1993 — Mystic Falls, Virginia

   The night had been long and loud. Thunder echoed from outside, lightning bounced against the walls, and the young Gilbert girl felt anxious. She had stayed in Stefan's room throughout the night, in his bed, with him sleeping on the couch across. Instead of sleeping, she laid there and inhaled the duvet, smelling him. Stefan smelt a lot like soap, a soft cologne, and mint gum. The duvet smelt more of the cologne, woodsy and lavender with a hint of mint.

   Florence sat up on the bed and looked over at the double doors that led to his balcony. The rain hit hard against the wood, lightning illuminating what seemed like a sheet of water that fell from the sky. She grabbed a blanket and stood, wrapping it around herself as she tip toed towards the sofa, seeing Stefan's sleeping figure. For a few moments, she stared at what little she could see. Each time the lightning appeared, his face was illuminated. Perfectly sculptured, perfectly balancing each feature with the pale blue light. She laid besides him, immediately pressing her chest to his and wrapping an arm around his waist.

   "Florence?" he mumbled against her hair, voice still sleepy.

   "I couldn't sleep," she said, "Sorry."

   He let out a hum and wrapped an arm around her. "Don't be sorry," he softly said. In the following few seconds, she heard his breathing steady again. He was asleep, an arm loosely hung around her yet tight enough to keep her there. In a few moments, she also fell asleep. It was the most comfortable, yet strangest sleep she had ever had. 

   In the morning, she woke in the same position, Stefan's arm still wrapped around her. Her cheeks reddened and her heart began to beat wildly, fingers gently pressing against his back. Slowly, she craned her head to look up at him. His eyes were closed, breathing steady, and his hold gently tighten around her. 

   "Stop staring," he said. 

   Florence quickly looked down, realising he was looking at his chest. "I'm not staring," she mumbled, scrunching his shirt up in her fist. She let go of it immediately, the closeness between of two catching up to her. Her eyes widened and she let go of him, moving a bit and then ending up on the floor. A laugh escaped her mouth, which she quickly covered with both her hands on her face.

   "Are you okay?" she heard Stefan ask. There was a mixture of curiosity, worry, and amusement on his tone. Sweet to listen to, made her heart swell a bit.

   She looked between her fingers, eyes slightly squinting from the quiet laughter that escaped her mouth, and nodded. "I'm okay," she responded between laughs. "I'm fine."

   He grinned and let his hand fall, pulling one of hers from her face and grabbing it gently. "Come on," he said, pulling her up as he stood. "You can't stay on the floor all day, Flo."

   "Thanks." She kept her eyes on him, grinning, her heart beating wildly against her chest. Every time she was with him, her heart decided to go wild, to beat uncontrollably and threaten to break through her chest.

   The Gilbert girl realised that whenever she was with Stefan she felt happiness surge through her. It was radiant happiness, like a winter's day. For her, it felt like a terribly cold day, and then she took a step where the sun shone. That small hint of warmth warmed the tip of her nose and the tip of her ears, spreading to her cheeks and letting the numbness in her fingers slowly melt away. She felt it at the tip of her toes, making her wiggle them inside her socks and just smile at him. 

   Florence Gilbert wondered if she could make that feeling seep deep in her bones and make its home there.

   Stefan pulled his hand away and began to walk backwards. "How about we go out for brunch?"

   "Brunch?"

   "Brunch," he laughed. "Isn't it that what people call breakfast in the afternoon?"

   "Stefan, I have no idea what's brunch." She ran a hand through her hair and giggled, shaking her head. 

   He stopped, the smile on his lips faltering a bit, but there was still a smile. It was as if he were looking far away, remembering a good memory. "Our diner," he said, voice soft as his smile. "We'll grab lunch and then we'll go somewhere else."

   Florence hurried upstairs and took a quick shower, her extremities feeling warm even when the water was cold. She dressed herself and met Stefan downstairs, a grin on her lips. Each moment that she was with him she smiled, and her stomach was full of butterflies, and she felt as if that happiness could not possibly disappear. It was the kind of happiness she wanted to bottle, to drink and become an addict to.

   Their diner, as they likes to call it, was half empty except for the two waitresses and the four truck drivers sitting at the counter. They took a seat at their table, each in front of the other and smiling. It was as if they couldn't stop smiling at each other, both happy that they were in each others' presence.

   Allison, their waitress, appeared by the table with a big grin. "My, my, my!" she gushed, glancing between the two. "If it isn't Stefan and Florence. It's been days since I've seen you two, how are you?"

   "We're, uh, good," Stefan answered with a smile, quickly glancing at Florence before looking back at the waitress. "How are you, Allison? How is George?"

   "I'm good," she answered with a nod. "George is great. He already began to learn how to read; his favourite book so far is The Little Prince." George was her child, a little boy whom they have met one day when Allison wasn't able to find a sitter.

   "I love that book!" Florence gushed, leaning a bit towards the woman. "My brother, John, got it for me when I was like ten." The smile faded from her lips once she realised she had mentioned her brother. When she last saw his face, he was staring at her with surprise and anger. The anger wasn't directed at her, but to their parents. 

   "That's amazing!" Stefan quickly said, giving another smile to the woman. "When he reads it all, I'll get him another one as a gift."

   Allison pointed at him with her pen. "He keeps asking about you," she said with a smile. "You left a great impression on him. You hold on to him, Florence." She winked and then laughed, nodding. "So, what will it be today? Something different or the usual?"

   "The usual," Stefan said, glancing over at Florence. "The usual like always."

   "All right," Allison said, in her usual sing-song voice. "It'll be out in a few minutes."

   It was their usual meal. In front of him, Stefan had the simple cheeseburger and fries with the strawberry lemonade she had ordered the first time they went to the diner. Florence, on the other hand, had the usual half-pound cheeseburger with bacon and onion rings, and the strawberry lemonade. She didn't have much of an appetite, but she pushed it back and enjoyed every bit of it. The only reason she enjoyed such a simple meal was because of the person in front of her, the one that joked with her and made her laugh until a bit of the lemonade came out of her nose and the few patrons stared at them strangely.

   Florence chewed on an onion ring, eyes moving from the handsome boy in front of her to the raindrops that fell on the window. "Where's Damon?" she asked, swallowing what she had in her mouth.

   Stefan let out a sigh and his fingers began to tap against the table. "Gone," he answered.

   "Where?"

   He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, but I know he's gone because there have been no missing or dead people."

   She sucked a breath between her teeth, disgust filling her features. "Is that how you always know when he's near, when there's dead people everywhere?"

   "Pretty much," he nodded. "Damon can be called the Harbinger of Death, because a lot of people die wherever he is."

   She shivered at the thought of the eldest Salvatore brother, how he killed so many people, including Rachelle Watson. The image of him biting into his wrist and pushing his blood into her mouth was fresh in her mind, a broken record player. For a moment, she felt the blood fall down her throat, but then realised that it was her sipping on the strawberry lemonade. She pulled back and quickly wiped her mouth, staring down at her hand to make sure. 

   Stefan reached over and grabbed her hand. "He can't do anything to you, Flo, all right?"

   "No, yeah, I know," she mumbled as she nodded. "It's just... He's still out there, and people are out there too."

   He sighed. "I also worry about my brother, but I can't protect him if he doesn't want to change." He tapped his hand once on the table and leaned back, giving her a smile. "Come on, then. The rest of the day still awaits and we're not done."

   The rain seemed to hit harder against the car, but it made Florence Gilbert smile. She let her fingers dance on the glass as the raindrops slid down, her mind wondering far away. The soft sound of the rain combined with the soft music coming from the radio. She immediately realised that it was the same song they had listened to the first time she got in his car, when her parents threw a party and they spent all the time in the backyard. The song was Under the Bridge by the Red Hot Chili Peppers, a soft toned song that expressed the feelings of loneliness and despondency. She mouthed the lyrics, her eyes staring out the window.

   Stefan took her roller skating in the next town, where they moved around the rink to the sound of Disco music from the Seventies and the Top Ten's. Next, he took her bowling. They were in the same building, just separated by a glass door and several other teenagers trying to make something out of their summer. She recognised several of them from school, and they recognised her too. They murmured to each other, pointing at her and then pointing at the handsome boy besides her. 

   Florence grabbed his hands as her stomach twisted, the hint of jealousy moving through her. She kept her eyes to the floor as they walked, knowing well that he was looking down at her with amusement. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, pulling her along to the counter to grab their shoes and get their lane. 

   "Not fair!" she called as he got yet another strike. She stood from her chair and walked up to him, looking up at the screen on the TV to see that he had a higher score than her. "You've been bowling since it was invented."

   "You're just jealous that I'm a better player than you," he joked, grinning down at her as he crossed his arms.

   "I'm not jealous!" she laughed, grabbing a dark blue ball. "I'm just saying that it's unfair that I'm playing against a vampire, whose vision and strength is heightened. That's cheating."

   He shook his head. "That's not cheating, Flo."

   "Yes, it is," she nodded. "You're going against me, an ordinary human who can die if I get stung by a wasp." She stood in front of their lane, still speaking and knowing well that he could hear her. "I could die if I get crushed by this heavy, nine pound ball, Stefan."

   "You forget that you still have vampire blood in your system," he pointed out.

   The ball fell from her hands, ricocheting on the wooden floor and slowly moving down the line. It was surprise that caught her, that made her drop the bowling ball. She turned to Stefan and bit her bottom lip, her heart speeding because of the thought and not because of him. "I need to feed on human blood if I die, don't I?" she asked, her voice trembling with each word that escaped her mouth. She felt queasy at the thought of being a vampire, immortal, living forever. It was only the thought that made her want to throw up, she couldn't fathom actually becoming one.

   Stefan stepped closer to her and grabbed her hands, giving them a gentle squeeze. "You're alive and well, Florence," he said with smile. "Nothing is going to happen to you, do you understand me? You have years and years to live an ordinary human life, and nothing is going to stop you from doing that."