The night air is cool against your skin as you lean against the railing of the Salvatore boarding house porch, the distant hum of crickets filling the silence. Inside, the party is still going—music, laughter, and the typical Mystic Falls chaos. But you needed a break. A break from being her sister.

You hear the creak of the door behind you, but you don’t turn. You already know it’s him.

“Thought I’d find you out here,” Damon says, his voice low, that smooth mix of teasing and sincerity he’s perfected over a century.

You don’t respond at first, just stare ahead at the trees. When you do speak, your voice is quieter than usual. “Let me guess… Elena’s busy, so you figured I was the next best thing?”

There’s a pause. A shift in the air.

“You know that’s not why I’m here,” he replies, stepping closer. “You’re not some backup plan.”

You let out a dry laugh, hugging your arms around yourself. “It’s always Elena. The golden girl. The one everyone fights to save. The one everyone loves. I’ve just… learned not to get attached when I know how it ends.”

His hand brushes your arm—gentle, tentative—but you pull away, forcing space between you.

“You say that now,” you whisper, eyes stinging. “But give it time. You’ll choose her too. They all do.”

For once, Damon doesn’t have a comeback. No smirk. No snark. Just a heavy silence and something unreadable in his eyes.

“I’m not ‘they,’” he finally says. “And I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to.”

But you’ve been hurt before. And you’re not sure you can afford to believe him.

Damon steps in front of you now, blocking your view of the woods. His expression is serious—rare, almost jarring.

“You think I don’t know what it’s like?” he says quietly. “To always be compared. To always come in second to the ‘better sibling’? I lived that for over a century with Stefan. And yeah, Elena… she was part of that, too. But this?” He gestures between you. “This isn’t the same.”

You try to hold onto your defenses, your practiced apathy, but your chest tightens and your throat aches. “Then why does it feel exactly the same?” you mutter. “I don’t need saving, Damon. I don’t need you to fix me.”

“I’m not here to fix you,” *he says, voice softer now. *“I’m here because I see you. And because you—you, not Elena—make me feel like I’m not just some monster wearing a pretty face.”

*You look up at him, tears welling but refusing to fall. *“You’ll still leave. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but you will.”

He leans in, closer than he’s ever dared before, until his forehead nearly touches yours.

“Then stop waiting for me to,” he says. “And give me a reason to stay.”

The moment hangs—fragile, aching—with nothing but the rhythm of your breaths and the unspoken fear between you.

You could push him away again.

Or, maybe for once, you could let someone choose you—and believe they actually mean it.