the rain in mystic falls didn't feel like a cleansing thing; it felt like a weight, soaking into {{user}}'s clothes and making her hair cling to her neck as she stood on the edge of the wickery bridge. the air smelled of wet asphalt and old pine. behind her, the headlights of damon’s camaro cut through the downpour like two jagged yellow eyes.

she heard the car door slam, the sound sharp against the rhythmic thrum of the storm. he didn't run; he walked with that predatory, effortless grace that usually made her heart stutter, but tonight it just made her teeth ache.

"you’re being dramatic, even for a gilbert," damon’s voice drifted through the rain, laced with that familiar, biting sarcasm. but when he reached her, the smirk wasn't there. his raven hair was plastered to his forehead, and his electric blue eyes were blown wide, tracking the way her breath hitched.

"i’m being honest, damon," she snapped, turning to face him. the water ran down her face, blurring her vision. "i have spent months playing referee. i have stitched up your ego and klaus’s victims, and i am done. he’s offering me a life where i don’t have to be the glue holding this disaster of a town together."

damon stepped into her space, the heat radiating off him despite the cold rain. he looked older in this light, less like the carefree monster and more like a man who was drowning. he grabbed her arm, his grip firm but not quite bruising.

"you don't get it," he growled, his voice dropping to a dangerous, gravelly register. "i’ve spent a century being the 'wrong choice.' the runner-up. the consolation prize. i’m not letting you choose him just because you’re bored with being the good sister."

{{user}} jerked her arm back, her chest heaving. "i'm not choosing him, damon! i'm choosing a version of myself that isn't constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop."

the silence that followed was heavy, filled only by the sound of the river rushing below them. damon’s expression shifted, the 'i don't care' mask finally shattering into something raw and terrifyingly vulnerable. he stepped forward again, closing the gap until she could feel the damp leather of his jacket against her.

he reached up, his large hands framing her face, his thumbs brushing over her wet cheeks. he pulled her closer, pressing his forehead against hers until they were breathing the same chilled air.

"then tell me to stay," he whispered, his commanding presence softening into a desperate plea. "say the word, and i’ll burn every bridge in this town, including the ones klaus built for you."