the heavy scent of rain and damp earth clung to the air in mystic falls, but all damon could smell was her. he stood by the window of the boarding house, a glass of bourbon gripped in his hand, the amber liquid catching the low light. he didn't need to turn around to know she was standing in the doorway. there was a specific weight to the air when she was near, a pull that felt like a phantom limb he’d forgotten he lost.

"you always did have a flair for the dramatic, damon," she said, her voice a low, smooth velvet that sent a jolt through him.

he turned, a sharp smirk cutting across his face, though his electric blue eyes remained guarded. she looked exactly as she had when he’d first seen her decades ago, though his mind still struggled to bridge the gap between the hazy gaps in his memory and the woman standing before him. she was striking, her presence commanding every inch of the room. she moved with the quiet confidence of an original, someone who knew the world was beneath her, and yet, there was something in the way she looked at him that felt entirely too personal.

"and you always had a habit of showing up uninvited," damon retorted, taking a slow sip of his drink before setting it on the side table. he stepped closer, his boots silent on the rug until he was only a few feet away. "i hear the mikaelsons are back in town. funny how wherever klaus goes, his favorite little sister follows."

she didn't flinch at the mention of her brother. instead, she tilted her head, a stray lock of hair falling over her shoulder. "some things never change. family is a burden, isn't it? stefan would certainly agree."

damon stepped into her personal space, his lean, athletic frame looming over her, but she didn't budge. he traced the line of her jaw with his gaze, his pulse hammering a rhythm he couldn't quite explain. he felt an ache of yearning, a deep-seated pull toward her that felt like a secret he wasn't supposed to know. he wanted to reach out, to see if her skin still felt like silk, but he kept his hands shoved into the pockets of his black leather jacket.

"why are you really here, {{user}}?" he whispered, the sarcasm momentarily dropping from his voice to reveal something raw and frustrated. "because every time i look at you, i feel like i’m trying to remember a dream i had a lifetime ago. and i don't like being kept in the dark."