gilbert boy ▪ tvd

t w o

His body was frozen but his mind was plagued with nightmares from that night. It was like he was back in the car, the water rushing in through the cracks. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest as but he seemed blinded by the amount of blood that ran down his forehead. 

He felt panicked, terrified, even. He wanted to break open the door and swim to the surface. He didn't want to die but there nothing he could do. The water seemed to rush down his throat and it felt so real. It felt exactly like it did when he was in the accident. Only this time, he was able to wake. 

His body jolted forward, his chest heaving in as much air as he could. His skin prickled at the cold sweat that his body seemed to have accumulated while he was unconscious. It seemed like clockwork; the nightmare seemed to plague his nights at least three times a week, interrupting his peaceful dreams. 

In order to forget about the things he saw and felt, he had to distract himself. He shuffled from his bed, detangling himself from his sheets before he walked to the room across the hall, his sanctuary. The air smelled of paint and old books, a smell that seemed to relax his muscles the moment he stepped into the room. His easel already sat, facing the window, a blank canvas practically calling his name. 

He slowly took a seat on his stool before he focused on putting on his music and putting his airpods into his ears before he focused his attention on painting his feelings. 

It seemed like hours before the painting had been mostly finished. The canvas was covered in beautiful pastel colors that would make DaVinci himself jealous. Pastels were light and they made him feel better when he painted with them instead of the darker colors that exposed the raw feelings inside. 

That night left him with angry, upset, and mostly alone. He had no recollection of anything before he saw the deer. Everything is blank like he never existed up until the accident. The first thing he remembers was waking up in a bed that wasn't his, in a place that he didn't know. He felt stronger, less human. 

The man that had saved his life was Elijah Mikaelson. He claimed to have seen Charlie get run off the road before he saved his life. But in doing so, he changed it forever. He would no longer be the vulnerable human, no, he was now an immortal being. Elijah explained the world that he was just thrust into and oddly enough, Charlie didn't seem at all scared by it. But seeing as Charlie thought he could still die, Elijah also explained that he could only die by the hands of the witch that created him and as a failsafe, Elijah also killed her. 

But Charlie wasn't like Elijah. He was something different. He didn't have to feed off of others to survive. He was strong, fast, and he shared the same abilities as a vampire would but he seemed to have a soul. 

Without even knowing it, this new chance at life gave him an opportunity to live the life he wanted to live. He wasn't that small-town teenage boy that dreamed of going places. He was now an adult that made his own decisions. Elijah helped him in the beginning before he left him on his own, both of them checking in regularly. 

The shrill ring of his ringtone interrupted his painting and he was quick to put down his paintbrush and answer the phone. The only person that called him was Elijah so he never had to worry about checking the Caller ID. "Elijah, what a pleasant surprise." Charlie sarcastically said, his eyes moving out to look at the Italian town he was living in.

"It's Tuesday, Charles." Elijah teased over the line. Elijah only called on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the morning when he knew Charlie would be up and painting. "I just wanted to call to let you know that I will be on some business and I won't check in for a little while." 

Charlie's eyebrows furrowed. "How long is a little while?" 

"A month at best. Be sure to call if you need anything. Don't do anything reckless while I'm gone, Charles-- I won't be around to get you out of trouble."