epilogue

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"How's everything, Salvatore?" Eleanor asked him as they wandered the empty streets of Mystic Falls. Ever since Eleanor had launched herself into the coma which would be not only endured by her, but by Mara Salvatore too, she was unable to see the world. So every so often, or as often as he could, Stefan tried to make ends meet and spend up to three hours, wandering through the places that Eleanor was dreaming of, and entering her sleepless mind so that she didn't feel so lonely anymore.

"We're finally get Elena's vampire tendencies under control," He began, his shoulder grazing hers as they strolled down the middle of the road, "She's into Damon now, which isn't a surprise, but it's weird to see her so..."

"Reckless?" She finished for him, a gentle smile on upon her lips, "It's one of Damon's tendencies, which I'm guessing links to the obvious point that she's sired to him."

Stefan chuckled, running a hand through his hair as they passed the Mystic Grill, "I should've listened to you when you suggested it, you're always right, El."

Eleanor stopped in her tracks, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, "What can I say? Being stuck in my own mind, I get a lot of thinking time."

He paused, he hated seeing her speaking about her self so self depreciatively. For someone with beauty and wits, she sure didn't see the obvious point that had shined more brighter than the rest. She was a martyr for a death-defying cause. Eleanor had sacrificed herself in hopes of keeping Stefan and Damon alive, and that was something that he would never forget.

"How are you, Eleanor?" He asked her, grabbing her arm soothingly. She shrugged off his touch, nodding.

"I'm fine." She answered, running a hand through her hair as she peered at the ground. Stefan grabbed her hand, and glanced up at him from the sudden gesture.

"You're not, El," he told her, and she blinked at him, hiding her emotions from him. She had done this in the past plenty of times, and it felt weird that he could see straight through those lies, through those words she had given, "I wish it didn't have to be like this."

She cleared her throat, "It's okay. It's a sacrifice that had to be made."

"I love you, Eleanor Hemmings'." Stefan whispered to her, his hand finding its way to her cheek, tracing small circles along her cheekbone. She leant into his touch once again, as if it were a gesture she could constantly reminisce.

She shook out of the trance, and moved back, "Elena's waiting for you, Stefan. She's waiting for you to be hers again, and there's not point admitting your feelings when it would never work anyway. I'm pretty much dead-"

"Don't say that," he grabbed her arm, "you're not dead, Eleanor, look at you. You're breathing, and so is your body out of your mind. Elena isn't waiting for me, otherwise she wouldn't have kissed Damon. Besides, even if she were, I'd want you."

Eleanor sniffled and wiped her eyes, trying to pretend that she wasn't breaking down, "Stefan..."

"I'm waiting for you, El." He told her, pressing his lips to her forehead and briefly stepping back. "Don't think that once this is all over, I won't be here."


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