They say it's what you make

I say it's up to fate

It's woven in my soul

I need to let you go

Your eyes, they shine so bright

I want to save their light

I can't escape this now

Unless you show me how

April 1999

"Proud of you, son."

Damon's eyes, once locked on the lively figure across the room, flickered over to his father. The older man was intimidating in appearance, but Damon knew better than to be afraid of him in this moment. He smiled, nodding at the tumbler in his father's hands.

"Proud of me? How much have you had to drink tonight?"

Giuseppe chuckled. "It's a sober thought, I promise."

Damon quirked his eyebrows. "And what, dare I ask, inspired it?"

Giuseppe's eyes gleamed as his gaze traveled over to where Damon's had been. "Your choice of woman."

Damon felt heat rush to his neck as he focused back on Rose. One of her girlfriends leaned in to whisper something in her ear, eliciting hysterical laughter from the group.

It was the night of senior prom and instead of going out to a restaurant, all of the parents had set up an elaborate multi-course meal at one of the larger homes. The dads had jokingly dressed up as waiters and the moms had made the obligatory picture-taking seem like a photo shoot. They were a few minues away from leaving for the school. Damon had been overly absorbed with staring at his date and current girlfriend when his father had approached.

He was still in awe of how lucky he was. Rose had been one of his best friends throughout middle school, mostly thanks to their familial connections, but the second high school had come around, Damon had decided he wanted something more. By some miracle, Rose had been willing to try it out, too. They'd started out as awkward kids, but after three years, Rose had become this kind, gorgeous woman and, Christ, if Damon didn't just feel blessed to be able to stand next to her in pictures.

He felt like he could lean against that wall staring at her for years. In a few months, they'd be in college and everything could change. But for now, he was just the luckiest guy in the whole damn room because he got to escort Rose Abington to his prom.

"Yeah, well…" He really couldn't muster anything else, too embarrassed to be caught staring by his dad.

"You want to marry her?"

"Dad!" Damon whirled around on his father, panic filling in his eyes. "We're only eighteen."

"I didn't say you had to get married tomorrow! I'm just asking if you want to marry her."

Damon gulped. He didn't want to sound ridiculous in front of Giuseppe, but he'd be lying if he hadn't pictured a future with her a million times. Screw some of his douchier friends: he wanted the wife and kids and white picket fence. And he wanted it with Rose.

Thankfully, a parent on the other side of the living room shouted out that it was time to get going and saved him from answering. Rose's eyes locked with Damon's across the room and a relieved, excited expression settled on her features. All Damon wanted was to get over and truly start one of the best nights of his life, but he'd have to wait for his father's permission first.

"Sorry if I got a little too serious there. It's pretty crazy for me to be watching you go to your senior prom. You're growing up too fast." Damon rolled his eyes at the nostalgia and Giuseppe laughed. His face grew a bit more serious as he placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "Hold on to that one, kid. She's a firecracker and she might kill you one day, but she's worth it. If I've learned anything, it's that the wild ones are the best to love."

Damon smiled as he watched his father's eyes slide over to his mother and he felt a flood of contentment rush through his veins. "I'll do my best."

October 2006

Damon's eyes continued their intense staring contest with the framed picture on the mantle, his thumb tracing damp circles on the mouth of the empty bottle in his left hand. He pursed his lips, a dull ache in the back of his head making him wish he had the energy to get up and actually obtain more. But more liquor meant leaving the house, as the bottle in his hand was the last, and that simply wasn't a feasible option for the heavily intoxicated shut-in.

The picture was of him and Rose, sharing an oversized chaise at their friends' beach house a few summers back. Damon was spread out, his typically pale skin only slightly darker from the sun's rays. His bikini-adorned girlfriend was draped across his exposed chest, giggling from behind sunglasses.

"Well, isn't this a pleasant surprise?" Damon grumbled in the phone.

His sarcasm was met with a deep sigh on the other end. "When would you like me to stop by?"

"Never."

"Damon, please-"

Damon groaned. After only fifteen seconds he was ready to hang up. "I can be out from noon to three tomorrow."

He could tell she was nodding, even if he was nowhere near her. "Okay. That will be fine. It shouldn't take us that long anyway."

It was the second time Damon had sworn he heard a record scratching after something she'd said. He leaned forward in his chair. "Did you just say 'us'?"

Now she was probably trembling a bit, like she always did when she felt guilty. "I can't do it alone, Damon. It's a lot of stuff and since you're not going to be there-"

"Are you bringing him?" Damon didn't want to hear the answer to her question, but he had to know.

"Damon-"

"Are you kidding me?! You're going to-" Damon cut himself off. He was about to express his frustration over the dick being in his house, but he had the sinking realization he might be corrected. It probably wouldn't be his first time.

"My parents aren't talking to me. My friends hate me. He's the only person that will help!"

"I'm sorry. Am I supposed to feel sympathy for you?"

Another sigh heaved across the line, her tone becoming far less frantic and a lot meeker. "No, Damon. Not at all." There was more silence as Damon came to terms with what she was planning. Rose cut his thoughts off with a tearful voice. "So, I guess you haven't reconsidered the friendship offer?"

Damon felt a rush of sentimentality flood his chest and he hated it. She'd been relatively emotionless a few nights ago as she'd explained what had happened, but the second she'd actually gone up to leave, the tears had started flowing. If Damon had any weakness when it came to Rose, it was seeing her cry. He could never forget the times she'd cried and actually deserved his comfort and now, hearing her sniff lightly, he felt the cruelty leave him if only for a moment.

"You broke my heart, Rose. I couldn't be 'friends' with you if I tried." The fight was out of his voice and he let her finally hear the broken man he'd become since she'd walked out the door.

He could tell she was nodding again, collecting herself. "Okay. Well, if there's anything I can do to make this move easier for you, let me know."

Damon let out a short, bitter laugh. "Just be gone before I get back."

Damon stood, bobbing on his feet, and crossed over to the darkened fireplace. He lifted the picture frame off of the wood and smoothed his thumb over the people he knew all too well. He knew that most would say they barely recognized their younger selves, especially after so many years, but Damon had the opposite issue. That beach trip felt like yesterday, as did almost every memory between the two. He remembered every last detail of those sunbathing kids and he wanted them back.

As promised, Damon had been gone when they'd arrived, and now the house was only half of a broken home. Many things were gone that he hadn't even realized he'd need. He was still confused of how things could be divided into hers and his when they'd always been an "ours." One thing was for sure: those damn couple pictures had somehow become his. Clearly, there wasn't any room for those in Greg's apartment.

"How long?" Damon's voice was monotone, daring to ask a question he most definitely didn't want the answer to. But he had to know.

"Six months."

Damon flew up from the chair. He'd been playing a game of "sit down, stand up" for the past five minutes. If something she said enraged him, he got on his feet. If it was something that broke him, he had to sit down. If it was a combination, he gripped the back of the chair for support. Hearing those two words had him white knuckling the rounded wood.

She'd gone into more detail without his questioning. Damon knew the guy. He'd mingled in their friend group at times in college. His name was Gregory and he hated being called Greg. He was a tall blonde who could probably kick Damon's ass. Greg was in sales, which wasn't exactly anything to be thrilled about, but he'd worked his way up pretty damn fast. Damon hadn't seen him in almost a year, but apparently the same couldn't be said for his ex-fiancée.

"I'm in love with him, Damon. That should be some sort of relief to you."

Damon stood up, his eyes practically bugging out of his head. "Relief-"

"I know! It sounds absurd, but… I'm not doing this casually. I didn't decide to fuck our marriage up with a one-off."

"But you did! Rose, God. Whatever you two had… that magical 'first night'… that was your one-off! You destroyed whatever trust and loyalty we had right then! And you're telling me I'm supposed to be relieved that you kept it up? You're right, Rose. You didn't do this casually. You did this so damn thoughtfully and creatively they should give you a fucking award!"

"Damon, I needed to get out-"

"Get out of what?! What relationship are you referring to here because I don't think I was involved? I missed the part where I drove you to sleep with some other guy for half a year."

"It wasn't you, Damon. It was me. I had to get out of here, out of this perfect little town. You know me. You know that I've never been this pearls and cocktails kind of girl."

"Oh, don't give me that. I factor in somewhere in your decision. At some point, you determined that my feelings and my commitment and everything I've done to keep this relationship afloat and keep you happy weren't important enough to value. So, tell me what's wrong with me!"

"Why can't we just be-"

"Tell me what's wrong with me!"

"Fine! You're too content!"

Damon stared at her, jaw agape in shock. As the words settled into his brain, he let out a choked laugh. "Okay… wow. Well, I can't wait to let all of my friends and family know that my fiancée left me for another man because I was just too damn happy."

"That's not what I mean, Damon, and you know it." Damon shook his head back and forth as she worked herself up. "You were just satisfied with everything! You were completely fine living this average life. You didn't want to go anywhere, do anything! You have been so stuck on this perfect little ideal of the white picket fence and the happy little family that you never considered anything else. You had a plan and by choosing you, by loving you, I could never get out of it! I wanted to travel. I wanted to experience the world, more than this insipid little country club town has to offer. But you never did." He refused to look directly at her, but he could hear Rose's voice become more clouded with tears. "And anytime I suggested it, you looked at me like I was crazy. Like 'There's silly Rose again. Such a free spirit.' But I wanted it so badly and you… you didn't, Damon."

Damon's gaze finally made its way back to her. She was trembling in her seat, her eyes tear-filled. "It wasn't some flimsy desire that you could fix by taking me to Europe," she continued, practically reading his mind. "You shouldn't think that. That's why it was me and not you. I would have wanted something new, something different regardless of whom I was with." Suddenly, she stood, crossing over to him. Shaking hands reached up to cup his face and Damon wasn't strong enough to remove them. His body was in so much shock that he was willing to take comfort from anyone who offered it, even the harbinger of his pain.

"And because it was you… that's what kept me in this for so much longer than anybody else could. I was in love with you, Damon. You were my best friend." He flinched at her use of the past tense. "I kept telling myself, 'Who could be such an idiot to want something different from this?' I knew I would never find another man like you no matter how many cities I lived in. I hated wanting something more when I knew there were far too many guys who had a hell of a lot less."

The pads of her finger smoothed over his cheekbones. "I still love you, Damon. I'm so sorry I hurt you. You deserve a million times better than me. I understand if you want me out of your life, but if I can help you with something, fix something in return-"

Damon's gaze burned a hole in the wall above her head as he finally found the strength to lift her hands from his face, dropping them at her sides. "I'm still missing the part where I'm not supposed to think you're a despicable excuse for a human being."

"I-"

"You give me this sad, long speech about how you were just too driven by the flow of the breeze and how the birds called out to you, wishing you could fly. You try to placate me with some 'better man' crap and now you're thinking you can somehow be my friend after all of this?"

Rose was silent, her gaze unable to meet his for the first time that night. Damon's anger grew, realizing it was the only thing that would evoke the reaction he wanted: shame. He let out a bitter laugh. "You know what sucks? You know, beyond your future wife fucking another guy? Hearing a well-rehearsed break-up speech." Damon felt something inside of him break. The part of him that cared for her feelings was going to be absent for a long time. "I mean bravo. Just so damn composed you can barely shed a tear over a ten-year relationship! I bet you practiced. I bet you practiced in front of the mirror, thought it through in your head almost every day. Hell, I bet you fine-tuned a few lines while you were having sex with me! Nice job, by the way, keeping that up. Never throw the fiancé off track, right?"

"Damon-"

His voice turned cold, bitter. "I don't want you to walk away from this being proud of yourself. If you're going to walk away, leave me for some other guy, you're not allowed to look back at this and go 'I did that right.' You are a coward, Rose. You're not some brave, free soul who finally realized what she wanted in life and took it. No. You sat around, playing pretend for years, letting me think everything was fine while you were living in some nightmare of your own delusions. And then, instead of granting me the decency to tell me how you felt, break up with me the way I deserved, the way this relationship deserved… you just fall in love with somebody else.

"You can leave, get married to that guy… or string him along for a while until you get bored, whatever. I just hope you remember, in every damn country you visit, how fucked up you were. And that you weren't strong or tough or the mature one. You were a little girl that gave up and ran away."

It was silent, excluding Damon's heaving breath and the light sniffles from Rose as tears streamed down her face. After a few moments, she swallowed, rapidly nodding her head up and down. "You're right, Damon. I suck." She let out a choked, ironic laugh. "I practice for months and you can still give a better break-up speech on instinct." Damon didn't bother responding to her joke.

Rose nodded again, wandering behind him to pick up the two bags. Damon watched her retreating figure head down the small hallway to the door, but she paused before she'd gotten to the handle. She turned at the waist, looking back on him with a slight half-smile. "It was when I looked in the mirror and I didn't recognize the person staring back at me."

"What do you mean?" Damon could barely muster up the strength to be cruel.

"That's when I realized this wasn't worth it anymore. The person I saw looking back at me… I didn't like her. I didn't want to be her anymore." Rose paused, playing with the frayed handle of the bag on her shoulder. "What about you? Do you like what you see?"

Damon rolled his eyes, sighing. "I have a feeling I won't be so thrilled with it after tonight."

Rose shook her head back and forth, the smile growing the slightest bit more. "I think you should reconsider that. In fact, I think this is the best you've ever looked."

Damon scoffed. "Well, I have no doubt I look pretty damn great when you're walking away."

"It's not that, Damon. It's how passionate you are. It might be from hating me, but I've never seen you this alive."

As Damon's heart began to beat a little more erratically and his chest tightened, he realized he needed more alcohol and fast. Screw waiting for his BAC to go down to a safe number. He'd just walk to the shifty convenience store a few streets away. He might make a fool of himself in his drunken state, but it wasn't like Rose hadn't already done that for him. Everyone had to know by now.

Maybe the cashier would side with him.

December 2006:

"Checking for a dead body?" Giuseppe's head shot up at the sound of his son's voice. He'd been peering into the car parked on the street, holding a brown paper bag in his arm. Damon was leaned against the railing of the front steps that led up to his townhome. He'd gone outside to grab the mail only to be met with the man he hadn't seen in weeks. Not that that was unusual. Beyond his coworkers, Damon rarely interacted with anybody anymore, family included.

Giuseppe shot him a smile, crossing through the small yard to where he stood. "Nope. Just making sure you're keeping it in shape. It's a nice car, son. Don't forget that."

"How could I ever? You'd kill me if I let that car die of anything but old age."

He chuckled. "Well, are you gonna let me in? It's freezing out here." Giuseppe wasn't lying. That winter had started out cold and every passing day forced the temperature to drop even more. It was incredibly unusual for their southern town and the newscasters loved to talk about it. Mostly because there wasn't much else going on.

"Yeah, of course."

Once they were inside, Giuseppe threw his coat onto a chair in the living room and revealed what was in the paper bag: incredibly old and expensive scotch. "You are a saint," Damon crooned, settling onto the couch as his father located two glass tumblers to pour the liquor into.

"Well, I don't know how the pastor would feel about it, but if my son was going to get drunk tonight, I thought it might as well be from the good stuff." Damon cocked his eyebrow at his father as he crossed over, handing him the glass. "Now, don't give me that look. I'm just kidding."

"About your son's imaginary alcohol problem? Why thank you." Damon took a sip of the brown liquid, appreciating quality for the first time in what seemed like months. His dad was definitely correct when he assumed his son was only drinking the cheap shit. "I'm supposing that's all the family could talk about at Christmas."

Giuseppe harrumphed from his position in the opposing seat, sinking into the leather. "Yeah, well. We wouldn't have been able to talk so much if you'd been there."

Damon nodded, not expecting anything different. "I was wondering when I was going to get my guilt visit." Damon gulped down almost three quarters of the scotch before placing it down on the nearby table. "Alright, lay it on me."

"I'm not here to guilt trip you. I understand why you didn't come. The whole family does. Can't a man just visit his kid because he misses him?"

Damon sighed as he ran his fingers along the couch's lining. "Just tell me what you came here to tell me, Dad."

Giuseppe made his own steady attempt at finishing the glass before starting. "Look, this isn't something I'm going to force on you. I just… It's been two months, Damon. And you're not doing great. You're losing this fight real bad."

If there was one thing Damon appreciated about his father, it was his ability to cut the crap and get to the point. "Since when was this a fight? I'm pretty sure the 'fight' was over around the time she took the engagement ring off."

"Oh, don't bullshit me, Damon. You and I both know that every break-up has a winner and a loser. And right now, you are losing by a mile." Giuseppe slammed the glass onto the table next to his son's. "I'm not into gossiping quite like your mother, but… let's just say it was a good thing you didn't come celebrate with us this season."

Damon ground his teeth, his expression showing his unease as he started to put two and two together. "Was he there?"

"Of course, he was there! She had him on her arm like a prizewinning trophy. I don't know what she was showing off more, the guy or the ring." His dad leaned over and patted his knee. "Smaller than yours, though. Don't you worry." Damon scoffed at the trivial dig as he stood up, beginning to pace. "But the worst fucking part of this is the way they were treated. It might have been the holiday spirit, but there wasn't a single person in that room that made her feel as awful as she deserved to feel. Southern politeness and all that crap. I tell you what, if her daddy weren't so well off… well, she wouldn't have been able to stay a minute in this town."

"I'm not sure why you're telling me this, Dad."

Giuseppe heaved a sigh. "Because, it's only going to get worse."

Those words made Damon pause. "What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is that if, after only two months, the girls are oohing all over her ring and asking when the wedding's going to be, you're going to be stuck in this damn town watching little Greg's and little Rose's run around, taunting you until the day you die."

Damon's mouth dropped slightly. "What happened to 'Rose is such a sweet girl. Hold on to that one?'"

Giuseppe let out a heavy breath, dialing back his earlier intensity significantly. "Look, I respect the family. As much as the guy might piss me off from time to time, Tom's great. And his wife's always been a friend of your mother's. But I hate seeing you like this. You go to work, you come home. That's your entirety of your life these days and it's not what you were meant for. It's not who I raised you to be. She's moved on and the town's gonna keep with her. If they ain't gonna pin the label of 'cheater' on her, they're going to pin the label of 'cheated' on you."

Damon flung his hands in the air. "I'm still not sure what you're asking of me here, Dad. You want me to find some hotter woman, wave her around town? That's pathetic."

"But leaving isn't."

Damon's mouth went dry, his eyes widening. "You're asking me to leave?"

"I'm not asking you to do anything, Damon. I'm just… I'm saying it's an option. And it might be your best one."

"How does running away solve any of my problems?"

"It's not running away. It's getting the opportunity to win. You have a law degree. You know this. You will never become better than her in this town no matter how gorgeous your wife is or how many straight-A kidlets you two pop out. If you're here, it will be a constant unspoken competition between the two of you and everyone will be watching. She will define you for the rest of your life. This place is too small… you'll have to be civil with her. I know you don't want it to end like that."

Damon glared at his father. "Maybe that's exactly what I want."

"No, it's not. You might have been complacent, Damon, but you've never been weak. You don't want to go down like this. You want the victory. And if you leave this two-bit town and go make something of yourself in a city that actually matters, you might just do that."

Damon felt the sick anger that had been eating away at him for months bubble up to the surface, his hands clenching into fists as he paced again. "God," he scoffed. "How did this even happen? I mean, what happened to all that 'I want to travel' bullshit?! I don't think she's gone three miles past this town's borders since the day she brought it up! If anything, those two have rooted themselves even more firmly here!" Damon pivoted, walking back to the mantle where the pictures still stood, his voice losing its edge as her face smiled at him from behind the frame. "It wasn't about seeing the world. It was just the idea that she could. I made her feel trapped."

Damon turned on his surprisingly silent dad. "What happened to taking the high road?" He asked accusingly.

"The option of leaving might be both." Damon's expression indicated that it wasn't a good enough answer. Giuseppe sighed, standing to pour himself another drink. "Look, kid. Nobody said I was a good guy. I appreciate you always thinking so, but… I'm too big a fan of justice, revenge. I want what's best for you. And you ain't gonna get it here." He came closer to his son, leaning in and placing his hand on his shoulder. "She said she felt trapped. What happens if you're the one to leave? You think that's going to make her feel too good about herself? She's going to constantly question whether or not she made the right choice, no doubt about that."

Damon stepped back from his dad, his poisonous words seeping into his skull and making far too much logical sense. "Damon, just say the word and I'll pay for it. Plane tickets, apartments, living expenses, you name it. You can do this. Your mother will get over it. Just visit every couple of years, yeah?"

Damon took a deep breath, his head slowly starting to shake back and forth, anxiety creeping through his nerves. Defeat settled into his skin and it felt like hell. "Dad, I can't…. I can't just… I can't leave everything I've ever known. I'm not that guy. I never will be."

He watched as disappointment fell over Giuseppe's face, nodding as he digested his son's decision. "Okay. Well, then, I guess I just came here to let you know I'm here for you. Let me know if there's anything I can do to help get ya through this." Giuseppe turned, going to grab his coat.

"I'm sorry, Dad." Giuseppe turned around, a quizzical expression marring his features. "I know it must be hard having the town fool for a son."

Giuseppe pursed his lips. "Like I said, Damon… I just want what's best."

January 2007:

For once, Damon was finally going to bed early, rather than staying up until the late night shows stopped and the infomercials began. But his slow-approaching sleep was interrupted by a loud knock at his door. Granted, it was only nine o'clock, but he was still none too thrilled.

There were only a few options. His dad trying another swing at getting him to hitch a ride out of town. His mother claiming she was going to die before she ever saw him again. Maybe friends to both patronize and insult him in their attempts to "comfort." He didn't really care to answer the door, but it was too small of a neighborhood. If he didn't answer, he might have the police barging in half an hour later, wondering if he'd died.

When Damon opened the door, he considered that he probably would have preferred the death option.

"Hey."

It wasn't as if he never expected the day to come when he'd run into Elena Gilbert. He knew being a hermit helped his wishful cause, but he wasn't naïve enough to think it would never happen. Every single day since the unfortunate incident in her dorm he'd gotten a call from her. No voicemail, no texts. Just phone calls. Obviously he'd never answered, but it didn't deter her in the slightest.

About a week after, Damon got a reminder on his phone, one that she must have sneakily placed during a library session. "Elena's Birthday" came up in all capital letters, an annoying ring accompanying the brutal words. It definitely wasn't his proudest, or most sober, moment when he texted her with: "Happy Birthday. Rose cheated on me. The engagement and relationship are off." Immediately after he sent it, the phone had begun to ring with her caller ID, but he'd shut it off.

An irritating rush of memories came back seeing her standing on his doorstep and Damon really wished he'd purchased more bourbon. Of course, after his father's demeaning little speech a few weeks back, he'd felt the need to prove him wrong. That meant the alcohol had to become a thing of the past. Of course, he now majorly regretted that decision.

"Elena, what are you doing here?"

Elena took a deep, exaggerated breath, exhaling like little kids are taught to do at the doctor's office. "We need to talk."

Damon's mouth tightened. Clearly, they needed to talk. They'd needed to talk since the moment he'd kissed her. He'd just been hoping that talk could occur about a decade from now. He sighed, bracing himself for whatever his once peaceful evening had in store for him. "Come on in."

Once she was safely inside and Damon had glanced around to check for any spying neighbors, he followed her into the living room. "I would have called," she murmured, gracefully sitting down on the edge of the leather chair. "But I didn't really think it would matter." Damon halfheartedly smirked at her dig. Regardless of his blunt text, her calls had neither decreased nor increased.

He moved to stand in front of her, hands in his pockets. "My apologies. It's been… complicated." He watched some of her strength fade at his words. "Would you like something to drink?"

Elena shook her head, rubbing her hands on her jeans, a few more trembles vibrating through her as she warmed up to the room. "No, thank you." He noticed that she'd worn no coat or jacket, even if it was probably thirty degrees outside. Damon grimaced as he recognized those old feelings of protection come rising back up in him. Just like riding a bike.

He moved to sit on the adjacent couch. "How did you get here?"

"I took a bus and then walked the rest," she replied guiltily. They both knew the nearest bus stop was at least a mile away.

Damon sighed, rubbing his forehead like he used to do while tutoring her. He hadn't cared about anyone but himself since October and having Elena in his house, shivering from the cold and looking more pathetic than a child at the dentist, made too many old habits come flooding back. He might have become a pretty shitty example of a man since Rose had left him, but it didn't mean the gentleman side had completely disappeared.

"Look, Damon." The strength in her voice surprised him. "I don't want to sit here pretending what happened didn't. I came here first and foremost to apologize to you. What I did that night was reckless and stupid and I shouldn't have provoked you like I did. Now, clearly, it wasn't a one-sided incident, but… But I have spent the last two and a half months alone and I've hated every second of it. I miss my friend… my only friend. And not only could I not talk to you or see you but all the while I knew you were hurting and I couldn't do anything about it. So, I guess what I'm asking is…" She trailed off, trying to collect her thoughts.

Damon decided to cut her off, fearing whatever she had planned to say. "Elena, I… I wish I could make you feel better about this. I do. But I don't think this is reparable. What happened between us… it shouldn't have happened. As much as I wish we could go back and make different decisions, I also know that sometimes relationships just need to end. Ours was one of them. I appreciate you wanting to help me, but it's not your place to. It never has been. I'm sorry I screwed up that night, but even if I hadn't, I would have cut you out regardless."

Elena swallowed. They sat in silence for a solid minute before she spoke again. "Does Rose know?"

She didn't have to be specific. "No," Damon replied firmly. He could sense she'd been carrying that guilt for a while. "Calling off the wedding had nothing to do with you."

Elena nodded once, picking at a loose string on her jeans. More silence filled the room as she steadied herself. Her voice shook slightly as she spoke. "Well, I also came to tell you that… I'm leaving."

Damon's chest tightened in response to her words. "Are you… are you going back home?"

Elena released a sad laugh. "God, no. I'm…" She took a deep breath, a small smile on her face. "I'm going to do what I wanted to all this time: move to LA and become an actress."

Damon's lips parted in surprise. "You're dropping out of college?"

"Might as well," she replied calmly. "I'm on academic probation after failing the majority of my classes last semester. Just got the Dean's official letter yesterday, but I already had a pretty good idea."

Damon let out a shocked noise. "Elena, you're kidding, right?"

She shook her head fiercely, surprise taking over her own features at his disbelief. "Not at all. Damon, I hate college. I don't want to be there anymore."

"You're eighteen years old! You can't move to LA by yourself."

"Well, moving by myself was kind of a last resort!"

Damon's entire body tensed from the blow. He leaned away from her as he processed her outburst. "When did you… you thought I was going to go with you?"

Elena sighed. Her voice was meek. "I thought, if I could convince you to forgive me, you might consider it."

Damon scoffed in skepticism, letting out a bitter laugh. "Just because you're living in your little fantasy doesn't mean everyone else is going to join you."

Fire rushed into Elena's eyes at his cruel words. "Yeah, well. It was just another delusion from the stupid little girl who had your tongue down her throat a few months ago."

Damon chose to ignore the juvenile remark. "I have no idea how you could possibly think I would go along with something this crazy."

"Because, Damon, you're just like me!" Elena's voice took on a pleading tone, her eyes desperate to convey how serious she was. "There's nothing holding us back. No Rose for you. No college for me. We're both miserable here. I can see it in you so don't bother denying it. You could get a job in LA, be a real lawyer, and work on cases that actually mean something. I can finally be where I've always wanted to be, do what I've always wanted to do. I don't know about you, but I'm sick and tired of wallowing at rock bottom. I have the opportunity to do something so ridiculously crazy because I have nothing else to lose."

Damon leaned back into the couch, closing his eyes. He knew he needed to get Elena out of the house before she screwed with his head anymore. But his strategizing was interrupted when Elena made her final appeal.

"I guess you're just more content than I thought."

Damon's eyes shot open as the glass shattered.

"You're too content... You were completely fine living this average life. You didn't want to go anywhere, do anything!"

Damon stood, his heart beating slightly faster than normal. He strode to the center of the room and ran his hands through his hair, nearly yanking the strands out of his head.

"Damon, are you alright?" Elena's voice from behind sounded like he was hearing it underwater. The blood was now rushing through his veins and pounding in his ears.

"You might have been complacent, Damon, but you've never been weak. You don't want to go down like this. You want the victory. And if you leave this two-bit town and go make something of yourself in a city that actually matters, you might just do that."

He let out a loud exhale as every awkward situation he'd encountered since Rose left him ran through his mind like a ticker. He remembered the shame in his father's face when he'd told him he couldn't leave, the pity in Rose's when he'd lost it in front of her. Images of little kids playing at Rose's feet that weren't his, the whispers anytime he went out in public… they wouldn't stop.

Damon's gaze fell on Elena, sitting in a chair that was almost comically big for her small frame. Her eyes were wide thanks to his frantic pacing and distressed appearance. Her vision, her hopeless dream suddenly seemed perfect. Ideal, even. Sure, she was probably going to fall on her ass within the month, but she'd learn soon enough how misguided she was. But Damon… he could finally get out of this town, away from all the judgmental faces, and he wouldn't have to do it alone. And, all the while, he could fulfill the needs of his long-forgotten inner good guy. Damon needed that part of his identity back more than he needed air to breathe and helping Elena would be the perfect way to lure it back.

Damon took a deep breath, feeling his decision settle in his bones. His head slowly nodded up and down and he suddenly knew exactly what to say.

"Why not?"

For years, Damon would say that her smile in that moment was brighter than all of the city lights combined.