Elena brought her lips to Stefan's and he kissed her with a passion he'd actively suppressed for months, for years; he kissed her with a passion that had become a part of his daily existence, with a passion that only ignited at her touch. Elena's mouth was fervent on his, urging Stefan to come undone within the embrace, to express everything he dared not allow himself to feel and her fervour compelled him to groan, low in his throat, to graze his parted lips along her jaw, down her throat, Elena sighing with each nip.

"I've missed this," she whispered in his ear. "Yes, I've missed this."

Stefan buried his face in her neck, nuzzling her with his nose, holding her to him with a firmness that would've crushed her if she were still human and she clutched the back of his head, her breathing turning shallow and ragged. Abruptly, Stefan pulled away and both he and Elena swiftly turned toward the entrance of the Salvatore Mansion.

"That's Damon's car," said Stefan. "He'll be here soon, you need to go."

Elena turned back toward him. "He needs to know I'm not marrying him."

"I know, I'll tell him."

"I should tell him, it's my choice."

"And your choice is me. I'm his brother. I've got to be the one to do it, Elena."

"We should tell him together."

"Why? Just to rub his face in it more? No. I'll tell him."

"Stefan…"

"Leave now before he sees you."

Elena looked like she was about to argue the point but kissed him instead, tempting Stefan to wrap his arms around her once more and the moment he could no longer bear not touching her, she was gone in a whisper of speed. The front door clicked open almost immediately after and Damon stumbled into the foyer, his face red, his mouth slackened into a stupid smile. Stefan folded his arms and tried as best as he could to grin back.

"Hello, Brother," he said.

Damon laughed; it was a lecherous sound. "You missed one hell of a party."

"Ah well, you know me," said Stefan as Damon staggered his way over to the living room. "I'm genetically predisposed to hate anything involving fun."

"No argument here." Damon eased himself onto the sofa Elena and Stefan had been sitting on only moments before and stretched his legs out so that he was lying down.

"I see that you've enjoyed your last few hours as a free man," said Stefan, staring at Damon, his eyebrows raised appraisingly.

"Hmm," said Damon in agreement. His eyes were closed and a smirk remained on his face. Stefan stared at him for a beat, pressing his lips together, feeling a sense of resolve building within him.

"Listen, Damon, about that—"

"You know I thought I heard Elena when I was on my way over here?" said Damon. He chuckled at his own stupidity. "How wasted am I?"

Stefan laughed nervously. "Yeah. I haven't seen you this drunk since you found out Katherine wasn't in the tomb."

Damon made a retching noise at Katherine's name. "Katherine," he said. "To think I wasted a hundred and forty-five years pining for her when the love of my life turned out to be her doppelganger. Imagine if I never figured that out? What kind of man would I be if it weren't for Elena?"

"Yeah. She saved you," said Stefan so quietly it was as if he were musing to himself instead of talking out loud.

"You both did," said Damon, sounding a bit more serious and a little less drunk. "Look, I don't do the whole feelings thing but … I'm glad you're my best man. I'm glad that you never let me run from how I felt about her even with … your history with her."

Damon's words tore through Stefan and brought with them a shame that was suffocating, consuming, that made him want to rip himself apart. He had seen it from the beginning; how meeting Elena changed Damon, how he couldn't help but care for her, how his feelings for her outweighed his desire to enact vengeance upon Stefan; he'd witnessed how Elena's empathy, her compassion, her natural inclination to risk faith in people mended what Katherine had broken in Damon. It was almost miraculous, but…

But…

But what Stefan felt about Elena and because of Elena and for Elena was miraculous too. He'd known nothing but pain before her; every hour, every minute, every second of every day had been excruciating. He'd felt burdened by his own existence. It'd been an odd sort of agony; to experience emotion so intensely but to only suffer guilt and sorrow so that happiness was something he'd been numbed to… and then he'd bumped into Elena at school, at the cemetery and they talked. Simply seeing her smile reminded him that there was beauty in the world, there for him to experience, and they'd connected. Instantly. Profoundly. And he felt it, what they did for one another, how they pushed each other forward, how they anchored one another, how they instilled in each other the will to enjoy life and how they shared the desire to enjoy it together, to build one with each other. It was because of Elena that Stefan could take the good with the bad without losing himself to darkness; it was because of Elena that he could feel completely, love completely … being with her had led to him being with Damon again. Was he about to betray that love he felt for her by betraying Damon? But I'd be betraying him for her, betraying that love for … that love … Stefan closed his eyes, tormented by the mess he'd somehow landed himself in in only thirty minutes.

"Stefan?"

"Hmm?" Stefan opened his eyes and looked back at Damon who was eyeing him closely albeit tipsily.

"I'm bearing my soul to you, man," said Damon.

"Oh, right, yeah," said Stefan, nodding his head. "Yeah, I … I appreciate it. And, uh, you know what? I think we should sleep, get an early start tomorrow. Your—" Stefan swallowed hard and cleared his throat. "Your big day. So I'll see you in the morning."

He didn't wait for Damon to respond before leaving the living room but instead of going to his bedroom, Stefan made his way up to the roof. This was where he stood the first day of school, determined and eager because he'd finally be able to meet Elena Gilbert and he'd had to meet her; everything in his body had urged to hear her speak, see her laugh and he'd needed to be the person who inspired her to do those things. This was where they both sat when she'd became a vampire, their heads leaning against each other; both of them had promised the other forever in their own way — Elena had said the words and Stefan had made a vow with her daylight ring, with how he slipped it on her finger … and then they'd broken up not too long after that. And then she had chosen Damon. Even so, Stefan had never really left this rooftop; not after months and years of seeing Damon and Elena together because they way he loved her … that was forever, it wasn't something that would or could ever go away; she'd awakened him and continued to awaken him simply with her presence. And now, now after all this time she was saying he did exactly that for her too? He couldn't deny it, he'd felt the bond between them long after she'd chosen Damon; he'd felt how comfortable and vulnerable they could be with each other, how there was this natural intimacy with how they confided in each other, even looked at one another like a secret meaning had been passed between them. But she'd turned her back on all that. She'd wanted Damon. And now…Stefan buried his head in his hands. He'd thought leaving Elena to save Damon was the hardest thing he'd ever done, he didn't think it were possible for him to be even more conflicted than he was when he made that choice. And now here was, sitting on the roof, completely torn.

It was morning when Stefan left his spot on the roof. He'd seen Alaric enter the house to meet Damon on his big day, he'd seen them leave a half hour later, suits in their garment bags slung over their shoulders, he'd heard Alaric ask the question: "Where's Stefan?" as they walked to Damon's car to which Damon responded, "The freak is probably already at the hall making sure the flower arrangements are perfect or something." He'd seen them both drive off. Stefan jumped off of the roof, landing on the ground with casual agility and then began to walk, seeing if the movement of his feet would help clarify matters more. When he'd made it to the hall there were only three hours before the wedding.

Stefan slipped into the hall, using his speed to remain unseen, passing by the roses and candles, the fairy lights and tulle and the steady stream of incoming guests, making his way upstairs to where he knew the respective bride and groom quarters were. When he found the door to Elena's room, he heard his name.

"Stefan!"

He turned around quickly. Caroline came barrelling toward him, wearing a flowing lavender dress with a clipboard in her hand. "You're not in your suit! Do you know how close we are to starting? Where have you been?"

"I need to see Elena," he said.

"You can't. You need to go to Damon and Alaric and—"

"Caroline," said Stefan so gruffly it made her jump. "It's important."

She pursed her lips. "OK fine. Five minutes."

Stefan opened the door and shut it behind him, walking into a very large room. The walls were painted with a large beautiful mural that replicated the ceremony room downstairs, from the hardwood floors to the chandeliers to the wedding altar. Elena was standing in front of a mirror and as soon as she heard the door close, she turned around swiftly to face Stefan and his breath caught in his throat. She was wearing a strapless white dress, the bodice was beaded and fanned out into a trumpet flare with silver detailing swirling around the material; her hair was ringletted and pinned atop her head with tendrils spiralling down and the only jewellery she donned was a simple heart-shaped necklace.

Elena hurried toward him. "Stefan," she said a note of panic in her voice. "Where have you been? I'm freaking out! Damon hasn't said anything to me at all and Caroline and Bonnie grabbed me from my bed and I couldn't tell them — I mean I'm standing here in this dress! What's going on?"

Stefan didn't say anything for what felt like a long time. He continued to gaze at Elena in her dress, his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenched and his eyes red and anguished. He allowed himself one minute to envision himself downstairs waiting at the end of the aisle with a rose in his lapel and two men standing next to him; one minute to see himself in his mind's eye, waiting with the excited urge to bounce on the balls of his feet, his face alight with joy; one minute to indulge in the beautiful fantasy of waiting for Elena Gilbert to walk down toward him to be his wife for eternity. Then he closed his eyes and breathed a tortured sigh.

"I think," he said, his voice hoarse. "I think you should marry him, Elena."

"You what?"

"I think you should marry him," he repeated. His tone was more urgent now, desperate. "You said it yourself. You said that you loved him—"

"It's not enough!" said Elena incredulously. "It's never been enough."

"It was enough for you to stay with him for three years," said Stefan harshly.

"Did you listen to anything I said last night?" said Elena. "I care about Damon, Stefan. He's in my heart, OK? He does mean something to me but it's not right, you have to accept that, every day with him I felt it, I felt the emptiness, I knew something was missing and I love him enough that I pretended that none of that mattered, that being miserable makes me happy but Stefan, you … You make me want, you make me want to get the most out of life and I want to share all of my experiences with you, I want to experience with you every day. Always. Does that mean nothing to you?"

Stefan looked at her sharply, teary-eyed. "Trust me, Elena, everything you feel I feel tenfold."

"So then why—"

"I can't do this to him, can't you see that?" Stefan gesticulated wildly. He walked to the other side of the room to give himself something to do, standing in front of the part of the mural with the chandeliers. "I can't take away his happiness again. I forced him into eternity when he wanted nothing to do with it, the least I can do is step aside so he can spend that eternity with someone who makes it worth living for him!"

"You said yourself that Damon didn't really become Damon until he became a vampire so—"

"So what? I did him a favour? It doesn't matter that he was able to find his way through a situation that he was forced into, I still took a choice away from him."

"And now you're trying to take one away from me. You've never done that. Not once. And now?"

"Now it's not that simple when I'm your choice!"

"Yes it is! God." Elena put her hands to her head and clutched her hair. "Why can't you just let yourself be happy?"

"That's Damon."

"No," said Elena. "Damon … he struggles with responsibility and someone loving him, someone expecting things from him? The responsibility of that freaks him out."

"And being with you helped him overcome that."

"And you," said Elena, speaking over him. "You don't think you're being responsible unless you're unhappy. You don't think you're being a good man unless you deny yourself what you want." Elena looked at him, her eyes pleading and Stefan turned away.

"He'll know, you know," said Elena suddenly. "He'll know that I'm unhappy and that will ruin him."

"You would never tell him," said Stefan at once. "And he doesn't know now."

"Of course he does," said Elena. "We fight about you more than we fight about anything else, I just keep denying all of his suspicions. Our bond … it can't be ignored, Stefan. Not by anyone."

Elena started to approach him but Stefan took a step back, moving so that he was in front of the painted altar. He couldn't bear for Elena to touch him in that dress, it would kill him.

"Elena, please," he begged.

She didn't listen and came toward him, his eyes closed and his face turned away from her but Elena put her palms on the sides of his face and brought his gaze to her. "Stefan," she said. "Stefan. I love you. OK? We can't hide from this anymore."

Stefan leaned forward and kissed her hard on the lips, one hand on her cheek, the other on her back, feeling the corset ties that fastened her dress. He tortured himself with the taste of her tongue, the softness of her lips; utterly ripped himself apart with rediscovering the feeling of coming home, of finding solace and thrill in her arms, in their hold. Elena threw her arms around Stefan's neck, melding into his body, arching her back to push herself deeper into the kiss, into him, their embrace an eternalized moment beneath the painted altar.

"If you really love me," said Stefan between kisses, his breathing ragged, his eyes finally giving way to tears, his lips swollen and burning, his hands trembling against Elena's face. "If you really love me you'll marry him. You'll do that for me. Elena, please." He kissed her again, closing his eyes, feeling more tears stream down his face. "Please."

"That's my brother for you," said a voice. Elena and Stefan pulled away from each other turning toward the door where Damon stood, his expression unreadable. "Always putting others first."