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Because I didn't think you would, a lonely little voice inside Stefan went on. Because I didn't know I needed it so badly.
But that was the end of his litany, and he knew that Matt wouldn't even want to hear that much.
I've made a friend hate me, Stefan thought again, even as the chorus mocked him for wallowing in self pity. He shut it up by summoning all the coldness he could muster, which surprised him. It was, in fact, pretty damn icy cold.
I've made a friend hate me—and I don't care, he thought, and he could practically feel the blizzard blowing around the thought. I'm going use what made him hate me to save his life.
Matt
"Hnuh?" Matt came awake with a sort of halfsnort, half question. It was dark. He was lying flat on a hard bed, with some kind of lukewarm cloth on his forehead.
"Wha—?" That was a better question. And then memory came back, not all at once, but in puzzlepieces, and fuzzy ones.
"There's a Coke on the floor beside you. You might want to drink it for the sugar.
But it's best not to sit up yet."
That was Stefan. As for how you drank a Coke without sitting up, he didn't want to try to deal with trying to explain to a vampire. Then he found out two more things. There was something, a jacket, propping his head up, and the Coke had a straw. His hands were a little shaky, and a little damp.
"You’ve got your own refrigerator," he said, more because in the darkness and silence he felt somebody had to say something, than out of any surprise. He was still trying to fit puzzle pieces together.
"I have some juice, too. It's better for you, really. I took more blood than I meant to and it'll help you recover."
Blood . . . yeah. That's what he was doing here. Being a donor. Because Stefan had to fight a monster . . . and dumb Stefan was planning to do it without any preparation. So they'd all offered . . .
"Where're the girls?"
"Meredith took Bonnie down to the car. She was pretty sleepy."
Sleepy. A vampire drinking your blood made you sleepy. Yeah. And it made the vampire . . .
"Hey, you're not drunk anymore."
There was a pause, as if Stefan was waiting for something more, or uncertain about something. Then Stefan said, "No. I told you; it burns off pretty quickly."
"Yeah." Despite the Coke, he was still feeling muddled. The darkness and silence when they weren't talking didn't help. Maybe Stefan didn't remember that humans needed light. Dumb Stefan, he thought, vaguely but affectionately.
"Why're you . . . all the way over there?" He squinted in the approximate direction of the voice.
"Because . . . " Stefan suddenly sounded much less cool, which made Matt realize how cool Stefan had been sounding in the first place. He could hear, sense Stefan coming a little closer.
"Matt, how much do you actually remember about what happened?" Now he sounded—torn. Sort of sharp, but puzzled.
"Um." Matt tried to think, turning the puzzle pieces around and around. "You mean about how—stupid I was in the beginning?"
"No. I mean about what happened."
"I remember . . . it didn't hurt as much as I thought. Not when I figured out how to do it." Cautiously, Matt sat up, feeling the piece of damp cloth fall away from his forehead.
He was a little dizzy, but not sick. He could remember the pain and . . .
Suddenly, he was sharply aware of the and.
"Jeez."
No wonder his hands were shaky. His gut was shaky.
"Stefan?"
