Work Text:
Damon prefers dawn over dusk. Even as a boy he was an extreme morning person, waking before the sun rose to run away with it. Becoming a vampire didn’t make him a sudden night owl and if he hadn’t had his daylight ring he thinks he would have lost his mind a lot sooner.
Because he’s clearly insane, falling for his brother’s girl. Damon has no qualms about admitting that. It’s not a girl pitting brother against brother in her desire to have her cake and eat it while they stupidly play along, this time it’s entirely his own pathetic, though not actually, honestly, deliberate, fault.
The worst part is she loves him, too. Won’t admit it. Can’t ever let herself give in. But it’s there, every time she falls asleep on his shoulder because she knows she’s safe or can ramble about whatever she wants to take their minds off the shit show that has become their lives the last year for a bit because she knows he’ll listen.
It’s Stefan’s fault really. Bastard just couldn’t let him die, now his once unrequited feelings are decidedly more requited than they were ever supposed to be, leaning on each other while they searched for him and ways to save him, and they still can’t do a damn thing about it because she loved his brother first and if she can’t even admit that she loves Damon as well, there’s not much point to the rest of it. It’s even worse now he’s back, a Ripper with no humanity all over again. She’s running and lifting weights, getting stronger to better protect herself from him, and isn’t likely to see him get better in her lifetime, but she still has hope.
She’ll always have that. For both of them, for various reasons.
Damon’s not the only one who’s lost his mind. The thought always makes him feel a little better.
Even though dawn allows him time to think, Damon’s never been one for the pensive morning walk. Too brooding and maudlin even for him. But today it’s all he can do to clear his head. Perfect time for it, too. He fell asleep in September and woke up in October, the morning is misty, the ground is still wet, and there’s a chill in the air. The sun won’t actually show itself for a while and Damon has time to contemplate the disaster that is his life.
His words keep coming back to him. “If I’m gonna feel guilty about something, I’m gonna feel guilty about this.”
And boy did that guilt come. Not immediately; no, Damon woke that next day on a high, pep in his step and a whistle to move to. It was the day after, or maybe a couple, he can’t tell when he thinks back. It had just snuck up on him, slow and dangerously quiet, until he woke an hour ago sick with it.
The part he really can’t bear is his heart trying to justify it; he’s never felt the need before. Because he knows Stefan doesn’t care right now, but one day he will. Could be a month, a year, a decade, but he’ll care. His head is winning against his heart and it doesn’t sit right at all. Because as much as he’ll never admit it, Damon thinks he still loves his brother.
And then, as if by magic, she rounds the corner and his heart sings, gloating over its momentary win. Damon lets it settle on its own, watching Elena turn into the street providing a temporary calm and his head finally clears. She sees him and smiles a little, keeping the same pace.
They’re too far away for her to hear him, she’ll turn into the next street before Damon will reach it (at a human speed). Neither try to speed up and neither choose to stop, Elena turning towards home and Damon carrying on. The guilt continues to dwell, but he knows he can keep it hidden with her smile alone.
It’s all he needs to keep going.