It's the quiet before the storm. It's the break they take before going back to the battle. He had been through these many times in the past three years, but this time it's different. He's not alone in some warehouse packing his bags. He's in a normal house, in a pink room to be specific.
Normally there are no toys and Barbie posters everywhere. The smell is never this good either. He leans back in his little pink chair, careful not to break it. He looks at the girls in front of him, putting the biscuits in front of Mr. Panda first then giving him his share. He smiles at his plate, reaching his hand to have one.
"No, not like that." One of the girls say with a stern voice that reminds him of someone he used to know.
"You have to take a sip from your tea first then tell us if it needs something, and then you can eat." She says slowly, giving him time to process the instructions.
"Hmm." He raises his eyebrows before doing what she told him to do. "Oh, it's great."
"No, you're not supposed to say that." The other girl says with such exhaustion while the other shakes her head. He starts to think that he's a fool in this conversation.
"You have to taste it then say 'I think it needs more sugar'." She says slowly just like her sister. "And then I will put more sugar in your tea." She beams as she reaches what seems to be her favorite part.
He is about to do just what she told him before he hears someone clearing their throat next to the door. He turns around and the two girls are already hugging her knees.
"Mommy, Stefan is so bad at tea parties." One of them says while looking at him and giggling. They had agreed to call him by his name instead of Uncle Stefan, since he doesn't look that old.
He smiles at her without looking higher, wishing if it was just tea parties that he was bad at.
"Well, it's a good thing that it's bed time." Caroline says and a series of 'no's start.
"Come on, go brush your teeth." She says as she sends them out and they're actually racing to the bathroom. Of course, he thinks.
He stands up, burying his hands in his pockets and licking his lips. He looks around the room once again, trying so hard not to look at her.
It's so difficult. He can swear that her hair is like a magnet to his eyes just begging for them to fall on it.
He gives in, it's stupid and quick it doesn't last more than three seconds, but his heart is already going crazy.
So is hers.
He finally meets her eyes, because it's getting ridiculous and they are not teenagers or some couple from a movie. They can handle eye contact, so he should just grow up and do it. Do what? He thinks. It's not even a thing.
It's a stake going through his heart ever so slowly, it's a knife cutting through his skin, it's a blood boiling through his veins and it's a sad story flashing in front of his eyes. But it's not a thing.
He presses his lips into a thin line, ignores the noise his heart is making and starts walking to the door.
She steps a side to let him walk out but then she calls him.
He wants to stand in his place and let his mind repeat it over and over again. The way his name falls from her lips, the way every letter feels so special. But he turns around anyway, eyes might be a bit wider than normal.
"I uh," She pauses, her hand putting her hair behind her ear. "Damon, he uh, mentioned something about you-" She pauses to swallow, but she gathers her strength quickly and talks normally.
"He said that you started writing again." She finishes.
His eyebrows get furrowed, because how is this important.
"He basically told me that you're writing about me." She says the sentence in one breath with her eyes closed, when she opens them he's about to defend himself but she goes on.
"I know that it's not my business but I just wanted you to know that I'm happy." Once the words leave her mouth, he can see regret behind her eyes for choosing that word.
"I mean, I have my life now and… I think you knew this would happen."
No, he didn't.
"I just," she lets out a breath before taking a step closer. "I moved on." She nods to herself.
"I think you should too."
He suddenly notices her hand on his, opening his palm slowly. He feels something cold against his skin but all he can do is stare at her. Only when she brings his hand between them that he does look down. Mostly to hide his eyes.
It's the necklace. She still has it after three years, but she's giving it to him now. He clenches his jaw.
"I don't want to be your secret anymore." She says softly. "And I don't want you to be mine, either." She whispers.
He thinks he can see tears in her eyes, but she walks away too soon. It's all too quick, he doesn't even know what just happened. It looks like she let him go for the second time. And he remains still in his place, holding the necklace between his fingers.
It seems that it's the only thing he owns now.