𝟏• 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 | 𝐓𝐕𝐃 ✓

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘 𝐎𝐍𝐄

"HELLO, 'LIA—OW!" DAMON SALVATORE SWORE loudly following his exclamation from the sheer force of Aurelia's foot when it made contact with his shin. "Holy shit—"

"D—Damon!" Aurelia's eyes doubled in size upon realization that the perpetrator that intended to stand just behind her and greet her was no pervert, but the charming, charismatic, and now groaning elder Salvatore.

Though, 'pervert' and 'Damon Salvatore' were words that could be used interchangeably. "Damn it, 'Lia—did you not hear me coming up behind you?" Damon, through his cursing, was able to force out a coherent sentence that questioned Aurelia's flawless supernatural hearing.

"No—I didn't..." Aurelia could only throw a dirty glance at the man kneeling before her, rubbing up and down his shin as some semblance of comfort from her hard kick. "You were too quiet."

"No, I wasn't—" As he stood to his two feet, his tone turned insistent. "We're in the middle of a road that hasn't seen a car in hours. It's dead quiet here." She narrowed her eyes at him.

"What are you getting at?"

"There's no way you couldn't hear me in all this quiet, unless—" Aurelia was suddenly pulled forward by the wrist, up close to Damon's face, as his eyes darted around her own, examining for something he hadn't bothered to explain yet. "You're growing weaker."

"It was one moment." She protested, though with a bitter and dismissive tone that Damon knew—from the great book of Aurelia Parker's social cues—meant she was trying to brush him off.

"I heard about what happened in Stefan's room." And she scoffed at his pompous, all-knowing, full-of-himself (concerned for her) tone, ripping her wrist away from his grip.

"I'm not doing this with you." She muttered, walking past him—the road was dark, empty, but she'd come out to clear her mind, and she wasn't going to let this... mishap, or whatever, take away from that.

"Then who exactly are you doing this with? You haven't spoken to Stefan about this since you sat in his arms sobbing—"

"—Stefan told you about that?!" Aurelia was going to make Stefan Salvatore scream bloody murder.

"—You haven't spoken to Caroline, who's worried sick—"

"Oh my God, you told Caroline, too?" Aurelia covered her face with her hands. "Damon, you're making this more dramatic than it needs to be—"

"Every damn second we stand here, Expression is draining you, Aurelia." Damon spat, and his tone held more desperation than Aurelia could process. "This is as dramatic as I'm making it out to be. And you've done nothing about it."

"I'm doing something about it."

"And what is that?"

"Living my life. You know, so I have no bitter regrets during my last moments—" Aurelia's venomous tone made Damon grasp on her shoulders, slightly shaking her back and forth from his frustration.

"You are not giving up on this." He snapped. "Not you, of all the people I know."

"What do you care?" Her attempt to push him away was feeble for two reasons—one being that she'd lost enough of her strength to bring her to his level of strength.

The second, that she couldn't deny what he was saying—she was slowly giving up, giving into her unfortunate doom.

"You've dealt with enough grief as is—what's one more?" She asked, lips pressed together, eyebrows lowered, and Damon could only sputter.