𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓 (ANGEL)
Older. Scary. Silent.
Damon Lars was always lurking in the shadows, a sinister presence that scared me. It would be oblivious for me not to notice him even in the darkest areas. He was there. Maybe invisible to ot...
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MARCELLA CRIST
This was all I needed. I didn't need to fix Damon, and I certainly didn't need to be fixed. I wasn't crazy, just a girl in love. And now, I was growing. I was realizing that Damon, the boy who had always been there in his silent, steadfast way, was the love of my life. The one I wanted to spend forever with.
But despite everything, even though my friends were delusional and their boys had all confessed their feelings, Damon still hadn't. Not truly. He told me he liked me, but that was all. And I knew it wasn't that he didn't care—he did, more than anyone could understand—but love, true love, was something he didn't have time for. He had never let himself indulge in it, too busy surviving and fighting the battles life had thrown at him. But still, I loved him. And I would love him, no matter how long it took for him to find his peace.
I stood on the balcony, my arms folded across my chest as I watched the rain pour heavily from the sky. The droplets collided with the pavement, a steady rhythm that somehow matched the beating of my heart. It was summer, but it felt as if my wish from the night before had been granted—when I had told Liliana that I missed the rain. The coolness of it felt like a balm against my thoughts, as if the world was slowing down just for me.
It was past midnight now, and Damon was in the kitchen, helping Jaxon cook something for me and Liliana after our playful kissing session. The air still hummed with the sweetness of it, but it wasn't the kiss that lingered in my mind—it was Damon's quiet presence, the way he seemed to breathe life into every room he entered, even if he never admitted it.
He was my protector, my fighter. And one day, he would be mine, fully. I just had to wait for him to see it too.
I sighed, breathing in the clean, cool air as it mingled with the scent of rain. A knot of anticipation twisted in my stomach. "Hi, angel," Damon whispered in my ear, his lips grazing my earlobe. "I missed you."
"You were just kissing me earlier," I laughed softly, feeling the warmth of his presence, even in the rain. "I wish I could go dance in the rain right now."
Damon paused, as if considering my words. Then, his eyes gleamed with mischief. "Let's go then." He tugged me gently, urging me toward the backyard.
I stopped him, gaping in surprise. "Are you sure? You don't like the rain."
"I'll love it for you." His voice was quiet but resolute, and his smile softened as he pulled me toward him. "Come on."
Before I could protest, he broke into a run, his dark hair soon drenched by the falling rain. He threw open the back door and opened his arms wide. "Come on, angel," he called. "Your wings will grow."
I grinned, my heart fluttering at his words, and ran toward him, getting on my tiptoes to press my lips to his. He kissed me back, but this time, it wasn't the possessive, hungry kiss I was used to. No, this one was soft, tender, and passionate, like something real, something we'd both been too afraid to admit. The rain soaked us, but the world around us seemed to fall away.
