1993 - Mystic Falls, Virginia

   One of the things Cher did when her parents fought was pack a bag, get in her car, and go to the Gilbert's residence. Which was how Florence found herself with a new roommate, and a plate of warm cookies her mother had bakes as soon as she opened the door to see the other girl she considered a daughter. The young Gilbert girl stared at her best friend as she paced back and forth in front of the bed, arms crossed, mouth moving as if she were chewing her tongue.

   "They were fighting because Scott's coming home," she said, her tone filled with irritation. Scott Gaines was the eldest child in the family, on his way to graduate from the MIT School of Architecture. "How can they fight when he's coming home after not being able to come for the past two Christmas's?"

   Florence shrugged her shoulders, unsure on how to answer her friend. "I don't know," she mumbled, pressing her bottom lip between her teeth. "But, Cher, are you okay?"

   "I'm fine," she said as she waved a hand. She stopped pacing and let out a sigh. "Florence, I'm just tired of having my parents fight over every little thing. Why can't they be more like yours?"

   "Like mine?" Florence stared at her best friend in surprise. If she were to be honest, she never imagined her parents as the parents other people would want to have. Her father was rarely at home and her mother was always there. Maybe that was why Cher wanted hers to be like Florence's, because one was never there and the other was.

   The young Gilbert gave her best friend a small smile. "You can stay here for a couple of days, if you want." She didn't want to talk about her parents, not even mention that her parents scream at each other when the sun was down and the stars were twinkling down at them. No, the screaming words of her parents belonged to her and the night. No one else needed to know about them.

   "Really?" Cher grinned widely. "That's great, because my bag has enough clothes for a couple of weeks."

   "I said days."

   "Weeks, days-it's all the same to me."

   "Fine," breathed Florence. "Want me to order some pizza?"

   The Webster dictionary defined no as used to give a negative expression, or a negative answer or decision. That simple two letter word appeared to not exist in Florence Gilbert's vocabulary when it came to her best friends, her family, or anyone. It was as if she was designed to always say yes, which was why she always followed her friends everywhere and nowhere. No was too negative for the too-positive girl.

   Florence ordered the pizza-meat lover's with a side of cheesy garlic bread and boneless chicken wings-and decided to put a movie on. She wanted to cheer up her best friend, and lucky for both of them, her father had taken her to Blockbuster a few days ago. The TV began playing The Lost Boys, both girls fawning over Kiefer Sutherland playing a vampire.

   "Thanks," Cher said as she munched on a slice of cheesy bread. "I don't know what I would have done without you, Florence."

   The Gilbert girl smiled generously. "It's nothing," she said, bumping into her friend with her shoulder. "Really. You should be expecting this since you're my best friend."

   "You know, sometimes I wonder what the hell would I be doing if you weren't my best friend," Cher sighed. She dropped the bread on the box and pulled her legs closer to her chest. "Sometimes, I think that if I've never met you, I would probably be going crazy."

   "In what way?" Florence's voice was quiet, soft, as if she were too afraid to learn the answer.

   Cher shrugged her shoulders. "Maybe I would be going crazy with my OCD," she said as she began to pick at her shirt. She suddenly stopped and cleared her throat. "Or, maybe, other things. You know, maybe I would have drunk myself to death. I do drink a lot. Too much for my own good." She turned to the Gilbert girl and smiled. "For a seventeen year-old, I do have a pretty shitty life, don't you think?"

   Immediately, Florence shook her head. "You wouldn't," she said with a small smile. "You control yourself just fine, Cher. You know when you've had enough to drink, and you have the OCD controlled perfectly. All of that has been you, not me." Her smile widened into a grin. Another thing that she hated was when her friends put too much trust in her. She didn't like taking credit for what they did themselves, and Cher had done plenty of great things.

   "Oh my god!" Cher groaned loudly, throwing her head back and rolling her eyes. "You're too nice for your own good. Stop that, Florence. Seriously, it's bad for you when you don't take credit for the good things you do in someone's life."

   To make the awkwardness that arrived be settled, Florence let out a laugh and shook her head. "You think too highly of me, Cher. I'm just a normal seventeen year-old that has no clue on where to go after high school. Unlike you, I don't know what I want to do in life."

   Cher nodded slowly, staring at her best friend for a couple of seconds. As if an idea popped in her head, she began to smile and stand. "We're still young," she said as moved towards her bag in the corner of the room. "So, get ready because we're going out."

   Florence bit her bottom lip and thought deeply about it. If she went out, she would get in trouble with her parents. If she didn't go out, Cher would complain about it. She wished there was a way to please everyone, but she knew it had to be one or the other. At that moment, she decided to forget her parents and go with Cher to wherever she was planning.

   The Gilbert girl only changed her pants. From wearing bright red sweatpants, she pulled on a pair of jeans and her favourite yellow sneakers. She pulled on the arms of her green and black sweater as they slowly sneaked downstairs. They pair had memorised that the second to last step always creaked, so they skipped it, with Cher almost falling and Florence landing almost on top of her.

   With a wicked grin and mischief playing in her eyes, Cher picked up Bob and Charles, and surprisingly Stefan as well. Charles and him had become good friends, all thanks to the many times Cher had invited the Salvatore to hang out with the rest of the group. In the passenger's seat, Florence sat with nervousness eating at her stomach. It always ate her up when Stefan was close to her, even if she couldn't see him, even if he wasn't even touching her. She always felt as if her heart wanted to push itself out of her chest, her stomach do all kinds of flips, and the palms of her hands sweat against each other.

   "Where are we going?" Bob asked, leaning back on the seat with hooded eyes.

   "Lynchburg," Cher answered with a wicked grin, glancing back at the boys through the rearview mirror.

   Bob suddenly sat straighter. "What? What do you mean we're going to Lynchburg?"

   "A few days ago they handed me a flyer with some bands playing at this venue," she said as she pulled a crumpled flyer from the side of the door. "And we're all bored, nothing to do, so why not live a little?"

   "Florence, why are you letting her do this?" Bob groaned, grabbing the seat and leaning closer to it. "Why are you allowing her to drag us to Lynchburg?"

   She shrugged her shoulders and gave him a nervous smile. "I don't know," she answered with honesty. "She dragged me here, too."

   "Please," Cher scoffed. "All I had to do was say that Stefan was coming and you changed quick."

   Florence covered her face with her hand and shook her head. "Jesus, Cher, shut up!"

   The mentioned girl let out a knowing smile, teasing and playful all at once. "I'm sorry for saying the truth out loud," she said. "Should have realised that you would get all red and nervous because I mentioned it in front of him. Sorry, Stefan."

   "It's, uh, fine," the boy said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

   The mentioned club in the flyer was called The Granada Theatre, a medium-sized joint in the centre kf Lynchburg. They could loudly hear the music from the outside, the hard rhythm that she used to hear from John's bedroom when he lived at home. Florence thought that kind of music was the one the drug-users of Mystic Falls High School listened to while getting high. It was full of rhythm in the most strangest form, loud but soft at the same time, a deep and sensual voice belching lyrics to the crowd.

   The inside of the club was dimly lit, with almost all of the lights on the band on stage. Just like the majority of the people in the crowd, the band wore all black. The singer wore a ripped red sweater, ripped jeans, and several rings in his long and slim fingers. He gripped the microphone tightly, knuckles white, swaying side to side as he let his voice move smoothly throughout the club. His curled hair covered his eyes mostly, but when he looked up it was as if he was trying to compel everyone in the room with his music.

   "Jesus," Florence heard Bob mutter from besides her. "Where the hell did you take us, Cher?"

   "Apparently to be killed," Charles answered.

   "You're so stupid," Bob scoffed. "You listen to this music, asshole."

   "Live a little," Cher said with excitement laced in her voice. "This is going to be fun!"

   Florence watched as her three best friends went to the crowd, combining themselves with raised hands, closed eyes, and the euphoric sense the music brought. She stayed behind, staring, confused and scared at the scene. She jumped when a hand took hers, but calmed down when she realised that it was Stefan.

   "Is everything okay?" he asked, brows furrowed.

   "Yeah," she answered with a forced smile. "I'm just... I'm not used to any of this."

   Stefan let out a chuckle and nodded. "I figured," he said. "You look lost and out of place."

   "So do you," she smiled, an honest smile.

   He shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not the biggest fan of loud music," he said, glancing over at the crowd. "I'm, uh, not the biggest fan of big crowds, either."

   "Please, stay with me," Florence said, squeezing his hand as her eyes glanced around the venue. "I can't... I'm going to get lost here." She noticed that everyone she had come with, except Stefan, had disappeared into the crowd. Their heads couldn't be seen, their voices couldn't be heard, and her heart was ready to burst from being nervous. It could have been because she was a bit scared, or maybe because Stefan was holding her hand.

   No, she knew why her heart was acting so strange, so irregular. It wasn't because of the scene, because she was used to Cher Gaines being spontaneous. Her heart was acting so silly because of Stefan Salvatore, because he was holding her hand. He didn't hold it tightly, nor flimsy, but ever so perfectly that caused her pulse to be felt at the tip of her fingers. She wondered if he could feel her pulse, or hear her heart, then she thought of herself as idiotic. How could he feel her pulse and hear her heart when all that could be felt and heard was the music around them.

   "Come on," she heard Stefan say close to her ear. When she turned her head, she saw his face inches away from hers. Her breath got caught in her throat at the closeness, she swallowed hard, and her heart skipped a beat. All that Stefan did was smile and pull her to the crowd.

   Willingly, Florence Gilbert followed Stefan through the crowd of moving bodies. They all jumped to the music, belched out the lyrics bad to the band. She wondered if they were a well-known band or local, but it didn't matter that much. All that mattered to her was the feeling of Stefan's hand on hers, the rhythm of the music flowing through her. At that single moment, Florence Gilbert felt strange, as if she were excited to do something she wasn't supposed to do. When Cher encouraged-more like pressured-her to sneak out of the house, the young Gilbert girl went because she didn't want Cher to go alone. But, now, standing next to Stefan as the music of the unknown band moved through her, she felt excited. For once, the youngest Gilbert didn't feel as if she were doing something bad.

   And that scared her.

   "I'll be right back," Stefan said into her ear.

   She turned to him. "You're going to leave me alone?"

   "I'll be right back," he repeated with a gentle smile. When he saw the lool on her face, he widened his smile. "Don't move, then. I'm just going to get a drink, okay? I'll bring you some water." He turned to leave, but then turned back towards her and squeezed her hand a bit tighter. "Don't move, Flor."

   At the mention of the nickname he had given her, she felt her heart begin to act all silly once again. She didn't hate how his voice affected her, but she didn't like it either. There was a part of her that wanted to ask Grayson to do a physical exam on her to check if her heart was okay, but another part of her knew exactly why it acted all silly.

   She turned back to the band and held herself by the arms of her sweater, afraid that if she moved Stefan wouldn't be able to find her. The band was playing yet another song, the singer's voice was soft but full of force at the exact time. It was gentle and rough, as if he wasn't meant to be singing alternative music but was supposed to be singing soul. In a way, his voice flowed perfectly with the alternative music.

   Florence felt a presence behind her, standing too close. She smiled and turned. "Where did you..." She trailed off as she realised that the man standing behind her wasn't Stefan. Unlike Stefan, this man had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. "I'm sorry, I thought you were a friend of mine."

   The man gave her a small smile, similar to a smirk. "It's nothing, sweetheart." His voice was also soft, like the singer's, but it felt as if it were laced with venom. He stared down at her for a couple of seconds, brows pushed together as if he were trying to decipher something. "Sorry that I bumped into you. These people keep pushing, y'know."

   "Oh, it's nothing," she said with a generous smile.

   "I'm..." The man trailed off as he stared at something behind Florence. A smirk began to form around his lips, his head tilting slightly to the side. "It's good to see you."

   Florence turned her head to see Stefan standing behind her. She breathed his name in relief and took a stand next to him.

   He didn't look down at her. Instead, he glared at the man. "What are you doing here?" His voice was angry and confused. The anger was more evident.

   "What, I can't enjoy a band?" the man asked, almost as if he were making fun of Stefan. "Come on, Stefan. You're the one here, so why not catch up with me, Brother?"

   "Brother?" Florence questioned out loud, mostly to herself. She glanced from Stefan to the man several times, slowly realising the similarities. "You're the brother..." The difference between Stefan and this man weren't only the richness of their eyes, but how they carried themselves. This man had a type of swagger that made Florence Gilbert itch, her stomach churn, and feel in danger.

   "Ah, at least I haven't been forgotten," the man breathed. He looked down at her, the smirk small and eyes hard. "I'm Damon, and you are?"

   "Leaving," Stefan said before she could even open her mouth. He grabbed her hand and pulled her away, between the crowd. 

   "Stefan," she called as he dragged her. "Stefan, wait! Hey, Stefan—ouch!" His hold on her hand had been tight, but it tightened with each step that they took. When it became too much, she pulled her hand away and held it close to her chest, wrapping her other hand around it. She could feel the pulse in her hand, how warm it was, and it stung every time she gently pressed her fingers. 

   "Are you okay?" His eyes were wide with worry, darting from her face to her hand over and over again. Carefully, he reached for her hand and brushed his cold fingers against it. He pulled away. "Florence, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

   "I'm fine," she cut him off. She gave him a bit of a smile and hoped that he couldn't see through it. With gentle fingers, she pressed her hand and let out an inaudible hiss from the small pain. She wondered how the hell could Stefan be so strong and cause her hand to—if not broken—be hurt by a simple touch. "Cher closed the door on my hand earlier, that's why it hurts. I'm gonna go to the restroom, okay? Wait for me here."

   Before he could say anything, she turned and left. The restroom of The Granada Theatre, to her surprise, had no line. It took her a moment to realise that everyone was paying more attention to the band, and that made her feel relieved. If she stood in line, that would mean that she would have to think about everything. Her parents, Cher's parents, Stefan... She wanted to know more about the Salvatore. For one, she wanted to ask Stefan why was his brother in Lynchburg instead of Mystic Falls. Secondly, she wanted to ask him why were they angry at each other. Thirdly, she wanted to know why did Damon Salvatore feel the opposite of Stefan Salvatore.

   The youngest Gilbert pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind and pushed herself through the door of the restroom. And stopped.

   "Oh my god!" she gasped.

   "Florence!"

    On the sink sat Cher Gaines, a girl in front of her, both of their mouths stained red because of the vigorous kissing. Florence had never imagined her best friend kissing another girl, so it came as a surprise to see her and some unknown girl making-out in the restroom of The Granada Theatre. The first thing that came to her mind was if Cher knew the girl before kissing her, the second was her finally realising that this girl was not, in fact, a boy.

   "I'm gonna..." The youngest Gilbert couldn't help but stare at her best friend, then at the girl, and back to the best friend. "I'm gonna go. Sorry. I'm, uh... Sorry!" She turned to leave, but bumped into the door and let out a string of inaudible words that made no sense to her. With nervousness hitting at her very self, she pushed herself out the the restroom and out the door. She marched towards where the car was parked, took a seat on the wall and took several deep breaths.

   Florence Gilbert couldn't help but continue to continue to think back to seeing her best friend kissing another girl. She knew her best friend had many escapades with boys, since she had told her about it many times, but never did she imagine a girl. Her heart was going fast, not because she thought anything bad of it, but because it was sudden and unexpected and she knew nothing about it.

   "Florence!" She looked up and saw a worried-looking Cher. There was no lipstick smudged on her lips, but her eyes were wide, a bit of fright dancing in them. "There you are! I've been looking for you!"

   "I-I'm sorry," she replied. She didn't know if it was because Cher couldn't find it, or because she had walked in on her kissing someone.

   Cher let out a sigh and frowned. "I'm supposed to be sorry," she said, softly. She took a seat besides her and let out a long sigh. "Florence, I'm sorry that you saw that."

   "I..." Florence didn't know what to say, so she kept her mouth shut. She pushed the inside of her lip between her teeth, and bit the skin until she ripped it off and tasted a bit of blood. 

   "Don't say anything," Cher mumbled. "Just listen to me, okay? Florence, I like girls."

   "I thought you like guys," Florence said with furrowed brows.

   "I do," the Gaines girl nodded. "I like boys, but I also like girls.

   "Is that possible?"

   Cher let out a laugh and shrugged her shoulders. "I think so," she said, a soft smile right at her lips. "I understand if you don't want to talk to me ever again..."

   Florence cut her off as soon as those words left her mouth. "Why would I do that?" she asked. "Cher, you're my best friend, and nothing's gonna change that..." She slowly trailed off when she noticed that her best friend began to cry. 

   "Thanks," Cher said, softly, almost a whisper. "I don't... That means a lot to me, you know." She wiped away her tears and smiled, brightly, as if nothing had happened. "Don't tell anyone, okay? I'm not ready for the world to find out about me."

   Florence smiled and raised her pinky. "I swear."

   With a grin, Cher wrapped her pinky around Florence's. It was something they had done since they were little—pinky swears. It meant everything to them, even if it were over the stupidest things. But, this thing was not stupid or small, and Florence made a mental vow to tell no one until Cher was ready.