The Sun is Gone but I have the Light

-Kurt Cobain

#

Bonnie wrestled with her satchel trying to find her padlock amongst the jumble of old takeaway wrappers and lipstick stumps. Her worn floorboards still hugged the place where Kol's chestnut wood piano used to be and she had bought a million scatter cushions to fill up the space. The apartment suddenly felt vast, stark and the rattle of the old radiator kept her up most nights. Bonnie woke up every morning, took a tepid shower, got dressed, forced herself to eat something, went to work and took two glasses of wine before bed every night.

She would survive, she told herself. This would not break her.

Seattle was a peroxide blonde morning with strawberry erections hallucinating in a manic fling. The streets were littered with tourists flocking from gift shop to gift shop dressed in ubiquitous band t-shirts. It was September and Emerald city was jam packed with music fans in town for the notorious music festival.

Someone slammed against her side view mirror as the crowd surged and weaved through standstill traffic scattering toward chilli hotdog stands. Everyone was jittery, anxious about the sudden assault of an Indian summer. As a police car zigzagged through traffic, blue and red lights flashing, her mobile phone vibrated on the passenger seat.

"Kat"

"I do not look sexy in leather in this sweltering heat, Bonbon" Katherine cried over the receiver "you told me Seattle was wet and cold"

"Relax, princess" Bonnie sighed glancing at the review mirror and fluffing up her damp hair "I'll be there in twenty"

###

When Bonnie's little car puttered to a stop, Katherine was leaning outside the airport building blowing smoke rings from her mouth. Ashing her cigarette onto the concrete pavement, she sauntered over to the Bonnie's car.

"Look at you dressed in red," Katherine smirked dragging her eyes over Bonnie's brown cowboy boots, tattered bum shorts and red Beatles vest "Santa's little helper"

"Look at you dressed in skank" Bonnie crossed her arms, leaning into her car "Santa's little-"

"How Kol managed to kiss that potty mouth all these years is beyond me" she laughed scooping up her designer suitcase.

"Hey, watch it sister" Bonnie said lifting up Katherine's hat box "there will be no mention of Kol this weekend"

"Hmm…you can actually smell the sex and tequila in the air"

"What the heck do you have in here, a severed head?" dumping Katherine's luggage in her trunk, Bonnie slammed the thing shut, rocking the rusty car "I thought you were here to work, remember, Cream Magazine…freelance work?"

"All work and no play would make me a dull girl, cupcake"

"Or a dull lay, "Bonnie shrugged smiling "so I've heard"

Snapping forward, Katherine quickly brushed grey ash off her lap as a spiral of smoke still coiled from one hand.

"Hey, watch it!" Bonnie glimpsed at her "this baby's not insured"

"You're dating the son of one of the wealthiest New York families and yet you still drive around in this junk"

"You're as hopeless as a penny with a hole in it" she shook her head hurling the cigarette butt outside the window.

"It's called being an independent female, "Bonnie retorted "and quit stealing my lines, they don't look good on you"

"Red doesn't look good on you" Katherine propped her legs on the dashboard, fanning herself with a New Yorker. "Are we excited for this music festival or what?"

"Its work"

"Yes, the strenuous task of working under rockstars.

##

Crowds of music fans clamoured outside the bustling arena eager to get in as Bonnie and Katherine braved the dry torpid heat to get inside the venue. They skidded into the venue flashing their laminated all access VIP press tags, doing their best to squeeze through the impatient fans standing in line. After much maneuvering, they were upstairs, watching the concert from a raised platform above the sound equipment. The podium was scattered with VIP's and jaded music journalists. They all shuddered, hearts hammering in response to the snarling skeletal guitar lines coming from the stage. The throbbing fans screamed, cheered as Alaric galloped across the stage belting out a screeching howl.

Bonnie's nerves were pulsing as Damon geared for his solo. She wriggled her sweaty fingers inside her back pockets, took them out and plucked at the gold access wristband before raking them through her wild hair.

Watch the nerves Bonbon; he's not going to botch it!

Coming in with his wailing guitar, the crowd chanted and cheered as Damon fingerpicked his strings. His chords gripped the mob, they suckled and they swayed, they stomped and they prayed, they raged as he regaled them with his savage guitar range.

"Christ, he's good!" Katherine yelled next to her, hands gripping the railing.

"Yeah, he's great" Bonnie smiled a sun-baked smile, seared cheeks aching as she licked the wetness gliding down her cheeks.

##

The band dodged the greenroom mob and made like Cinderella hurtling down the back exit to an even more vicious horde. They hurried past screaming fans wailing for the band's autograph and Bonnie felt her heart batter against her chest as someone's elbow bruised her rib, jostling her out of the way to get to the band.

She panicked, heart rate shot right up, dry heat and human stench crawling up the back of her neck, boots sloshing through puddles of shallow mud. She loved the rush of fans panicking for that shot, that picture, that autograph and yet when her chest tightened and the torpid air began to thin around her, Bonnie panicked. She was about to screech a howling scream when she felt someone's warm and clammy hand clamp around her fingers. Her eyes sprang up and in all that chaotic screaming and scratching, she saw Damon smiling back at her.

##

They were sprawled inside an air-conditioned hotel suite with fruit platters and a reckless amount of drugs and alcohol.

Enzo kept ashing his cigarette into the lobster platter, his eyes fixed on the jolly boobs of the porcelain redhead who was busy straddling him. Bonnie watched as a millimetre of black ash fell and coated the pink shell of the fish before her eyes sprinted past to Alaric seated on a meditation pillow rolling a joint. Her eyes hurried across the room to Isobelle, alabaster skin, long dark hair and gorgeous heart shaped face. She staggered into the room, voice hoarse from shouting at the concert. She stopped, swayed and hovered over Bonnie. Polishing white powder off her nose, a vial of Alaric's blood swung around her neck.

"Don't look at me" she told Bonnie.

"I'm sorry" she replied, hands held up and eyes anxious to look elsewhere in the frenzied room.

"I know your type, I know what you think about me...about us" she said making a dramatic arm sweep around the bustling room.

"I'm a junkie, a lover, a fan, a follower; I'm a believer and a disciple. I love rock n roll and rock n roll loves me. Dont fucking call me a groupie because my soul bleeds for rock! What the fuck do you believe in?"

Bonnie's mouth dried up, her heart skipped several beats and she knew right then, she had arrived. Isobelle was Alaric's road wife and if she had noticed Bonnie that meant that she was affecting their space, changing their dynamic. That's all a really good journalist wants, to effect quantum physics.

#

Damon POV

The bathroom mirror was hazy with all the smoke wafting around in the other room. Damon's vision blurred as someone stared back at him through that gaping silvery hell. He wiped a shaky hand across the mirror before scratching at his stubble chin. The images swam around him as blood welled in his pulsing veins. He remembered taking something from a very generous Enzo to help him with his nerves; he just couldn't remember what it was.

"Damon"

He recognized the voice as she tapped the door lightly, listening for the sound of gushing water from a tap he had opened several moments ago. Her voice snapped him back to reality and he wondered how long he had been starring at his own reflection.

"Yeah?"

"You ok in there?"

Damon opened the bathroom door and found her leaning against the frame grinning like a stoned angel. She had that woody scent again, just like a garden nymp frolicking in a sun dappled meadow. Her fiery green eyes raced around the toilet looking past him

Damn it, what did Enzo give him?

"I'm beautiful" he replied knowing fully well that he was grinning like an idiot.

"Where's your shirt?"

"Wet" he slurred motioning with his head toward the sink with running water.

"You sure you're ok?"

"Yes, mom"

"Don't do that"

He'd ticked her off. He winced as her pointy finger jabbed his naked chest. She liked doing that finger jabbing thing, he noted. He liked it, it reminded him of his mother and that wasn't a bad thing in his books. Not a bad thing at all.

"I'm gonna head out"

"Come on, don't do that" he whined wanting to touch her.

"I'm tired, dirty and sweaty. I need to go home"

"What about the band?"

"I was here to work Damon and that's done"

"It doesn't look like your friend is ready to leave yet, "he gestured toward Katherine propped against a corner wall engaged in a furious game of tongue hockey with Mason Lockwood.

"I'm not Katherine"

"There're about to start the firework-"

As he said it, the first fiery rocket shot the moon and everyone ran outside to watch the showcase. The black sky shattered around them, a beautiful kaleidoscope of lights bursting in the sky and lightning up Seattle.

Damon looked over at Bonnie as the rainbow of lights exploded around them. A breeze kicked her tousled hair across her flushed cheeks, his clammy palm slid against her warm palm and his fingers laced through her fingers.

Bold and satisfied, Damon waited with a pounding heart. He waited for Bonnie to kick him in the shin.