Aurora sat cross-legged on Stefan’s bed, idly tracing patterns on the comforter while the sound of the shower hummed behind the bathroom door. She’d been here a thousand times, comfortable, safe. Stefan’s room always smelled faintly of old books and forest air. A blur of movement and then— Damon was suddenly beside her, leaning a shoulder against the bedpost like he owned the place. “Stefan’s in the shower,” she said without looking up. “I know.” His voice was velvet and trouble. “Which means I have a few minutes of your… undivided attention.” She rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched. “You never get undivided attention, Damon. You barely deserve divided attention.” “Harsh.” Damon slid onto the bed, sitting close enough that she felt the gravity of him—not touching, but just near enough to set her nerves alight. “You wound me, Aurora.” “You’ll survive.” She tilted her head, studying him. “You always do. You’re every bad thing wrapped into a vampire. Impulse. Chaos. The mess Stefan has to clean up.” He smirked and leaned in, his face centimeters from hers. “And yet you’re still sitting on his bed with me. Maybe you like a little bad.” She didn’t flinch, didn’t give in. She just looked him dead in the eyes and said calmly, “You are only the bad stuff in a vampire.” That hit him. His smirk faltered for a heartbeat—just enough for her to see something almost vulnerable underneath. Then Damon leaned in closer, lips brushing the air just beside hers, voice low and hungry. “Then teach me to be good.” For a moment, the world narrowed to his breath, the spark between them, the heat of him waiting for permission. Just one tilt of her chin and she’d be kissing Damon Salvatore. But she didn’t. Aurora placed a finger on his chest—barely a touch, but enough to hold him back. “No,” she whispered. Damon froze. “You don’t get to skip to the reward,” she continued, her voice soft but steady. “If you want me, you’re going to have to earn it. And Damon… you’ve never had to earn anything in your life.” His jaw tightened, frustration sparking in his eyes—but underneath it? Longing. Real, raw longing. “Aurora,” he breathed, almost like a plea. She slid off the bed, smoothing her top, pretending not to notice the way he watched her like she was the only thing he’d ever wanted. “Work for it, Damon. Show me you can be more than the worst parts of yourself.” The bathroom door clicked open. Stefan stepped out with a towel around his waist. “What’s going on in here?” Aurora smiled sweetly, already walking toward him. “Nothing,” she said, knowing Damon was behind her, burning. “Just talking.” Damon swallowed hard, eyes locked on her. And for the first time in a long time, he felt the unfamiliar sting of wanting something he couldn’t simply take.