Nian

Hey! :D. Sorry if this isn't good. First time. I always wanted Damon and Elena together, so i'm Scrivere this for the Delena fans!. Enjoy (:


Elena walks up the stairs to Damons bedroom. Hearing nothing, which was weird for her. She creaks open the door, Damon is sitting on his bed,sad from Rose being dead. "What do te want Elena", Damon spit out his teeth in a gritty way. " I came to see how te were doing, I know its hard trust me i've been through this before with my parents", Elena sat on the letto successivo to him. " te dont get it Elena!,you never will!". Damon detto slamming the door and locking...

Stefan looked at the floor guiltily.
“Go on Stefan, explain yourself,” Damon pressed. Stefan looked up at him angrily.
“You already know everything.” He looked back at me. “Elena, I’m so sorry I left you. I asked Damon to tell te everything and maybe if he had…” he glared up at Damon with a rage that petrified me. “Maybe if he had told te then I wouldn’t be here explaining myself, I wouldn’t have walked in on te two upstairs, and possibly we’d still be together…” I knew he was right. If Damon had told me that Stefan had detto he loved me and he was sorry about whatever...

“Oh my…” I brushed Damon off and backed away from them slowly. “Stefan…what…What have te done?” I was shivering with fear. This was not the Stefan I used to know. This Stefan was full of malice and I was frightened. I was più frightened than I had been when I had discovered that he and Damon were both vampires. But then I knew I could trust him. Then he didn’t feed off of people. Then he was gentle, controlled. And now? Now he was dark and dangerous. Like Damon. But Damon had learnt to control his urge for human blood. Stefan however was obviously finding it difficult since...

It was Stefan.

He stared at us with an intensity that shook me to the bone. Damon felt me shiver and tightened his grip on me. My anger towards Stefan flared up again and I glared at him. But at the same time I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of happiness at the fact that he was here again in my life. But the desertion, the abandonment consumed me once più and I continued to glare at him. But as projected my anger out as hard as I could to him, I couldn’t help but notice that he was different. Something about him was – off. It wasn’t in his stance o his face, but in his eyes. His...