Damon didn’t really give an answer. “Elena,” He spoke her name in a ragged murmur. If he looked bad he sounded just as bad. He leaned on her as she assisted him to a seating position on the bench like some kind of angel. Damon had second thoughts about her seeing him in this condition. She was already sick. He didn’t want her sick with worry, as well. Still, his desire to see her face in person won out. It could have very well been the last time he saw her. He couldn’t miss out on that sort of thing.
“What can I say?” He smirked and let out a short cough. “I don’t do things halfway.”
“I needed to see you.” Damon confessed in a low voice. His hand snaked over to hold hers in a weak grasp.