Resurrection | Damon Salvatore [2] DISCONTINUED

Chapter Three

   His fingers itched. They trembled against the steering wheel, as if no matter how much they movement the itch was still there. It was the nerves, he had told himself over and over again. They were getting close to the bar, close to Freya, and he felt every bit of him burst into so many emotions. There was a kaleidoscope, like when you look into the hole and see so many colours and shapes and it was all overwhelming. To him, he felt as if he could throw up at any moment. 

   The streets of New Orleans were filled with people. It began with crowds here and there, until they stopped at the corner of Bourbon and Orleans Street where throngs full of people covered the street, pints of alcohols in their hands as laughter and screams echoed from their throats. From there, they had to walk. He pushed by people, his brother and best friend behind him. 

   "What the hell is this?" Damon asked, stopping in the centre of the street. "It's not Mardi Gras, right?"

   "It's Oktoberfest," Bonnie said, pointing at a sign. "Apparently, they have it every weekend for the month of October."

   "We came at the right time," Stefan chuckled, crossing his arms. "Anyway, what was the name of the bar she works in?"

   "Saint Agatha's," Bonnie replied, pushing her phone into her back pocket. "It's a famous bar around here; five stars on Yelp."

   "So, what, look for the bar with the most people?" Damon asked, turning to the witch with pursed lips. "Great. It's not like the street is full with people coming in and out of bars."

   Bonnie rolled her eyes. "Or, you know, we can just go to the bar that says Saint Agatha's on the sign." She pointed at a wooden sign that said Saint Agatha's in bright red painting, and gave a big grin to Damon before strutting in front them.

   The vampire took in a breath and let it out in a sigh, then followed behind the witch to the bar. It wasn't raunchy or classy, but a mixture of both that created a nice atmosphere. Guys that were just off work from the bank next door sat next to punks with rings on their faces and tattoos covering their arms, and they got along well. There was a jukebox in the far corner, with automated music and also lined up with costumer requests. It was a long bar that wasn't as crowded as the tables, but still full. A full bar of beer, wine, and spirits with juice, soda, and water that seemed to call to everyone around. 

   "You know, I was expecting her to work somewhere like The Ground," Damon uttered, laying his hands on his waist as he continued to glance around. "This is nothing like that."

   "How did The Ground look?" Stefan asked, taking a stand besides his brother.

   "Well, for one thing, it had way less lighting," the vampire answered with a smile. "The walls were covered with posters and signed pictures of the musicians that had played there, from Miles Davis and Ella Fitzgerald to Talking Heads and The Ramones." His eyes glazed over as the image of The Ground overtook Saint Agatha's. "The bar was always full, and always sticky because someone kept spilling the drinks. The bar stools were red, leather, slightly ripped at the edges. The Ground always had two faces, the weekdays and the weekends. My favourite, although it will sound very surprising, was the weekdays. It was the opposite of the weekends, much more quiet than the punks that moshed to rock music."

   "Romantic," Bonnie hummed, giving him a grin. "Okay, why are you still standing here? Go, Damon! You've waited years to see Freya, and now you're just standing here and talking about the past?"

   "He's reminiscing," Stefan jokes, pushing his brother with his shoulder. "But, I agree with Bonnie. How many years have you been waiting for Freya?"

   "Too many," Damon answered with a soft chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. His fingers tingled against his waist, and his heart hammered on his throat.