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Super-human hearing can be a gift - protecting your loved ones from danger, hearing whether or not you left the oven on, eavesdropping on scandalous conversations you have no right to be privileged to.
But sometimes, it can be a curse.
Hearing your brother, who hides everything away, as deep and dark as he can, away from everyone, even himself, crying alone in his bedroom. All lights off, house nearly silent with just the two of you. This isn’t the first time. And you know it probably isn’t the first time this has been the other way around.
You stop, every slow moving blood cell in your body begging you to just move, go to him, hold him. But you can’t. You’ve never been that way, you can’t be that way.
_____
The next morning neither of you talk about it. Maybe he doesn’t even know. Maybe you don’t even know. Things get so complicated. In fact, you don’t talk about anything. You regard each other quietly, reading, drinking, pacing, reading, writing, drinking. It’s always been this way when you’re not fighting. Silent presence. You long for more. You always have.
That night the house truly is silent. No hidden sobs, and somehow this worries you more than hearing the pain.
You make your way as quietly as you can to his room and glance in. Complete darkness spare a single lit candle on his dresser. You watch him climb out of bed, his walk is the version of a physical drawl to his dresser. He licks his fingertips, closes them in around the flame - but before it goes out you see his fingers shake. You swallow roughly and before you can move the remaining light is extinguished and he’s back in his bed, on his back, silent. You can nearly hear his tired heart beat.
You’ve never been that way, you can’t be that way.
You long for more. You always have.
Before you know what you’re doing, you're sitting on his bed and he’s slightly startled by the weight on the bed, but even more so he’s surprised by your hand in his, your rings cold and loud when they brush.
The silence is piercing.
“Damon?”
“Stefan?”
“You don’t have to sleep alone.”
“What makes you think I don’t want to sleep alone?”
“What makes you think I thought that you didn’t want to?”
“Fair enough.”
You hold onto his hand and move to lay next to him. He doesn’t move. You scoot in, your bodies barely touching. The raised hair of your nervous arm grazing his smooth skin. Every atom aware of where it may or may not be meeting.
The silence is piercing.
“Good night, brother.”
His hand tightens around yours.
“Good night, brother.”
___________