Barely A Memory

Chapter 17

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What was the point in sleeping now? It wasn't as if either of them would have been able to get any rest if they tried. There were some rare moments -moments like these—where, sure, finally closing your eyes sounded great, but falling asleep wasn't even an option. The seconds that ticked by felt like their own eternity, but passed all too quickly. They stretched and twisted around each other until a second seemed like an hour and an hour seemed like a second. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that they were so exhausted, but that was half of the magic. In this sated, ethereal state of being and not being, nothing really mattered all too much, nothing except for the feel of his arms around her waist and her head on his chest. Yes, in times like these, the hours passed too quickly and the seconds were a second too long.

After what felt like a pleasant forever, Elena shifted a bit in Stefan's embrace, emitting a small, quiet sigh. "Stefan," she said contently.

He let out a quiet groan that made her wonder if he actually had been sleeping, but when his fingers travelled through her hair and he placed a slow, tender kiss on her shoulder, her fear of waking him up was put at ease. "Were you sleeping?"

"Nah," he chuckled. "You weren't, were you?" She could feel the smile on his lips against the exposed skin of her shoulder, which made her grin as well. Stefan really did not smile enough, and when he did, it was contagious. Surely, if Stefan Salvatore was happy about something, the rest of America should have been happy too.

"No," she promised, blindly reaching around in the darkness for his hand. When she found it, she entwined her fingers between his and swore to herself that she'd never let go. "Hey, Stefan?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think you'll ever get your memories back? The ones you want, I mean. The ones of us. When we met, our first kiss..."

He exhaled heavily and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Who said I wanted those?"

She chuckled and nuzzled more deeply into his chest. "I'm being serious."

"I know you are," he breathed out, his eyes falling on the ceiling. "I don't know, Elena," he replied truthfully. "It scares me sometimes."

That confused her. Puzzled, Elena flipped over, one arm on his chest, the other resting on the mattress, so that she could look into his eyes as best she could despite the darkness; maybe he'd be able to feel her gaze on him. "It scares you?"

She could feel his head fall back onto the pillows. "I don't know," he huffed. "It's just so unknown. What if I meet the old Stefan and I don't like him very much?"

Elena laughed, shaking her head. "I think you two will get along just fine."

"Elena," he warned. "Now I'm the one being serious."

She laughed. "Look, I can promise you that the person you are now and the Stefan I know—knew... you're not that different."

"Do you miss him?"

"What?"

"The old Stefan. Do you miss him?" To anyone else, this would have seemed like a strange attempt to start a fight, but not to Stefan and Elena. While his hand was in her hair and the other was clasped between her fingertips, no question seemed to be too difficult to answer. Stefan's voice was so soft, and his breath was steady, and Elena knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Stefan," she sighed, "You are the same person, memories or not. I don't love you any less when I compare you to the person you were. We'll create new memories."

"I know that, I know," he swore. "But do you miss him-me?"

Elena closed her eyes. "Yes," she finally got out. "If there's one thing... I wish you had an idea of how much I love you because really, it's beyond words. God, it just kills me to think that you'll always remember falling in love with me again, but there's a chance that you'll never know what it felt like when I was falling with you."