Damon was going insane.

He needed to sleep, but he couldn’t. The house was too loud, although anybody else would have said it was very quiet. He was stretched out on his huge bed, staring at the ceiling, wearing just a pair of black – very low on his hips – training pants. And he couldn’t stop listening to what was going on in Stefan’s room. He tried. He tried hard not to listen, to shut down his senses and let the sweet night envelop him. But the problem was: he was curious. Even though it hurt like hell, he was enthralled and thrilled, because those magnificent sounds and moans were Elena’s.

Stefan was doing things to her…and apparently he was very good at it.

Damon could hear Elena’s heart beating fast, her blood rushing. He could feel it in his bones, because, after all, he was a predator and that blood was singing to him. Damon groaned. He really was going insane. Insane with desire, bloodlust and love. Oh, yes. He was so very much in love with Elena. He tried to remember when it all started, when the spark ignited, but he wasn’t sure about it. She had caught his attention from the beginning. Because she looked like Katherine – of course –, but most of all because she was nothing like her. In his eyes, Elena was a little fragile woman made of fire and sweetness. And he loved her smile, the way her whole face lights up when she’s happy. He hated seeing her sad or scared. He hated that he couldn’t be the one to hold her and reassure her…he wanted to make her feel perfect and loved. The center of the universe.

Damon was growing possessive of her, even though he knew he had no rights in that department. Those were Stefan’s rights. Still, laying there, hearing Elena quivering in pleasure, imagining her naked figure under Stefan strong body, he wanted to go in that room and snatch her from him and hide her somewhere. Lately, he pictured himself doing that pretty often and it was hell. Hell on earth. Maintaining control was getting harder and he didn’t want to do stupid things again.

And now Stefan was whispering to her. He was saying beautiful, romantic words. Damon almost laughed out loud. His little brother was very good at it…and with a sudden start Damon realized that in Stefan’s place he would have said the exact same things.
It was maddening. Hearing the rustle of the sheets, the sounds of their kisses, the mingling of their accelerated breaths…Elena mumbling incoherent things…Damon shot up from the bed and sprinted in the living room.

Alcohol. He wanted something strong to drink and burn its way down his throat. God, he wanted to tear apart everything. Possibly, the whole world. He gulped down some shots of whiskey and then crashed the glass in his hand. He didn’t mean to, but insanity does that to you. Insanity makes you impossibly insane. Ah!
He stared at the chips of glass all over the floor. He stared at the healing cuts in his hand. He stared at the empty space for a while, then he took the bottle of whiskey and sat down on the couch. He kept drinking and drinking till the liquid was entirely gone. In the end he had managed to push the charade going on upstairs in a remote place of his mind. Not that he could make Elena leave his mind, though. She was there. Always.

Yep, she really was there, walking barefoot in the living room. "Hey"she said, her face a magnificent picture of happiness. Damon swallowed. He didn’t hear her coming. "Hey" he said at last. Elena eyed the empty bottle in his hands. "What have you been doing?" she asked. He shrugged. "Nothing. Just sitting here, wondering about the maximum systems…"
"Maximum systems, uh?" she said sitting down on the couch beside him. Damon stopped breathing, because she smelled too good – she smelled of sex and sunshine…yes, because she was his sunshine, after all – and she was too beautiful to look at. Her hair were in a ponytail and she was wearing shorts and a blue t-shirt. She sighted and stretched her arms over her head. "Didn’t you have any programs tonight?" she wondered. He raised the empty bottle. "This is it. My program" he said with a half bitter smile. And before he could catch himself, he reached out a hand and fixed behind her ear a lock of hair gone lose from the ponytail. "You’re beautiful, Elena" he said without thinking, eyes focused, intense and transparent. Elena, too, stopped breathing for a moment and even thought they weren’t touching, she felt as if he was all over her. She felt him everywhere and that was frightening and amazing at the same time.

She loved Stefan with everything she had, but sometimes it was impossible not to feel for Damon. He had that kind of charm, that dark appealing attitude that can lure you in and make you shiver. He was handsome, confident, strong…and he could do anything – for the worst and for the better – if he decided to. She knew, although she was never going to admit it out loud, that Damon could break her defenses if only he tried hard enough. She hoped he didn’t know about this. She hoped he wasn’t going to try anytime soon. Or never. Because she didn’t feel ready to bear that weight, to look in the face of reality and question herself, question her own feelings. Stefan made her happy. She already had what she wanted and  she didn’t like the idea of breaking the balance.
But right there, looking Damon in the eyes, feeling an unexpected warmness spreading inside her, Elena blushed furiously. "Thank you" she said quickly, looking everywhere but his way.

Damon was proud of himself, because Elena never blushed. She was used to compliments, she liked compliments. Still, his compliment made her blush and her pulse quicken. For a split second Damon felt very happy.

And suddenly he remembered something.

Happiness hurts.