Chapter 1
You hadn’t wanted to be there.
The music thumped under your feet like a second heartbeat, laughter echoing off the walls, lights spinning too fast for you to catch. Elena was talking animatedly beside you, dragging you deeper into the throng of people, but your eyes kept drifting elsewhere— to doorways, windows, the quiet corners where no one lingered too long.
You weren’t good at this part. The small talk. The pretending you belonged. You’d always been better at watching from the sidelines, drink in hand tucked quietly to your chest, waiting for the world to slow down enough to feel real.
That’s when you saw him.
Stefan Salvatore, standing alone near the edge of the room, untouched by the chaos swirling around him.
He wasn’t like the others there. He wasn’t loud or flashing easy smiles, and something about the way his gaze stayed just slightly removed made something in you ache without understanding why. There was a heaviness around him, an air like he’d seen more than anyone else in the room, like he carried the weight of every secret he never said out loud.
You couldn’t look away.
Elena was still talking, but her voice faded as your curiosity pulled you forward before you even realized you were moving. One breath, then another, threading between people until you stood right in front of him.
He glanced up, startled slightly— almost as if no one usually approached him first.
—“You look like you’re somewhere else,” you said softly, offering the smallest smile, something gentle but careful. Your voice almost drowned under the music, but not quite.
His eyes met yours fully then — green and guarded, something ancient flickering underneath. He tilted his head, studying you as if you were something unexpected.
—“Maybe I am,” he replied, voice low, smooth, but edged in something tired. Not dismissive, just… distant.
It should have been enough to make you step back. Most people would have. But you, with your wild, soft heart, felt something spark beneath the surface.
You couldn’t help but ask, “Is it a better place?”
He actually smiled, small and fleeting, like a secret you accidentally unlocked.
—“Not really,” he said after a pause. “Just quieter.”
That was how it began. A quiet conversation at a too-loud party, two people balancing on the edge of something they couldn’t name yet.
—————
You kept finding yourself drawn back to him after that.
It wasn’t immediate, not like the fairytales you constantly watched and loved promised. But every time you saw him— in town, at Elena’s house parties, across rooms where you could feel his presence before spotting him — it felt like gravity pulling you sideways. There was something magnetic about him, something broken and beautiful all at once.
And maybe it was reckless—..maybe it was foolish.
But God, you couldn’t help it.
You noticed the little things — how his smile never quite reached his eyes, how he’d drift away when conversations turned too personal, how tightly he kept the lid on whatever lived inside him.
You wanted to know him. Not just the polished version everyone else saw, but the pieces he kept hidden away. So you stayed soft. Stayed curious. Let yourself fall a little more each time he let his guard down, even if just for a second.
—————
One evening, weeks later, it was Elena who self-invited you both to another gathering at an old high-school friends house. You almost said no. The idea of more noise and more empty chatter that you’d been dealing with didn’t appeal. But when she mentioned Stefan might be there, you felt something twist in your chest.
And that’s how you found yourself standing at the outskirts again, scanning the room, your heart quietly bracing itself for him. He wasn’t hard to spot. Leaning against the wall, arms folded, gaze flickering over the crowd without really seeing anyone.
You didn’t hesitate this time. Nothing could wait.
—“You always hiding out in corners?” you teased softly as you approached, voice lighter than how your stomach felt.
He looked down at you, lips twitching slightly.
—“Maybe. Seems safer there.”
You shrugged, leaning beside him. “Maybe. But you miss all the interesting people.” Barely pointing a finger to yourself.
For a second, his eyes lingered on you, something unreadable passing through them. “You think you’re interesting?”
The question was almost playful, but there was something deeper underneath.
You held his gaze, heartbeat in your throat, and answered honestly. “Well, I think you’re interesting. And maybe I want to know why you’re always running from the noise.”
His breath hitched the slightest bit, and the space between you suddenly felt electric. Neither of you said anything for a long moment.
Then he leaned in slightly to the front of your face, voice quiet enough to be drowned out by the music.
— “You really want to know?”
You nodded without hesitation.
It wasn’t long after that he slipped away from the party, unnoticed by everyone except you.
You stood there, heart pounding, unsure if you should follow.
But then, almost like he knew, you felt a soft brush of his fingers against yours as he passed by — a silent invitation.
And you didn’t even need to think twice.
—————
His apartment was quiet. Dimly lit. Sparse, but it felt lived-in in a way that surprised you. You stood awkwardly near the doorway at first, unsure where to put your hands, your heart thudding too loud.
He watched you carefully, as though expecting you to bolt now that you’d crossed whatever invisible line existed between you.
But you didn’t run. You stayed.
—“I don’t usually bring people here,” Stefan admitted after a beat, voice soft with a gentle laugh.
You smiled, nervous but sure. “I don’t usually leave parties early, especially without Elena.”
A pause. A breath.
— “I don’t know why I can’t seem to stay away from you,” he confessed, words like something raw being unwrapped in the space between you. " Always finding each other’s eyes." His breath getting husky as he stared down onto you.
You swallowed, taking a step closer. “Maybe because I don’t want you to.”
It hung there, fragile but electric. And slowly, as if he couldn’t stop himself, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear — the touch feather-light but burning.
Neither of you spoke after that.
Because some things didn’t need words, as the both of your feet found his bed.