Disclaimer: I was born the year LJ Smith wrote the Vampire Diaries. The only way I could have been THAT awesome would be if I had a time turner. Or was, I don't know... Dr Who? ... So no, I don't own the Vampires, or any recognisable characters. And I certainly don't make a profit from this. I just get a warm glow when you review.
I also never told you what song they danced to, did I? Hm. Ask me if you really want to know. ; P
Enjoy!
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2010
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Matt found monotony to be something comforting, something relaxing as he sat and watched the game on the TV in the living room. He was holding the leather bracelet between his fingers, attempting to turn it back into a braided mess of goodness, as opposed to the frayed junk that he was currently staring at.
"I am not good at this," He muttered, as he tried to repeat the pattern, watching it go spectacularly wrong, watching it knot, unknot, look ridiculous and pretty much make him hurt all over as he tried to make it look at least a little bit nice.
"Over under, over under, around the back and under again,
Over under, over under, around the front this time and then,
Over under, over under, around the back and carry on,
Over under, over under, around the front until you're done."
"What're you doing?" Caroline's voice made him look up and accidentally let go of the ends of the leather, "Oh, my god, you're making a damn friendship bracelet? You, of all people!" He looked up at her and quirked an eyebrow.
"Elena broke it, and she wondered if I knew how to fix it." He said simply, knowing that lying to his girlfriend would get him into more trouble than he was probably worth.
"Why isn't Stefan doing it? She could have asked him." Caroline was immediately on edge.
"It's Salvatore's, but he doesn't know that she's trying to fix it, and she figured if she didn't have it, he wouldn't catch her. It's a surprise, I guess." This time, he lied smoothly, trying to keep a straight face. Caroline smiled at him, placated by the untruth and nodded as though she was pleased with his conduct, "But I can't get the damn pattern right." He growled as he looked back down at his hands and shook his head.
"You're probably overcomplicating it," She said, taking a seat beside him, with a small smile on her face, "Pass it here; I've been making these since I was five." Without saying a word, she pulled the leather from his hands and began, with small hands and nimble fingers, to twist and turn the braid into exactly the pattern Matt had sketched in front of him.
"Really?" It was just another thing he did not know about her. She mmm-hmm'd at him, nodding without looking up as she concentrated solidly on the braiding and knotting of the bracelet. Half an hour later, Matt was retrieving the superglue and Caroline was staring at her handiwork with a proud smile on her face. "Thanks, babe," He murmured as he daubed the fastening glue onto the band, then cast the things aside and kissed her full on the mouth.
So what if Elena was always on his mind – did it matter if he would do anything for her? Caroline was there, and she was kind, and good, and honest, and it was all alright for him to take that, because he'd told her Elena would be stuck in his heart until god-knows when, but it was all going to be alright because it seemed like neither of them cared. He was taking second-best, and she was taking what she could, and that symbiosis worked fine for them. It was just enough.
It was always just enough.
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Italy, August 1990
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Stefan found his brother lying on his bed the morning after the party, for once alone, with his left arm draped over his eyes and that damned bracelet still clasped in the fingers of his right hand. "Honestly, Damon, what is that... thing?" His brother lazily raised his forearm and opened his eyes to glare daggers at Stefan, before moving his hand from its position of hanging off the bed and glancing at the bracelet. "Brother?"
"Quiet, I'm thinking." He hissed, and for a moment, Stefan wondered whether he was either still very drunk or very hung over, and didn't want any disturbance, or whether he was actually plotting something, both of which, honestly, were a little bit frightening. Damon hmm'd a sigh, and opened his eyes again, "I can't believe Pretty Girl threw me out." He sighed when Stefan's face contorted, "I mean, Francesca. She freaked out because I... Kind of had a bit of a blood-lust-episode..." He sighed again and stared up at Stefan.
"So what?" Stefan shrugged, "Use your powers and make her forget... It really is that easy." He did not see the problem in it, because usually, that would have been Damon's first plan of action.
"I won't deny that I thought about it..." Damon sighed and dropped his hand again, licking his bottom lip - where he could still taste the metallic sweetness of Francesca's blood. "But... I just couldn't, Stef."
"Why not?" As usual, the younger Salvatore brother could not see where his older brother was coming from - though even at the best of times, it was near impossible to understand Damon's twisted sense of logic.
"There was... Something there..." He shrugged again, finally sitting up on his covers, "Like... Well, I don't know what it was like, but it was like something." As an attempt to shake himself of the strange-but-attractive feeling, he shook his head and rolled his shoulders.
"Right," Stefan's answering nod was of someone who had decided that there was no hope for the person sitting beside him to rejoin reality, "Of course."
Across the city, Francesca was still sat in the hospital, where her mother and father had taken her during the night. Her feet had bled more the longer the night had gone on, and her mother had begun to worry for her as her daughter had explained the night's events.
"Madre?" Francesca called out to her mother as she returned from the bathroom again, "Are you alright?"
"I suppose," Her mother nodded, "Just tired, and," She smiled and patted her daughter on her head, "Worried about you."
"Don't be," She let out a laugh that sounded just as forced as it felt, "I've just got a bloody foot. I'm fine."
"I saw you dancing with that boy," Her mother smiled, "He looked very... handsome." Her daughter was hardly plain, but then again, she was not a model either. Francesca turned her eyes to her hospital bed, pulling at the watch on her wrist.
"He was, madre." She smiled, then looked away, "His name was Damon Salvatore." She ran a hand up her arm, feeling the goosebumps there from simply mentioning his name.
"Well," Her mother said eventually, for she had stiffened at the mention of the name Salvatore, and when her words came out, they were, indeed, forced, "I'm glad you had a nice time. Will you see him again?"
There was silence as Francesca considered it. She had no way of contacting him. She did not know where he lived. Her last words to him were 'get out'. Maybe he didn't want to see her again.
"I don't know." Her mother breathed a sigh of relief. "I hope so, though."
Maybe.
She had not counted on accidentally leaving her window open during the night around two weeks later. There was silence in her room as she laid there, tears in her eyes because she had just accidentally knocked her foot against her bedpost, and it still hurt a lot, and she sighed loudly as her curtains billowed in the mellow August breeze. In the haze that was half between slumber, and half awake, the delirium that was greatly enhanced by the sticky heat engulfing her, she blinked a couple of times in confusion as a shadow unfurled itself behind the lacy material.
"Hello?" She murmured, unsure of whether she was really seeing what she thought was before her, or whether she was still dreaming.
"Keep your voice down," He replied, and she sighed at the sound of his voice. "It's me."
"You?" She replied. She needed to be sure.
"Damon... Salvatore," He whispered, then... "Sei arrabbiata con mi?" She stopped. She stopped breathing, she stopped everything, because just that sentence in Italian was enough to make her heart judder in her chest.
"Y-you think I'm angry at you?" She managed to stutter as he stepped out of the shadows of her curtains and into the half-light of the room. It was dark, but he could feel where she was, and she could see him silhouetted against the window frame. "I barely know you, how could I be angry?"
"That's not what I meant, and you know it." He replied simply, "I don't understand why I did what I did," It was quiet as she closed her eyes and remembered exactly how his lips had looked with her blood coating them, red and almost inviting her to kiss them.
Closing her eyes at such a strange sensation, the desire to taste him and her blood mixing with her confusion, she held out her hand to him. There was nothing but fear and adrenaline coursing through her at that moment, and she wanted to tell him to leave, but there was no chance of her doing that – his mere presence was intoxicating her, it was as though he were influencing her without having to say a word.
"So," He whispered, "You... want me to leave, or... can I stay?"
"For a little while," She whispered back, her mouth opening and closing but her eyes remaining shut.
"Can I sit with you?" His hands reached out in a gesture of peace and serenity, "I'm not going to hurt you or anything... I... won't even touch you, if you don't want."
"It's okay," She said, feeling the words stick in her throat, "I don't mind if you sit with me..." Or if you lay down with me...
He joined her on the bed, pulling his shoes and jacket off and lying down next to her.
"It's been two weeks, you know." He said into their comfortable silence, two minutes after they had really settled into their silence and he had slowly raised his arm and placed it around her shoulders. She laughed and nodded, "You've lasted two weeks without your bracelet..." He teased quietly, and there was silence for a moment as she gasped, suddenly remembering the braid that had been forgotten only because it was Damon who had been occupying her mind instead. "Oh, so now you remember?" He laughed and she almost launched herself at him to try and get the band back.
"Do you have it?"
"I'm wearing it." He replied simply, holding out his wrist and smiling wildly as she looked into his face and her smile lit up the dark room.
"It looks good on you." She replied; suddenly loathe to take it away from him. He smiled at her again, feeling those muscles in his face tauten for the first time in god knows how long. "Your smile looks good on you too."
He frowned a little bit then, confusion lighting his features instead of a positive reaction.
"You don't smile a lot, do you, Damon?" Reluctantly, even though they both knew she was right, he shook his head, and sighed. "It's not my place to comment," She spoke again, "But you're far more... enticing, when you smile."
His arm tightened around her, and she looked up to see that his gaze was stunned and staring back at her. Damon did not know what to make of the girl in his arms, other than that he wanted to take her away and make her his own for eternity. That desire had never been so strong before. He wondered to himself, as she watched him gingerly reach down to her foot and slide his finger across her instep, not even feeling the need to fight the want that was consuming him. Amore a prima vista. She considered the concept as she giggled at the ticklish sensation his fingers were causing, then, as he brought his hand up to rest on her thigh, she glanced up at him and saw his expression practically setting her cheeks on fire.
Desiderio. Amore. Desire. Love...
The two came together, his lips crashing to hers, her fingers threading into his hair, pulling far too hard, and they did not know what the hell was happening, only that it was far too good, and probably far too fast.
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2010
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"Elena?" Caroline called after her in the hallway as she caught her between her History and English classes. The brunette turned to see her friend waving frantically at her, in an attempt to draw her back down the corridor, "Elena! Matt asked me to let you know that I fixed the braiding."
"Oh! Awesome!" Elena's face broke into her first genuine smile for three days. "Thank you, Caroline." She nodded, "Can you let him know that Saturday will be fine to pick it up?"
"Sure," Caroline nodded, and although part of her was a little bit suspicious, she let it slide in favour of walking arm in arm with one of her best friends to a class she had been looking forward to for at least ten minutes.
What could she say? She figured their English teacher was tres cute.
A/N I'm going to say that I'd really appreciate reviews, and to everyone that has reviewed so far, thank you SOSOSOSOSOOO much! I really appreciate them, and they make me write faster, trust me.
PLEASE continue to review! I will worship all those who do!
I also actually went ahead and wrote the last chapter to this last night, even though I've not written the inbetweeners just yet. I was in tears, and I would like to warn you all that tissues would be a good buy before then (it'll be a little while yet).
Right: An abundance of translations for you now, well... two.
Sei arrabbiata con mi? – Are you made at me?
Amore a prima vista – Love at First sight
