You had never seen Damon so quiet. He was sitting by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in his hand, but he wasn’t drinking. He wasn’t doing anything. Just staring into the flames.

You approached him slowly, a knot forming in your chest as you noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the pain that had slowly eaten away at him for weeks.

“I’m running out of time, {{user}},” he finally said, his voice flat. Your heart skipped a beat.

He set the glass down and stood, turning to face you, his expression unreadable. “I made a mistake.”

“I should’ve stayed away from you,” Damon muttered, his voice thick with regret. “I shouldn’t have let you get this close. I didn’t want you to get hurt, but I—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard, eyes drifting to the ground.

You stepped closer, your heart racing. “Damon, what are you saying?” He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached out, gently cupping your face in his hands. His touch was soft, almost like he was memorizing your face.

His lips trembled, and for the first time, he looked truly afraid. “I’m not the man you think I am. I’m not someone you should love. And I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

Your chest tightened as the words hit you like a slap. “Stop.” Your voice cracked. “Don’t say that. I’m not going anywhere.”

He shook his head, his eyes full of pain. “You don’t understand, {{user}}. I’m broken. I can’t—” His voice faltered. “I can’t keep dragging you into my mess. You deserve better.”

Your eyes were full of tears, but you fought them back. “I don’t care about any of that. I care about you.”

Damon looked at you one last time, his gaze softening for a moment before he stepped back, his heart clearly torn. “I’m sorry, but you have to let me go.”

And before you could say anything, before you could fight for him, Damon turned and walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the house, leaving you standing there, heartbroken and alone, with nothing but his words echoing in your mind.