Chapter Text
Dear Diary,
Elena is getting ready for school on the other side of the room and judging me for still being in my pajamas. I’m writing this mostly to mock her. She’s going to school today. She thinks that school is a worthwhile place to be. I am not of that opinion. But hey, she can take the heat. So long as one twin shows up to school, no one will ever notice the other one isn’t there, especially since Elena is the good twin. I tried to tell her that if we go to school, we’ll just have to field a million questions about the summer and mom and dad, and we’ll have to pretend that everything is okay when it’s obviously not. Elena’s already started, so that’s nothing new to her. I can’t watch her pretend anymore. She’s been pretending to Jeremy and Jenna for weeks and now I feel like I’m supposed to start pretending too, or else I’ll be the sad twin. I’m kind of always the odd twin, but I refuse to be the sad twin. So if no one can see me, no one can see how sad I am in comparison to Elena the faker.
Your pen choose that specific moment to hit dry ink, and you flipped to the back page of your journal to angrily scribble in a desperate attempt to make it work. Before the ink could reconstitute, Elena’s voice was cutting through your thoughts.
“Maddie, I’m leaving in five minutes, with or without you.” Elena’s backpack looked like it was about to burst at the seams even as she continued to stuff books into it. “I’m serious. I’m not going to honk the horn. I’m not waiting.” The diary Elena had been writing in earlier was sitting on the nightstand, and you hand an unhealthy urge to look at what she’d written in it.
“I’m not going to school today.” You shrugged and wiggled deeper under the covers, journal still clutched in your hands. You hated sharing a room with Elena, but none of you really wanted Aunt Jenna sleeping in Mom and Dad’s old room, and after the first few nights of Jenna complaining about the couch, you guys had gone to the store and bought a shitty twin mattress and bed frame to shove into Elena’s room so that Jenna could take your room. Elena’s room was bigger, and had more closet space, but that didn’t make the move easy or tolerable.
“Jenna is going to be pissed.”
“Jenna isn’t going to notice.” You sing songed and then threw your broken pen across the room, letting it bounce off the wall on the opposite side and clatter to the floor. “I will be getting myself a breakfast of champions though. Maybe… toaster waffles and coffee. Good coffee, not the watered down stuff the rest of you drink.” You closed your journal and refocused on the pen you’d just thrown, wondering if you had another one nearby.
“Whatever, but I’m not covering for you.” Elena slung her backpack over her shoulder and you raised your eyebrow, giving the pen search up for lost and throwing your diary onto the floor between your beds.
“I didn’t ask you to cover for me little sister.” You said, flinging your covers away and stretching. “Doesn’t Aunt Jenna have a big presentation today? You should go make sure she gets to that.”
Elena looked at the clock on her nightstand. “She is definitely late,” Her hair whipped around her as she left, and it was strangely cinematic. A perfect shampoo commercial. Her straightened hair was sleek and smooth with no split ends in sight. The same had never been, and would never be, said about your hair. Unlike Elena, you wore your hair in it’s natural, messy waves, mostly because you couldn’t be bothered to do anything else with it. Those messy waves were tickling your back and annoying you, so you scraped them up into a bun at the top of her head, as you headed for the bathroom. Once the house was empty you’d make yourself breakfast.
You cranked up the music as Bonnie pulled out of the driveway with Jeremy and Elena in tow, Jenna long gone for her presentation.
First day of school, no thanks. You were taking an extra day for yourself. You’d start tomorrow. Maybe.
When you opened the freezer you were fresh out of toaster waffles. You groaned and threw your head back, slamming the freezer and then going in search of the ingredients to the closest alternative, pancakes.
You pulled out the boxed pancake mix that your father would have scoffed at, and the cheap maple flavored sugar syrup that would’ve made your mom cry but reminded you of school breakfasts and throwing packaged mini-pancakes at Vicki. A smile tugged at your mouth and you failed to suppress it. Instead you redirected your energy, looking for the mixing bowls. Of course they were on the top shelf, and you sighed when you couldn’t quite reach them, even on your tippy toes.
The collapsible footstool that you’d bought on impulse a month ago was sitting in the corner and you glared at it. You hadn’t needed a foot stool three months ago. You could’ve called Dad to get it for you. The angry tears stung your eyes, but you bit your lip and pushed them back, kicking the foot stool with more force than necessary in the direction of the cabinet you needed.
The sound of the stool hitting the lower cabinets was satisfying, so you kicked it again, and again, and again, until you were having a whirling angry tantrum, months after your parents died, over your parents death. When the stool hit the floor and folded over on itself you stopped kicking, staring at the green plastic atrocity. Your foot ached where you’d made contact with it, and your breathing was ragged as you stared at it. It wasn’t the footstools fault, but who else could you blame?
You swiped angrily at your tears and tore your hair out of the ponytail holder. It had fallen out during your angry outburst and it was irritating your neck again. When you pulled it back to replace the bun, you could’ve sworn you caught something dark out of the corner of your eye in the usually-bright window overlooking the backyard.
You squinted, your hands frozen in your hair as you searched for something that might have moved outside. Maybe a dog or a fallen tree limb. You checked the kitchen door and the other windows, but there was nothing running by, nothing fallen in the grass. You pursed your lips, but gave it up for lost, replacing the bun in your hair.
You were still in your pajamas and pancakeless when the doorbell rang. You groaned and considered not answering it, but then the guy knocked.
You knew it was a guy because he accompanied his very insistent knock with an explanation. “Hi, is anyone home? I’m new in town and I just moved in down the street. I’m having some trouble with my power.” Your mind warred with whether or not it was a good idea to answer the door. On one hand, you were alone and there was a strange man at your door. On the other hand, Elena knew you were home, and if this guy came back saying that he’d needed help and you hadn’t responded, you’d get an earful from her for months.
In the end you abandoned your pancake mix and your evil footstool so you could answer the door for a strange man with no power.
Your bare feet padded down the hardwood floor and you spared a thought for putting on a pair of shoes, but decided against it. This guy had come by early in the morning, unexpected, and you were still in your pajamas, so what could he expect?
You open the door and the man on the other side is completely, devastatingly gorgeous. He smiled at you when he saw you. He’d been looking off into the distance like he was deciding which house he was going to try next, and you were suddenly very glad that you’d decided to answer the door.
He looked you up and down, taking in your pajamas, messy hair, and bare feet. “I’m sorry, I caught you too early.” There was a sincere tone of remorse in his tone, and it was nice not to be judged for your choices, so you decided to cut him some slack.
“No, it’s fine. I’m playing hookie today. What was wrong with your power?” You tried to ask naturally, but his blue eyes were stunning. You could cut glass with that jaw line.
You really really wanted to touch him.
“I’m having some trouble getting it on. I called the power company last night, and they’re supposed to call before they send someone over, but…” He held up a sleek black rectangle, which you recognized as the newest model smart phone. “Phone’s dead.”
“Oh, damn. Um, you can come in and charge it, if you want? I was just about to make breakfast.” You moved aside and he smiled, stepping over the threshold with a certain grandiosity that surprised you.
“I’m actually starving, if you wouldn’t mind sharing? I promise to return the favor.” He gave you this wicked smile and suddenly you could see why he wore a black leather jacket. Definitely a suave type. Possibly a womanizer. Hopefully, that meant he was good in bed.
“Um, sure. I’m not doing anything fancy though. Just pancakes from a box.”
“I love pancakes.”
“Alright, cool.” You gestured to the coat rack by the door, “You can leave your jacket there if you want.” He shrugged it off and you took a deeper than necessary breath at the sight of his exposed arms in a white tee shirt. Wow. New neighbor, yes please.
“Thanks again, for this.” He said, waving his phone at you again.
“Yeah, no problem. There’s a plug on the island you can use. Have a seat.” You picked up the fallen foot stool and tried to reassemble it, only to realize that in all your picking, you damaged one of the hinges and it wouldn’t unfold anymore. Your face burned with the shame of it, but you needed the help. “And actually, it looks like my height enhancer just broke. Do you think you could get the mixing bowl down for me?”
He smiled and set his phone down on the counter. “Sure thing. Which cabinet?”
“There,” you open a door and point to the very top shelf. “The metal one if you can. It’s better.”
“Of course.” He smiled at you again and his white teeth shouldn’t have been attractive, but they were. Everything about him was attractive. You licked your lips unconsciously, and only realized you were doing it when he smirked at you, eyes glittering with mischief. You turned away and huffed at yourself for being so affected by a man. You’d been plenty of attractive men before. Who cared if this guy was a shining example of hot-bad-boy energy. He was nobody.
You shook your head out and smiled at him as he reached the bowl without even having to stand on his toes. He put it in your hands, and the passing of an object had never been so sensual in your entire life. His fingers brushed yours and it was cliche, but it felt like lightening.
“Thanks.” Your face heated again and you take the bowl, turning back to the island to try and get out of his view. You put the bowl on the counter and took stock of what you had. You’d lost your train of thought between the footstool fiasco and the hot guy now standing at your island, charging his phone and waiting for you to cook him breakfast. He had to be well over 20. There was no way you’d a real shot with him, but damn it if you weren’t going to try.
But not right then. You could be patient.
“So, what are you playing hookie from?” The nameless man asked as he took a seat at your island, putting him right back in your line of sight. You turned away to get a whisk and a measuring cup before you answered.
“First day of school. I needed an extra day before I went back there.” You looked over your shoulder and smiled at him, and the look he was watching you with was so intense, you were fascinated. “Guess it’s a good thing I did, or you might still be knocking on doors.”
“I’m definitely grateful. Not that I don’t value education, I’m just selfish enough to be glad I met you.” His charming grin made his eyes shine and you turned away before you could look any more ridiculous in front of him, biting your lip again and trying to keep from smiling.
Okay, Maddie, you were making pancakes. Whisk, measuring cup, and…
“Pan.” You finally said aloud, laughing uncomfortably and placing your haul on the counter. You realized right after you said it that it made you look a little bit random and unstable so you tried to explain yourself. “I just… I need a pan.” You knelt near the stove to dig a skillet out of the cabinet, and in the reflection of the black glass you could’ve sworn you saw him staring at you. Well… that was a good sign.
“Can I do anything to help?” He asked, not getting up from his seat, but when you stood up he was adjusting himself back into the chair, like he’d been leaning forward, possibly trying to get a better view of you.
“Um, not really. It’s just pancakes. You can grab yourself some coffee if you want though, mugs are in the cabinet above the coffee pot.” The coffee is left over from the rest of the Gilberts, but you liked your coffee a lot stronger than they usually took it anyway.
“Thanks. While I’m eating your food and drinking your coffee, I guess I could tell you my name. I’m Damon.”
He pulled down a novelty mug your mom used to like from the cabinet and you smiled at the memory of a dark-skyed Saturday morning with her corny “Let the rain fall down” mug. “It’ll bring rain.” She’d say, but it never did.
You were still smiling softly and staring off into the distance when Damon sat back in, “I think this is the part where you tell me your name.”
His comment startled you and you blinked a couple times, pulling yourself out the memory. “I’m Madelyn. Maddie for short.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Maddie.” He smiled at you again, and you were just as caught off guard this time as you had been before. You turned your attention to making pancakes in an effort to distract yourself.
“So, what brings you to Mystic Falls?” You asked as you measured out pancakes mix. Your hands were shaking just enough that your aim was bad, but you went on like it was what you meant to do.
“I actually lived her when I was younger. Thought I’d come back and see what there is to see. What about you? Been here your whole life?” He had served himself coffee when your back was turn, and now he sat back at the island watching you with an intensity that was simultaneously infectious and uncomfortable.
“Yeah, our whole family has been. For generations.” You said with a sigh. “I’m leaving after graduation.”
“Where to?”
“I don’t know yet.” You shrugged. “I’ve got two years to figure it out. New York seems nice.”
“New York State, yes, New York City… maybe, but there’s a big possibilities they would eat your lunch.” He smirked at you and you rolled your eyes.
“I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you can, just advice from one transplant to another. As you can see, I came back.”
“Yeah… so was it family that brought you back? I know Mystic Falls has a lot of long time residents.”
“Kind of. My little brother wanted to move back, and I hadn’t seen him since I left home, so I thought I’d check up on him. Stefan Salvatore. You might know him?”
You shook your head, “No, can’t say I do. But I run in a pretty tight circle. We aren’t much for outsiders.”
“Yeah, you seem too cool to be friends with my brother anyway. He’s a bit of a buzzkill.”
You laughed, and measured out water for your pancakes. “Are you calling me a party girl?”
“You’re skipping school to make pancakes and talk to me. I’m calling you someone who knows how to have fun.” He smirked and you shook your head at him.
“I wouldn’t call pancakes fun, but sure.” You whisked the ingredients together and turned on the stove. “So where else have you lived besides Mystic Falls? I don’t get to hear about other people’s travels that often.”
“Bit of everywhere, really. Spent some time in Chicago, New Orleans, New York. I like the big cities. Lots of people, lots of flavors.”
You laughed and looked up at him. He was smiling that mischievous smile again, but there was something about it that was just a little bit dark. It made you uneasy.
You didn’t think you wanted to know what he meant by flavors, so you greased the pan for your pancakes and changed the subject. “And how is your brother. You said you hadn’t seen him in a while?”
“Oh, you know, same old same old. But, why don’t you tell me about you? I noticed some pictures in the hall. Are you a twin?”
“Yeah.” You didn’t really want to talk about Elena, or your family, with this stranger. “What about you? Any other siblings?”
“Not that I know of. But my Dad was a cad, so who knows. I’ve never met a twin, what’s it like? Do you have telepathy, or a special power…?”
You laughed, “No, no we don’t. I think maybe you watch too many movies.” The sound of the pancake sizzling as it hit the hot pan was satisfying, and also a good distraction from the overly personal line of questioning. It was one thing to ask about you, but asking about your family felt like… too much.
“I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No, it’s fine.” You said, but then you cut yourself short. It really wasn’t fine, but you couldn’t just say that. Most people didn’t get weird about people asking about their family, and you’d just been asking about his.
“No, I get it. I’m a stranger, you don’t know me very well, far be it from me to pry. But I have been told that I’m very approachable.” He smiled again and you looked up at him, looking him straight in his bright blue eyes, and he had you. “You find me very approachable, don’t you?”
“Yes, I do think you’re approachable.” You said automatically, and a certain amount of tension eased.
“And you don’t feel nervous at all about telling me about you, or your family. You really feel like you can share with me, don’t you?” He smiled kindly, and you smiled back.
“Yeah, I do,” You said, with more confidence that you thought you’d have about it. “It’s so weird, but I really do.”
He blinked and broke eye contact. “Excellent. So, siblings?”
“Yeah, it’s me and Elena, first born twins, and Jeremy. He’s about two years younger than us. I honestly don’t know what Mom and Dad were thinking, hands full with twins, and then they decide to have another.” You shook your head and scoffed. “But, I guess it all worked out. I don’t think I’d be here if it were just me and Elena.”
“Why’s that?” He asked, and you scoffed again, this time with more malice.
“Elena is the good twin. If it were just the two of us against the judgement of the world, I’d go insane. Jeremy though… he gets it. He gets me. I’m closer to him than I am to my own twin sister.”
“Interesting. And what makes you say Elena is the perfect twin.”
“I didn’t say perfect, I said good. She’s the good twin. You know, model student, cheerleader, popular, well liked by all, hated by only those who envy her.” You roll your eyes and refocus your attention on the pancakes. “I’m not really the type.”
“Why not?” He asked, “You seem plenty social to me.”
“I’m good at one on one stuff,” you confirmed, “small groups, people I know. I just can’t really do the big groups, strangers, acquaintances. All the founder parties, and the big events, that’s Elena’s thing. She shines there, and I just… try not to be noticed.” You frowned, suddenly swept by a wave of loneliness. Elena knew that you didn’t like crowds, but she didn’t really understand. How could she? She was always the Belle of the Ball. “Same thing with sports events, school dances, whatever.”
“I see. But do you want to be at those things?”
“No.” You scoffed and removed the pancake from the pan. It was already burned before you flipped it, so if you left it much longer there’d be no moisture left in it. “The founders parties are all just a bunch of people who care about reliving the past. Football games are kind of stocked with idiots who will peak in high school. I’d rather be home, or with my friends, but because Elena’s there, it looks like avoidance.”
“You mentioned school dances? Hate those too?”
You thought about it. “I don’t know. I’ve never been to one.”
This seems to surprise him. He raises an eyebrow at you. “Not even one? Seems like a right of passage.”
“Nope. Elena tried to convince me to go to one last year, but I let Mom and Dad buy me the dress and then ditched to hang out with Vicki.”
“Vicki?”
“My best friend. We’ve been inseparable since we were kids. Matt, her brother, used to date Elena, before the crash.”
“Crash?”
“Car crash. It killed our parents. Elena survived.”
“You and little brother Jeremy weren’t in the car?”
“No, we were here. Mom and Dad went to pick Elena up from a party.”
He nodded and then looked you right in the eyes. Those bright blue eyes mesmerized you. “So, tell me, do you blame Elena for the crash?”
“No. Not really. After listening to Elena beat herself up about it all summer, I can’t. It’s not her fault that the car skid. Mom and dad used to pick me up from wayward excursions all the time. It could’ve happened on any car ride.” You blink and when he looks away you feel a little bit striped raw. You hadn’t told anyone about that before. Not even Elena, who could’ve used the comfort.
“Huh. You might be a genuinely good person. Strange. I was expecting a sort of Evil Twin thing, what with the dark clothes and the anti-socialness. You know you’re only mentioned in this shitty town news paper like twice, and Elena… she gets her name in the paper nearly every month.”
“What? How do you know that?”
“It doesn’t matter. Forget that I said that.”
You blink and you realize that you’ve stalled at making pancakes. You pour another one onto the hot pan.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but how old are you? You seem sort of young to be orphaned and alone in this house.”
You ducked your head and pushed a strand out of your face. “I’m 17. Our Aunt Jenna came to live with us and took guardianship of us after Mom and Dad died.”
“She the owner of the house?”
“No, Mom and Dad left it to the three of us. We’re all kind of owners. Its a family house, so no mortgage to worry about. Jenna takes care of all the legal stuff.”
“Huh, interesting.”
“Yeah, but, tell me some more about you. How are you finding Mystic Falls?”
Damon gave this a moment’s consideration. “It’s different, but there are some surprisingly familiar things. Of course, the gossip is already going, which is annoying. The curse of a small town. Everybody knows everybody and is in everybody’s business. It’s one of the reasons I left.”
“What were the other reasons?” You asked, hearing the tiny bit of resent in that last sentence.
“I wasn’t wanted.” He said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
You tilted your head and felt a wave of sympathy course through you. “I’m sorry. That must have been really hard to deal with.” You reached across the island without thinking and you touched his hand. It was soft and a little bit cool to the touch. You chalked it up to the heat of the pancakes you’d been cooking.
“Yeah. But I got over it. Met some people. Moved on. It does happen.”
“That’s good. I’m glad for you.” And maybe it meant you could move on too.
“Yeah. Say, answer honestly, do you happen to have a distant relative named Katherine?”
You raised an eyebrow at the sudden subject change, but answered to the best of your ability. “No, I don’t think so. The Gilberts keep pretty good family records.”
“Yeah, I figured as much. So no one’s ever remarked that you look a lot like some long dead great aunt, or grandmother, grandmother’s sister’s niece…?”
“No,” you said with a shake of your head. “Not that I can remember anyway. Why, did you know someone?”
“Yeah, a long time ago. You really are her spitting image. I was wondering if maybe there was a common ancestor.”
You shrugged. “There’s only so many ways people can look, I guess. There are bound to be repeats.”
“Sure, but what are the odds?” He asked, “And twins, of all things. It just seems incredibly unlikely.”
“Maybe we’re not as similar as you think.” You shrugged again, not really concerned about his strange line of questioning. “Sometimes our minds play tricks on us. I see Mom at the grocery store every so often, and she’s been dead for months.”
“That sounds like a problem for a psychic.” He smiled, and you laughed.
“That sounds like wishful thinking. Who was she?” You asked, and he tilted his head. You clarified, “Katherine. The woman with a possible common ancestor? Who was she to you?”
“She was… important.” Damon said after a slight pause, his gaze unfocused like he’d been trying to find the word. “But, it doesn’t really matter. You’re not going to remember this.”
“What?” You laughed, “Have some faith in me. I’m not just going to forget you.”
“Yes, you are.” He smiled and looked you in the eyes again. “You’re going to forget everything that I said. You’re going to forget that I was here, and you’re going to go back to making yourself breakfast.”
“Okay,” You said, and he smiled.
“Great. Have a nice day.”
“You too!” You called, but he was already gone, and then, suddenly, you don’t remember him anymore.
You flipped the pancake in the pan and you didn’t spare another thought for the man you couldn’t remember meeting.
When all was cooked and done, you had a stack of pancakes almost as tall as your hand. It was pretty satisfying, even if you weren’t planning on eating them all. They would keep, and then you could have pancakes for dinner too.
The coffee pot was empty, when you went to serve yourself a cup, even though you could have sworn that there was still coffee in it when you came downstairs. No matter, you were happy to make yourself another pot and wait for it while you ate your syrup drowned pancakes.
The news still hummed in the background and when you turned your attention to it you saw a gaunt faced reporter talking about some gruesome animal attack on a couple the night before. You reached for the remote to turn the TV off and were suprised by your mother’s novelty coffee mug. The pale blue ceramic and “Let the rain fall down” black lettering seemed contrary to the mourning atmosphere the house always took now. Who would take it down and use it? It was still mostly full of coffee too. You decided that whoever’s it was, you might as well prime yourself, and you drank half of it in one gulp.
It tasted bitter and watered down, and you regreted the decision immediately. You didn’t think anyone in the Gilbert house drank black coffee. They must have just forgotten to prepare it.
When the coffee pot finishes percolating you dump what remains of the piss-water in your mother’s favorite cup into the sink and pour yourself a new mug. You add plenty of sugar and your favorite hazelnut creamer, and take your first sip. The sugar and bitter coffee taste leaves you feeling soothed from an anxiety you didn’t realize you’d been holding on to. Your shoulders relaxed and you breathed a little easier.
You returned to the island to finish your coffee and pancakes. The sticky sweet pancake syrup hit you at the back of the throat like liquid comfort, and you were almost unfazed when your phone, still upstairs in yours and Elena’s room started to ring.
You listened to your standard ring tone for a few moments as it went to voice mail and after shoving one more bite into your mouth, you got up to go check who had called.
The stairs were cool under your still-bare feet, the hollow sound of them echoing with an emptiness that hadn’t existed when mom and dad were still alive. Now every sound feels hollower, louder in the quiet. Dad’s computer doesn’t run in the upstairs office anymore, the noisy tower and boxy monitor remnants from almost a decade ago, but Dad had refused to convert.
The whole house always felt quiet now. You half hoped to hear your phone ring again, just to have some more noise. TVs were always running in the background now, or music blasting, some noise to drown out the emptiness of two missing people.
Your journal still sits on the floor, but your phone is tucked into the cavity of your nightstand. The light flashes with one new message, and you unplug it from the charger. You have a missed call from Jeremy, and a text message.
“Elena is jumping down my throat. Where are you?”
You text him back, “I’m skipping today. You could’ve done it too.”
Jeremy: “Elena dragged me. Come on, Vicki misses you.”
You: “If she missed me, she’d text me herself.”
Jeremy: “She did, like twenty times.”
You: “Oops.”
Jeremy: “Come on. Just come to school. Please.”
You: “Okay, fine, but I don’t know what you expect me to do about Elena.”
Jeremy: “Just be here. If you’re here she’ll focus less on me.”
You: “Way to spread the misery.”
Jeremy: “Love you big sister.”
You: “Back at you asshole.”
You throw your phone on the bed and go digging in the small chest of drawers where most of your clothes was kept. School was, unfortunately, in session.