Running into walls that I can't break down. For prodigalsavior.
The morning after had been awkward and confusing. It became a little less generally uncomfortable once he'd managed to convince himself that the eyes in his dream had been black, not ice blue. Maybe it shouldn't have mattered -it was just a dream- but it very much did. The content of the dream had raised enough issues to make him uncomfortable, without the person being involved being his best friend.
Worry about the dream itself was more distraction than real worry. It kept his mind occupied and off things he couldn't change. Like worrying about the effectiveness of what Damon had done to make him 'safe', and if he was going to be able to get home. He didn't expect to, but that didn't mean he didn't want to. It didn't mean he didn't need to try, either. He owed them that much, and even if he didn't owe them, he loved them.
He was prepared, then, when the trip to see Bonnie resulted in him being told exactly what he expected to hear. That he was going to be here for the foreseeable future, and he may as well get used to it. He was quiet on that trip, interjected basically nothing but did observe Damon with Bonnie. Who was disturbingly nothing at all like the witch he knew, in more than her ability (or lack of) to shove people into alternate realities.
He didn't really react to the news, beyond giving what passed as a philosophical shrug and thanking her. He stayed quiet when they left and more or less tuned everything out. Got lost in his own head. When he did finally open his mouth to say anything at all it was fairly simple. "Looks like I'm going to need those papers, and you're going to get some more gratitude." It was light, maybe even teasing, but he wanted a drink. Actually, he wanted a bottle.
It wasn't rational, probably, but in the moment it felt a little like everyone he had ever known had died. They were certainly every bit as out of his reach.
Worry about the dream itself was more distraction than real worry. It kept his mind occupied and off things he couldn't change. Like worrying about the effectiveness of what Damon had done to make him 'safe', and if he was going to be able to get home. He didn't expect to, but that didn't mean he didn't want to. It didn't mean he didn't need to try, either. He owed them that much, and even if he didn't owe them, he loved them.
He was prepared, then, when the trip to see Bonnie resulted in him being told exactly what he expected to hear. That he was going to be here for the foreseeable future, and he may as well get used to it. He was quiet on that trip, interjected basically nothing but did observe Damon with Bonnie. Who was disturbingly nothing at all like the witch he knew, in more than her ability (or lack of) to shove people into alternate realities.
He didn't really react to the news, beyond giving what passed as a philosophical shrug and thanking her. He stayed quiet when they left and more or less tuned everything out. Got lost in his own head. When he did finally open his mouth to say anything at all it was fairly simple. "Looks like I'm going to need those papers, and you're going to get some more gratitude." It was light, maybe even teasing, but he wanted a drink. Actually, he wanted a bottle.
It wasn't rational, probably, but in the moment it felt a little like everyone he had ever known had died. They were certainly every bit as out of his reach.