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Story: All I need
Chapter: 13
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Stefan
I left Damon to himself and heatedly headed upstairs. I took a deep breath before I opened the door to my room, trying to compose myself so that I wouldn’t appear too aggressive. – But it didn’t work, I was still too upset. Inwardly, I could only repeat the last moments to myself.
The instant we’d gotten home, I’d known that this was never going to work out. I’d known that it wouldn’t be easy to talk to Damon, but when I had been back in our house I’d felt it would be impossible. All the time there had been a voice in my head – it was there even now that I was standing in front of my room trying to calm myself down before I entered; a voice that wouldn’t stop telling me that I had every right to be angry and suspicious.
On the first notice, the house had seemed empty, but then again, Damon had always easily managed to disguise himself, even here. “Look at this”, I had heard Elena say flatly. When I had turned to her she’d shown me the newspaper article she’d – a moment ago – also shown Damon. The piece of paper had been placed on the table intentionally. It was obvious that we were supposed to find it.
Something about Elena had changed when she’d finished reading through the article. – Her face had turned blank and she’d sat down uncomfortably and had bitten her lower lip. Her hands she held close to each other, and then, slowly, the expression on her face changed, almost rendering her guilty, or at least ready to account for what had happened. And the silent, sharp voice of jealousy in my head had responded immediately. But it hadn’t been her that had made me angry in that moment. It was that article, and how it had been place in the living room, like a trophy and making the last weeks invalid – as if he had felt the need to prove that he hadn’t changed at all.
The second Damon had entered the room – or rather the gallery – and said something, it had been evident that he must have had killed. Maybe it had just been a slight resonance of a tone in his voice that had betrayed him, or maybe it had been a more obvious sign, like the immense presence radiating from him, being so insultingly self-confident. Whatever it was, I couldn’t tell. And every word he’d said to me in his sheer arrogance and having sounded so pointedly superior had made me forget that we had come here to ask for his help, his opinion. His tone when addressing Elena had made me so furious that I could still feel the rage pulsating through me. And yet – fuelling my jealousy and also my fear that he would draw her to his side – whenever he had actually responded to or even looked at her, something in him had seemed softened, the cruelty subdued. And his reactions just a moment ago in the cellar hallway had only been further evidence. His words had been so clear: ‘You’re not the only one who knows what true emotions are.’
I angrily dismissed my thoughts and forced myself back to here and now. Again I breathed in and out deeply, and then – only halfway soothed – opened the door to my room.
Elena sat on my bed and looked out of the window, obviously still angry.
“I’m sorry about that” I said silently, but her expression didn’t soften when she looked at me.
“You’re not the one who needs to apologise to me, Stefan.”
I sat down beside her, taking her hand. “I know, but Damon…”
She looked at me reproachfully. “Well, I’m sorry to say it this way, but you were not exactly helping the situation.”
This surprised me. “Okay?” I let go of her hand, feeling the annoyance return to me as if I hadn’t tried to be calm.
“Well, you needn’t have started off that crossly, did you?”
“Since Damon was being so very friendly?” I asked back, more and more irritated. How could she be so upset with him, but defend him at the same time?
“He wasn’t, Stefan, and I know it as well as you do! But still.”
So this was a matter of principles now. I folded my arms and waited for her to say something, only that she wouldn’t.
“Elena, are we going to fight about Damon now?” I asked after a short moment of silence.
“I’m not fighting, Stefan, I’m just trying to say that I’m not ready to sit through your constant arguments. I thought we were going to talk this through and then everyone was being aggressive before we even started talking to each other and I don’t think that’s getting us anywhere! You know … – I know this isn’t working very well, but I thought we could do something about it! But your constant issues with each other are making it impossible for me to find at least some balance.”
I sighed. I knew. I knew it so well, but the more she said about it, the more did I feel the jealousy inside me grow stronger. I took a deep breath, even though I knew it would scarcely help the irritation, and said, “I can’t help it, Elena.”
“No, but can he? Can I?”
“Damon is not exactly trying more than I am, is he?”
“No, Stefan. But as long as neither of you even contemplates trying…” she stopped in the middle of the sentence, as if realising that she was about to cross a line she didn’t even want to cross, but that her emotions had brought her so close to.
“Elena” I tried to make my voice sound soft, but my irritation still gave it a harsh undertone. My voice sounded odd. Forced. “When you left the room I thought it was because you were angry with Damon. Now it rather seems as if you were angry with me, not him. Why is all of this my fault now?”
She must have sensed the oddity in my voice, the suspicion it betrayed, and my irritation, for she looked at me defensively. The defence was also in her voice when she answered me.
“It’s not your fault, Stefan”, she said, but again it was more like half of the sentence, as if she was leaving out a ‘but’, or a further explanation. What she said sounded more like an accusation to me – Damon had once said something similar: Everything is not your fault, he’d said not too long ago, and after that told me to stop trying to feel his guilt. – Elena, however, remained silent. There was no actual accuse, no end to the sentence.
She seemed to think for a moment, seemed to consider something, and then she enclosed my hand with both of hers, looking down to our hands. I looked at her carefully, trying to make something of her behaviour. She looked uncomfortably lost in thought, obviously struggling with herself over something. The feeling that she was keeping something from me grew stronger again, the voice in my head louder. I could tell easily that something wasn’t right by how she held my hand so firmly, by how she sat there beside me… but most of all, I could tell that she must be keeping something from me because she hadn’t really looked into my eyes the whole time, had never really held my glance for more than a short moment until she’d averted her eyes quickly, almost … guiltily? Like when she had read the newspaper article about the attacks – as if ready to account for something, even though she hadn’t done it; and this expression was back on her face now. I watched her keeping her eyes fixed on the floor for another long moment; then she slowly brought my hand up to her lips and tenderly kissed my fingertips. When she looked at me, she seemed to have made a decision.
“Promise me something, Stefan.” She said flatly. I nodded slowly. “If I tell you now,” Elena continued, “…I’m not saying ‘don’t be upset’, but please, Stefan, promise me to not do anything … rushed, okay?”
The way she said it worried me, but I couldn’t make the promise just yet, or, couldn’t say it aloud, so I simply drew her close to me, carefully drawing her head against my shoulder, stroking over her hair again. She sighed sadly and closed her arms around me, snuggling even closer. Finally, I thought. The whispering in my head had ceased for the moment, and, eyes closed, I simply held her in a close embrace. “What were you going to say?” I asked softly, opening my eyes again. Elena sat up, breaking our embrace, and looked at me. “I know that Damon is not going to tell you”, she said almost in a whisper, “and I also know that this is going to complicate things.” She paused, her eyes on our intertwined fingers again.
“He knew it was Katherine on Friday night because he kissed her … believing her to be me. Neither of us ever mentioned it, as we surely would have, so he made the connection that it couldn’t have been me. He told me last night … and kissed me again, for real this time, and this is why we started fighting… and why I got so upset. He said many things to me, and then disappeared – the attacks happened afterwards…”
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tbc
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fact fiction 