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[closed] our love could be forever
[Life must've decided to spit in his face. Stefan can't think of any other reason his head feels so foggy - the last thing he remembers is Alaric & Jo's wedding. He remembers the hope in his former teacher's face; he remembers the joy of the bridal march music; and he remembers - blood. He instinctively reaches for his stomach and peers down. He can't see a scar, let alone any sign of injury.
Something must've hit him like an eighteen-wheeler. It must've, because Stefan Salvatore doesn't get sick.
(He does, because he's human and mortal, but not that kind of sick. He took the flu shot and everything!!)
His heart sinks when he watches the world crumble beneath his feet and reform into his bedroom. His old, dusty attic bedroom, with Elena sitting at the foot of his bed. This is a dream, and she must've pulled him close to inhabit his conscious. He also finds himself not caring. So he rushes over to her, because yeah, right now? He thinks he'll wake up and see her when his eyes open again.]
Hey. [His voice feels breathless as he rushes into her arms. He feels apologetic too, even though he can't quite pinpoint why he would be.] Hey, I'm sorry.
Something must've hit him like an eighteen-wheeler. It must've, because Stefan Salvatore doesn't get sick.
(He does, because he's human and mortal, but not that kind of sick. He took the flu shot and everything!!)
His heart sinks when he watches the world crumble beneath his feet and reform into his bedroom. His old, dusty attic bedroom, with Elena sitting at the foot of his bed. This is a dream, and she must've pulled him close to inhabit his conscious. He also finds himself not caring. So he rushes over to her, because yeah, right now? He thinks he'll wake up and see her when his eyes open again.]
Hey. [His voice feels breathless as he rushes into her arms. He feels apologetic too, even though he can't quite pinpoint why he would be.] Hey, I'm sorry.