When the door opens and Caroline steps aside to let Elena enter the room in her lovely white dress, Damon cannot help but find her beautiful.
He'd be so lucky to have her as his wife. He could still be that lucky, tell her now how wonderful she looks and walk together to the altar to keep his word. But he knows that that thought is just the last kick of his poorly equipped rational side — that piece of conscience that every day reminds him, "Wasn't this why you let the world be damned?" — trying to salvage those years spent obsessing and sacrificing and bleeding and losing just for this beautiful girl that is standing in a white dress.
This girl that he loves. Because he loves Elena, because he'll always love Elena, in that nostalgic, fond, forgiving way one can still love their first love of many years back.
Damon can hear the sound of violins coming from outside, and feels himself detaching from everything that is not her.
Elena's hands grip her overskirt as she takes a step forward, nervous as she offers an uncertain smile.
"Caroline said you wanted to see me." She tries to look playful. "I hope you realize we're tempting fate here."
"I wouldn't worry," he says like he's trying to convince himself this is going to end well. "I've already bent fate and killed quite a few people to have you," he admits easily to both of them. "What could possibly stop us now?"
"That's true." Elena nods with a warm smile.
There's a spark of complicity between them, a feeble sensation, and for a moment he can taste that feeling of connection he was so enamored with when they first started to know each other, when she looked so pure, so good-hearted that she could dispense salvation with her kisses and make of him a better man.
For a split moment he thinks that maybe if he puts more effort and will into this, maybe if he forgets everything that has happened in the last years like it was alcohol induced dream, then he can get it back. And yet, it's been so long since he's felt something like this, probably from the night he forced his presence, and Caroline's, into her house and they dined together with Bonnie and Stefan. That night Elena was perfect and warm and unreachable, and that made her just a little more perfect.
After that night Elena became a land to steal and conquer.
"I…" He realizes bitterly that though they've been together for years now, he feels like he hasn't seen the real Elena in a long, long time. "I was so sure you were my second and last chance at love that I did my damnedest to not leave you any other choice but to love me back."
"Well, you were stubborn," she admits.
"I was psychotic," he corrects her. "In my own charming way, of course," he adds with a hint of his particular brand of arrogance, making her smile.
"I was hell bent on having you, no matter how many times you rejected me, because you were the only thing that could make sense of my whole existence. One day I just decided you were everything to me. I told myself that my fixation on Katherine was worth it because it led me to you. You were my destiny and you would make me a better man. And I'm sorry about that," he admits, discovering new truths about himself as he opens up to her. "I'm sorry for putting you on a pedestal and for expecting you to do something I could only do myself." He shakes his head in disbelief. "I wanted you to look at me and see someone that deserved your love, so I blamed my outbursts on everyone else, and all the rest… I just did it behind your back so I wouldn't have to explain and see another piece of you go the moment you decided to walk over your morals to forgive me. I just kept my dirtiest secrets and my sins all to myself. It was easier than trying to wedge myself into your life like an extra piece in a puzzle that was completed already."
"Damon," she begins, looking at him distrustfully, dreading his next words. "What are you doing?"
"Something I should have done before," he says, swallowing a knot. "I know I'm a selfish son of a bitch, that I'm basically spitting on my brother's sacrifice, but…I just want to marry someone that knows the darkest parts of me, because becoming human didn't erase them, Elena." He's aware of all his faults and lacking but ready to be honest about them. "I'm the same egoist asshole that will use any means to get what he wants and won't offer any apology for it, absolutely incapable of sharing attention even if it's for a good cause, and I'm not sure how many times you can ignore my faults or blame them on something else before you realize I'm just not the one for you." He's not ready to break her heart, and yet not able to continue with the charade. Not when every time he thinks of his future, the only one he can see next to him is Bonnie, even though he's not sure she'd take well to that confession.
"I'm not," he admits with a sort of strange relief. "And you are not the one for me," he finishes in a low voice, like he's confessing to all of his crimes and ready to accept any punishment.
Elena looks pale, and her eyes are fixated on a small table to her right. There's a flower composition with a note that emerges between the green leaves. She's suddenly curious to know who sent them, to read the well wishes for her special day.
She moves her weight from one foot to the other, and for a moment he's ready to catch her fainting figure, but she takes a breath, her breast moving up and down under her deep V neckline, and she uses her hands to smooth the wrinkles of her the overskirt of her white dress.
He doesn't know how long she stays like that, smoothing something that is not wrinkled, staring at something she's not really seeing.
"Elena?" Damon calls her, still unsure about what to do. He expects her to throw an accusation, or rather start crying, even just to twist the knife and make him feel all her pain. He will let her because it's only fair.
For a moment she looks like she's about to vomit, yet she doesn't move, just looks about herself like she's making sure it's all real.
Damon wants desperately for her to say something, just anything.
"Do you like this dress?" she asks, looking down at the gown she's wearing.
He blinks, confused. Well, maybe not exactly anything.
"What?" He's just laid his soul bare, told her they're not meant for each other, and she wants to talk about her dress? He's not sure what is happening, maybe she's trying to convince herself it was just a joke or a hallucination.
"Elena…" he repeats her name, feeling helpless.
"I never imagined wearing this dress to get married," she explains, looking up at him with a vexed expression.
He's speechless, and worried, because maybe the shock of his revelation on such a day has made her delusional. He's always been proud about his capability to make women crazy about him, but this really takes it up a notch.
"You look beautiful," he replies, unsure of where this conversation is going, or how he can bring it back to where it was before.
"You think?" she asks, like she's deeply considering her stylistic choices. "The truth is that whenever I imagined my wedding day I always envisioned another dress, one I've seen on the cover of a magazine Jenna bought when I was sixteen. It was an A-line dress, in ivory Chantilly and chiffon. It was really romantic." She smiles thinking of the dress, and Damon stands there looking at her and waiting for her to fall to pieces.
Maybe he wasn't clear enough. Maybe she hadn't really listened, or maybe she was trying to tell him that not everything is the way one imagines it but they have to make it work anyway.
"I didn't even try to find it because I knew it wasn't going to be the way I imagined it…because whenever I imagined my wedding day…I would see Stefan next to me." And in that moment Damon realizes she's been braver than him this whole time because this is not a sudden revelation for her. "I bought this dress hoping you would like it, but no matter how hard I tried I could never picture this day, or…us. I could never see our future together. I told myself I was too stressed out, too concentrated on my studies…that it was because our relationship was more mature, and I was too grown up to fantasize about my wedding day or my married life. But I… I knew better. Even while I was putting on this dress and trying to look pretty for you." She knew.
Elena always knew and he just gave her the chance to admit it to the both of them. They were each other's second best all along and he's not bitter about it.
"If I hadn't interfered between you two, my brother would still be alive and you would be happy now." He feels guilty, but he also feels relieved, because now he's admitted it aloud and can finally try to face himself and his own regrets.
He's built a fantasy over the broken promises of another woman, over his wounded pride, over his petty jealousy. He and Elena made sense, as long as they were relegated to his fantasies. They were perfect, as long as someone stood in the way of their love, making it appear like the ultimate, unattainable prize. But when it's only them, two people between billions of other people that go on with their lives, every epic speech about their hard-fought love becomes pointless, and normalcy becomes something to bear and overcome rather than enjoy and nurture.
They don't know how to truly love each other unless the world is ending.
They both followed an illusion, like two thirsty people trying to squeeze water out of sand in the desert.
"I made my choices," she admits, feeling the taste of regret on the tip of her tongue, "and Stefan made his."
Stefan.
It feels so freeing to be finally able to say and hear that name after they've tried so hard to never bring it up, not with each other anyway, otherwise it would have been too apparent that Stefan Salvatore was the only thing that had made their relationship work as long as it did.
And after all, Damon didn't want to remind her of what she had lost. And Elena never wanted to speak of what she could never have again. Both had to come to terms with the fact that despite their long speeches and even longer excuses, they loved him more than they could ever love each other.
"He did because he thought that I would make you happy," he replies bitterly. "He sacrificed himself so that I could have this." He opens his hands gesturing at the clothes they are wearing, at this show they've put on so that they could reassure themselves that everything was fine.
"He sacrificed himself because that was the kind man he was, and he loved you very much."
There's a knock at the door, and they both turn towards it as Caroline speaks on the other side, her voice hesitant, unsure if she's intruding on a sweet moment or a sad one. "Guys…I don't want to interrupt you, but it's time," she reminds them.
Elena looks at her with vague surprise.
Somehow it's fitting that the one woman that got Stefan's forever after she's stupidly let him go, is the one to unwittingly remind her that it's time to move on.
Elena turns towards Damon to meet his blue eyes.
"Yeah, it's time," she says.
#
Elena's fingers tighten around Damon's when he looks at her, trying to find comfort and reassurance that they are doing the right thing. She takes a breath walking the aisle with him at her side as people look at them and smile warmly at the happy couple.
There's a scent of flowers in the air, and the carpet under her feet is soft. The train of her dress smoothly caresses it as the music of a string quartet accompanies their steps.
It feels strange, and strangely exhilarating, like an out-of-body experience. She had braced herself for the feeling of panic freezing her, for the vague sensation of nausea with a touch of self-consciousness for flavor, but Damon's presence now feels so right that she knows everything will be okay.
On the altar, waiting for them there, is Jeremy, fidgeting and repeatedly fixing the flower pinned on his jacket. Bonnie is looking at them with no expression on her pretty face, like she's going over her to-do list as she waits for them to say their vows. Maybe Caroline's drive rubbed off on her.
Damon tries to meet her eyes but the most attention he manages to get from her is her inspecting the ironing of his lapel like her life depends on it.
No one seem to bat an eye at the fact that he and Elena are walking the aisle hand in hand completely ignoring the wedding march and not respecting the tempo it dictates, or the fact that once they are in front of the officiant they both turn with their back to him to address their guests. The band stops abruptly and everyone falls silent, waiting.
Both the bride and the groom are smiling and look perfectly content, so everyone is ready for an improvised thank you speech.
This detour in her perfectly outlined plan for the day pokes Caroline, and she tries to ignore the feeling, choosing to look about herself, trying to make sure everything else still looks perfect, and giving herself something else to worry about, because even if the happy couple look fine and the ceremony is obviously about to begin, she still feels uneasy, like the other shoe is about to drop.
Jeremy has finally stopped killing the flower on his jacket, and Bonnie looks almost translucent in her golden dress.
Damon tries to peek at the girl at his side, the one not dressed in white, but she doesn't meet his eyes. It feels a little pitiful, and just plain wrong, and Caroline nervously starts tormenting her fingers like she's trying to decide if she should just throw the towel in, ruin this wedding for everyone and be over with it already.
"First of all," Damon starts, "Elena and I wanted to make sure you know that we are very grateful for your presence today." His voice is firm and gentle. He looks at Elena, smiling next to him, tightening the hold on her hand and bringing it to his mouth to kiss her knuckles. "It truly means a lot to us to be able to share this moment with you and we hope you'll be as happy as we are for this fresh start."
His words only marginally mitigate Caroline's anxiety. She takes a deep breath, smiling at the scene and reassuring herself that this wedding is going exactly as planned. She'll try to remember this dreaded feeling of uncertainty and fear next time she decides to martyr herself on the altar of someone else's happily ever after.
"Since we are not getting married today nor we are planning to do that anytime soon, at least not with each other, we hope you will enjoy the food and the music."
The surprised voices around them start asking questions that they ignore, smiling. "You can take back your wedding gifts if you prefer. Have fun!" Elena adds before checking the watch she had hidden in her bouquet. There's a surgery scheduled in twenty minutes and she's dying to see it, and maybe she could find a laptop to take a peek through the streaming service they sometimes use for colleagues overseas.
"What did you do?" Caroline asks, panicking as she pushes people aside to reach Damon who's already walking away from the altar.
"I made this wedding unforgettable," he replies easily.
"There's been no wedding!" she protests, grabbing the sleeve of his jacket to pull him back towards her.
"Exactly." He smiles as he pulls his arm back and walks towards Bonnie who's silently staring at them like they've grown a second head.
"Bon," he starts, but she turns her back and walks away.
Damon follows her as Caroline stands there watching their backs. The chatter and gossip is unbearable, already grating on her poor nerves, and she makes a gesture to the band so they start playing. They promptly play a violin version of "I Know I'm Not the Only One" and she wonders if they have a repertoire for failing weddings. "You're kidding me…" she mumbles to herself as Elena rushes close to her, asking, "Caro, do you have a laptop with you?"
"What?" she asks, confused, still thinking about the song that's being played by the quartet she hired for the occasion, only there's no occasion anymore, and they don't work cheap.
"I need a laptop to see if I can follow a surgery via streaming," Elena says, trying to make her understand the urgency of her request.
It takes her a few moments to answer. Caroline looks at her, blinking slowly, and even she knows it's not remotely what her friend asked of her, she can't help but whine, "It's your wedding day!"
"I know, and I promise no surgeries at my next wedding, okay?"
Caroline is way too shocked to add anything to that. She just nods and suggests, "Ask the video crew."
#
Bonnie ignores his call as he follows her up the stairs. She takes each step easily, not even needing to pull up her long gold dress to avoid stepping on it. She's the strangest picture of beauty and control, and he's half turned on by that, and half fearful. He grabs the handrail decorated with flowers and ribbons as he follows her, trying to rush after her.
Her walk is so secure sometimes she seems to float on air, or maybe it's just the adrenaline making him see things. She goes straight into her room and once they are alone it starts to hit him, the infinite number of possibilities they have now, all of which he wants to explore with her only. They could start fresh, build a house and start a mortgage, or live under a bridge, travel together, or just have sex right now on her bed as all of his guests are downstairs enjoying the pricey buffet they've chosen together for a wedding he can't have unless the bride is Bonnie and never leave the room again.
The last option sounds like the best one by far, but that wouldn't seem very romantic in retrospect so he strikes out that one and tries not to look to hungry for her.
"Bonnie…"
It feels strange to say her name when he's free to speak it with all the passion and longing he feels for her, when he doesn't have to try and make it sound like everyone else's, doesn't have to try and say it with the same enthusiasm as the words 'laundry detergent'.
She doesn't make it an easy task because she looks fearful and distrustful like she's almost scared of his touch. He feels a spasm in his palm and fingers and he stretches them at his side trying to stop himself from going to her and framing her face to kiss her.
Her fearful eyes are enough to cool his barely concealed enthusiasm.
"Bonnie," he repeats, and her own name seems like a pop quiz to her. "I tried to tell you last night but you refused to listen because you couldn't bear the thought of hurting Elena. Well…she's not hurt. And I can't marry her." He says clearly, "I don't love Elena."
"You don't…" she starts, trying to connect the dots.
She's usually faster than this, and he'd like her to get with the program and be on his same page finally, but he's not going to push. Not too hard.
"Didn't you suspect that when I kissed you?" he asks, almost amused. There's still something so naïve, so unaware in her. "Or when I tried to make you feel guilty about leaving me for your next trip? Or when I asked another woman to marry me just to have an excuse to make you come back to me?" He smiles nervously. Part of him knows that he's not alone in this love, that there's something that binds her to him, but the other part knows that Bonnie Bennett could have the world at her feet if she wanted to, and maybe she doesn't love him like that at all, and last night all she was trying to do was use Elena as a scapegoat to distract him from the fact that she simply doesn't want him.
"That's not what was supposed to happen." There's a strange tone in her voice, like a student that's been tested on a subject she doesn't know. It would be funny if he wasn't scared shitless right now.
"I beg to disagree."
"I was here to be your best man," she explains as if it changes anything, as if they could go back and do it over and she could stay inside the screenplay she's written for herself.
"You are. You are my best man, and my best friend, and the best thing that ever happened to me." He continues, unashamed, "You are everything." Damon tells her clearly, moving forward, needing to hold her face and force her to stare into his eyes and into his heart and see, finally, what she means to him.
"You can't touch me," she protests uselessly, trying to escape him by walking backward.
His large, beautiful, implacable hands sink into her face. Her skin is suddenly made of air, translucent and inconsistent. Her back is halfway into the wall as she looks at him.
"Bonnie?"
"I told you. I was supposed to be here only as a best man. This…illusion is already fading," she explains, finally able to talk about something she knows rather than playing a part.
"You're not here?" he asks breathlessly.
"I'm not her," she replies instead. Looking almost sad. "I mean, a tiny-tiny part of her."
"What does that mean?" he asks, looking hurt and sounding vexed.
"Well, you know when you drink a coffee and there's a few drops sliding down on the walls of the cup so when you later look into the cup there's still some coffee left?"
"So, you're a drop of Bonnie?"
The image of the beautiful girl he just basically left a girl at the altar for nods at him with pity, and it angers him more. And it kills him even more.
From the garden he can hear the violins play a sad song. How fitting.
Take me to the rooftop
I wanna see the world when I stop breathing
Turning blue
Tell me, love is endless, don't be so pretentious
Leave me, like you do (like you do)
"Where has she gone?" he asks, turning inside the room to inspect it. The bag in which he left his stupid gift is gone, and somehow that thought, the thought of something of him still with her is almost sweet.
"I don't know," she replies pitifully as he opens the closet to see her clothes gone and her luggage nowhere in sight.
"When did she leave?" He pulls at his tie because suddenly he's having trouble breathing.
"I don't know" she repeats.
"Well, what the fuck do you know?" Damon shouts angrily at her, though he cannot threaten nor hurt her, because she doesn't exist.
The illusion of Bonnie shakes her head, for a moment her golden dress shines like it's being hit by light coming from the inside of her.
"Why are you here?" he asks, sounding almost defeated.
He posed the wrong question because she's going to blabber again about being the best man.
"I am here to do what she couldn't do," she explains instead, making him look at her with sudden, desperate interest. "I am here to see you happy and disappear forever."
If you need me
Wanna see me
Better hurry
'cause I'm leaving soon
"Why?" he asks, hoping against all hope she could tell him. "Why couldn't she do it herself?" But he doesn't leave space for an answer, even if that answer is silence. "If I don't mean anything to her, what was the rush? She could leave after the ceremony. Why didn't she want to stay?"
He's reasoning aloud, talking to himself rather than her. She's not really there after all.
"I'm just a drop of her," she says, watching him stare at nothing as he thinks and nods. "But this drop is all made of love for you."
Damon stares at her, shaken, like he's on the verge of everything he's ever wanted. And isn't he?
"What about the rest of her?"
She just shrugs, not knowing the answer.
Truth is, if a drop of love is all Bonnie could give him, he would take it. Yes, he would take it, and ration it and manage to leave for it until it was humanly possible.
He remembers suddenly that she was planning to take a flight for Madagascar the next day. Maybe she had just changed the date, so he rushes down the stairs, grabs the key to his car and drives out of the garage ignoring people staring at him like he's a crazy man jumping out of a dark corner to kill them.
But there's no one remotely resembling Bonnie at the boarding area, and when he manages to have someone call her through the speaker she doesn't show up even if he waits four hours and then repeats his message every twenty minutes, still dressed like he's supposed to get married any minute. And he's once again the object of people's whispering.
As he waits he call the agency to which he has spoke a few days back, and after some insistence and pleading, the woman confirms that she annulled the flight, and she hasn't requested any other destination. She probably just went to the airport and chose one of the first flights available.
He's never going to find out where the hell she's gone unless he bribes the police, so how lucky that he's got one on speed dial.
Taste me, the salty tears on my cheek
That's what a year-long headache does to you
I'm not okay, I feel so scattered
Don't say I'm all that matters
Leave me
Déjà vu
Her eyelids tremble, and as she's dozing off she can feel the warmth of a hand on top of hers. Long fingers sliding over the skin and resting their soothing weight on it. There's a hint of his cologne in her nostrils, burned into her brain, and her first instinct is to smile in her half-asleep state.
In the distance she can hear her name, spoken with passion and longing, sounding like she's different than anything else, like she's more important than anything else. It's a pinch to her heart, and her very soul goes quiet. It's one moment of absolute bliss, the thing that heaven might be made of.
But it lasts a blink and it's gone.
She turns her head. Next to her the seat is vacant and as a hostess passes through the isle to make sure everyone has their belt plugged in, she tries to recall Enzo once again, looking inside herself, finding her love for him like a buried treasure. She grabs at it with all her force, with her will and desperation. The ambiance goes blue, so very slowly, and the sounds become muffled, and still the place next to her is stubbornly empty.
She's been trying to see him since last night, been waiting for him to show up since he told her he never cared that he wasn't the one. She's been trying so hard to call him back since she left the ceremony.
But Enzo never appeared. Maybe it's to find him that she's going to Paris.
Or maybe it's just a better place to say their goodbye.
If you need me
Wanna see me
Better hurry
'cause I'm leaving soon
When he walks inside the sitting room Elena is basically roosted on his sofa, wearing her voluminous wedding dress and watching some flesh being sewed on the screen as she chews their wedding cake.
"The buffet is over and everyone has gone home," she informs him.
There's a long beat of silence.
"You don't look so good," she says distractedly, taking a second look at him.
Damon sits next to her, feeling heavy and tired. Humanity is not very convenient sometimes. Like now when he feels a bit like killing himself and he can't, because it would be definite, and what if Bonnie thinks it back and decides to come find him then? Doubts are bigger and meaner when you are just a man in love.
"I don't feel so good," he confirms abandoning his head against the cushions behind him.
"Cake?" she asks, raising her plate where there's only a little piece of wedding cake left.
"No, thanks."
"I take it you didn't find her." Her tongue peeks out to take a drop of whipped cream left on the corner of her mouth. He's only slightly surprised that they are talking about this. Or that she's recognizing the truth so openly so soon.
"No, I didn't." He lowers his eyes to his empty hands abandoned on his thighs.
"You will," Elena replies after a long moment of silence. "I have no idea how that will go, but you will. I know you." She puts the fork and plate down to pat his knee.
"Thanks," he says, and her dress brushes against his longs legs as she walks past him.
"I'm tired, I need a shower and a long, long night of sleep," she informs him tiredly as she walks away. He's not sure she said goodbye before leaving, but he's going to see her again when she re-emerges from her courses. And they will be fine.
He dozes off for a few minutes, and regrettably wastes a chance to dream about Bonnie.
When he opens his eyes Caroline is sitting in front of him, reading something on a battered piece of paper.
"I'm sorry," he says before she can notice he's awake. Her eyes lift to look at him. "You worked hard to plan the perfect wedding, and I forgot to tell you I'm in love with someone else."
She's looking at him with no accusation and he doesn't feel like keeping this information to himself. "You're basically my family now," he says. "And I should have told you."
"You actually did," she says with a bitter smile, "when you tried to use me to keep her here, when you insisted Bonnie was yours," she adds with a sigh. "When you wrote this." She holds the battered piece of paper between the second and third fingers of her left hand.
"What's that?"
"Your wedding vows." She looks down at the scribbled words. "There was only you. Maybe not from the start. Maybe not with that enlightened awareness of every male lead inside a romance novel, but in a way, there was only you, always."
"Fuck," he says, closing his eyes for a moment.
"It's Bonnie. She's the one that sleep-talks and the one you tormented and literally the only person in the world for you. It's Bonnie."
"It's always been Bonnie." And he now fully understands the implications of those few words.
"Well," she starts, looking down at the piece of paper as she folds it neatly, "You already have your vows when you decide to give marriage another shot." Her giggle lightens the moment, and he thinks that all he needs is a good sleep and to pester Donovan into taking a few shortcuts and breaching a couple of protocols here and there.
Easy peasy.
#
Note: Hi there, I'm sorry for my rare updates, I've been struggling with a lot of things lately, but I haven't given up on any of my stories so I hope you can be patient with me.
The song I used in this chapter is "Listen before I go" by Billie Eilish. Please leave me a review and consider supporting me by buying me a coffee at /paintedwithwords.