It's harder than she thought, being this close and not touching him. He's beautiful tonight, in the clean black and white lines of his tux, and there's a softness about his face she hasn't seen in a while. When he offers her his arm, she feels him, even before she rests her gloved palm against his forearm, and she remembers him. Remembers the feeling of his arm, tight against her back as he hugged her, remembers the strength as he held her, remembers its weight slung around her shoulder. It's only the offer of Damon's arm that steadies her, just enough.

When she and Damon dance, she relaxes. He's not quite joking, but she's not quite serious and there is this space between where they are not quite touching and it's just enough to make it comfortable and she feels like can breathe, just enough. When he spins her, she's honestly expecting to meet Elijah or perhaps one of his younger brothers she hasn't met or even Klaus but then she meets Stefan and of course. His eyes are on hers, and she can feel the beading on her dress pressing against the button on his jacket and she suddenly remembers what it feel like to kiss him. She can feel the heat of his palm against her glove, and she can't decide if she's grateful or not that she can't feel his skin.

They are close, closer than they should be for this dance, not enough space between them and her head is tilted up and his head is tilted down and this close she can almost taste him. And it's not enough, not when she remembers the feel of him against her, the way she fit, just there, tight against his chest, not when she remembers the way he smiled as he kissed her, the way his skin felt against hers.

She makes a stupid quip about dancing because she needs to say something, anything that will make him stop looking at her like that, the look he used to give her before that makes it hard to breathe, because this close she can't hide. And there is a moment, she knows there is, when he moves closer and it's just enough, almost enough that if she lifts her head a little bit more….

He pulls back before she does and she can't meet his eyes so she leans in where she doesn't have to see him and whispers that they need to talk. The curve of his jaw is just next to her cheek, and she has never wanted anything this badly in her life. She feels him, every point where they touch through layers of cloth and it burns. Because it's not enough, not when she remembers what it feels like to lay under him, not when she remembers the shape of his body pressed against hers so tightly that sometimes she didn't know where she ended and he began.

When he allows her to take his hand to lead him from the ballroom, there is a moment when their fingers slide together and he rubs his thumb, just slightly, against the back of her hand and she twitches her pinky against his palm and it's not enough and too much all at the same time and she drops it as soon as they get outside. She is absurdly grateful for the dark and for the way he stands in front of her, hands in his pockets and just far enough away that she can't quite smell his cologne. It's easier that way.

She ignores the way his face changes slightly when she says he cares for nothing other than Klaus's destruction, because it's not enough to guess, and right now she can't let herself think of anything besides Esther and the plan. But when she moves past him, there is a moment when she steps, just so, and it's enough, just barely enough that she brushes against his jacket and he's still, so impossibly still that she thinks maybe she just imagined it, but her arm still tingles and god she is not this girl. She can't be this girl. Not now. Not after everything.

He is quiet when he drives her home, and she spends the whole drive staring out the window and trying not to remember how he used to drive, one hand on the wheel, one hand wrapped around hers, and the way he never looked at the road enough and it always slightly unnerved her, but it was enough just to be with him.

When they get inside he lingers by the door, and the look on his face is fragile, with a fledgling lightness she can't describe. Talking about Elijah is easier, talking about Damon is harder, and then he leaves, and it's not enough. It's not enough because she remembers the way he used to undo her curls, one at a time, fingers smoothing over their length, and the way he would unzip her dresses, slow slow slow down her back, and how he always folded his suit over the back of her chair even though she always had a hanger in the closet.

When he turns, his voice is rough, low and quiet and she tries desperately to ignore the way it makes her feel, the way her stomach twinges. It's not enough, it's not enough because she does feel, she feels him in every line of her body, in every movement of her lips. She feels him.

When she reaches out, it's a shock to feel his skin. It's second, a second where she is frozen, and then she remembers this. Remembers the weight of his face in her hands, remembers the way he avoids her eyes, and the way she feels like she's holding his soul.

It's on the tip of her tongue when he grabs her, grip hard and desperate and neither of them can hide this time, but he's right. He's right to stop her and he's gone before she can take another breath, but it's enough.

It's enough because he was real, he was there under her palms, warm skin and taught jaw and she can't remember all the times she has held him. It's enough because there was something in his eyes, in his tone, something beyond the emptiness and self-loathing, something beyond the pain.

It's enough for now, just barely enough, to know she loves him.