Thank you, Juno, for reading both this and my other story. The feedback is much appreciated. While I'm happy enough just writing this for myself, it's so great to see someone else get some enjoyment out of it - which is why I post it here. :)

I'll of course also take concrit...)

...your bestie, your sidekick, your humanity project. The man who spins your moral compass in a tizzy… [Season 7 / Episode 14]

…

She should have been clued in on it back then. In the "before."

For her life was currently clearly cut into two halfs: before the cabin, and in the cabin. She sometimes wondered when the "after" would start. And where it would find her…

Before the cabin, when Stefan Salvatore had carried the huntress' mark on his body, when Damon had still been around…

When she'd tried to help her best friend - the one that was not currently sleeping off a spell in a coffin somewhere far away from her - help his brother, that was when she'd suddenly had to deal with Enzo again.

Hed talked. He'd hit her over the head. He'd given her ice. He'd broken out in some tirade about Damon being her "humanity project," and she'd been annoyed.

What she should have been, was a little more sympathetic. She knew that now.

Suddenly she remembered all those things he'd said, all those things she gleaned about him from elsewhere, too. Elsewhere being Damon…

I know how to comfort myself, live off scraps, and catch disease. The rest? You know, love, relationships, family... These are things I know nothing about.

He'd told her that, a strange confession of sorts, definitely unexpected. He hadn't usually been one to disclose his feelings or serve up his life story on a platter.

But she'd accused him of selfishness, and he'd lashed out in his own way.

That was a while ago, though, and she was starting to see more and more of the real him.

That look he'd given her just now, after they'd talked about Damon's stupid letter. Bonnie bit her lip just thinking about it. So much compassion. She honestly hadn't expected so much understanding from him.

She really didn't know him at all.

Someone like you, with all that fire and passion and... loyalty, you deserve much, much better than that.

His words had moved her, their aftertaste still lingering, fueling her smile. She looked at him. She knew he was done talking, that he'd said all he ever intended to say, but a question had grown stronger in her, ever stronger, and it was begging to be asked.

"Why?" She started and was met with a quizzical look.

"Why?" he repeated, clearly confused, "Because you are a remarkable person, Bonnie Bennett. You are…"

She would have liked to hear what he had to say about her, but her words had been out before he'd started replying to what he'd thought was her question. "I meant, why are you still so… hung up on Damon, then?"

He stopped himself and flinched. His body tensed considerably, and he averted his gaze, as if he didn't want to - or couldn't - look at her anymore. Part of her wanted to back off, tell him "I'm sorry" and let it be. But the other, stronger part just waited. She was curious.

And desperate. Because Damon held a power over her, over her heart and her whole being, that she didn't completely understand. And somehow she hoped that, if she saw it in someone else, in Enzo, and got an explanation from him, that she'd be able to sever all emotional bonds that still tied her to the desiccated coward.

Enzo's jaw worked. He'd folded his arms in front of him, such a defensive gesture. Then, suddenly, he looked at her again, his expression guarded again, all warmth and understanding gone.

The dark, threatening Enzo St. John seemed to be back in the room. She couldn't quite quench a feeling of regret.

"Have you ever listened to anything I said?" His eyes were flickering. But other than that she couldn't read him. Was he upset? Annoyed? Hurt?

"I have," she carefully said. "That's why I'm asking. You spent five years together, each of you in a cell, making escape plans. And he left you. You spent fifty years of 'mental anguish'," she threw his words back at him, air quoting, "wondering why, or whether it was you. You know it wasn't. You know you did nothing wrong and that it was all his fault. Yet here you are, always following him around like a kicked puppy, playing your little powerplay with him every chance you get, both of you always hurting one another mentally or physically…," she looked at him, strangely exasperated on his behalf that he still hadn't interrupted her, or contradicted her. Or denied anything.

He just sat there, like a statue, staring without blinking.

"Do I need to go on."

A small smile flickered across his features. "So you have listened."

She shot him a glare, her mouth a thin line of annoyance. "So?" she challenged after a minute of silence.

"I'm touched by your interest in my choices of friends."

She raised her eyebrows, scoffing, "Plural 'friends'? Tell me who else you even consider a friend beside Damon Salvatore? And we both know that he doesn't make for a very good friend, you just admitted as much-"

"If you'd been in my shoes, what would you have done?" He retorted, leaning back very far, as if to bring more distance between them. "It's not exactly like I had much opportunity to make any friends in the last couple of decades," he emphasized the last word, making a point, "And while I wish I could be more careful with who I choose to be my friend, I can't. I have a feeling you'll throw dignity back in my face again, but I tell you this now, Bonnie Bennett: I don't have the luxury of showing dignity, because without Damon, I'd have no one. No one in my life to direct all the loyalty and love toward, and hatred. And all those other feelings that every person has inside of them. Do I hate him for what he did? With a passion. Should I forgive him? Probably not. So why do I do it? Because as much as I hate him, I love him too. He's like a brother to me, the only friend and family member I will probably ever know."

He stood up, finally silent, and dared her with his eyes to say something. He mouth moved, unsure yet of what to say.

He was agitated, his shoulders tense, his arms like barricades across his body. There was a fire in his eyes that was so different than the compassion she'd seen just minutes earlier. She'd unintentionally hurt him deeply, her curiosity killing the moment they'd had.

But suddenly she understood. Friends… Her features softened, concern making room for a small smile. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I'm sorry if I did."

She could tell that he hadn't expected the apology. He shifted his weight, his eyes still shuttered, but a slight gleam of something new in his eyes now.

"I guess I had just hoped that your reasons could be mine," she admitted, "That I'd understand better why Damon Salvatore holds such power over the ones he hurts the most."

"I told you that's just Damon…"

"I know," she agreed mildly, slowly rising up off her chair. She walked a few steps toward him. He didn't back away. Not even when she got right in his face, her mouth almost touching his cheek as she leaned in, keeping her body angled by placing a hand on his upper arm. "And you were right. You do have 'plural friends,' Lorenzo St. John. I am your friend. And I promise you here and now that I will not abandon you, or exchange you for someone else as soon as I get the chance."

She looked up to him and saw amused confusion in his face. But he was touched. She could tell by the way he looked at her.

She knew he wouldn't say anything yet, and that she needed to steer their conversation into safer territory again if she wanted to make it easier for him at all.

And she did. She wanted nothing more than to make him hurt a little less.

"I'd understand it, however, if you wanted to put some distance between us now, because I fully intend on practicing playing the guitar, to get my mind off all things Damon Salvatore or Alexandria St. John, or the Armory, or anti magic pills, or whatever. So you might want to seek refuge elsewhere."

And she patted his arm and walked away from him, not without seeing his small smirk widen into a big grin.

"In that case," he informed her, "why don't I do both of us a favor and show you a few more cords…" With that, he sped over to the guitar before she had a chance to reach it, and made her sit on the couch with him.

"Lesson number 203," she said, and they both started laughing...

When she'd gotten comfortable next to him, watching his fingers dance over the strings, she smiled to herself a little. She was glad it had worked, that they could sit together again, giving each other comfort. As strange as it was.

And she could finally admit that he had become her comfort. Her one true friend when Caroline was busy being a mom, and Elena under a spell, and Damon...

Nope, he didn't deserve her thinking about him anymore-

"Are you even paying attention, love?" she suddenly heard Enzo playfully chide her and she returned her focus to him and the guitar.

"Yeah," she said, smiling, "of course. Show me again," and she grabbed the guitar and tried her luck, his guiding hand over hers. His touch all the reassurance she needed.