New York || Damon Salvatore [1]

Chapter Eighteen

1976 — Provincetown, Massachusetts

   Christmas wasn't something Damon Salvatore celebrated. The last he actually celebrated Christmas was in 1863 in Mystic Falls, when he was human, when he was so ignorant about everything supernatural in the world. He remembered it clearly, even if it was 113 years ago. There was a big Colorado Blue Spruce in the centre of the parlour, decorated in silver ornaments by him, his brother, and a Forbes girl that had quite the crush on Stefan. Their father stayed away, in his study with a bottle of cognac that was given to him as a gift from a man that came back from California. Even though, that didn't bother the atmosphere in the parlour. Other people came by, they brought food and gifts and celebrated the merry holiday. It was cold outside, snow sticking to the ground, but even then there was still merriment and warmth in the parlour of the Veritas Estate, where the inseparable Salvatore brothers celebrated their last Christmas together.

   Ever since then he detested Christmas. But, now, he didn't mind it that much. Damon Salvatore sat in the living room of the Beauchene household with glitter and glue all over his hands. Ioanna had made him sit down and make a homemade ornament because everyone else had one homemade ornament in tree. Since he was part of the family, he needed to make one—Ioanna had insisted. Somehow, while trying to glue some things together, he had somehow ended up with glue all over him.

   "I can't do it!" The vampire snapped, pushing the items away from him. "Can I just help you guys cook?"

   "You have to do one," Ioanna said, giving him a smile. "It's easy, Damon."

   "You can tell that to my jeans," he mumbled, glancing down at the large splatter of glue and glitter on his thigh.

   "That's easy to get out," Ioanna said with a wave of her hand. "Don't worry, just get to it."

   Arthur Bergfalk laughed as he came in. "Each one of us have one on the tree, Damon," he said. "It's your turn to make one. Freya and Frederick have had one since they were eight."

   "Yeah, well, I'm not eight," Damon tried to defend himself.

   "Which is why it should be much more easier to make that," Helena grinned, tapping the vampire on the shoulder.

   Rohan Beauchene took a seat in front of him on the table, eyeing him carefully. She pushed a piece of paper to him, leaned back on the chair, and smiled innocently. Damon eyed her, then the paper, and then back up at her. Slowly, he reached the paper and opened it. 

I know you proposed to Freya.

    Damon sighed and crunched the paper up into a ball. "And?"

   "You haven't told mom and dad, right?" she quietly asked, glancing around to make sure no one was hearing.

   "Not yet," he told her. "Freya wanted to tell them during the dinner."

   Rohan nodded. "Do it again," she said. "Damon, propose to her again. In front of everyone."

   Damon took a sip of the beer and raised a brow at her. When he put down the bottle, he cleared his throat. "Why?"

   "This family needs a little cheer," she told him with a sigh. "After what happened at your apartment, everyone has been on the edge. Especially Mom; she can't believe that someone would do something like that."

   "No one can," he hummed, quickly glancing at the window. It was snowing outside, cold, just like him. Being him, he didn't mind the cold. Matter of fact, he preferred the cold to any other temperature, which would explain why was winter his favourite season.