#lyla morgan

[gilbert-girl-blog]

little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter || Jyla

Just a short drabble from a burst of inspiration.

It's cold. That's the only thing that manages to register in Jeremy's mind. Just the biting cold surrounding his entire body, seeping through his pores and leaking into his flesh, his bones. It's a cold, sharp fear up his spine and into his brain, moving too slow to make sense of anything.

But then there's warmth. Not real warmth of course. Jeremy vaguely remembers the ship going down, clutching Lyla close; always keeping her close, because no, no, he can't lose her, he just got her, he can't. If he stops, thinks for a moment, he'll realize what's going on, but he doesn't want to. So he follows the heat, follows it to icy fingertips overlapping his own. His head shoots up, opening eyes he hadn't realized he had closed. Lyla looks like an angel, one with blue lips, and pale skin and tattered hair. That's not right. She's not meant to look like that, feel like ice. Lyla was meant to be in a lifeboat, safe and warm. But she had stayed, stubbornn to the last moment. And Jeremy. Well, Jeremy was selfish. Selfish enough to save her life, and keep her with him. He regrets it, regrets it with every sharp sting of ice again his skin. Twenty minutes later he can't feel anything. "Lyls," he says quietly, choked, his throat burning. He's gasping, thirsting, surrounded by icy water, yet nothing to drink. Jeremy has to choke back hysterical laughter, because this really isn't funny. It takes Lyla a beat too long to respond. A beat in which Jeremy's heart is full of regret and pain and /hurt/. Just biting, sharp hurt. It's the first time he's felt something in over twenty minutes. "Jeremy. You're. I." She can't seem to choose what to say, and Jeremy doesn't blame her. What is there to say? "I need you to make me a promise. No matter what you stay here until help comes okay? You stay out of the water, Lyla. No matter what." He pulls up his best forceful tone, though it's weak and more pleading than anything else. "Jeremy, why are you-" He cuts her off, "Promise me, Lyla!," his tone sharper than intended, forcing her into momentary silence. And god, Jeremy can't help but think she's beautiful, so beautiful. How was he ever so lucky? Even if they only got a few days. They were the best he decides quickly, then and there. Lyla is his best memory. And if he dies. When he dies, he's glad her face will burn bright in his mind. "I- I promise. Promise. I do, I do. I. Please." He pulls himself up at the sob constricting her tone, and presses his lips to her, both equally cold yet somehow soft. It's not the last kiss they deserve but it's all he can give her, bones weary and tired, mind blurring with every passing moment. When he pulls himself back he clutches one hand with Lyla's, the other moving through her hair, trying to sooth her into a slumber. Anything. Jeremy just knows she can't see it. She can't. Twenty minutes later, twenty minutes of holding her; and it all becomes too much. He can't anymore. Jeremy doesn't know what he can't but he's just tired, so, so tired. He forces himself back, releasing her hand because Lyla can't wake up to him cold with unseeing eyes. He pushes himself back to the water, eyes trained on her figure until all he can see is water, burning though it's cold. There's no flashing, he doesn't see his parents or Elena, just a small brunette girl with a big smile, and he thinks it'll be okay. Jeremy think it'll be okay until he doesn't think anymore.

[supernaturalfalls-blog]

[gilbert-girl-blog]

the end || Jyla

Four days he lasts. Four days longer than he had thought, and better than he had hoped. But he's still a mess when he shows up at her door, the black night matching his mood perfectly. Jeremy smirks, barely, the corners of his lips tilting up, because he's just so emo lately. Only he would liken his mood to the night sky. Black, yet marred with bright flashes. Memories. Each star a memory, and most of those memories, the light in the darkness that's been his life; they include Lyla. It's the quick-fire, life changing thoughts of someone high, and Jeremy's a sucker for the stereotype of it all. It's gives him somewhere to fit in, to be. So he plays the broken, druggie, emo boy because, somehow, it gives his life meaning, even if his meaning is meaningless in the big picture. He can pretend. He has been doing it for awhile. She opens the door like she's expecting him, and she slams it closed like she hates him. Another smirk finds it's way to his lips, colder, harder and even more amused. It's all very amusing in the murky drug haze. Even the hard slamming of his heart against his ribcage is amusing. Like a drum in his chest, beat fast but steady, pumping him up like he's just ran a marathon. It gives him the energy to knock; once, twice, three times until the door is finally yanked open again. If Jeremy was like Elena, he'd have some broken piece of poetry, or maybe half a song lyric to describe the look on Lyla's face; cold and hot, broken and tough, loving and hating. Confusing, is all he manages to sum it up to. Because he's not Elena, and he can't make an emotion into a story, but his hands itch for paper and a pencil. He thinks, just maybe, he could capture the rage in her eyes. It would make a beautiful picture. The kind people say is worth a thousand words. Words Lyla is perfectly capable of firing at him. "What do you want, Jeremy? I'm tired, and you made it quite clear that you didn't want to see me. So, why exactly are you here at 2am? My brother is asleep upstairs, he has the early shift tomorrow, and I have school. You can't just come barging up in here and-" He's always thought she was cute when she rambled, cheeks flushing in anger and Jeremy can't help but fall into old routines. Can't help his body when he leans those few inches forward and presses his lips to hers. It's like falling into nothing, yet everything jumps to life. He feels weightless with her touch, all the guilt lifted from his shoulders; he feels good. It's rare. She gives and he takes, pulling her closer as his hands trace her skin as though searching for something, searching for an answer to all the questions that have been thrust to him in the past year. A sharp slap pulls Jeremy from her, and a push sends him back down the steps. When he looks up, flushed and dazed, heart hammering from the kiss and mind slow from the drugs, he see's Lyla. She's glaring down at him with a teary gaze, her chest rising and falling with anger or tears. At this point Jeremy isn't all that sure of the difference anymore. "You're drunk," The accusation is hurled at him with a sharp tongue, and building anger. "And high." He has no tact, so the thought of swallowing the shit eating grin plastered across his face does not occur to him. He's too far gone, too destructive. Too in over his head. Things have started to fall apart all around him again. Lyla's gone, Ric's gone, Elena's going, Klaus won't stop and the ghosts won't leave him alone. His only company is the dead, and they haunt him, remind him of death, misery, pain. It's hard to think positive, to fake a smile. Somehow, he does. No one know's what's wrong yet. No one know's he's teetering on the edge. The edge of what, he doesn't know. But Jeremy knows that if he falls this time, there's no getting back up. And he refuses to pull her down with him. No, not her. He knows, knew the whole time that coming here was a mistake, but he couldn't stop himself, not when he's off his head on god knows what. He just had to see her, see her smile, eyes, lips. Touch her once more, and he did, but she's glaring, and tears are flowing freely down her face, harsh breaths escaping her lips. Jeremy still hasn't found any answers. He's still that stupid, lost, little boy who got forced out into the big bad world before he got the chance to grow up. In a moment of fear, he tenses, and thinks he's going to leave it the same way. It's that fear that causes Jeremy to stumble forward and grasp Lyla's face between shaking hands, kissing her tears away. It just makes her cry harder. "No, no, shh, no, shh. It's. It's okay. You're okay. I'm not going to let anything happen, okay. You're okay. That's why this happened. I love you, right? You know that, right? That I love you? That we were in love. Remember that, alright." He doesn't know why it feels so much like a goodbye. He doesn't kiss her lips, for fear of losing himself and earning another slap to the face. Lyla can hit, it makes him feel strangely proud for a moment. Then it all fades away when a sob slips past her lips and he steps back, dropping his hands like it burns. But it doesn't. It just tightens his throat and constricts his heart. "I'm sorry." He gives her one last look, an apology that will never mean enough, and he leaves. Just walks away like it's easy, like he's not leaving behind the one shred of happiness he managed to find in this fucked up town. He keeps walking, ignoring the burning in his lungs. There's nowhere to go, nothing at home for him but an echoing silence that taunts loss. He ends up at Wickery bridge, hands braced against the metal railings, the sharp night air biting his bare skin, but it's easy to block out, mind too caught up in two years prior. He's back to the accident, the night he started to lose him, his descent to whatever the hell he is now. Jeremy's knuckles turn bone-white from his grip on the railing, his head bowed low. Another apology spills from his lips as he stares down at the murky waters, "I- I fucked up. I- You. I'm sorry. I guess. I'll see you soon." He offers it one more fleeting glance, wiping back tears he refuses to acknowledge, his once pleasant buzz dulling. He needs more; drugs, alcohol, anything. Anything to get rid of it all. He can still taste her, feel her. And now, he doesn't want to feel anything at all.

[gilbert-girl-blog]

c'mon skinny love just last the year || Jyla

It's a near escape. They barely get away with their lives intact, the only reason they do is because of Damon, and for a moment Jeremy feels complete gratitude towards the elder Salvatore, even if he is a complete asshole. Lyla ends up spending the night, very obviously shaken up by the whole thing. It had been too close. Long after Lyla falls asleep, nestled between his arms and his covers, Jeremy is still awake. He has to move out of the bed, his feet bringing him down the stairs. The guilt still follows him.

He can't keep doing this to Lyla. She deserves so much more than this. She deserves normalcy, happiness, safety. All the things he can't give her, not how she deserves them. So Jeremy makes a decision, sitting outside at 2am, the cool air nipping at his bare skin. He's not going to put her in danger anymore.

***

He gives himself three days. Three days to just be with her. Jeremy wouldn't class himself as the romantic type but he savors every smile, every glance, every kiss with an intensity and mushiness that would on any other occasion make his stomach turn. But this isn't any other occasion. So he lets himself be happy, truly happy, because two more days and he's throwing it all away.

***

On day two he takes her out to some stupid movie she adores. He ends up dozing off half-way through it, but her wide smile and excited chatter when they leave makes it all worth it. They end up driving, driving, driving. Top down so they can see the stars. Lyla smiles so wide, and he falls in love with her all over again, because, really, how could he not?

***

On day three, their last day, he just wants to be with her. So he makes her spend the day in bed, burrowed in his arms as he presses soft kisses to every slither of smooth skin he can reach. She giggles when he kisses that spot right in the junction between her neck and shoulder, she's just so ticklish there and he knows that. Lyla tries to squirm away but he holds her in place, their lips meeting half-way as they tumble into some sort of delicious oblivion. Jeremy's sure he'll never be able to get the taste of her skin out of his head. 

***

He can play this role well, being an asshole isn't all that hard. At least it shouldn't be. But this is Lyla, and everything is ten times harder with her. She makes him fight her every step of the way. It's something he's come to love and hate. When he asks her over, she happily accepts, ignoring the tone his voice has taken, but she notices it. She always does. It's probably why she frowns a little when he answers the door, no warm smile or welcoming hug. He simply guides her to the kitchen, offers her a drink because his mother taught him some manners and crosses his arms as they have a staring match in the echoing silence of the kitchen.

She looks away first. 

"Look, I'm sorry but-" Her eyes cut to his and the speech Jeremy spent hours of working on suddenly flies out of his head. She looks sad, like she knows but is too sacred to believe it. He doesn't really blame her. "Lyla, I've been thinking lately, and.. I think you're more into this," He gestures between them lazily, "than I am, or every was really. What I'm trying to say is, well, I don't really think this is working out, you know?" It's not supposed to be a question, and it's so confusing when instead of tears building in Lyla's eyes he see's anger.

"Jeremy Gilbert, stop being an idiot, right now! You think I don't know what you're doing? If this is some idiotic plan to try and keep me safe, stop it right now. I've never been more safe than I am with you. I love you, Jeremy." Her anger seems to decrease as she approaches him. Her voice ending on a sad note as she clasps one of his hands.

He pulls back, her touch scorching him, "This isn't a plan. I'm being honest. I mean, that's what relationships are all about, right?" He falls back into old Jeremy, flashing her a sardonic smirk to accompany his words. The tears that build in her eyes let him know he's hitting home. Good, right? That was the plan. Then why exactly did it feel like he was doing the worst thing possible?

"Jer..Please, don-"

"Don't what, Lys? Don't tell you that I don't want to be with you anymore? It was fun and all, really. I did like you, but that's it. I don't want us anymore. We're not working, we're not fun and I really don't feel like trying to save this, so." Jeremy shrugs, as though this isn't tearing him apart inside. The tear that falls from her eye is like a physical blow and he's finding it hard to not just wrap his arms around her and apologize. Because, god, he's so so sorry, he never meant to hurt her, not her. But he doesn't. "Sorry."

It's a half-assed apology at best, and she knows that, caught somewhere between anger and heartbreak. He just wants her to leave, storm out, make it easier on both of them, but it's Lyla, so of course she doesn't. "Jeremy, we can fix this. Please just stop for a minute."

"I don't want you!"

It hangs in the air between them, shattering something, and the splinters pierce Jeremy's skin as he watches her. He almost opens his mouth to apologize. Almost. He can't hold her gaze, she that look in her eyes, so he drops it, looking away like a coward. She simply keeps looking at him like she can't believe what he's saying. If this was another girl they would have thrown a harsh comment back, probably something worse. But this is Lyla, so she doesn't, and it makes it all the worse. 

He doesn't look back up until he hears the front door slam. The kitchen is empty, hollow, much like it had been after his parents death. Lyla's not going to be around to fill it with silly chatter or light music anymore. No, no, she'll be safe, away from him. That's why he had did this, to keep her safe. Something shiny catches his gaze, and Jeremy looks to the counter, a lump forming in his throat when he notices the necklace he got her for Valentine's day. 

He rest his head against the counter, pushing it all back, the heart break, the guilt, the regret, the pain. Jeremy can't let himself feel all that, if he does he'll end up running to her and begging for forgiveness, apologizing until his lungs are raw. He can't do that, so he pushes it back. Jeremy spares the necklace one last glance before moving to the stairs of the too empty house that lost its ability to be called a home long ago, heading too his room and searching for his stash. When he inhales the sweet smoke, he holds his breath, keeping it in, hoping that it'll purge her taste from his mouth, body, memory. The breathe he lets out is half-choked. He can still taste her. 

[lyla-m]

[lyla-m]

"You can't see him anymore."

"..."

[gilbert-girl-blog]

Never Grow Up || Lylena

Elena had damage control to do thanks to Damon. A lot of it. She had seen the look on Lyla's face, heard the panic in her voice, say the blood on her clothes. She knew the younger girl had to have been terrified. Elena remembered how scary it was when she had first found out, although Lyla didn't know everything yet, she was under the impression Damon was a murder because of Jeremy's absolute genius idea's to feed her twisted and confusing half truths. Elena couldn't exactly explain Damon's actions to Lyla, not without telling her about the supernatural, and that was Jeremy's job. She didn't think she'd be able to tell the girl anyway, to take away her innocence like that. Lyla was the small, bright bundle of sunshine that had bounced into their lives - and their house - and stuck around. She was so utterly human, she still had a chance to stay out of all of this. Besides Jeremy and Damon, Lyla had no direct links to the supernatural, she'd be out of town by next year, keeping it from her wouldn't be hard, but it would be unfair. She deserved to know what she could be getting herself into. She knew how much Jeremy hated it being kept from him, so Elena supposed he knew how Lyla felt, knew how much she'd hate it. Elena wasn't looking forward to Lyla's reaction, knowing that they all kept it from her. She'd be hurt, mad, and all other negative things. It wasn't going to be pretty and Elena felt for Jeremy. When she had found out she had broken up with Stefan, she didn't want to see that happen with Jeremy and Lyla. She had noticed the way her brother smiled that much wider around Lyla. They had exchanged 'I love you's' and considering Jeremy's track record she knew that was a big step for him, knew how much he cared for the girl. Elena noticed more than she let on. 

She had tried to avoid talking to Lyla for a day or two, giving the couple their space - which was hard considering Lyla practically lived with them. This conversation wasn't something Elena was looking forward to. Explaining Damon's actions would be hard, but she had to. Damon may have flipped the switch, lashed out and told Lyla some harsh words like he had with Elena. They still rang through her mind, that they were a lie, what they had been was a lie, that he didn't care. She knew it was him closing himself off, Elena knew how it worked, but it still hurt, more than she was willing to admit. Damon knew just what to say to hurt her, and she did with him. They knew each other too well, knew what harsh comments would hit home and leave a mark. It was almost dangerous. Fighting or not, Elena owed it to him to try and justify his actions to Lyla. She knew he'd regret what he had done when he turned the switch back on. He wouldn't want to lose the girl he had claimed to be like a lithe sister to him. Under all his bravado, Damon cherished the people he loved, Elena knew that from first-hand experience. He had made his feelings for her clear. When Damon Salvatore loved someone, he did it wholly and completely, it was rare. Elena didn't want him to lose someone he loved, even it was his own fault. So she was going to try and fix things with Lyla for him.

It wasn't hard to find the girl, she practically lived in Jeremy's room. The boy in question off picking up something or other, Elena wasn't sure. But she knew this was her chance to talk to Lyla, it wasn't often the two were apart. She knocked out of politeness, pushing the door open a little and flashing a smile at the girl sitting on the bed. "Hey." It was a familiar scene, walking into this room with a heaviness pressing down on her chest. But other than Jeremy being the one she needed to console or talk to, it was a small brunette girl with a wide smile. Somehow, that made it harder. Elena knew what to expect with Jeremy. Although she was close to Lyla, she didn't know the girl that well. "Can we talk?" She took a seat on the edge of the bed after closing the door and crossing the room. "It's about Damon.. I want to explain his actions. Why he did what he did. Apologize on his behalf because right now.." She paused, pushing out a breath and biting her lip - a nervous habit. "Right now he just doesn't care. About anything really, and you deserve to know why he tried to hurt you and Tristan. His actions aren't really his own right now if that even makes sense.." The last thing Elena wanted to do was confuse her even more, but there wasn't any real logically way to explain Damon's actions. She'd have to lie, as usual. 

[slizitoff]

the lowest spot in hell is reserved for those who betray, so don't you dare act like you're too good for us.