Packing is taking longer than it should. Of course, that's because I'm going at the slowest pace possible — but that's hardly relevant. I fold, then re-fold, my clothes rhythmically, focussing on the fabric between my fingers as I place them in the duffel bag.
I've fought other vampires before; it's nothing new for me; but a war, a full fledged war, that's a fresh one. You wouldn't think of wars as something that would relate to vampires, would you? Not in the twenty-first century. Wars were for the 1800's, not for battlegrounds on the outskirts of Forks over a little girl who's different.
My niece, who's different. It's strange, thinking of having a niece when I'm barely nineteen years old.
It's even stranger to think the birth of my niece has caused such an uproar. All because a little girl came into the world, the Volturi have declared war.
In a war, people die. On a battleground blood is shed and lives are lost. Futures are ripped away so that all that's left is pain and emptiness. I could die, Bella could die, Damon...
Damon could die. Fuck, it hurts just to think of it. Just to think of his empty eyes and his lifeless body laying on the ground, no sarcasm dripping from his lips, no smirk being sent my way.
I can't imagine carrying on in this enteral life without him — I don't want to.
"I know you can pack faster than that," his voice calls from the doorway, gaining my attention as I look up to meet Damon's eyes, "So why're you being such a slouch about it?"
For once, his snide remarks are refreshing to me, and I find myself trying my hardest to document this to memory. To remember his smirk, and the way his eyes light up, and the tug of his lips when he finds something humorous. To memorise the sound of his voice, and the feel of his skin, and the general sight of him. I don't want to forget one inch of him, if he... if I lose him. I want to be able to have this, even in the smallest part of my mind.
I force a smile onto my lips, holding his gaze, "Perhaps my intention was to go so slowly that you'd come up here and do it for me."
He purses his lips with amusement in his eyes, spreading out his arms in a 'what can I say', sort of way. He steps into the room, his footsteps light against the flooring.
"Well you'll be sorely disappointed." He says.
I roll my eyes, "I usually am."
For some reason, despite the jokes flying through the air, the room is tense. The atmosphere is wary, almost cautious. Neither of us wants to bring it up, the possibility of our deaths (or maybe that's just me).
He comes closer, closer still. His hand finds my waist, his other on my arm, and his fingers start to make soft movements against my skin, invisible patterns being sketched across it lovingly. He rests his chin on top of my head, letting out a sigh as he tugs me closer to him so that I'm flat against his chest.
I wrap my arms around his waist, pushing my head against his chest and breathing in, inhaling his scent.
I want to remember this, too.
"Stop worrying." He whispers, his fingers never stilling.
I close my eyes, "How can I not?" There's no use arguing with him, he knows me too well.
I feel him clench tighter around me, as if he thinks that if he holds tight enough he'll never have to let go. My heart aches.
"We'll get through this." Damon states, "We'll live through this."
I wonder if he's saying that to reassure me, or himself.
"What makes you so sure?"
Damon sighs again, yet his tone sounds cheery and light, "Nothings killed me yet! Well, except my brother, but I came back from that."
He's trying to make me laugh, but I don't think I'm capable right now.
"Oh come on," he says, "That was funny."
I smile against his chest, praying to god that he's right.
💉💉💉
"You're not coming." I state plainly, folding my arms across my chest stubbornly as I stare at Caroline.
She stands beside Stefan, eight months pregnant, a duffel bag at her feet and an equally stubborn look on her face. Her jaw is clenched, her arms are crossed in a similar way to mine, and she narrows her eyes at me threateningly.
"And you have the right to make that decision for me, now, do you?" Caroline replies, raising an eyebrow in my direction.
I roll my eyes, "Don't be ridiculous, you're eight months pregnant," I gesture to her stomach, "This is possibly going to be a battle. It would be entirely inconvenient for you to go into labour in the middle of it."
"I'm not staying behind." Caroline retorts, "I refuse."
"Oh, you refuse?" I laugh, "You refuse? Oh well, might as well not even try, ay?"
"Your sarcasm is not appreciated." Caroline says.
Damon shrugs, raising a hand from beside me with a smirk on his face, "I, for one, am finding this extremely funny."
Bonnie elbows him in the side, and he doubles over slightly. Damon levels a glare in her direction, receiving a sarcastic smile in return.
"It's going to be dangerous, Caroline." I say, "Stefan, how can you be okay with this?"
He holds his hands up in surrender, "I gave up arguing with Caroline Forbes long ago."
I huff, what are these people not understanding? I look at each of them; Stefan, Damon, Caroline, and Bonnie; and imagine seeing their dead faces on a battle field. It makes me want to send them all home to bed, like scolded children. Anything that'll protect them is fine by me.
I notice Elena's absence, and find I'm not all that surprised.
"Where's Elena, anyway?" I ask, not really expecting anyone to answer.
Caroline scoffs, "Who cares? The important question is, where's the snacks?"
💉💉💉
It's dark by the time we arrive in Forks. I climb out of the car, parked on the Cullen's driveway, and tilt my head up to look at the stars. They're twinkling, bright and clear. Beautiful, really.
For the first time since they left the Boarding House yesterday, I find myself wondering if Rosalie and Emmett returned home safety.
Stefan, and my own cars aren't he only ones in the driveway. A car I've never seen before is parked in it as well. The lights are on in the house, unsurprisingly. I doubt anyone is asleep.
Bonnie pops up beside me suddenly, nodding towards the house, "This is your fairy's place then?"
"You've been spending too much time with Damon." I tell her, starting on my way to the front door with her trailing along beside me.
I glance behind me to see Damon and Stefan stood beside the cars, whispering quickly to each other as Damon pops the boot and begins to take out bags out of it.
Caroline stands close to them, but she keeps her distance, instead choosing to look about her curiously.
"That," Bonnie says, "We can agree on."
I snort, lifting my hand to knock on the door. My knuckles hit the wood and rap against it quickly.
It takes a few moments, but the door opens and reveals Esme, standing very proud and passive. She's got her usual motherly expression on her face, although her eyes look a little tired. Strange to think of a vampire being tired, isn't it?
Once her eyes meet mine, they gain some spark to them.
"Eleanor!" Esme says brightly, "Rosalie said you'd be coming, we didn't expect you to come so quickly."
"Rosalie and Emmett told me what was happening," I reply, "I couldn't stay away, I had to come."
"Yes, well," Esme smiles ruefully, "We're happy to have you now."
"I brought some friends," I say, "If that's alright."
Esme looks over at Bonnie, and then back to Caroline, Stefan, and lastly, Damon. She smiles at each of them, and for some reason her presence brings a sense of calm over me.
"Of course, darling," Esme says, "Come in."
Check out my 'Issues; Fred Weasley' story! ❤️