wasblindbefore | make days from the hours

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caroline forbes

make days from the hours

Elvis isn't sure how long it's been. A day, maybe, or two or three or more, somewhere between a night and a week, most likely falling somewhere directly in the middle. Either way, he doesn't think it matters. No matter how much time passes, Anabelle is gone, she isn't coming back, their supply of her so-called miracles run dry. What he's learned is not to discredit what they got, her disappearance not changing the fact that, for a while, things were good, better than he ever expected they'd be; he isn't about to pretend like it wasn't at least miraculous, how she showed up like a vision in the field of sunflowers that saved his life. That doesn't make up for it at all, though, and it's a lot harder to try to consider how she'd have wanted him to look at things in her absence. it was worth it to have had her here while he could than not to have had her at all, but he can't sugarcoat the fact that she's gone, or act as if it doesn't hurt like few other things have in his life (which says a lot, all things considered).

However many hours, days, nights it's been, he's spent all of that time steering clear of most people. Eden has been wonderful, but there are few others he wants to bother with at all. Anabelle made most everything more tolerable, but it's like that's completely reversed in her absence, enough that he's caught himself wishing on occasion that he could go back, too, regardless of the complications being home would involve. At least he'd have her. Now, he has nothing, which carries a hell of a lot of weight for what's essentially emptiness.

He can't keep out of the way forever, though. He just chooses his timing carefully, goes to the kitchen at an hour when there are fewer people there, intent on getting, if maybe not something to eat, at least a coffee. (He'd go to one of the bars, but he doesn't feel like socializing.) It's only once he's there, cup in hand, that someone else walks in, and at first all he sees is a shock of blonde hair, enough to make his breath catch in his throat, grip loosening on the mug's handle, though he catches himself just in time. Logically, he knows better, but it's still startling. He's just relieved he came to his senses before he could react in any sort of noticeable way.

"Hey," he says, voice low and the slightest bit hoarse from how little talking he's been doing. "Caroline, right?"

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An expression of mild surprise was on Caroline's face as she looked up from the issue of Vogue that she had been reading. Swallowing the piece of sandwich she had just been munching on (because nothing was grosser than talking with your mouth full), she smiled brightly at Elvis.

"Got it in one. You're Elvis, right?" This guy was a little on moody and broody side, but both of the Salvatore brothers had fit that description so it didn't exactly phase her. She just hoped that she had the right name. Usually she was good with these kinds of details, so she was betting on being right this time. "Come, pull up a chair or something."

Sitting and talking is among the last things that Elvis actually wants to do, but for the moment, still quietly reeling, he doesn't have it in him to protest. Besides, while he might be smarter than to go chasing after memories, there's still something about her so distinctly reminiscent of his girlfriend that he can't turn away, either. Sliding into a seat, mug of coffee still in his hands, he tries for a smile, though it's small, halfhearted. There's only so much pretending he's remotely capable of.

"That's me," he says, nodding slightly. It's a memorable name; he's more pleased that he remembered hers. "How, uh, how've you been settling in?"

Caroline might be many things, but oblivious to everything was definitely not one of them. She might bounce merrily from one subject to another, but she could tell when something was bothering someone. More importantly from time to time she could tell when not to say anything.

"Good, good," she bobbed her head, almost as if repeating the word would make it more than mostly true but entirely true. She was good, she just happened to miss her family and friends like hell. "I've been, you know, settling. There's still a lot of super weird things, but the people are friendly. And they've got good cookies."

Elvis, not caring much about people or cookies, just nods in agreement. It isn't like he can argue with that, having seen no proof to the contrary; it's just that it doesn't matter to him. He might be without the one person who gave him a reason to be anchored to this place, but lost as he tends to feel without one (without her), he isn't looking to change that, either. There's no reason to.

"Always helps," he says, somewhat noncommittally. If it helps her, then that's all well and good. He won't be losing sleep over it either way. He has enough else to accomplish that. "That's good."

"Yeah. It is."

Shifting slightly in her seat, she popped her head up on her hand as she looked at Elvis. Something was definitely bothering him, but she didn't know if she should ask or if he was always this level of noncommittal grump. It could be both actually. Then again that wasn't exactly something that Caroline knew how to ask without coming off like a terrible person.

"Are you okay?" she blurted out, genuinely curious. She wasn't entirely certain what she could do if there was, but not asking would be kind of rude. Not only that but it would leave her curiosity intact and she couldn't have that.

It isn't a question that Elvis is expecting, though as soon as that occurs to him, he knows it's probably an error of judgment on his own part. Bright and cheerful as Caroline seemed when he first met her, it then only stands to reason that she's the sort to try to involve herself in other people's lives, too, whether welcome or not. (Or maybe he's just thinking of Anabelle, but he does that all the time anyway, so it isn't like it makes a difference.) He doesn't think it matters. The chances of her actually caring, especially when they've only met once before, are slim to none.

"Fine," he answers, though he doesn't mean it and doesn't expect her to believe it, either. Ordinarily, he would leave it at that, but rather than giving her an opening for more questions — or accusations — he sighs, and decides a concession may be in order. "Just... been a shitty few days, is all."

Caroline fully understood that she wasn't the person that most people looked for when they were having a hard time. Even her best friends went to each other before they went to her. But she wanted to be that person, wanted to prove to people that there was more going on in her head than she sometimes acknowledged. She would be the person who stood by her friends when they were miserable, she would bring baked goods and hugs and promises to help hide the bodies.

One of these days someone would take her up on this and they wouldn't be sorry.

"Oh," the concern in her voice was genuine. It matched the downturn of her mouth and the worry lines forming on her forehead. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do? Anything I can do?"

Elvis shakes his head, though it's more an instinct than a response. It's a typical response, he's sure, the kind offered when someone wants to be nice but is anticipating having any offers of help turned down, a way of satisfying their own conscience without actually having to do anything, seeming involved with as minimal effort as possible. He doesn't mind that. After all, it isn't as if he'd have expected anything else from anyone at all, let alone a near-stranger, even one who seems like the sort to wrap herself up in other people's business.

"Not unless you can bring back someone who's disappeared," he says, voice flat. It's that simple, really, and would be even if he weren't automatically inclined to disregard questions like these. He's managed losses before. He just has to keep reminding himself of that, and not his more recent track record. "Which I don't think anyone here can, so don't worry, you're off the hook."

Caroline rarely offered to do something unless she was actually going to do it. The few times that she had made such an offer albeit grudging she had wound up doing it anyways. Sometimes being nice was irritating, boring and thankless but that didn't mean that it shouldn't be done. But it was nearly impossible to help someone who didn't want help. It could be done, but it was never easy and she wasn't certain that she should push it.

"Nope I can't." There was a hint of indignation mixed in with her concern. It would be so much easier if she could, even though she'd probably never be able to sleep again because people would be asking for other people. "But if you want anything that I can do, then I'll try. Because that's what people like me do."

People like her. People like Anabelle, Elvis thinks, though he knows he probably shouldn't. It's just impossible when she's sitting here making all the same offers that Anabelle would have, the same blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. He'd have declined anyway, not wanting anything from anyone, really, but now he's not sure if those similarities make him more inclined to push her away or come up with something she could do after all. The feeling is an unsettling one, but it's there, impossible to ignore.

"Yeah, I'm getting that," he says, half to himself, not half as unkindly as he could have. "I guess I'll, uh. Let you know."

There was absolutely no real reason for him to believe her. They barely knew each other and Caroline was fairly certain that she came off like some sort of crazy no matter how genuine she was. Most people didn't offer up a way to fix impossible problems to mere acquaintances but what the hell. There was no harm in being nice, even if the most she could come up with was something really lame.

"Okay, good. Just remember that's absolutely true." She nodded with confidence, gently slamming her fist against the table as she smiled winningly at him. It was part of her soft sell. There was no need to overdo it and come off like a total lunatic. "Excellent. Let me know."

Having just said he will, Elvis can't really do anything but nod in confirmation, not sure if her insistence makes him more or less likely to actually follow through. The truth of the matter is, there isn't anything anyone can do; he just has to work himself up to being able to appreciate the offer, absolutely true or not, useless though it might be. It's more than he'd get from most people, but what the fuck does that even mean?

"Alright," he says, mouth pulling to one side. "So, uh — you like doing this sort of thing, huh?"

An enthusiastic smile spread across her face as Caroline nodded. For the moment she was satisfied by the answer that Elvis gave her. Of course that didn't mean that she was going to drop it for forever, but she was willing to let it go for the moment. She had meant it and part of meaning it meant that she had to stick to her guns. Even if he wanted someone who was willing to do something totally dumb with him, then she was going to do it.

"Yeah, I really do," she said before frowning slightly as she realized exactly how bad that sounded. "Um, I don't mean to say that I hope bad things will happen so that I have a reason to do nice things. I just mean that I like helping out. Cornball ways and everythings."

"No, I got what you mean," Elvis says. Under better circumstances, he might have even managed a laugh for the explanation she offers, the sort of thing that, at least to him, speaks for itself. Now, he doesn't even come close, the wry tone of his voice serving as a substitute for any amusement. There's nothing funny about this, about any of it, or even about the fact that she's one of those do-gooder types like Anabelle was. (God, he's got to stop thinking about her in the past tense. She's not dead, no matter how much it feels a little like that.) "Well, that's — good, then. For you."

Caroline would never admit to being selfless. She wanted to be, of course she did. Wouldn't it be nice to be noble and selfless and good? But try as she could, she never managed it. Her own pride got in the way. It was her selfish desire to want to be needed, to have people like to have her around. Sometimes being nice was just a way to do that, even if it never worked out how she planned.

Shrugging she picked at her sandwich, peeling off the crust. "I guess. I mean, it's not like I hate doing charity, but I think I like to do it so that maybe someone will be there for me."

It's probably not the reaction he's supposed to have, but Elvis very nearly smiles at that. Maybe it's a little less admirable than trying to spread good cheer or whatever the hell, but it's more understandable because of that, more human, making him in turn a little more receptive to it. At least she isn't trying to fix his problems for the hell of it. He doesn't want to be a charity case, and never has, not even now that he's lost just about everything.

"Well, I hope that works out for you," he says, surprised by how much he means it. He just hopes she isn't expecting him to say that he will be; he isn't prepared to offer anything like that. "Makes sense enough to me, for what it's worth."

If there was ever a person who wouldn't judge someone on their reaction (or rather wouldn't judge too much) it was Caroline Forbes. It was her lot in life to always be saying or doing the wrong thing. She couldn't help it. Her mouth had this way of running off and she would say or do the wrong thing. The amount of times that she wanted to curl into a hole and die were just too many to count.

Elvis' non-reaction worked for her and she offered him up a smile. It wasn't as bright or sunny as normal, which was fine given the subject. "Thanks. And I hope so too. I mean, that's all a girl can hope for. That one day my foot-in-mouth tendencies don't haunt me to the point that no one comes to see me when I'm down."

Elvis hasn't seen any foot in mouth tendencies from her so far, not that he can think of, but he doesn't exactly see much point in saying so. She'd know better than he would, after all, and he doesn't care nearly enough to try to make her feel better just for the sake of it. That's got to be the main difference between them, anyway, he thinks: she hopes that people won't leave her when things are bad, he expects them to.

"Well, if they do, it'll be because they're assholes," he says, the closest he can come to something within the realm of comforting (at least, he thinks). He would never do something like that to someone he cares about, but it takes a lot to get him there; now more than ever, he's reluctant to. "Not because of you."

Staying wasn't something that Caroline was meant to be good at. Her mother sort of sucked when it came to the comforting department and her dad had left. Sure he called and they still saw each other, but that wasn't quite the same. She knew what it was like to go home to an empty house so quiet she could hear the clock two rooms over tick. That wasn't something that she would wish on anyone. Staying was her way of hoping that wouldn't have to be a forever sort of thing.

A sense of relief washed over her at his comment, enough that it caused her to smile despite her efforts to maintain a level of seriousness for him. Elvis was hurting. He'd sort of been kicked while he was down from what she could tell. There was no need for him to say something like that. But it was still nice. "Thanks. I know you don't have to say that, but I'm taking it anyways. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Elvis says, brows furrowing slightly. He hasn't the faintest idea what she might be apologizing for — they've already covered that his life sucks, after all, and this currently doesn't have anything to do with that — and there's nothing in the rest of it that should call for that, not that he's heard. It doesn't make him feel bad for her or pity her or sympathize with her or anything like that, not when he still has a pretty clear idea of her in his head, if one a little more three-dimensional than he originally assumed, but it does prompt something, a feeling he doesn't quite have a name for. "I don't say anything I don't mean. It's true. People just do that, they leave, and there's not a damn thing anyone else can do about it."

People leaving was something that Caroline knew about all to well. She wasn't the only one either. Back home her friends had all seemed to have lost someone. Elena had lost both her parents and had her bio parents leave her, even if they weren't exactly the epitome of well-behaved. Bonnie's mom, Matt's mom all of whom had left rather than stayed. It seemed like it was more normal to go than to stick around which was probably why she was all the more determined to stay.

"That's why we have to appreciate the ones who stay," Caroline pointed out because it was something that had to be said. It was easy to focus on the empty holes without given proper thought to everything else. "But thanks."

It's easier said than done, Elvis is pretty sure, when he can't think of anyone who has. Whether intentionally or not, it's been everyone, with the exception of maybe Eden, and around here, that's too hard to rely on, anyway. He wonders if it'll be Caroline next, who disappears and winds up working against her own point or whatever the fuck, but he manages not to say so. Tact might not be his strongest suit, mostly because he rarely cares enough to bother with it, but she's been nice enough in just sitting here that it wouldn't, he realizes, be entirely fair to push that hard. If she does go, he doesn't think she'd mean it, and that's saying enough for now.

"No need to thank me," he says with a shrug, not quite sure what to do with that. As far as he can see, he hasn't really done anything worth thanking. "I'll, uh. I'll remember to do that next time someone does."

"Good. You do that."

There might be no way of knowing who was going to vanish into the night or thin air or whatever next. She just knew whether here or at home, she had to be okay with the people that stuck it out. Who were there for her and there for other people and all of that. It had to count for something.

Taking another bite of her sandwich she wiped off her fingers as she chewed. Fixating on him once more she gave him a look of utter seriousness. "Do you know what we need? Cookies."

Elvis can't help letting out a laugh at that, a faint, dry sound, more for the absurdity of the comment than anything else. Cookies can't help anything, he knows that with even more certainty than he knows most things; they aren't going to make him feel better and they sure as hell aren't going to bring Anabelle back. There's something about the way she says it, though — maybe thoughts of Anabelle herself, whom he can easily imagine saying something similar — that makes him disinclined to point that out. Instead, he shrugs. "Do you have any, or are you suggestin' we get some?"

"Suggesting we go get some. I mean, half the people around here seem to love to bake and there's a bakery. Cookies should be no problem."

There might not be any money, but people around here definitely seemed to be rocking the baking thing. It was just as well given that Caroline only knew how to make two kinds of cookies and neither of them were the sort of thing that she just whipped up. There needed to be a preamble, a reason involved.

Getting to her feet, she picked up her plate and brought it over to the sink. "Come on. Let's go look."

Much better at following than leading, Elvis nods, an easy concession. Although he maintains that they won't actually change anything, he doesn't really have all that much reason to object, and he definitely doesn't have any cause to keep sitting around the kitchen. He could easily stay lying on his bedroom floor right now, but this might — might — be good for him. It doesn't mean he cares, it just means he's trying. Eden would probably like that, and Anabelle would have wanted him to.

"Alright," he allows, standing up to start towards the exit of the kitchen, his cup left neglected on the table. He'd feel kind of bad for it ordinarily, but someone else will pick it up, and it isn't like it does any harm there. "Let's do that."

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make days from the hours

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