A ghost. That was what Emma had been to him for five years. A ghost from his past that existed only in the furthest reaches of his memory, compartmentalized parts of his mind that he kept locked away to be forgotten about. He’d spent so much time repressing things, and aside from the occasional sensory stimulus that triggered a memory, he was never forced to think about it. Until now, he hadn’t been faced with something like this in five long years. Her words took longer to process because Damon was so tripped up by her voice, the sound of it like listening to an old album you’d forgotten had existed but had once been a favorite. When the words did process some of the anger filtered away, leaving him with a combination of emotions so tangled that he felt numb, felt none of them. Guilt, anger, confusion, terror, all mingling together and making Damon feel like turning around and sprinting in the other direction. He’d left Emma. Without a word, without so much as a text or phone call or measly letter. Nothing. “You really didn’t know I was here,” he said finally, coming to the conclusion aloud. The chances were so slim, but no one could have feigned that surprise. “Emma, I…Jesus Christ.” He dug a cigarette habitually out of the pack in his pocket and lit it with an unsteady hand, taking a deep drag and letting the smoke out in a cloud before looking at her again. “I’m not pretending not to know you…gimme a break, you’re the last person I ever expected see here.“ That sounded bad, and given the tears he could see shimmering in her eyes already it probably wasn’t the best idea to be harsh. The problem was, he’d changed so much since he’d last seen her, and truthfully, he had ’t the first clue how to act right now. "Look, I’m sorry I never contacted you, I just…I had to disappear, I did it for a reason. I came all the way across the goddamn country so I wouldn’t have to think about any of that shit.” Inhaling another crisping lungful of chemical smoke, he forced his joints to relax marginally. “So did you…did you just transfer here, or…?”
Emma couldn’t believe he was standing in front of her. She wanted to hate him so badly, wanted to scream at him for all of the pain he caused her. But the sad fact of the matter was she didn’t hate him. She was relieved to see him, glad he was alive. “How could I have known you were here? Am I a fucking mind reader?” she asked him in a harsh tone. She was trying not to be so cruel but she still wasn’t over the fact that he had just-disappeared. Watching him take a drag she shifted her weight and sighed. “I’m so glad I’m the last person you expected to see. Shows how much you’ve thought about me since you up and left.” she nodded, “It’s a little late for sorry Damon. I thought you were hurt. I didn’t know what happened to you. Do you know what that feels like?” she asked her tone biting. “Yea I transferred here at the beginning of the semester.” she mumbled trying her best not to look at him so that she wouldn’t start crying. Every muscle in her body wanted to give up, she knew the second she looked into his eyes that she wasn’t over him, not fully, and she wasn’t sure she ever would be.
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