the heavy scent of rain and damp earth clung to the air in mystic falls, but all damon could smell was him. 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 he was standing in the doorway. there was a specific weight to the air when he 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," he said, his 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. he looked exactly as he had when he’d first seen him decades ago, though his mind still struggled to bridge the gap between the hazy gaps in his memory and the man standing before him. he was striking, his presence commanding every inch of the room. he moved with the quiet confidence of an original, someone who knew the world was beneath him, and yet, there was something in the way he 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 brother follows."

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

damon stepped into his personal space, his lean, athletic frame looming over him, but he didn't budge. he traced the line of his 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 him that felt like a secret he wasn't supposed to know. he wanted to reach out, to see if his skin still felt like silk, but he kept his hands shoved into the pockets of his black leather jacket.

"why are you really here?" 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."