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quixotism2011-12-15 09:02 pm
bromantic.livejournal.com) wrote in quixotism2011-12-15 09:02 pm
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[fanfic] [vampire diaries] Your heart on the line
But it's not your fault, but mine. And it was your heart on the line. I really fucked it up this time. Didn't I, my dear? AU of 1864, Stefan/Damon
Damon is in love with Katherine. He knows it, doesn't believe it, sees it lingering in his eyes, the shaded, coy gazes. He's in love with Katherine and Stefan wants to look away because he's still seventeen, his brother is old enough to take care of himself.
So he pretends not to notice when his shoulder stays on Katherine's waist and never moves away.
Katherine tells him she enjoys Shakespeare.
He enjoys her interest, but he brushes her away. The pit in his stomach drops.
His father tells him about the vampires, about how they steal away your soul and choke your spirit. He goes on and on, passionate, sure, and Stefan wants to laugh in his face. Instead, he listens, his nails decorating the couch with crescent marks. His father tucks an oddlycoloured flower in his pocket. Stefan lets him do it because he just wants to be free of him, even as his love for his father steals his soul away.
Stefan is too old for fairytales, at least not the horrific ones. He sleeps and dreams.
Rosalyn dies and Stefan goes in shock.
Damon is by his side, soothing words into Stefan's body, etched lines of concern all over his clothes and face. In that moment, Stefan knows, believes, forever and always, that Damon loves him.
He smiles stupidly, even when Damon whacks him with a wet cloth.
Damon is missing and Katherine is gone.
Stefan panics. He takes his pistol and runs out the door. His hand goes to his pocket.
He finds them together. There's blood on Damon's lip and Stefan cringes.
"I'm going with her. I love her."
Sound is sucked out of the world. Stefan tries to speak, to say she can't love you that much, but everything dies at the sight of them, at the sight of her. Damon's hand is still on her hip.
He shoots a bullet straight through her heart. She shrivels and dies, and that's when Stefan notices the sound of wood, sound of Damon screaming at him, I hate you, I hate you Stefan!
Stefan tosses the gun and leaves.
Three years later, Father is dead, the estate is his. He never marries, even as he steadies courts girls from many families. They talk, always about how brave he is, how tragic it was, and it's all Stefan can do not to get sick from it, to come home, clutching his stomach and heart as if he was burning up, burning away.
He sends the maids away, lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling blankly. Everything was emptiness, he was empty inside and he dreams about the past, every day, every moment.
Stefan wakes up and it's Damon, his brother, sitting next to the bed, nonchalant, fluid grace and white shirts, looking at Stefan like he's never seen him before, a stranger to his eyes. Stefan wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to turn away, but he never stops looking at him.
Damon strokes his face and the tears come anyway.
"Hush, little brother," Damon says, "I'll make you suffer yet. It's not over."
Stefan never stops crying.
Damon is in love with Katherine. He knows it, doesn't believe it, sees it lingering in his eyes, the shaded, coy gazes. He's in love with Katherine and Stefan wants to look away because he's still seventeen, his brother is old enough to take care of himself.
So he pretends not to notice when his shoulder stays on Katherine's waist and never moves away.
Katherine tells him she enjoys Shakespeare.
He enjoys her interest, but he brushes her away. The pit in his stomach drops.
His father tells him about the vampires, about how they steal away your soul and choke your spirit. He goes on and on, passionate, sure, and Stefan wants to laugh in his face. Instead, he listens, his nails decorating the couch with crescent marks. His father tucks an oddlycoloured flower in his pocket. Stefan lets him do it because he just wants to be free of him, even as his love for his father steals his soul away.
Stefan is too old for fairytales, at least not the horrific ones. He sleeps and dreams.
Rosalyn dies and Stefan goes in shock.
Damon is by his side, soothing words into Stefan's body, etched lines of concern all over his clothes and face. In that moment, Stefan knows, believes, forever and always, that Damon loves him.
He smiles stupidly, even when Damon whacks him with a wet cloth.
Damon is missing and Katherine is gone.
Stefan panics. He takes his pistol and runs out the door. His hand goes to his pocket.
He finds them together. There's blood on Damon's lip and Stefan cringes.
"I'm going with her. I love her."
Sound is sucked out of the world. Stefan tries to speak, to say she can't love you that much, but everything dies at the sight of them, at the sight of her. Damon's hand is still on her hip.
He shoots a bullet straight through her heart. She shrivels and dies, and that's when Stefan notices the sound of wood, sound of Damon screaming at him, I hate you, I hate you Stefan!
Stefan tosses the gun and leaves.
Three years later, Father is dead, the estate is his. He never marries, even as he steadies courts girls from many families. They talk, always about how brave he is, how tragic it was, and it's all Stefan can do not to get sick from it, to come home, clutching his stomach and heart as if he was burning up, burning away.
He sends the maids away, lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling blankly. Everything was emptiness, he was empty inside and he dreams about the past, every day, every moment.
Stefan wakes up and it's Damon, his brother, sitting next to the bed, nonchalant, fluid grace and white shirts, looking at Stefan like he's never seen him before, a stranger to his eyes. Stefan wants to cry, wants to scream, wants to turn away, but he never stops looking at him.
Damon strokes his face and the tears come anyway.
"Hush, little brother," Damon says, "I'll make you suffer yet. It's not over."
Stefan never stops crying.