1993 — Mystic Falls, Virginia

   The Mystic Grill was full of people for a summer's afternoon, boisterous with the soft commotion that came from the severs and those sitting at the table. In other words, it was very public. Florence twiddled with her fingers under the table, her eyes focused on the condensation of her drink instead of the boy in front of her. She wanted to look up at him, but she was terrified. How couldn't she be? The boy in front of her was a monster, and she was sitting in front of him. 

   "Florence, would you please look at me?" he quietly asked. His arms rested on the table, hands pressed together.

   She took a deep breath and finally looked up from her drink. It surprised her that he looked the same as before that night, like summer in his eyes and spring on his lips. She wondered if the mint was still there. Her bottom lip was pressed between her teeth as she shrugged her shoulders. "I am," she said, just soft enough for him to hear.

   "No, you're not."

   "Can you blame me?" she suddenly asked. "Stefan, I don't..." She trailed off and swallowed, her mind going a thousand miles an hour with possibilities of what could be and what could have been. "I don't know who you are, what you are, and why. Right now, I'm terrified to be sitting in front of you."

   Stefan's face fell, his eyes casting down to his hands. He licked his lips and took a deep breath, looking troubles. "I know," he softly said, "and you have every right to be terrified of me."

   "What are you?" she asked. There was a stinging on her nose, even on the back of her throat, and she knew that feeling too well. It was the feeling that told her she was about to cry, that at any moment tears would fall down her cheeks. 

   The boy with summer in his eyes stared at her, the wheels in his heard turning. She could see that he was wondering about each outcome, about the words that would be leaving his mouth. He took a deep breath. "Florence, everything you know, every belief that you have is about to change. Are you ready for that?"

   Florence knew that the moment she decided to listen to him. She knew that whatever he said, and her reaction to it, would forever change them. It would change their relationship, the way she felt for him, and the way her heart seemed to act all silly when he was near. She knew that, but she also wanted to know his secret. So, she nodded and repeated the same three words: "What are you?"

   Stefan hesitated, hands pressed together so tightly that she could see his knuckles turn white. It was a few seconds after that he sighed and stuttered, "I'm a vampire."

   Florence stood from her seat and marched out of The Grill, her drink forgotten on the table. A hand grabbed her as she moved down the street, making her stop and turn. "Let me go, Stefan," she stuttered, her heart at her throat and her hands trembling.

   "Please don't be afraid of me," he said, his tone sounding as if he were pleading. 

   "Let me go!" She pulled her hand away from him and turned, wanting to walk away. As soon as she took one step, Stefan was in front of her. She gasped and took a step back, almost falling back when her leg collided with the other. He had caught her, arms pressed tightly around her waist and holding her up, like some superhero would do. She stared at him, trembling with fright. "H-how did you do that?"

   "Florence, there's things that you have to know and understand," Stefan said as he unwrapped his arms around her. "I'm not going to hurt you; I'm never going to hurt you, okay? Let me explain, and if you don't want to see me afterwards I'll..." He paused and stared at her, swallowing hard. "I'll never bother you again."

   Florence glanced down at his hands, somehow reminded of the way they felt around her. She knew she needed to be afraid, but there was too much comfort in his presence. Over time, she had grown accustomed to him, accustomed of the way he would smile around her and make jokes and move. She didn't want to be so comfortable around him, but she nodded. "Okay," she breathed, looking up at his face. 

   "Okay," he smiled. It wasn't a full smile, just half, barely there. "Florence, I'm a vampire."

   "Like Dracula."

   "No, not like Dracula." There was an amused smile on his lips as he pushed his hands in his pockets and glanced down at the floor. "I am not repulsed by garlic or crucifixes, and obviously don't go into some death-sleep during the day."

   Florence watched him carefully, crossing her arms. "Sunlight doesn't burn you."

   Stefan sucked in a breath between his teeth. "Actually, it does." He pulled his right hand from his pocket and raised it, showing her the ring resting on his middle finger. "This allows me to walk in the sunlight. It was enchanted by a witch after I turned."

   She blinked several times and tilted her head slightly back. "Now there are witches, too?"

   "I told you that everything would change after I explained," he reminded her, a sigh leaving his lips. He stood tall, half rigid and half comfortable. "Your beliefs would especially change. Vampires exist, so do witches, and I'm not sure what else."

   It took Florence Gilbert some time, but she followed him back to The Grill and sat in front of him. Her drink had been thrown away, but now her hands were holding a cold cup of soda, the condensation making her fingers wet. She took comfort in the cold, focusing on that instead of the fright that made her want to shiver and turn away. Stefan had confessed what he was, something that was obviously meant to be kept a secret. 

   Florence Gilbert had been told many secrets, and they were all kept deep inside her mind, each with their own lock and key. Stefan's secret, on the other hand, felt that it should be kept behind its own corridor in her mind. 

   "How old are you?" she asked, eyes staring at the ice floating on the soda. After a few seconds, she finally had the courage to look up at him, sipping on the cold drink. Her heart acted wildly at the thought of his answer. 

   "Seventeen," Stefan answered with a nod. "And before you ask, I have been seventeen years old since 1864."

   The young Gilbert girl choked on her drink. She covered her mouth, the soda splattering from her hand on the table. It took her a minute to compose herself, to stop herself from coughing and spitting out more soda. She grabbed a napkin and quickly cleaned the table, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment. "Oh, my God," she coughed, eyes tearing up. "Oh, my god."

   "I should have been expecting that," the boy in front of her mumbled, a small and amused smile on his lips. "And I should have waited until you finished drinking."

   "You're old!" she gasped, her voice still a bit hoarse. As soon as those words left her mouth, she looked down and away, her cheeks turning more red than they already were. "I mean, you're... You're not old?"

   "Technically, I'm seventeen," he explained, "but in reality I could be considered 129."

   Florence opened and closed her mouth from the shock of his words. When nothing came out, she pressed her hands to her temples and stared down at the table. How was she supposed to react? Was there a specific way that she was supposed to act at his words? Was there a manual about how to act when the boy she liked tells her he's a vampire? All she could do was stare at the table and keep her hands pressed to her head, count her breathing and wonder how she hasn't walked away yet.

   "I think this is a lot to take in," Stefan said, breaking her train of thought.

   Florence slowly looked up, mouth still slightly open. "No, I'm fine," she muttered. "I just have to get used that you're..." She wanted to say that he was a vampire, a monster that fed on human blood and probably killed to stay a live. "Is there like a way that I should refer to you so that I don't offend you?"

   "Flo, I'm a vampire," he smiled. "How can you possibly offend me by calling me that?"

   She shrugged her shoulders. "Stefan, I don't know how any of this works, okay? Before today, I didn't know about any of this. To be honest, I'm still hesitant believing in all of this. Like, what if I'm just crazy and you're going along with it?"

   Stefan's smile faded into a smaller one. "If you were crazy, trust me, I wouldn't be going along with it, Flo. Other than dying, being a vampire is a terrible thing."

   Compulsion was the first thing Stefan told her about; it as the ability to control a person while staring into their eyes and commanding them to do whatever. To prevent compulsion, the victim would have to be on vervain. It was the herb she smelled in the necklace he had given her. He had given it to her because he didn't want his brother, who was also a vampire, to compel her in any way. That small act of kindness actually made her heart act all silly, but it also made her head hurt more.

   "Do you drink human blood?" Florence finally asked, her fingers rubbing against each others. She then began to wring her hands in agitation, nibbling the inside of her lip until she tasted blood. 

   "I don't drink human blood," Stefan answered after what seemed minutes to the young Gilbert girl.

   "Does Damon?" He was his brother, she knew, and he was in town. The presence of that man made her feel as if a snake was coiling around her, tightening with each smile.

   The younger Salvatore sucked in a breath between his teeth and stared down at her with a small frown. "He does," he nodded. 

   "He kills to survive," she theorised, nodding. "Of course he does, he looks like Nosferatu during the Nineties." She stopped walking and stared at the boy—vampire. "Is that what he did to Rachelle Watson? Is that why the pool water looked pink, because of her blood?"

   Stefan swallowed and looked down at his feet, nodding. "It's my fault," he said, softly. "We were fighting and she was there at the wrong time. Damon decided to kill her because that's what he does, he causes pain."

   "You're both vampires, though," she said, tasting the word vampire with her tongue. It tasted bitter, strange, as if she weren't supposed to be saying it. "How come he's stronger?" She realised that she had called him weak, and immediately shook her head. "Not that you're strong, it's just that..."

   "Human blood," Stefan smiled, nodding. "Drinking human blood makes us stronger. I don't feed on human blood, I feed on animal blood."

   Florence nodded. "Um, are there any other vampires in Mystic Falls?"

   "No," he immediately answered. "Not anymore."

   "Anymore?"

   "There was a time when this town was very much aware of vampires," he divulged slowly, allowing his words to sink into her mind. "And it didn't end well for anybody. Florence, that's why it's important that you don't tell anyone." There was a pleading tone on his voice. 

   The young Gilbert girl stared at him for several seconds, staring into the bright summer that was in his eyes. There was comfort there, a gentle feeling that caused her to calm down as soon as her eyes met his. It was what made her calm down from her anxiety that time in the car, what made her calm down when he found her in the woods.

   Florence Gilbert didn't want to believe about a world full of vampires and witches and whatever else existed. How could she believe all of that suddenly when she thought of it all to be works of fiction? Vampires were supposed to stay in books and movies, played by Kiefer Sutherland and Jason Patric. They weren't supposed to be sitting in front of her with summer in his eyes and spring in his smile; they weren't supposed to make her feel calm and cause her heart to act all silly; they weren't supposed to star in Mr. Marlowe's rendition of Romeo and Juliet; they weren't supposed to be Stefan Salvatore.