Damon & Caroline
“Please don’t leave me, Damon.”
She whispers it like a secret, and he can feel her words pounding in his chest like the ghost of a heartbeat. She looks stunned and frightened as she says it, as though all the old bites and bruises had resurfaced the moment she made her discovery. He is uncharacteristically silent, staring into her eyes for one long moment before turning back to the fire. “I saw the way you looked at me.” His shoulders tense and he clings to the mantle of the fireplace, wondering to himself if it’s too late to go back.
He watches her when she sleeps. She knows, and in her own fashion, she watches him watching her, sensing his presence over her shoulder. She is torn between demanding that he leave and making room on the bed. Instead, she stays silent, thriving in the intensity of the moment. His fingertips tingle in anticipation, hovering just above the skin at the back of her neck.
He’s trapped. Held by chains and ropes, he feels utterly helpless, and the look on her face when she sees him makes him crumble. He doesn’t want to need her, but he clings to the memory of her, dressed in a gown of pure blue with her hair dancing about in curls. “Caroline..”
She runs to him, unthinking, nimble hands releasing him from his chains before he even has a moment to look at her. She has no time for bitterness; she has no time for old wounds. He tries to speak again, but she dismisses him with a brush of her hand across his face. “I know. It’s okay, Damon. I know.”