Rhysand managed a laugh as he stirred the coffee he'd made to melt the ice cubes that were in it. Not enough for it to be a waste, but enough to ensure that the coffee was cold so as to keep it from melting all of the ice cubes that were in the tumbler he'd taken from Damon.
"Cold coffee is just better," he said, waving a dismissive hand. Iced coffee had long been his preference when he needed a pick me up. Stefans rebuttals, debates, argumentative points against such a statement, meant nothing to him.
"Coffee keeps the blood warm," Stefan said pointedly. He and Elena were sitting on one side of the counter whilst Rhysand stood on the opposite, Elena drinking tea while Stefan opted for coffee from the hot pot of it that Rhysand had brewed ten minutes prior. "It makes the illusion of our status as humans plenty easier to maintain. Human blood is not cold."
"A warm meal or two does the same thing," Rhysand said. "As does tea, which, in terms of taste, is often preferable anyway."
"You say that only because you're from London," Stefan said.
"No, I say it because it's the truth," Rhysand said, pouring the coffee into the tumbler. He followed it by vanilla flavored creamer and some cinnamon syrup, stirring it before securing the lid. Damon came up from the basement with two blood bags in hand, passing one to Rhysand without so much as a word as he entered the kitchen.
"Thanks," Rhysand said.
"You're a late admissions student for classes at Mystic Falls University, right?" Damon asked. "Stefan told me that you were coming down to finally get your classics degree. The uni is right on the outside of the city."
"BA in classics," Rhysand shrugged. "Ancient Greek and Roman culture will take my life up until July. Can't say I hate it, honestly."
"You've always loved the mythology," Damon said. Rhysand glanced at Elena in the same time as Damon did, catching her look of disbelief.
"He read the Iliad in 1966. A few months after we met for the first time, actually. I was subject to a good few hours listening to him discuss it," Damon said. Rhysand allowed himself a nostalgic smile.
"It was that or Pride and Prejudice, Damon," Rhysand said, picking at the part of Damon that hated it, igniting the part of himself that knew he did and the one that loved to tease him for it, simply due to how much he loved the book. "Would you have preferred I discussed that?"
Damon laughed as he took a sip of the blood from the bag he held.
"No, never," he said. "God, I remember how you used to try to convince me Austen was anything but insufferable in her prose. Those discussions were exhausting."
"But you miss them," Rhysand joked.
"I resent you, Rhysand Abernathy, solely for the fact that I do," Damon said. "Where you resent me for other reasons, I know."
"Resentment is a rather strong word," but it was not. Resentment, it was a step up from hate, but it summed up how Rhysand felt towards Damon almost perfectly. Damon had almost gotten him killed, and while they were on some relatively even ground at that point, was there really any coming back from that? Rhysand thought that the idea he might someday have completely and totally forgiven Damon was one grounded in false reality, in an idea of a life that the two could've lived, one with a happily ever after and one that was far off, the idea of a life that'd never come to fruition.
"No it isn't," Damon said, smiling sadly. "I've accepted that, though. Need a ride?"
He didn't. He had his own car, a 1989 Mitsubishi convertible that he'd been driving since the year it released. "A ride would be nice. Thank you."
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Forget All, Remember None | slow updates
Fanfiction"No," Rhysand said. "I wouldn't change anything about you. I loved you exactly as you'd been."
