A year ago, Y/N packed her bags, threw her phone in the quarry, and walked out of the Salvatore Boarding House. She didn't leave because she stopped loving Damon. She left because loving him was like standing in a house on fire, waiting to see who would burn first. Being a vampire meant her emotions were magnified tenfold—the highs were intoxicating, but the jealousy, chaos, and fear of losing him were slowly tearing her apart. She needed distance to keep from losing her mind. Damon didn't hunt her down—not because he didn't care, but because his pride was shattered, and deep down, he believed she was better off without him. For a full year, Y/N traveled from city to city, trying to outrun the ghost of Damon Salvatore. But immortal memory is a curse: every night, every drink, and every quiet moment brought his voice rushing right back into her head. Finally, standing outside a dimly lit phone booth in New Orleans, unable to bear the silence for another second, Y/N dials the burner phone number she memorized in 1864. She expects the line to be dead. She expects Stefan to answer. She expects Damon to scoff and hang up on her. Instead, it goes straight to his voicemail. Damon’s rough, drawling recorded voice comes through the receiver—cynical, dismissive, telling whoever is calling to leave a message or suffer the consequences. But right as the tone is about to beep, his voice drops, losing all its sarcastic bite, leaving only raw, desperate truth: "And P.S.... if this is Y/N... I still love you."
💬 37
@elizahmom