the balcony in new orleans felt like a cage, even with the view of the glowing crescent city below. {{user}} leaned against the cold stone railing, the silk of her dress clinging to her curves, a physical reminder of the life klaus had curated for her. the hybrid was out, painting or killing or whatever version of art he preferred tonight, leaving her alone with the heavy silence of the compound.

then the air shifted. a familiar scent of expensive bourbon and leather cut through the humid night air.

"you're going to get yourself killed, damon," she whispered without turning around.

"well, hello to you too," damon’s voice came from the shadows, dripping with that trademark effortless velvet. he stepped into the pale moonlight, his raven hair messy from the road and those electric blue eyes scanning her with a frantic sort of hunger. he looked out of place against the ornate plantation shutters, a dark smudge of mystic falls rebellion in klaus’s kingdom.

she turned, her heart hammering against her ribs. "klaus will be back within the hour. if he finds you here, the deal is off. elena stays safe only as long as i stay put."

damon was across the balcony in a second, his movements a blur of vampire speed. he didn't stop until he was inches away, his tall, athletic frame looming over her. he smelled like the outdoors and bad decisions. "i don't care about the hybrid's rules. i didn't drive across three state lines to talk about his temper tantrums."

his hand came up, his thumb brushing over the line of her jaw, his touch searing. {{user}} felt the familiar pull, the unspoken ache that had been growing every time he 'checked in' on her over the last six months.

"you look tired," he murmured, his smirk faltering into something dangerously close to raw honesty. "he's hovering, isn't he? playing the gentleman while he keeps you under lock and key."

"he treats me well, damon. better than i expected," she said, though her voice wavered as she looked up at him.

damon’s jaw tightened, his blue eyes flashing with a spark of volatility. "he treats you like a trophy he won in a bet. i’m the one who remembers the way you chew your lip when you're reading by the fire. i’m the one who knows you hate the way the wind sounds through the wickery bridge."

he stepped closer, his muscular chest nearly brushing hers, forcing her to look at him. "tell me you don't miss home. tell me you don't miss me."

{{user}} reached out, her fingers curling into the lapel of his leather jacket, the friction of the material grounding her. "i did this for my sister. i did it so you wouldn't have to lose anyone else."

"i'm losing you," damon hissed, his grip on her waist tightening, pulling her into his space. "and that’s a trade i never agreed to."