New York || Damon Salvatore [1]

Chapter Nineteen

   "Damon," she breathed. 

   He pulled away and looked down at her, the water falling to his head. He drank her in, just like he had done so many times before. A smile found itself to form around his lips. "I love you," he said. "Goddamn it, I love you, Freya."

   Freya laid her hands on his cheeks and pulled him to her, laying a kiss on his lips. When she pulled away, she smiled. "I love you," she said, softly, like a secret. "I love you."

   In the afternoon, after the pair had finished their shower and went down stairs, Arthur made Damon go with him to buy fireworks. The vampire had never been nervous, had never felt awkward, until the moment he was in the same car as Arthur Bergfalk. He sat in the passengers seat with his arms pressed to his body and his eyes darting from the side to the front. Every now and then he would clear his throat and shift, his fingers scraping against the leather of his jacket. 

   As they drove, Arthur would point out places: "That's where Freya fell and almost broke her arm," he said as he pointed at a big tree in a park. "That's where Frederick beat a boy because he teased Rohan," he said as he pointed at a orange coloured house. "That's where I almost had a fight with Hank Hill because he almost hit my truck." He pointed at an old gas station with a big for sale sign.

   "Where are we going?" Damon asked after a few minutes of silence. No, not silence, of being uncomfortable. The loud roaring of the engine of the truck over the music coming from the radio. The truck, and old white and red Dodge truck from '58, still surprisingly worked well with the care Arthur had given it.

   "We're gonna buy some fireworks," the man answered as he turned right. "I already told you that, Damon."

   "Right," the vampire inhaled. "Yeah, forgot."

   They stopped in front of a big tent with numerous other cars parked in front of it. Inside, people of all ages were looking at the displayed fireworks. Arthur seemed to have known what he wanted, because he walked up to the counter and immediately began to point at the items. Damon stood besides him and watched, and wondered.

   If he were human, if he could grow old, would he do the same things with his children? He imagined a life where he had children with Freya; where he taught them to call him dad; where he helped them take their first steps; where he taught them to fight and stand up for themselves; where he would go to school functions and give them the world. If he were human, if he'd have children, he would give them the universe. He would treat them with love, with kindness, with everything his father didn't give him. If he had children, Damon Salvatore would be the best father he could be.

   He imagined in the drive home: two boys and a girl. The boys would look like Freya, dark hair and striking green eyes. The girl would look like him, dark ringlets and blue eyes that resembled the sky. He could vividly see that life, that special life that he desired more than anything. The vampire saw himself at the birth, saw himself crying the first time he got to hold his flesh and blood, saw himself leaning down and calling them by their name as they reached for his finger and tightly held it in their tiny hands. 

   The vampire saw himself teaching them how to talk, how to call him dad and Freya mom, how to say apple and banana and eat and drink. He saw himself listening to the first time they called him dad, the second time his heart would skip a beat at the sound of his child calling him dad.

   He saw himself teaching them how to walk, his hands on theirs, their feet on his, slowly taking steps forward one by one. He saw himself videotaping their first steps by themselves, Freya not so far behind with a big grin on her lips as she watched their children walk to their father.