Stefan's eyes were drawn to the fireplace, watching the dancing flames with tears in his eyes. Elena had finally given up. The inevitable had happened and Elena had just given up. Given up on them, their future, their life. For what, anyway? So she could fall in love with her self-proclaimed boyfriend. Damon didn't even care, he never had. He was violent, obtrusive, sarcastic...no, that wasn't right. This was simply the anger. This was everything he had held dear being stripped from him.

That didn't strip Damon of the blame, he was in it for the game- his kind, loving brother was just in it for the game. He had masked himself in evil and now he was letting it seep through. He had let jealousy rule his unsteady mind, leaving Stefan as good as dead behind him.

Stefan lacked knowledge of Damon's thoughts, though. He couldn't pinpoint the reason he had chosen to pursue Elena, he couldn't think of any reason the was comprehensible apart from just that. Jealousy. But jealousy of what? Love? If he wanted love, he couldn't force it- even Damon wasn't naive enough to believe that.

Damon was in denial, that was it. Denial that he was in love with someone else. Yes, that made sense did it not? He was blind not to know his own feelings yet it happened so often that he couldn't even be put at fault for it.

Stefan was different, though. He was frighteningly different. Because, he knew his feelings yet, still, he pushed them away. Pushed them away because he knew it would only cause him pain. It was all too foreign to him, yet, he knew what it was. He had felt this before, he'd seen that glimmer of it with Elena.

Yet, so like Damon, he was in denial of one thing: the nature of these feelings. Brotherly love, he told himself, brotherly love that he had promised him all those years ago. That promise he held himself to was all that stopped him from pursuing the man that was right before him- the man he proclaimed his brother.

He knew, despite his mind's objections, that the yearn he felt contradiction his own thoughts in every way. The draw of his brother, if that was what he would even let himself call him, was so much more than the draw of a brother. As was the draw to his lips, and the draw to touch.

He knew it was wrong.

That was his most simplistic explanation for tucking these feelings away. Societies view on them would be all too harsh, harsher than it was for all they were- vampire, cruel ones at times. What Stefan felt, what Damon felt, was against the norm. He already felt so filthy for loving another man, he had been raised in the eighteenth century after all. And now this? This that was not so much better than that. But, what was to say that was wrong at all? Everything about him was wrong, his true nature was wrong. But his brother...now that was a new feat. A feat he was afraid to reach for.

None of it stopped Stefan as his legs forced him to stand and stumble up the angular stairs, towards the room that he knew would at least bring some calm. The tears cleared as quickly as they came as he blinked them away, finding it hard to see behind his blurred vision. He knew he shouldn't have cried in the first place, not for Elena. No matter how much he loved or hated her, there was no point in crying for her. She had moved on, even if it was such an idiotic transition, and there was no point dwelling. They had fallen out of love and carrying on their relationship would only be a lie.

When he found himself in his brother's room, he was not surprised. Somehow, through his delirium, he had known the place he would end up. It was the one place that was so forbidden that he was drawn to it- just like his love. It was ironic that such room's occupant was also the man he had fallen for.

He placed his hand gently on the door, pushing it open with ease, revealing a rather too luxurious bedroom. It wasn't as if he had not seen this before but it seemed foreign as he looked at the empty room. It must have gone unused for days. No doubt as Damon followed Elena around like a puppy being dragged along by its leash. He knew as soon as he entered the room that he had made the wrong decision but he still did not want to turn back, even if he would have to deal with the consequences. He could only hope that Damon would not return, just as he had done for the last few days.

With a content smile on his lips, he let himself fall onto the doughy mattress. Damon's smell attacked his senses but he ignored the rather pleasing odour and let himself relax. Let his mind relax, the thoughts drifting away from him.

Brotherly love, he told himself once again. Although, the more he thought about it, the more he craved any sort of love at all. It had been decades since he and his brother had confided in each other. Maybe even so far back as when they were human was the last time. Stefan could make no recollection of any time more recently.

Thankfully, his mellow mood didn't bring all sadness. Despite his wistfulness towards his brother's lack of presence, he could say he was glad to find himself free. Free of the burden of caring for another. Free of the burden of forced smiles. Free of the burden of withholding tears.

Elena was lovely, she always had been but that didn't stop the burden she put on the shoulders. Just as it didn't stop the burden that he must have put on hers- she had fallen in love with a vampire, after all. After their epic love had failed, crashed and burned, that burden was put onto another's shoulders- Damon's shoulders.

His lifestyle didn't accommodate that. He thrived on freedom. He thrived on the feeling of running at tremendous speeds or the trickery he could play on minds. He thrived off being a vampire. And, Elena would never let him be a true vampire; Elena would never let him be himself. His feverish bloodlust ruled him and was rarely diminished. So many said that Elena changed him, all Stefan could see was him breaking behind his facade. Cracking as the weight of Elena pushed him down.

With Elena came her troubles, her worries, her problems. It was a mystery to whether Damon could even cope with that. Stefan felt pained to even think of his brother in that state. What he loved about his brother was that freedom. Although it had caused such problems, it had also brought a smile to his brother's face, sometimes even his.

Before he could register what had happened, his face went lax and all tension flooded from him. He had fallen asleep- on his brother's bed: devoid of excuses for when...if his brother came home.

-

Damon swirled the liquid in his glass, downing yet another drink to follow the few he had to begin the evening. He watched as Elena reluctantly left to go to the bathroom, peering back at Damon whenever she could. She wasn't desperate, Damon continuously told himself, she was simply worried for him- or maybe the people around him. She had wanted Damon to change for so long and now that he had claimed that he finally had, it was as if she didn't believe him.

True, that was probably for the best. He was still in a state and he often struggled to control those deep-rooted vampire instincts; it already felt as if he had suppressed them for far too long.

And, he knew it wouldn't be long until he gave in. In fact, it would be instantaneous. He slyly smirked from behind his glass, still swirling it in synchronisation with his thoughts. 'Bartender!' His voice rang out cheerfully, that darkness seeping off his tongue, the atmosphere shifting from light to heavy in seconds.

'Yes?' The bartender furrowed her brows, trying to ignore the knot in her stomach as she stared down at the raven haired man. Damon didn't move an inch, except for his eyes. His eyes so carefully moved to meet the girl's. He stared, his smile still cheerful yet his aura so dark. 'How about a little blood from that pretty little wrist of yours for my next drink?' She nodded, complying before she even had a chance to consider. He had forced her to inflict pain upon himself and he found himself not caring. The usual Damon, so guiltless.

Then, before the bartender could subtly slit her wrist under the bar, a shrill voice broke through the air. 'Damon!' She shrieked, catching the attention of almost everyone around them. Gaining at least fourteen glares and another five outright stares, Damon counted. Damon sighed, ignoring those around him, and looked back to the girl who only seconds ago had been screaming at him. Oops, he thought, caught red handed.

'How could you! I told you that was off limits! Stop her, right now!' She ordered, pointing to the bartender, whose blood was still spilling into a wine glass. Damon sighed once more and stopped the poor woman before pulling the memories out of her mind and trudging behind a fuming Elena.

Damon should have known this would happen. Elena was still human and no human could accept the true reality of vampirism. Vampirism meant lust- not just in the typical sense. It meant a lust for blood, a lust for life. Maybe it was just a synonym for selfishness.

Damon had to resist the urge to rip out her throat right there as he wished to explain himself. He simply wanted to tell her what he was and that wasn't going to change yet there was no going back. He had already promised change and maybe that would just mean he had to. He had always wanted to change anyway, hadn't he? Maybe not. That guilt that still lingered in the back of his mind was nothing in comparison to the joy of satisfaction as the blood slipped past his fangs.

He excused himself quickly, 'I'm going back to the boarding house tonight.' He gritted his teeth, he had said that far too harshly- unfairly so. Before he could register her shock, he began to stalk off, his guilt already lost.

'I'll come with you!' Elena shouted, panicked, quick footsteps coming out behind him. He halted, pushing his hands into his pockets and turning around. 'Alone, Elena. I'm going alone.' He spoke gently, calmly. He didn't want to be rude to Elena. He still wanted this to work- despite his reasoning to do so was so stupid.

Yes, he was forcing love. He was forcing the permanent and he knew it wouldn't work but he felt if he could just muster those feelings that he had once felt with Katherine then maybe, just maybe, this could work out for him. Yet how did he overcome these outrageous bursts of anger? How did he stop the lust for blood in his throat? How did he stop being...him?

Leaving Elena in his wake, letting her run off to one of her friends to worry about him, he sped to the boarding house as inhumane speed. He hoped it was empty, he would rather a lack of company. He didn't want to speak to Stefan, not now. He would only scratch the truth of him. He opened the door roughly, letting it clang against the wall- although, still not loud enough to wake Stefan from his slumber, and grumbled as he fell straight for the oldest and strongest bourbon he had to hand. He brought the bottle to his lips and chugged it quickly, the burn having little effect on his vampiric body. It took all too much to drown it all out, he wanted more but he knew it would only lead to regrets the next day. He still had enough sanity to know between right and wrong. He flinched as the clock struck loudly, indicating midnight had now reached, causing him to finally trudge up the stairs- looking forward to collapsing into his overly-expensive bed.

To say he was shocked when he walked into his room was an understatement. To see his brother in his bed with tear stained cheeks was enough to shock anyone, even some of the least susceptible candidates like Damon. He furrowed his brows and examined the man in front of him, cupping his cheek gently as he came closer to inspect the stains on his cheeks. Yes, definitely tear stains. What had gotten into his brother? What had caused him to get into such a state? Stefan didn't stir nor move, he lay calmly asleep oblivious to all actions happening around him. 

Damon felt himself drawing closer to his brother, pity boiling deeply in his stomach. Yet, he found it usual, the familiarity calming. What he had felt for his brother had been buried beneath his skin for centuries but he always knew it was there. But, he knew the promise would not be broken and so he buried all his dreams of anything more. Still, as he found himself lying behind his brother, his eyes catching the gleam of the tears still left in the corners of his eyes. He wiped them away gently, still careful not to wake his brother and he felt the calm wash over him as he saw his brother so peaceful- no matter how melancholy.

He soon fell asleep too, his eyes still facing his brother's, a foreign yet familiar feeling still in his stomach.

word count: 1002

edit 1 - 27.04.17 - new word count - 2306