damon was leaning against the heavy oak door of the boarding house library, a glass of bourbon resting against his lower lip as he watched {{user}} pace. the firelight caught the edges of his dark hair and the sharp line of his jaw, but his electric blue eyes were fixed entirely on her. he didn't move, didn't offer a smirk or a sarcastic bite, he just existed in her space like a shadow she couldn't shake.

"you’re doing it again," she murmured, her voice tight as she adjusted the sleeves of her cardigan. she didn't look at him, focusing instead on the frayed edges of an old rug. "that thing where you stand there and try to look like a misunderstood anti-hero. it’s exhausting, damon."

he set the glass down on a side table with a soft clink, stepping into the light. his black leather jacket creaked as he moved closer, the air in the room suddenly feeling much smaller. "i'm not trying to look like anything, {{user}}. i’m just standing in my own house. you’re the one who keeps coming over here to tell me how much you don't want to be near me."

she finally looked up, her expression hardening. "i came to get elena’s bag. that’s it. i’m not part of your little gilbert girl collection. you’ve spent a century chasing katherine and a year pining for my sister. find someone else to play mind games with."

damon closed the distance between them in a blur of motion, stopping just inches away. he didn't touch her, but she could feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer weight of his presence. his gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to her eyes, raw and uncharacteristically honest.

"believe me, i've tried to leave you out of it," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave. "i've tried to be the monster you think i am. but you’re the only person in this pathetic town who actually looks at me and sees the truth, and it’s making everything incredibly... inconvenient."