[fanfic] [vampire diaries] lack of

[bromantic.livejournal.com]

When Stefan became a vampire, there was no Stefan.

At first, he didn't understand it. The power crawled in his veins, his body felt cold and hot all over, as if constantly trying to find a state between, and when he touched his face, he could feel his eyes writhing. But he was still Stefan, his looks had not changed, his history untouched by human memory. He was still Stefan Salvatore, even as he watched his brother feed on a human girl.

It took him years to realize that Stefan was actually dead, that he had been wearing the clothes of Stefan, bore his childhood markings, but Stefan was no longer there. He started to scramble for the past, hoard every little corner and picture, because the past was what Stefan was and he couldn't lost Stefan. He dove his hands, dirty, rank, into the memories, the lost smiles, but he could never truly reach it.

Stefan was dead.

He was not Stefan.

It had been a cold winter. He kept a tiny apartment on the edge of New York, small, unknown, regrettable. Damon was there too, making a mess and you itched. He pecked your cheek earlier and the touch of it still burned, unholy. Damon was clear those days, hedged in with pain and anger. Stefan could never lose him in a crowd, could never take his eyes away. He longed to.

But Damon was Damon, not a stranger, unlike himself. And Stefan itched, itched like he did when he tore his father open, feasted, drank, a god. He thought about hurting Damon, of making him lose the part that was still untouched, human from hurt and pain. Jealousy was unbecoming.

Damon draped on the sofa, long limbs and ease. He's drunk, he's always drunk these days, and his eyes are hazy. Stefan watched as his eyelids closed. Damon remembered to the point he was still Damon. Stefan kept scraps. Damon lost something precious. Stefan kept his to the point of hatred.

Stefan sighed. Jealousy was unbecoming. But he flicked the lights off and wished it was otherwise.