For Ronnie_R, who asked to see something revolving around the flashback where they discuss being allowed to cry.

When you live for a couple of centuries, there are momentous that are certain to go missing. While they keep the boarding house protected the best they can, Damon knows not all magic can keep people out. Considering he's spent very little time in Mystic Falls since turning up until finding out the truth regarding his brother's classification status, there's things he accepted he may never see again.

Some pictures have been misplaced over the years. He doesn't miss the ones of Giuseppe. Images of his father are firmly ingrained in his brain. Would it be nice to have some from his youth? Of course. But he chalked those going missing up to time and the fire.

Damon finds himself up in the attic one Tuesday afternoon, in search of their summertime decorations. His brother has begged him to not throw any parties, but Damon has missed them. Stefan can be as antisocial as he wants and hug the wall with his small group of friends. For once, Damon is going to have a little fun.

"Where are those stupid twinkly lights…" Damon mutters as he pushes back a box marked "XMAS Crap".

Rather than the décor he's looking for, he finds a small shoebox. Damon raises the lid. Small frames are nestled in a bed of tissue paper. He carefully lifts one, tracing the picture within.

Stefan, no older than 4, sitting on their mother's lap. His chin length blonde hair frames his adorable round face. Both of them are smiling, even if Lily's is smaller. Damon's heart flutters as he stares at the photograph. This is how he remembers Stefan. Even if he's frozen at 17 and taller, with older features, when he looks at him, this is what he sees. The innocent Mama's Boy who Damon shielded from the evils of their home.

There's one of Damon at a similar age, a few years before Stefan was born. In contrast, he can barely remember that boy. He's smiling wide, his blue eyes have a twinkle of innocence. Damon isn't sure he was ever that carefree, even so young. Surely not long after the photo was taken, Giuseppe found something to be upset about, screaming at both father and son.

It's still a nice bit of fiction that can trick Damon into thinking at one point, he and his mother were happy.

There's a few family portraits at he bottom of the box. Damon doesn't bother looking at those. While it'd be nice to see Stefan through the years, he doesn't need to spend more time thinking about their father.

Damon forgets about the decorations for the moment and heads back down to the living room. He pushes a few of the modern photographs to the back of the bookshelf. In front of one of the two of them from an event at the school, go the evidence of a happy childhood. Damon gives each a small smile before returning to the attic.

Stefan's smiling as he heads into the living room. After a light afternoon of homework, he can finally finish the game he fell asleep during the night before. While it's sweet his brother carried him upstairs and tucked him into bed, he hates himself for falling into the bedtime trap. It's bad enough he can't stay up as late as his friends, at the very least he should be able to talk about basketball with them the next day.

He grabs the remote and presses the red button. Before he can open the TiVo, his eyes flicker to the bookshelf. Something is different.

Damon isn't one for interior decorating. Stefan isn't either, but given he's spent more time in the boarding house, most of the design choices are his own. Right down to the photographs that are displayed throughout the home. It made sense that ones from school went on the bookshelf, but there are two smaller frames there now.

Stefan drops the remote and walks over. The smile slowly drips from his face when he sees them.

"What are you doing out here," he mumbles.

When Stefan returned to the boarding house in the 90s, they were on the mantle place. Likely placed by whatever ancestor lived there previously. Stefan stared at them far too long, a tickle in his throat every time he'd pass.

Stefan's stomach flips and skin crawls. He bites down on his lip, blinking rapidly.

"What happens at a funeral?"

Stefan sat in his bedroom, watching his father consult the suit the tailor brought by.

"We say goodbye," Giuseppe said, simply.

Stefan frowned. "Goodbye?"

"Your mother is gone, Stefan, it is time to say goodbye." His father sighed, shaking his head. "I suppose this will do." Giuseppe snapped his fingers at the maid. "Help him dress."

Clarissa nodded. "Yes, sir."

She accepted the suit from him and gestured for Stefan to stand. He reluctantly followed, wishing his big brother were there. Damon always knew how to dress him without pinching his waist with the button or being too rough with getting a shirt over his head. Stefan knew better than to ask for him that moment. Father already felt Damon babied him too much. Stefan wasn't a baby anymore. Somehow, it's okay for him to be dressed by a maid he barely knows instead of the brother who's tended to him his whole life.

"Will I look like you, Father?

His father is a strong man. Everyone respects and listens to him. If Stefan acts enough like him, it keeps him happy.

Giuseppe raises a brow, watching as the maid pulls down Stefan's sleep pants. "With any luck, my boy."

"And Damon?"

"Do not try to be like your brother." Giuseppe walked closer. "There is one thing I wanted to discuss with you." Stefan nodded, standing up straight and trying to look as attentive as possible. "When you got word of your mother's passing, you cried."

Stefan didn't argue. It took over an hour for him to be consoled and that was only accomplished because Damon held him until the tears stopped. Father didn't shed a tear. Damon was strong. But Stefan couldn't help it.

"You are not to cry at the service." Clarissa gasped and Giuseppe fixed her with a look. She quickly went back to removing Stefan's slippers.

Stefan frowned. "But why?"

"Real men do not cry," he insisted. "We do not need you making a fool of us at the service."

Giuseppe pushed Clarissa out of the way. She stumbled backwards. Stefan tried to reach out his hand, but his father smacked it away, gripping his chin. Stefan trembled, his stomach somersaulting and willing himself not to pee as he often did when his father got mad.

"You are not a baby anymore, Stefan. I do not care how your brother wishes to treat you. I am raising a proper man." His fingers dug into Stefan's chin. "Are we clear?" Stefan quickly nodded. Giuseppe drew blood. "Pardon?"

"Yes, sir. I shall be strong. I promise."

Giuseppe nodded, releasing his grip. Stefan waited until he was gone to rub at the small marks on his chin.

Stefan clamped his eyes shut. His stomach hurt.

"Father says we're not to cry."

"That is because father is incapable of human emotion. You are ten, you cry if you feel like it."

Damon made that horrible moment feel better, in the moment anyway. And then he didn't show up to the service. Stefan waited alongside everyone for him to deliver his speech. He craned his neck to look back at the door several times. Eventually, the preacher went on delivering his own.

Stefan indeed teared up. Both for his deceased mother and for the older brother, his protector, that couldn't show.

Giuseppe's nails digging into his palm brought him back to reality. To anyone else, he'd look like a loving father, comforting his grieving child. In reality, it was a reminder of how a proper young man was to act.

So, Stefan didn't cry. He stood at the grave long after everyone walked away. Stefan was strong. A proper Salvatore man.

Then Damon walked up.

The grief of his mother combined with the immense betrayal he felt from his big brother ate up inside of him.

"You missed your speech."

"I know."

"Why?"

"I could not decide what to say."

The reasoning was simple. At 17, Stefan understands it. At 10, it was enough for the tears to flow. He only felt safe crying in front of his brother, even if he had betrayed him.

Stefan doesn't speak of his mother. Doing that will only remind him of that awful day. She died and left him. Damon abandoned him for the first time.

"You are not to cry."

So, Stefan doesn't when it comes to missing his mother or feeling betrayed by his older brother. He won't.

That's hard to avoid with those stupid frames in the way. It's why he hid them in the attic in the first place.

Stefan lifts them off the shelf. He glances over at the glowing fire. It'd be easy to toss them in, watch them burn…

Alas, that's not fair to his older brother. He can't take this from Damon.

Instead, Stefan returns them to the box they're intended to be in. And this time, he does a better job of hiding them.

"Where are the pictures?"

Stefan doesn't look up from the game, even with Damon's eyes grilled into him.

"What pictures?"

"The ones I put out before I picked you up from school."

"I have no clue what you're talking about."

"Stefan."

He breaks away from the screen. Damon stands by the bookshelf, frowning. As it should be, the picture of them at some parent/teacher night is on front display.

"Isn't that the photo that's always been there?" Stefan asks.

"I moved it earlier. I put pictures of Mother up."

Stefan shrugs. "Perhaps Crow moved them."

Damon arches a brow. "You're accusing a bird of moving the photos?"

Stefan can feel his support animal glaring at him. He'll sort it out later by giving him his favorite pistachios. Surely, if the bird cares about his emotional wellbeing, he won't punish him for this.

"Don't birds hoard?"

"Yeah, useless junk. Not family momentous."

Stefan shrugs. "I couldn't tell you."

He glances back at the TV, only for the screen to go black. Stefan is ready to snap at his brother, when he notices Crow behind the stand. A soft caw and the bird flies out of the room.

"That was uncalled for," he mumbles.

Damon walks closer, smirking. "Seems he doesn't appreciate being accused."

"Couldn't even cover me for 5 seconds. Some kind of protector he is."

"I think he's protecting you by forcing you to be honest." Damon puts his hands on his hips. "Where are the photos?"

Stefan sighs. He could get up and walk away, but his brother would just follow. As would his traitorous bird.

"They're back in the attic," Stefan says, simply.

Damon arches a brow. "Why?"

"It's where they belong."

"Stef, it's not like no one knows about vampires. If someone saw those, it'd be okay."

"I don't care if other people see them. I just don't want to."

Damon lets out a confused chuckle. "Are you telling me Mama's Boy Stefan doesn't want to see his mama?"

Stefan growls. Any humor drains from his brother's face.

"It was just a joke."

"Whatever. You can get the frames, keep them in your study, put them in a locket. I don't care. I just don't want to see them."

He gets up off the couch and heads for the doorway. Damon vamps in front of him.

"What is going on with you? I thought you'd be happy to see those pictures. We don't have a lot of her."

"Maybe that's for the best."

"You love Mother."

"I never said I didn't."

"Then what?"

"Then nothing. I just don't want to see them anymore. I don't want to think about her!" Damon's eyes widen. "Why do we have to? She's dead, it happened. It's terrible, but no journey down memory lane is going to bring her back."

His big brother's face falls. "That doesn't mean we can't remember her."

"You can get as sappy as you want. I'm fine with it."

Stefan tries to vamp past his brother, but Damon grabs his arm. The little brother struggles against the older.

"Let me go!"

"No, this isn't you."

Stefan laughs, in spite of his tugging. "I'm surprised you haven't realized. This is exactly me. I never talked about our mother."

"What, of course…"

Damon releases his grip as he trails off. Stefan rubs at his arm, watching the realization spill across his brother's face.

"I only ever bring her up when you do," he says. "Whenever you're so worried that I need one."

"You always say you don't," Damon whispers.

"Because I don't. I had one. She's dead. Oh well."

Hurt fills Damon's eyes. "How can you say it like that?"

"Because there's no point in getting sad. That's just weak."

Stefan manages to make it to the stairs before Damon blocks them. Anger replaces the hurt. His icy blue eyes narrow, lip curling.

"I know you didn't just say that."

Stefan sighs. "Day…"

"You are not an unfeeling monster, so don't you dare repeat his words."

"I didn't…"

"What did I tell you that day?"

"Damon…"

"Stefan," Damon growls. Stefan shrinks back a little. "What did I tell you?"

"I…I…" Stefan clears his throat. "I can cry if I feel like it."

"That hasn't changed in the hundred years since."

"No, what has is the fact that you won't leave me alone right now!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing! I don't want to talk about it!"

Stefan vamps out the back door, down the porch and into the yard. He pants a little as the memories bog him down.

His father's fingernails digging first into his chin, then palm.

The coffin on display for the world to see, yet closed. No real way for Stefan to say goodbye.

The agonizing wait. Praying to the angel that visited him the night prior that his big brother would walk through those doors.

Tears burn his eyes and he does everything to keep them away.

Those images flash across his mind. Lily, beautiful, smiling with her boys on her lap. He can remember how safe he felt back then. No matter how bad his father got, he had his mother and brother.

And both abandoned him.

Stefan scrubs at his eyes. "Stop," he mumbles to himself. "Please, stop."

The back door swings open and shut. Stefan keeps wiping. Damon stands behind him.

"Go away," Stefan mumbles, more to his tears than his big brother.

"I'm not doing that. Are you…are you angry with me, Stef?" Stefan hesitates, then nods. "Because I put out the pictures?"

"No."

"Then why? What did I do?"

"You didn't come."

Damon expels a confused squeak. Stefan lets out a shaky breath. His tummy hurts more. A part of him wants his brother, the other wishes he'd disappear again.

"You missed your speech."

Damon grows silent. Stefan stares at his palms.

"You said I could cry…but you weren't there…I couldn't…"

One tear falls, then another.

"Father told me not to cry. You said I could, but he said I couldn't."

Damon whispers, "But I wasn't there."

"Where did you go?"

"I…I went and did some grown up things."

"Oh."

A tug on his shoulders spins him around. Stefan looks into his brother's sorrowful blue eyes. The tears continue to fall, within the safety of his brother's presence.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, baby boy," Damon whispers. "I should've been. For you." Stefan sniffles. "You needed me so you could cry, but I wasn't there."

Stefan nods. "I…I wanted you."

A few tears fall down Damon's cheeks. "I know you did," he whispers.

He lifts Stefan into his arms and presses a kiss to the top of his head. The little brother buries his head into the elder's shoulder. Damon slowly rubs his back as his shirt grows wet.

"You can cry, it's okay, I'm here now. I'm sorry I wasn't sooner."

Stefan doesn't say it's okay. Because it's not. For once, he doesn't want Damon to feel better. He just wants it to stop hurting.

"We can talk about Mama," Damon coos into his ear, slowly rocking him. "Even if you cry, you can always cry."

"Don'…don' wanna," Stefan mumbles. "Not now."

"Okay, okay. When you're ready, if ever."

"No pictures."

"I'll keep them somewhere you can't find them," Damon promises. "If you ever want to look at them, you can tell me."

Stefan nods. Damon looks down at his baby brother, feeling nothing but guilt.

His mind will always view Stefan as that little boy in the photographs. Because in many ways he still is.

But that little boy isn't as innocent as Damon once believed. He was abandoned twice in a very short span.

No amount of showing up is going to change that.