"come on," damon whispers, soft enough to linger, further corrupting the haze known by the bold marks he wore on his back along with a necklace made by your fingers.

perhaps the deathless song in his head was yours. while those eyes of yours were the burden haunting him. shackled on his form the day he left through the motel door to that day you were the one who turned your back on him.

pinned him hard and mellow — is he walking towards something he should be running away from?

inching towards someone like a beast into a bear trap, arms wide open. one step forward, and two, more, and no more. he tilts his head, ever so slightly. and oh, those eyes. so hurtful in black.

"say it."