big enough to split his face, exposing a gap in the top row of teeth where his Dad finally plucked his loose tooth with a pair of pliers.

Upon seeing the bundle of bright flowers, Elena tore away from her father and raced over to where Damon stood, a large grin mirrored on her red lips, taking the flowers from him.

"Picked 'em myself. Mama said you'd like 'em. Do you? Do ya like 'em?" he stuffed his hands in his pockets, remembering what his father said about men who fiddle with their hands.

Elena would go home and place the flowers in a vase, and when she would return from school in three days' time, she'd cry over the flowers her mother threw out because they had withered and died—but that morning, at 5:59 in the morning, she never said if she liked them or not. She simply leaned down and kissed Damon's cheek.

But then it was six and she had to say goodbye to her dad.

Twelve Years Later

February 2, 2011

We had both forgotten about that. In fact, if my father hadn't had a camera in his car, I would have never recalled such a thing.

Well it had been approximately two weeks since Damon had kissed me. I didn't know what I was expecting the next day when he came for his usual session, but I definitely wasn't expecting him to act so casual as if nothing had happened. Although it didn't seem like a situation we needed to talk about, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about it and it would have be preferable to get it off my chest.

But, instead, he arrived at my house and thrusted the math workbook I'd given to him a few days prior into my arms. Upon flipping through it, I realized he'd finished every single page in it that night after he left.

"Couldn't sleep," he said in response to a pointed look I gave him.

And the day went on and everything continued in normality—Damon and I would go over math while he laid at the end of my bed and when Damon became bored or frustrated, we'd stop and go downstairs to watch television or eat.

Damon had quickly become the focus of my schedule.

However, I was a very academically active student—or at least in my opinion, I was. I had homework and club meetings after school that I needed the time to do. And being with Damon usually distracted me from my priorities. I was behind on a number of projects and papers due within the week, so I sent Damon a text a few days before to give him the day off.

Surprisingly, he actually sounded rather bummed about not being able to tutor with me, but I shrugged it off. I had things I needed to do, after all. However, when Saturday came along, Damon was nearly desperate to spend some time with me, but I was so brain dead for completely all the homework I'd been putting off that if I saw another equation, I'd likely explode. So, we settled for a free day—which Damon was more than happy to accept.

I warned him that I was a bit tired, and that the most we'd do is watch a movie, but he seemed so eager to see me, he didn't care.

He came over and settled for watching whatever was on the television, though I fell asleep. When I woke up, I was aware that I was leaning against a broad chest, an arm draped across my shoulder. Glancing up, Damon's eyes were not on me, but directed over the couch, a small grin on his face as him and my father talked about fishing.

"I haven't really had the time for fishing, but I've been once or twice. It's rather relaxing—I enjoy it. But the biggest thing I've ever caught was a pretty decent sized rainbow trout," Damon murmured, not yet realizing my new, awakened state. It surprised me that Damon and my father were able to have such a casual conversation while Damon was holding me.

Idly, I wondered if I hadn't given him a choice in my restless state of sleep. I often force-cuddle, to quote Caroline Forbes—who has been a victim to said cuddling in the past. While a possibility, the position we were in said otherwise. Damon wasn't groping me or really touching any bare skin. Glancing over him, keeping as still as possible, I noticed his very uncomfortable position and concluded that Damon had simple gone along with it as to not wake me.

I heard my dad shift around in the kitchen, boots moving across tile flooring before he moved into the hallway and out the front door. I had forgotten that day, but my father was going on a fishing trip with Mayor Lockwood. Apparently, the mayor had planned on taking my father to the coast to do some deep sea fishing.

It was all too peculiar: my father not caring that Damon and I were on the couch together and then him leaving us alone. Damon's eyes flickered down to mine and I blushed, burying my head into the side of the couch as Damon slowly released his hold on me.

"You slept for a while," he informed me, calm as I continued to lay on his chest. He was warm, and I seemed to be naturally cold half of the time. "About three hours," he went on to say and guilt immediately turned to stones in my stomach. It was probably much too late to do anything, at least not anything I'd be willing to do.

Damon didn't sound sad or mad, though. In fact, when I peeked up at him, he was smirking down at me. For some odd reason, it made me grin and I sat up, checking the clock. 7:36 PM.

"I'm sorry I slept for so long—that's not the type of hanging out I usually do," I frowned and he shrugged his shoulders.

"That's fine. I fell asleep too," he confessed and my eyes widened. "Your father woke me up, asking if you were alright and I just told him you were tired. And then we started talking about his fishing trip, and the ocean, and fishing in general."

Seriously—what was up with my dad?

"Anyway, what are we doin' now?" Damon asked, expecting his nails.

I paused briefly. "It's sorta late, Damon…"

His smirk disappeared and he glanced up at me, pouting. "You just slept for three hours, 'Lena—come on. It's the weekend," he pressed.

"Well, what would we do?"

"Anything!" Damon's grin was back on. God, the man was seriously mercurial. Jumping from the couch, he moved to backdoor, and I followed curiously. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cigarettes.

Ah yes, smoker. Something about putting a cigarette in your mouth was attractive—at least, to me it was. He must have been dying for one after laying there with me without moving.

With a lit cigarette in his mouth, Damon suggested a night of fun. "We're teens, Elena—hellions! We've got to live a little. It's senior year; soon we'll be in college and getting jobs and having kids—that's the time when we'll start being responsible. But right now? Hell, this only lasts for a second, Elena, and then it's gone. And I don't wanna miss moments or opportunities with you, not anymore."

I smiled at Damon. I loved the way he talked—it was the most attractive thing about him.

"So what do you suggest, Salvatore?" I asked, a small smirk on my face.

Stomping out his cigarette, he reached forward and grasped my hand. Abruptly, he pulled me forward, arms wrapping around my small frame, our noses nearly brushing with the proximity. I was breathless, but he stood there, smirking like the devil.

"Let's go for a walk."

And so that's how we ended up in the woods while Damon had a six pack in his hand. We'd been walking for about thirty minutes, and the clock on my phone read 8:27 PM. I was tired of walking, especially when I kept stumbling over shrubs, roots, and stones.

I sighed. "Are we there yet?"

Damon laughed, looking more his age as he grinned. Looking up at his face, I noticed the scruff forming around his mouth and along his chiseled jaw. His maturity was attractive, too. He led me through the trees and in front of me sat the river that the falls poured into.

"I almost forgot about this place," I murmured as we sat in the grass beside the water. There was a bridge built over the falls where the school held their bonfire every year, but I had forgotten about the small field beside the river.

"Yeah, well, it's peaceful. My father use to hate it when I begged him to take me out here—always said it was too quiet," Damon pulled out a cigarette, placing it into his mouth before lighting it. "Listen, Elena—it's not quiet at all."

And I was quiet—and it was loud. It was nature: the falls crashing into the water, the warm breeze rustling the leaves, the whistling of wind. I turned to Damon as he spoke, looking around with a stoic expression.

"You never told me about why you left."

Damon stilled at my words, finishing his cigarette before he put it out against the river bank, placing the cigarette butt into the six pack carton.

"My mother died," he murmured, tongue rolling across his lips. "She got sick and died faster than the doctors thought."

Reaching over, he plucked himself a beer, dropping the cap in the grass as he took a gulp from the bottle. Sympathy swelled inside me.

My mother had died in eighth grade while driving back from the hospital, her car going off Wickery Bridge during a snow storm. We—my father, my brother, and I—had learned to accept her absence in time and come to peace with the simple fact that she wasn't coming back. However, it was clear Damon seemed shaken with the mention of his mother's death and I wondered idly if there was more to his story.

Once more, my journalist side threatened to take control. I wanted to know everything about him—everything down to his favorite cereal. However, there were some parts of Damon that would remain an enigma throughout his entire life—things that only God would know.

I removed the carton of beer from between us and curled up beside him, my face pressed into his shoulder. Slowly putting his drink aside, he wrapped his arms around me, laying back into the grass. It was no surprise I took him off guard, but the way he clutched me closer showed how desperate he was for the life support.

We must have laid there for hours, the beer getting too warm to drink and the night becoming darker and darker until stars became as clear as diamonds in the midst of coal. I thought Damon had fallen asleep at some point—he made no move to get cigarette or inch away. To be honest, one would have thought he had died judging by how still he was in that moment.

I was the first to look up at him—his face was young but his soul was old and fragile. It was clear how badly he just wanted to rest, to get some peace, but his eyes opened to stare into mine. Bright azure orbs that reflected nothing but genuine adoration and tenderness.

Every girl says their first kiss with any guy is done without thought—that it was done without any premeditation. That is a lie; you wouldn't walk up to a stranger and kiss them and neither would you walk up to a man you like and kiss them without thinking about it ten second beforehand.

No, I thought about a boy with a lanky figure and messy obsidian hair who always gazed at me with adoring cerulean hues; he who I desperately wanted to know again—who I desperately wanted to heal, to make him feel as human as I did when I was around him.

I kissed Damon Salvatore because I fucking liked him, and I did it right there; entangled with the raven-haired teen, I raised my hand to his chest and kissed him.

author's note. so i have been on a huge hiatus from here due to finals and studying and moving; basically, my life has been a huge disorganized mess. so, i finally finished this chapter last night and i'm out of school so i'll be able to update more. please be a dear and review c: