My Love Affair With Damon - A Vampire Diaries Fan Fiction

Chapter Twenty - Everything Just Has To Be Too Confusing

"Damon?" I whispered. "Damon, are you awake?"

"I am now," Damon muttered sleepily. "What's up?"

"I-I can't sleep."

"First step is to look at the back of your eyelids."

"Ha ha. That's not funny, Damon. What went down last night between you and Stefan and Elena?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart."

"But, it is something for me to worry about, isn't it, Damon?"

"Just try and get some sleep. I'm sure that you'll hear about it all in the morning. Caroline will make sure of that." He'd avoided my question. Something must seriously be up.

Damon stretched his hand out to stroke the side of my face. I shivered at his touch. His fingers were icy cold. They lingered on my jaw bone, then he broke all physical contact with me and turned over. I curled my body up into a ball and closed my eyes. And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And I still couldn't sleep.

I was tempted to wake up Damon again, but I couldn't be too cruel. He'd taken me in. He'd let me stay in his home. Heck, he'd even let me trash one of his rooms and then leave him to clear up the mess - though I was starting to doubt whether that mess would actually be cleared, or if it would just remain that way, and I would stay in this bedroom. He'd done a lot for me. He'd loved me when nobody else could be bothered to do something so stupid. He'd rescued me from Katherine. He'd told me about things that I never even knew existed, let alone the fact that they could kill me. As I have said many times, Damon has done a lot for me.

Yet another man lingered in my thoughts, refusing to budge his perfectly muscled torso from my small, simple mind. The image of his sparkling eyes just wouldn't budge. Neither would his perfect lips. Or his thick hair. Or his deep and sensuous voice. And, whenever I thought about him, I didn't feel even an inch of guilt for wanting to betray Damon just to be with him.

I was desperately pining after Stefan Salvatore.

I began to mentally torture myself. You're such a stupid, blond twat, I scolded. You don't deserve Damon, let alone Stefan. Be grateful for what you actually have, you selfish brat. Damon's worked his arse off to keep you safe, and here you are, longing for his brother. Go and get a life.

But my insults didn't do me any good. I still felt like crap. In fact, being bitter towards myself was only making me feel worse. However, I had to face the facts, and I had to learn to accept the fact that I do love Damon, and that I can never have Stefan. It's not right.

When I'd been compelled to remember that Damon was a vampire, a million thoughts and questions blocked my senses. Why is he doing this to me? Does he want to hurt me? Will the bite marks leave scars?

But then, as out relationship flowered ever so slightly, the questions changed to the typical kind of questions that a girl asks herself when she starts dating someone new. Does he actually love me? Will he always love me? Do I love him?

Then there's the one question that I thought I had answered the minute that he turned me: Is he using me?

It turns out that I still found it almost impossible to truthfully answer that question. Once I began digging through my brain and failing to recover an answer, I was immediately distracted by Stefan.

As my mind worked it's way through mental images of Stefan, my paranoia kicked in, and a knot was tied in the pit of my stomach. I hadn't suffered from paranoia in a long time - yonks ago, I think.

What if Damon is still using me? I asked myself.

*****

"What's on the agenda today?" I asked cheerfully, putting on a false yet hopefully totally believable smile.

"Nothing much," Damon frowned, tossing the newspaper onto the floor. I folded my arms across my chest and scowled at him. "What've I done now?" he sighed.

"What went down last night between you and-?" At that very moment, Stefan appeared. "Speak of the devil, and he shall appear," I smirked. "Good morning, Stefan. I was just going to ask Damon what went down between you two last night, before you rudely interrupted."

"My apologies," Stefan mumbled. "I'll just leave then." As he began to exit the room, I noticed that his cheeks were wet and his eyes were sore and bloodshot. Poor guy. I didn't doubt that he hadn't slept all night. Then again, I had no idea what time their biccaring had ended. It had probably continued right into the early hours of the morning, and Stefan was the kind of guy who had to recover from such events.

"Wait!" I all but screamed. "Don't worry about it. Come. Sit."

He reluctantly turned around and walked towards the sofa, only perching on the edge.

"Sit properly," I instructed him, and he did.

"What went on last night?" I asked.

Both brothers looked at me like I'd just asked something ridiculous, like Can a unicorn impregnate me? or Should I let my small niece watch pornography? Those questions reminded me of random questions that I'd asked my mother as a small child, but the questions that I'd asked so many years ago were much more innocent, and had made a whole lot of sense to me back then.

The ones I'd thought of off the top of my head just a matter of seconds ago were somewhat inappropriate, but I couldn't help mentally laughing at them. Hanging around Damon was influencing me in both positive and negative ways.

After hesitation, Damon spoke. "We just...argued. It was nothing too major. Stefan and I started with a debate far from the topic of politics, and then the others invited themselves in for a drink and began eavesdropping on us. Next thing you know,  Shame you weren't there. We had a ball..."

I watched closely as Damon's facial expression changed with each word. I'd noticed it before, of course, but my mind was beginning to wander. I wasn't getting the answers that I hadn't stopped asking for, and I couldn't help but pick up on the most minuscule, unnecessary details. Like the pretty patterns formed on the wooden floorboards, or how several specks of dust repetitively landed on the tips of Stefan's hair.

Meanwhile, Damon was still rambling on in the language of sarcasm, than I was generally a fan of. This situation was different. While I wanted a serious, straight-forward answer, both Stefan and Damon were refusing to give me that. Stefan continued to mope over Elena, and Damon was avoiding every single question about last night by covering it up with sarcasm and petty excuses.

"Shut the fuck up!" I screamed, interrupting the conversation that Damon had started with himself. Stefan looked up at me, his face solemn. I'd have to work on cheering him up - once I knew the answer to this problem, of course. "Just give me an answer already!"

"You want answers?" Damon inquired. "Why didn't you just say so all along?"

A growl ripped from the back of my throat, and I couldn't avoid or control it. Anger began burning up inside of me, and I began struggling with myself to push it back down.

Why did this have to happen to me?

"Are you going to answer me, or am I going to have to tear your hearts from your chests and stuff them in your mouths?" I hissed.

"Feisty," Damon teased. "I like it." After I let out yet another growl his face straightened and he seemed to be contemplating his next words. If those words weren't along the lines of what I wanted to hear, then I was going to kill the pair of them - whether I felt something for them, or not.

"I can't tell you the truth until I've figured out this whole situation for myself," Damon admitted, his ice-blue eyes now showing no trace of humour. "But I can tell you this: Katherine's not gone for good."