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[moralmansalvatore]

Trials and Tribulations of Loss

The Salvatore Boarding House has been filled with so many emotions throughout the years. Right now the mood that carries throughout the house is one he’s familiar with. Cerulean eyes filled with despair skirt across the room. Taking in the individuals scattered about one by one. They had been in this position before. Only they had been gathered around a casket, taking turns and getting their goodbyes in. It had been the toughest moment in Damon Salvatore’s life.

Until now.

She’s the last person that his eyes fall on. It hasn’t officially sunk in she’s back. Bonnie had done it. She had brought Elena back and it hadn’t cost her own life. It hadn’t been a two for one special. He thinks back to when he had met her outside of the Salvatore Crypt. Time stood still the moment their eyes met. The grief, guilt, anger and sadness took a timeout and all he could focus on in that moment of her crashing into his arms was joy. 

Pure joy because she’s back. She had been that extra pillar of strength that he desperately needed in order to get through today. He had clung onto her like she had been his personal life support. Had it not been for her by his side he’s convinced he’d still be standing outside of the Salvatore Crypt. Feet frozen in place. Afraid to step forward. Guilty to move on and heartbroken to leave his little brother behind. Fortunately for him he never needed to face those fears because Elena had slipped her hand into his own and taken the steps for him. Leading him out of the darkness and into the light.

A light only she has the power to bless him with. Somewhere in between his little daze Elena must have sensed his stare because her warm brown eyes meet his. Words aren't necessary. She reads him well. Always has. But he knows her just as well. Watches her take that step forward because she wants to comfort him but he’s not ready for it. His heart aches when he catches the hurt flash in her eyes because he’s the first to break eye contact. Turning his attention to the empty bottle of bourbon he holds in his hands and he decides he should change that. Blinking a couple of times and then walking over to the table so he can get himself another bottle of bourbon. Never once does he chance a glance in her direction but he’s acutely aware that she’s watching him.

There might be more sets of eyes on him but he doesn’t acknowledge it. Uncapping the bottle and staring at the amber liquid that is inside. Lips form a straight line and he mentally counts what number this is. Three? Yeah it has to be bottle number three. Deep down he knows he needs to take it easy. The nagging reminder that he’s human again trying to warn him that he should slow down. That his tolerance for whiskey won’t be as strong as it used to be but then the grief speaks up. Grows louder than the nagging voice inside of his head and it causes him to take a long pull from the bottle.

Swallowing down the whiskey and ignoring the stinging sensation while it goes down. Powerless to ignore the pull his eyes flick over towards Elena who is currently speaking to Caroline. After a second passes her eyes meet his and all he can offer her is a pained smile.

Standing there he wrestles with the question how it’s possible to feel such joy and despair at the same time? He goes deeper and darker silently wondering if this is what the rest of his life will be? Consumed with despair and battling the happiness that’s so close within his reach.

Once upon a time Stefan and his story began with Damon vowing to grant him an eternity of misery. For a while he had delivered but somewhere along the way they had become brother’s again and just a few hours ago he had said goodbye to his brother. He’d be forced to live without his brother and carry the guilt every single day for the rest of his life. That realization alone made him realize misery would continue but it would be his own.

Heart beating out of his chest, tears welling in his eyes but he furiously blinks them back. Feeling a tightness in his chest and forcing himself to take a couple of breaths. Trying to control his breathing. Something he hadn’t needed to worry about before. A task so natural but something he had to relearn the moment he took his first breath. Dozens of emotions overpower him and he’s torn on what one to give into. The go-to had always been anger and he’s livid. He’s always been a ticking time bomb and he wants to explode. He wants to go off and cause some destruction but he won’t. He can’t because he’s not the only one grieving. Others are too. He pushes the rage down. Buries it and is overcome with a wave of sadness. He wants to cry. Full on sob and let the dam break but he fights it off. Builds the walls even higher because he will not give into such grief. Not with everyone around. He will not make this about him.

With those options being x-ed out he goes the predictable route. He takes another pull from the bottle and then another. Drinking is the best way to go. It’s the only way to go. It’s the only way he knows how to bury the rage and the sadness.  

So he does.

End