𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖆

Day Three, Letter One

𝔇𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔈𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔞,

It's the third day here on earth without you, and only now I think I have lost my mind. Like, what is this? A diary entry? Who am I, Stefan?

The thing is, without you, my thoughts and feelings have been all over the place and I don't know what to do with myself anymore. I've gone from punching holes in the wall to crying like a newborn baby in a matter of seconds repeatedly over these last few days. Those are pretty much my only two moods right now- besides pretending to be okay in front of Stefan, Bonnie and Caroline. They miss you too, you know.

I'm so not okay. I haven't slept in the three days since you left us, and not even my strongest,  most expensive bourbon that I was saving for a moment of immense pain in my life like this one right now didn't help clear my head.

I had never opened it before. Maybe I was asking for it.

All I can think about is you. Your hair. The way it looked when you woke up in the morning, the way it smelled when you got out of the shower, the way it felt in my hand when I'd lean down to kiss you... I've always envied how it was always so perfectly silky smooth.

And then there's your eyes. Their deep, chocolate brown color and the way I could always know what you were thinking by looking into them. The way they sparkled when you looked at me or said, "I love you."

Those words feel so beautifully off your lips- those perfect, thin pink lips. And I was lucky enough to be able to kiss them. I was simply forced, by some unknown force of the universe to press my lips on yours when you said those words.

Oh, and your voice. Your tone. The power and the strength it could hold- remember how much fun you had when you learned that I would pretty much do anything you told me to if you said my name in that authoritive tone? Its sound warmed my cold, dead heart and that's no exaggeration.

Mm, and then there's your neck. I loved running my tongue along the skin on your throat, and then your collarbone, all the way over to the vein where I'd bite you... and it always made you moan so I know you loved it too.

Your shoulders- yes. I adored the way my arms draped precisely across them when I would hug or hold you from behind. When I did that you would smile so brightly and lift up your pretty little head to kiss me on the cheek.

Oh, here we go- your breasts. Should I even begin? Hell, who needs this to stay PG-13? My favorite thing in the world was holding them, touching them, squeezing them, stimulating them. You made such pretty, delicious sounds, you know? Now by far the greatest thing I've known in all my years of life was falling asleep on them and then waking up on them. You'd always tease me, saying, "My eyes are up here," but I know you loved catching me staring. It made you feel beautiful, as it should've, because that's exactly what you are. You were the most beautiful girl I'd ever met.

I'd spend all to much time worshiping your perfectly flat tummy and perfectly curvy hips, to the point where you'd tell me to get to the "main event." It was absolutely adorable the way you never spoke "inappropriately" or said any profanities. Remember that time I said I wouldn't touch you until you said "Fuck me?" You were so red and embarrassed, but I did good on what you asked for in the end, didn't I?

Then there's your legs, they were so long and elegant, yet so strong and impressively flexible. "Cheerleading," is what you told me with a giggle when I asked. And they always looked so good- and I made sure to tell you every day after I overheard you ask Caroline if they did while trying to squeeze into a pair of skinny jeans a couple sizes too small. Remember that? Of course you do, you got so annoyed with me after a while- but I did good, I reminded you every day until you died that your legs looked good in those jeans.

So, one last time for old time's sake, your legs look really good today, Elena. (I don't know what you're wearing up there in heaven, so I won't specify)

And then your feet! You were so damn ticklish. Remember that time at the fancy shoe store in Paris? I was going to buy you a pair of high-heeled shoes you'd been drooling over in a magazine you read on the flight there, but everytime the salesperson touched your foot to take your measurements you burst out laughing and kicked the poor guy in the face. Luckily for you, I knew enough french to be able to apologize- still though, it was hard to explain to other bystanders why I was sitting on my girlfriend's legs while holding her head in a headlock and covering her mouth with my hand.

We got the shoes though, finally- and I do believe it was worth it when you came out in that gorgeous matching blue dress.

You were perfection. The embodiment of it. And I loved you, so, so, much.

I hate the world and everything in it for taking you from me. You didn't deserve it. You were so pure and innocent, so nice and generous, and you had so much life left. It should have been me, not you. I've lived enough. And I met you. I had you. Nothing is ever going to be better than that.

I miss you so much, Elena. Every day I think I'll wake up to your face again but I never do. I never, ever, will again. Because you're gone. And I'll just have to accept that, instead of pretending to talk to you through some stupid pieces of paper.

I won't ever forget you, Elena Gilbert.

𝔇𝔞𝔪𝔬𝔫 𝔖𝔞𝔩𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔢

•••

[A/N] Never thought I'd be able to make myself like Delena in the way I just did... somebody love me like this, please-

Hope you enjoyed... the rest is on its way x

Much love,

chantivera 🖤