'I remember the day you told me you needed me and the next day, i woke up and you were gone. I have always wondered why.'
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Micah Underwood and Damon Salvatore were together for five years before Da...
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Damon Salvatore received letters in the early morning. He'd walked down the stairs, preparing for a bright day, but the universe had something else installed.
When the doorbell rang, he opened the door. No one was at the door. No one but a half-burnt pink journal that's been through hell and back. With the morning wind gusting fresh air into Damon's nose. He exhaled at the familiar handwriting of the name; Micah.
It was an urgent rush that forced Damon back into his home with the journal in hand. The fire charred some parts of the thick leather-bound journal. It also reeked of vanilla milkshake and jam sandwich.
"Micah," The whisper flew from Damon's lips. "Micah." He whispered again as cold tears stung his worn cheeks.
Damon rushed back to his bedroom, slamming his door shut with his feet. With haste, he untied the bonds keeping the journal shut. Something white fell from the journal, startling Damon's attention. What in the fucking-
Damon picked up the envelope. The front read; Jeremiah Underwood.
He'd never ripped anything so fast. Even faster than ripping out the throat of a mindless human. Heavy breath loose from his lips, holding his heart hostage. This hefty pain sledgehammered his chest.
'Dear Damon. . .'
Baby Blue eyes flickered from left to right on the letter, taking in every single detail. Nothing was more important than one. When the singing birds trilled, Damon's mind remained on what he was reading.
"No." He growled, falling to his knees. "Micah!"
Damon's throat bobbed at the words repeating. 'Micah is dead.'
"No. NO, NO. NOO. Not you. Not you, Micah." He had no control over his words. The journal fell beside him on the floor, as he cradled himself like a fetus. "What have I done?" The memories came flooding.
Memories of him drinking Micah until there was no rhythm in his heart and no blood pumping his veins.
"Micah." Damon's chest swelled. "My baby."
"Damon," Stefan knocked on his brothers' door. Damon crying on the floor got his attention. "What happened?"
Stefan picked up the letter. He read, his eyes glinting through each word. "I-"
For the first time, Stefan Salvatore had no idea what to say. All he could do was sit by Damon's side, watching as he cried. He's only seen Damon cry a handful of times. That was when they were human.
They sat in silence until the sun rose, and the bird stopped singing. Until Damon walked out the door at a speed. He followed him to the woods.
"Damon, wait." Stefan chased.
Damon growled, clenching his fist as if to rip out his chest. He ought to. He deserved that much.
The big lump of trees wavered past him, their numbers unable to match his pace. A snap of wood had both Damon and Stefan pause. The birds stopped singing. The wind stopped dancing between their fingers. The yellow sun dimmed.
