As they reached the quiet darkness of the parking area,Leo finally released his grip on Elena's hand. He didn't look back at her.
His own steps slowed, then stopped completely. He stood still in the darkness, his back to her, trying to make sense of the anger boiling inside him. It was a hot, restless feeling churning in his chest, making his muscles feel tight. He could sense that dangerous warmth under his skin, the same strange and unsettling change he had felt that night. Everything around him looked sharper, clearer, and it only made the anger feel more intense. He didn't even have a clear reason for pulling her out here. He just knew he had to get away from that room, from all of it.
Elena stood a few feet behind him on the rough gravel. She watched the stiff, tense line of his shoulders and back. She knew he was angry—really angry—about everything with Caroline. She could feel the frustration coming off him like heat. A part of her wanted to fix it, to say the right thing that would calm him down and make this storm pass. But her mind felt blank. Any words she thought of sounded stupid or useless in her head. What could she even say?
Still, she couldn't just stand there doing nothing. Taking a small, careful step forward, the gravel crunched softly under her shoe.
"Actually, Leo—" she began, her voice soft.
He didn't turn to face her. His voice cut her off before she could even find the next word, and the sound of it was all wrong. It was low, but rough and strained, like it was being forced through sandpaper
"Elena." Her name came out as a hoarse, ragged growl. "I don't want to talk about this. Not about Caroline. Not about anyone else right now."
Just speaking the words seemed to make everything worse. The anger, which had been a hot bubble in his chest, flared hotter and sharper. He clenched his jaw, feeling the tension spread across his shoulders. The whole point of going upstairs had been the locket—to finally get it, to end this constant pressure. And he'd missed his chance. Because of Caroline's misunderstanding and the plan to make Stefan jealous,had completely failed. That failure was like gasoline on the fire inside him. It wasn't just anger now; it was a bitter, frustrating rage at how everything had gone wrong.
Elena froze at the sound. The deep, distorted roughness was completely unfamiliar. It wasn't Leo's voice. A sharp chill shot down her spine, followed by a flutter of real fear in her stomach. But her concern for him was stronger than her caution. Without thinking, she closed the last bit of distance between them. She reached out and placed a tentative, gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Leo," she said, her own voice now tight with worry. She could hear the anxiety in it. "What's wrong? What happened to your voice?" She kept her hand there, a light pressure, trying to reach through the anger she could feel radiating from him. She searched the side of his face she could see, looking for any sign of the calm boy she knew, afraid of what this new, rough sound meant.
The moment her hand made contact with his shoulder and he heard the worried sound in her voice, Leo squeezed his eyes shut. He focused everything on that single point of pressure—her touch—using it as an anchor. He dragged a slow, deliberate breath deep into his lungs, holding it there for a second. Inside, he could feel it: the scorching heat, the sharp, prickling sensation that made everything feel too bright and too close. He pushed it down, mentally shoving it into a locked box somewhere deep within himself. He felt the unnatural, rigid tension in his jaw begin to loosen. The muscles in his shoulders, which had been pulled tight as wires, started to relax just a little.
When he finally opened his eyes, the dangerous, glinting intensity that had been there was gone, smoothed away. He turned his head to look at her.
Elena was searching his face, her eyes wide and full of a confused fear. She was looking for an answer, for some sign of what had just happened.
He let out a small, strained sigh. His voice, when he finally spoke, had returned to its usual quieter tone, though it sounded tired. "I'm fine," he said, holding her gaze so she could see he was telling the truth—or at least, part of it. He kept his words gentle but left no room for argument. "It's just… it's been a really long night. A lot happened." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "We can talk about all of it tomorrow, okay? I promise. I just need… I need to not talk about it right now."
Elena didn't look away. She kept her eyes on his face, studying him for another long second. The scary, rough edge was completely gone from his voice now, replaced by that familiar tired quiet. But the memory of how he had sounded—that low, gritty growl that wasn't right—stayed with her. It sat at the back of her mind like a small, sharp stone, a prickling feeling of doubt she couldn't shake off.
Yet, looking at him now, he just seemed worn out. His expression was calm, if exhausted. The storm she had felt rolling off him moments before had settled into a still, quiet fatigue. The immediate chill of fear faded away, replaced by her natural concern. She understood what it was like to have a night that was too much, to need space to sort through your own thoughts.
She gave a slow, hesitant nod. "Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible in the dark parking lot.
Leo's expression softened just a fraction, the faintest hint of something reassuring in his eyes, as if to say thank you for understanding. Then he turned away, breaking their gaze.
Elena stood where he had left her, her arms wrapped tightly around her own body. The night air was cool, and a light breeze made the ends of her hair brush against her neck. She wasn't just holding herself for warmth, though. It was a way to steady herself, to contain the swirl of thoughts and worries inside her.
A heavy, quiet feeling sat in her chest. It was a worry, but it was split in two different directions. Part of it was for Leo. The other part, just as heavy, was for Caroline. She pictured her still back in the giant, glittering mansion, probably sitting alone in a room that felt too big, completely broken by everything that had happened. Elena felt pulled between them, helpless to fix either situation.
The solid thud of Leo's car door closing made her flinch. The engine rumbled to life, a low sound in the quiet night. The headlights flicked on, two bright beams cutting through the darkness and lighting up the gravel path in front of her. Dust floated in the light.
The car rolled forward slowly, tires crunching, and came to a stop right beside her. The passenger window was down. She didn't wait for an invitation. Elena stepped forward, pulled the door open, and slid into the passenger seat,the warmth of the car a stark contrast to the chilly night.
Leo didn't say a word. He waited for her to pull the door shut, then put the car into drive. They eased out of the parking area, tires crunching on the loose gravel before meeting the smooth, quiet asphalt of the road leading away from the Lockwood estate.
The drive was completely silent, filled only with the soft, steady hum of the engine. Streetlights lined the road, spaced evenly apart. Every few seconds, one would flash across the inside of the car. A bar of yellow light would sweep over the dashboard, glow on the speedometer, and briefly illuminate their faces—Leo's profile focused straight ahead, Elena's turned toward the window—before plunging them back into semi-darkness until the next light.
Elena sat with her hands folded in her lap. She stared out the window at the blur of dark trees and sleeping houses, but she wasn't really seeing any of it. Her mind was somewhere else. She was acutely aware of the person sitting beside her. Leo's silence wasn't a relaxed or comfortable one. It was a focused, heavy quiet. He was concentrated on the road, but she could feel the remains of the night's tension. It hadn't disappeared; it had just been compressed, packed into the small space between them in the front seat.
She wanted to break it. The urge to turn to him and say, "Are you sure you're okay?" or "Talk to me, please," was strong. Her nature was to comfort, to connect, to solve. But she remembered the look on his face in the parking lot—the exhaustion, the firm request—and his raw, rough voice asking for just a little time. He had said they would talk tomorrow. Pushing him now, when he was clearly holding himself together by sheer will, felt wrong.
So she pressed her lips together and stayed quiet. The unspoken questions and the heartbreaking image of Caroline's face seemed to grow larger in the silence, filling up the car as surely as the hum of the engine.
Finally, the car slowed, turned onto her street, and rolled to a gentle, quiet stop in front of the Gilbert house. The engine dropped to a low idle, and then Leo turned the key, cutting it off completely. A deeper, more profound silence filled the car, broken only by the faint tick-tick sound of the engine cooling.
The porch light was on, casting a warm, yellow glow over the front steps and the lawn.
Elena turned in her seat to look at Leo. He was still staring straight ahead through the windshield, his hands on the wheel, but he wasn't really seeing the street. He was somewhere deep in his own thoughts, completely closed off.
"Leo," she said, her voice gentle.
He blinked, seeming to come back to the present. He turned his head slowly toward her. "Hmm?" was all he said, a quiet sound of acknowledgment.
In that moment, all the confusion, worry, and leftover intensity from the night pushed her forward. She didn't think about it. She just leaned across the center console between the seats and hugged him. She put her arms around his shoulders and held on tightly, her face resting against the side of his neck for a few solid seconds. She didn't say anything. The hug itself was the message- I'm really worried about you, and thank you for drive.
After a moment, she let go and settled back into her own seat. She felt a little embarrassed by the impulsiveness, but she didn't regret it. She offered him a small, tired smile. It was genuine, even if it was worn out from everything. "See you tomorrow," she whispered. "Good night."
For a second, Leo just looked at her. Then, the distant, preoccupied expression on his face softened.
"Good night, Elena," he replied, his voice low and soft.
Elena got out of the car and closed the door with a soft click. She walked up the front path to her house, her steps slow and heavy. On the porch step, she paused and looked back over her shoulder. Leo's car was already pulling away. She watched the red taillights get smaller and smaller, swallowed by the darkness of the quiet street until they disappeared completely.
She let out a long, slow sigh. The air felt thick with everything that hadn't been said and everything that had gone wrong. The kiss, the hurt on Caroline's face, the strange anger in Leo's voice—it all swirled together in her head, leaving her exhausted and confused.
She unlocked the front door and stepped inside, welcoming the familiar silence of her house.
Leo drove home to his big, quiet house. He let himself in and tossed his keys onto the nearest sofa. They landed with a dull clatter. He didn't bother turning on many lights. He went straight to the liquor cart in the living room, poured a large amount of amber liquid into a glass, and carried it upstairs to his bedroom.
His bedroom was dark, lit only by the square of cool moonlight coming through the large window. He walked over and stood by the window, looking out at the night. He took a slow sip of the whiskey. It was strong, and it burned a hot path down his throat. He let the feeling sit there for a second.
What a stupid night. A complete waste of time.
Even now, alone in the quiet, he could still hear Caroline's voice ringing in his ears. All that loud yelling and shouting. Over what? Over absolutely nothing. She had created a whole story in her own mind about the two of them being a couple. She had convinced herself it was real, and then she had exploded when she saw it wasn't true. All that drama was over a fantasy.
And then there was Stefan. Leo's grip tightened slightly on his glass. Stefan had just been there, a silent shadow. He had stood by the door the whole time, leaning against the frame. He hadn't said a word. He had just watched. And he hadn't watched with concern or shock. No, Leo remembered the look on Stefan's face clearly. It was a look of interest, even enjoyment. Like he was watching a particularly entertaining scene in a movie. He found the whole messy situation interesting. That calm, observing, almost amused expression made Leo's anger feel fresh again.
Because of all that, he had failed. The only real reason he had gone upstairs was to get the locket. That was the single goal. And instead of getting it, he had gotten stuck in the middle of Caroline's screaming fit, with Stefan standing back and watching the show. He never even got close to the locket.
Now, the locket was gone, and It probably useless anyway—just a key to a tomb for someone who didn't matter anymore. Damon was gone because Leo had taken care of him.
The thought of Damon brought Stefan's face back again: that same calm, watching expression.
Leo finished the last of his drink, feeling the familiar burn in his throat. He placed the empty glass down and looked back out at the cold, pale moon.
A slow, quiet smile spread across his face.
"Stefan," he said softly into the dark room. "You really enjoy the show, don't you? You just stand there and watch." His voice was low, almost conversational. "You still owe me from last time. And tonight, you decided to add to the debt."
The smile remained, cold and unmoving. Inside, his thoughts were clear and focused.
I'm going to make you regret every second you stood there,Stefan.
***