Ch 26. Miss Mystic Falls 👑

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The room was cloaked in shadows, the dim lighting casting an almost ethereal glow over Stefan's glistening form as he pushed himself through another grueling set of push-ups

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The room was cloaked in shadows, the dim lighting casting an almost ethereal glow over Stefan's glistening form as he pushed himself through another grueling set of push-ups. The muffled baseline of an indie track pulsed through the walls, its driving beat echoing the intensity of his exertions.

The door flew open, the sudden intrusion of light from the hallway causing Stefan to squint. Damon swaggered in, a crystal tumbler clutched loosely in his hand, the deep crimson liquid inside sloshing dangerously close to the rim with each cocky stride. A smirk played across his lips as he appraised his brother's regimented routine.

"Need to turn that up a few notches?" he drawled, nodding towards the stereo. "It's not quite annoying me yet."

Without breaking his rhythm, Stefan paused the music, sweat glistening on his furrowed brow. "Sorry," he mumbled, his focus laser-sharp as he powered through another set of reps.

With a flick of his wrist, Damon clicked off the speakers, saturating the room in tense silence, punctuated only by Stefan's controlled exhalations. He sauntered closer, eyeing his brother with a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

"So," he began conversationally, "When are you going back to school and leave me in peace?"

Stefan's muscular arms strained with the effort of propelling his weight. "Soon," he grunted between breaths.

Rolling his eyes, Damon drifted closer until he towered over Stefan's prone form. He extended the glass towards him with an exaggerated flourish. "Just have a drink already, would you? This self-detox act is not natural."

Stefan's eyes flitted towards the proffered tumbler, pupils dilating almost imperceptibly as the rich, cloying scent of blood teased his senses. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. "Get it out of my face, please," he bit out, quickly redirecting his focus.

Leaning nonchalantly against the wall, Damon scrutinized his brother's strained movements. "How long did it take you to wean yourself off it the last time you indulged?" Each word dripped with casual indifference, masking his intent study.

"I'll be fine; it just takes a little bit of time," Stefan assured, defiance hardening his voice as he refused to falter in his routine.

Damon sighed, his eyes narrowing as he studied Stefan's unwavering form, muscles straining with each push-up. "I don't get it, brother. You don't have to embrace the ripper within to survive. That's what blood banks are for." A wistful look flickered across his features. "I haven't indulged in the hunt in...God, far too long."

Stefan's gaze remained locked on the hardwood floor, his focus indomitable as he powered through the set. "Oh, I'm impressed," he countered, sarcasm lacing his clipped tone.

A sardonic smirk played across Damon's lips as he swirled the deep crimson liquid in his glass. "Purely selfish motives, I assure you. Can't have Blondie unleashing her wrath upon me." His expression morphed into one of amused frustration. "I'm trying to divert this town's attention from our supernatural brethren, which is no easy feat with an entire tomb of vampires roaming about."

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