No idea where this came from. I had every intention to write something different and ended up with this.
Anyways. Thank you guys for the feedback, and glad to see you over here, too, Guest!
...
He was jealous. He hated to admit it, even if only to himself, but he was freaking jealous of Damon.
No. Not of Damon. He was jealous of what he had. Of what that woman invested in him. The friendship, the loyalty.
The chances.
She gave him chances.
Enzo wanted that. As trivial as it sounded, but if he was somebody's "humanity project," he'd consider himself a lucky man.
He sighed.
He'd offered her ice. He'd felt bad for hitting her over the head. But when she just accused him and took Damon's side - or rather, just not Enzo's - he got angry again. Because it got to him. How Damon managed to get people like her to stick with him, to help him. To believe in him.
...
Whatever. He didn't need that. He had only himself to look out for, and it was good that way. His allegiances, his loyalties, were with himself. And it made him less vulnerable.
He couldn't afford to be vulnerable. So he wasn't.
He wasn't…
…
It was late. It was so freaking late that it was early. And he was tired. He poked the dying fire and watched some ember sparks fly. He was unaware that he flinched a bit.
But he was very aware of her sudden appearance behind him.
"Can't sleep either?" She said and walked closer to the fire, to him.
He grimaced to himself. "You have no idea, love…" he muttered, then smiled at her before returning his attention to the fire.
"Pardon?" she said, but it was not like he'd actually intended for her to hear his words anyways so he simply said, "Too cold, huh?"
She nodded, her expression half a grimace, half a smile. She had draped a woolen blanket over herself, holding it in place with her fists right by her throat. It was ice cold, even with the fire. The blizzard outside was still going strong, and the wind just blew through the crack under the door - and the windows. He'd need to do something about the insulation, that much was a given.
He felt bad that he hadn't done so earlier. This was the second hard winter period they'd had down here. At least she had gotten great at building fires. He'd barely had to do much to keep this one going. Her initial build up had been perfect.
He felt her presence as she came closer until she, too, sat down in front of the fire, her slender hands unclasping themselves as she let the blanket fall away a little to warm them. He got a glimpse of a bare shoulder. Her shirt had slid off of it along with the blanket and he observed himself fix it as if his hand was moving of its own accord.
She stared at him. He gave her an apologetic smile, "Didn't mean to overstep. Just looking out for you, love. Gotta keep you warm…"
He was strangely relieved when she smiled back, throwing her head back just a little in the process so that her hair cascaded down her back, baring her beautiful neck. She could have retorted with some snarky comment or other, and the moment would have ended in their usual banter.
He was glad that it didn't.
He continued to stare into the fire, his mind preoccupied with dark thoughts that he couldn't seem to shake tonight. Feeling her warmth beside him was the one good thing about his night.
"Let me put another log in," she whispered and went about her way. He knew better than to play the gentleman and do it for her. She could take care of herself, and he loved that about her.
She took the poker from him and shoved the log deeper into the remaining glow. With a sudden loud noise, the big piece of wood fell to the side, sending sparks and little pieces of debris flying. They both backed away, just as a bit of ember started burning a hole into the rug they sat on.
With a quick and rough movement, he hurled her up and further away with him, and he felt her body crash into his chest as she scrambled to get on her feet.
She glared at him, shocked. "What the-" she started, but he'd already let go to extinguish the fire that was threatening to spread on the rug. When his gaze caught hers again, he could see that she'd only now realized what had happened.
"I'm so sorry," she muttered, "I didn't… thank you."
He clenched his teeth, but smiled. He was aware that he'd probably reacted a bit strongly to such a small flame. "I didn't mean to…" what? Be so rough? So worried for her safety, and his own?
Freaking fire. He'd never ever lose his respect for it. Which was good, he guessed, but sometimes, his old fear took ahold of him again and then…
He noticed her smiling at him, with a frown. "Are you okay, Enzo?"
He loved it when she said his name. She didn't do it all that often. "Of course, love. Are you? I didn't hurt you, did I? Sometimes I get a little over eager in my attempts to play the knight in shining armor and rescue the maiden."
Another chance for her to reply with snark that she didn't use. She looked positively concerned.
For him? He frowned in confusion, then followed her gaze to his hands. He cringed.
He was still kneeling on the rug where he'd patted the fire out with his bare hands. He had been lucky. They were only slightly singed at best and would heal quickly. But he was afraid he'd shown her a little too much of his desperation and weakness. He should have used the glass of water on the table, or his own blanket that still lay discarded over the sofa chair.
But he'd used his hands, in a sudden panic, he'd felt like the only thing to protect her, and himself, were his bare hands. He sighed and got up. He'd have to come up with something to say that would make him seem a little less like a deranged masochist and a little more like a sane person she could actually trust.
And he wanted her to trust him. He wanted to be someone she could trust.
He stood there, unable to create a smile, and looked at her. "I promise I'm not as crazy as you probably think," he started, but she waved a hand and he felt his hope sink. He let his head droop, sighing. "I'll just…"
Suddenly, he felt her touch on his wrists as she grabbed them, gently. He backed away anyway, for the split second that his brain needed to translate the situation. She was not attacking him, of course... What the hell was wrong with his stupid brain and reflexes tonight. It must have been the lack of sleep catching up with him again, as it sometimes did when he had one of his episodes of a row of bad nights.
"Enzo."
He looked into her eyes, emerald sparkling at him. He realized that she must have said his name a couple of times. She cocked her head, turning his hands so that she could inspect his palms.
"Will I live?" He tried joking, and she smiled.
"I'm not sure. Your hands will heal, but your level of stupid is concerning," she said, but there was a warmth behind her words that told him she'd caught on to something deeper. Darker.
She bit her lip. He couldn't look away from those gorgeous lips if he wanted to. He was acutely aware of her hands on his wrists, her skin touching his. And the look she gave him. She really looked at him, her smile fading, making room for worry.
She worried. About him.
"I had wondered about this, before...," she suddenly said, and he could tell that her words had been out before she'd had a chance to reign them back in. He almost smiled. He could see how it battled inside of her. "How you could even stand to be so close to the fire… Damon…"
"Likes to talk," he concluded, nodding his head briefly, understanding dawning. Of course the Salvatore would have given Bonnie Bennett a very vivid account of their Augustine time together. Their parting. It was not a secret. "Don't worry, love. I promise I'm not usually-"
"It's alright, you know? It's normal to be afraid, especially after such a traumatic experience as yours."
He cocked his head. Puzzled. Flustered. He averted his gaze because it was too hard to hold hers. How did she always get to him so much? How did she always see straight down to his soul? He tried so hard to pretend everything was fine, and with just a few words she bared his innermost feelings and left him vulnerable.
"I'm…"
"You don't need to say anything. I know how you guys are. Damon and you… you're so much alike, and yet so different," she talked as if to herself. She was smiling now, just a small expression, but it was there. "You pretend to be so strong and invulnerable. You don't want anyone to see your pain, but sometimes, that's why it explodes out of you. Damon usually covers it up with aggression and cockiness, one of his killing sprees or bar crawls and brawls. But you…" he felt her gentle touch on his cheek and almost forgot to breathe, "you just… pretend all is well and raise your barriers back up." She paused, neither of them saying anything for a moment. "Don't," she finally said, "you don't need barriers around me. It's okay to let someone in every once in a while," her voice had turned into a whisper.
He fought the urge to do just what she'd accused him of, to pretend all was well, to come up with a few joking words to make the situation go away. It would have been so easy, yet…
"I promise you can trust me."
His jaw was working again as it always was when he was agitated. Her words were too good to be true.
"Trust me, Lorenzo St. John. I understand. I understand. And I'm here for you. Okay?" She implored him. "Okay?"
And he gave her the smallest of nods, because he couldn't manage anything else, and he finally let her guide him over to the kitchen where she let cool water run over his hands, both of them standing by the sink in silence, his gaze on her as he felt her body touch his, she was so close.
Then she looked up for just a moment and gave him the warmest smile and he knew he was lost.
He was falling in love with this girl.
Lorenzo St. John was losing his heart to Bonnie Bennett. And he knew he might not survive it if it got broken again.
…