disclaimer: this story will contain spanking in future chapters! so if you aren't comfortable with that, don't read!
Also if you like this, tell me! it would really mean a lot!
The opening scene of the sitcom 'Seinfeld' begun to play yet again on the brand new television that was sitting above the fireplace in the living room of the Salvatore boarding house. Stefan was watching one of his favorite television shows, which was what he had been doing for the entire day, along with the day before that, and the day before that, and so on.
He was coming out of yet another ripper-binge and he was so ashamed about what he had done whilst in such a state. Stefan didn't want to talk to anyone, because he knew that they'd only try and give him the usual talk.
'it's not your fault, Stefan. You weren't yourself. You have to forgive yourself.' As if it were that easy. He wished that he could forgive him — or go back in time and take back all he'd done and said, but he knew that both of those things wouldn't happen.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps coming towards the living room, but he pretty much knew exactly who it was.
"You're still sulking?" Damon said, before walking in front of the television, which he wasn't very fond of having in the room. "Christ, Stef, it's been two months and you haven't even attempted to get out of this headspace." He shook his head.
Raising his eyebrows, the youngest Salvatore reached over the pick up the bottle of bourbon he had been sipping on for the past… two days. "Since when do you use the word 'headspace'?" He asked, before letting out a little scoff.
Damon raised his hands in frustration, "I just heard Caroline say it!" He let his arms fall against his hips. "Whatever, Stefan. All i know is that you can't torture yourself anymore!-"
Stefan through the almost empty bottle across the room, glass shattering everywhere. "What do you want me to do, Damon?! Would you like me to act like nothing even happened, like I didn't kill all those innocent people?!" He got up from the chair hastily. He eyes started to well up with tears, all of the memories of ripping apart all those people rushing back to him — and a part from wanting to punch his brother in the jaw, all Stefan wanted to do was sink his fangs into someone's neck, as that was all that would quickly take his guilt away for a little.
"No, of course not! What I want is for you to talk to me!" Damon shouted back. He knew that Stefan wasn't going to get better over night, but it wasn't healthy OR safe for him to keep his emotions bottled up.
Running his fingers through his messy, unkempt blonde hair, Stefan took a deep breath and sat back down. "I can't talk about it Damon, okay?" He choked out, covering his teary eyes with his hand. "God, they were kids, Damon! I fucking killed kids.." he began to cry.
Damon sighed, hanging his head. He felt for his little brother, he wanted to help him anyway he can.
Sure, the two siblings fought constantly and at times, swore that they hated each other… but no matter what, they always found their way back to each other, even through all the violence.
"I know, brother…" Damon walked in front of the blonde, crouching down and laying a hand on the back of Stefan's neck. It wasn't in an authoritative way, it was to show Stefan that he was here, that he wasn't alone.
Stefan put his head in his hands at the contact, his lip quivering and shoulders shaking. "I've done stuff like this before, Damon. I've come back from a ripper binge before, but this time it's worse and I don't know why." He choked out, letting the tears freely flow from his brown eyes.
Damon nodded, carefully listening to his brother speak. "Because this time you didn't feed on humans because you were forced… you weren't compelled by Klaus or given some deadly ultimatum, you gave in to the cravings on your own," he told him, before using his other hand to lift Stefan's chin. God, he hated seeing his little brother cry.
The youngest Salvatore felt the knot that had been in his stomach tighten. Deep down, Stefan knew he was the only one to blame for his horrific actions, but he was just now admitting that to himself.
"I wish that I could just… take this pain you're going through away, but I can't." Damon told his little brother, before wrapping both of his arms around the back of Stefan's neck, pulling him into an embrace. "Just let it out, brother… just let it out," He gently whispered, rubbing his back.
And Stefan did just that — he sobbed, putting his face into the crook of Damon's neck. His whole body trembled, gripping onto the back of his brother's black button-up shirt.
There were a few minutes where the two didn't say anything, just comforting, but eventually Damon spoke. "I think that the television playing really takes away from this emotional moment," Damon whispered suddenly, just as a laugh track was heard on the TV. He was trying to lighten the mood, even if it was an inappropriate time to do so.
Through his tears, Stefan couldn't help but laugh. "Fuck off," he chuckled, before breaking the embrace and wiping his tears away with his wrist.
"Jesus, you need a shower." Damon stated as he stood up, going over to the nearby sofa and taking a seat. "And your hair, it's not—"
"Okay, okay!" Stefan interrupted Damon with a little smile, "I've let myself go, I know…" he looked down at his clothes, seeing his dingy white tank top and sweatpants, which definitely were in need of a washing machine.
Damon put his arms over the back of the couch. "Definitely…" he said simply. His eyes drifted away along with his thoughts, his mind going elsewhere.
The blonde stood up and was about to walk up to the bathroom but he stopped, seeing the look in his brother's face, immediately knowing what it was. "What're you thinking about?" he tilted his head, crossing his arms.
"What? Oh—" Damon shook his head. "I was just thinking about that time when father caught you stealing one of his cigars, I forgot why you did that…"
"It was because Elliot Forbes wanted to smoke one by the lake, he dared me and I wanted him to think I was cool…" he told Damon, furrowing his brows in curiosity.
The eldest brother snapped his fingers, pointing at Stefan. "Yes, that's it." He said quickly. "I remember coming into the house… Jesus, he was pissed." Damon laid back his head, shutting his eyes.
"Yeah, I remember…" At the time, those memories haunted him — but after a century, he wasn't bothered by them whatsoever, in fact he and his brother often joked about them. "He made me pick a switch from the yard."
Damon nodded softly, tapping his middle finger against the couch. "You could hardly sit down afterwards. Remember, I went up to your room and put that hot rag on your ass to try and soothe the pain."
"And why are you thinking about father whipping me?" Stefan asked with a light chuckle.
Damon stayed quiet for a couple moments, before giving his brother a shrug. "Oh, just thinking about old memories… go take your shower," He said casually, putting his feet up on the coffee table.