𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

                                    

                                          
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written by: Cherienymphe on a03
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"What is that?"
Elena's concerned tone reached your ears as you worked on your assignment, and you curiously lifted your head. This semester was kicking your ass more than you'd anticipated, so you were hellbent on finishing as many assignments as quickly as possible. You paused your scribbling to follow her line of sight, and your own gaze landed on the dark bruise on your arm.
You blinked at it, silent for a moment before the memory came back to you.
"Oh," you breathed, shaking your head. "I wasn't paying attention the other day and my arm got slammed in the door."
You waved off her concern, reluctantly looking back down at the paper in front of you.
"I was trying to rush and carry a load of laundry in the door."
The brunette didn't respond to that, just humming, and you got the feeling that she was skeptical.
"You should probably put something on that..."
You looked up at her, meeting her eyes with a soft smile.
"Okay, mom, I will," you chuckled.
You were a year older than Elena—a year older than most of your friends actually—but Elena always acted like she was the one older than you. Calling every day to see how school was going, reminding you to eat something when you got too invested in your work, telling you to bring a jacket whenever you went out with them. You loved her for it, especially since your own mom wasn't around to do that, but sometimes you couldn't help but laugh.
"Make fun of me all you want, but it just looks serious is all," she told you.
"I told you, it's nothing," you replied, sending her a reassuring smile. "It'll be gone by next week, anyway."
Before she could say anything else on the matter, her doorbell rang. Your smile grew as her face lit up, and you shook your head to yourself. You weren't going to fault her for being so head over heels for Stefan Salvatore. He was handsome and sweet and the kind of boyfriend that any girl would ask for.
"Do you want anything from The Grill?" she asked you, sliding her arms into her jacket as she stood.
"No, thank you."
You only spared her a brief glance, eager to finish your work as you heard her answer the door. Her excited greeting was cut short, however, and you lifted her head at her sigh. You couldn't make out what she was saying, but the irritated tone wasn't hard to miss, and you were unsurprised when a familiar dark-haired man rounded the corner, food dish in hand.
Now, it was your turn for your face to light up, unable to bite back the smile that fell over your lips.
Damon Salvatore struck you as one of the prettiest men you'd ever seen from the first moment he'd breezed into town. He was the opposite of Stefan in almost every way, and you hadn't blamed a single girl for momentarily losing her sense of self over the man. Looks aside, he was charming and funny and shockingly sweet when he wanted to be.
You wouldn't be dating him otherwise.
As your train of thought shifted, you forced your smile to drop just in time for Stefan and Elena to round the corner. Damon could be difficult, you'd witnessed that yourself, and Elena, the girl who was like a sister to you, would never approve of you dating the oldest Salvatore. She swore he was the devil incarnate, but you thought that she worried too much.