Chapter 2
Stefan started walking you backwards towards his bedroom, stumbling his steps as his alcohol from the party hit his system.
Reaching the bed, your knees hit the mattress and you tumbled onto the soft sheets, Stefan falling on top of you. He crashed his mouth against yours in a messy, desperate kiss— tongue delving past your lips to taste you. You moaned into him, fingers tangling in his dark hair as you kissed back just as fiercely.
His hands roamed your curves, slipping under your shirt to caress the smooth skin of your stomach and back. You shivered, nipples hardening under the thin lace of your bra. Stefan broke the kiss to yank your top over your head and toss it aside. He drank in the sight of you, eyes darkening with lust.
"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he breathed, calloused fingers skimming your body. He unhooked your bra with deft movements and tossed it away, leaving you bare from the waist up.
—————
The morning felt different — delicate, quiet, almost sacred. You woke slowly, wrapped in the warmth of a blanket that smelled faintly like Stefan; pine, old books, and something darker you couldn’t name. You blinked into the soft light filtering through his drawn curtains, heart still full, still fluttering with the echo of the night before.
You sat up on the couch, the events of the night playing in your mind like a reel of something beautiful — his hands tracing the lines of your skin with a tenderness that felt like worship, the way he’d breathed your name like it meant something, like you meant something. You hadn’t just felt close to him — you’d felt known, in a way that went deeper than words. It wasn’t just physical. It couldn’t have been. In your heart, you knew this was it. You’d finally found the one person who made you feel like home wasn’t just an idea, but a person.
You hoped this wasn’t your childish thinking.
You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, smiling to yourself, already wondering what came next — late-night talks, lazy mornings, the way his hand might feel in yours in the daylight. You’d given him everything last night — your heart, your body, your soul — and it had felt perfect, like all the aching, waiting, and hoping had finally been worth it.
The clink of a coffee cup pulled you from your thoughts. Across the room, Stefan stood at the counter, his back turned, stiff as stone. His movements were slow, methodical, like he was trying to ground himself. He didn’t look back at you.
You stood, brushing down your clothes, still basking in that quiet post-moment haze. You thought maybe he was just nervous, unused to someone staying, unused to waking up with another heart in the room, beating to his rhythm. You walked over softly, unsure whether to wrap your arms around him or just speak.
—“Morning,” you said, your voice light but sincere, full of the hope you carried in your chest.
He glanced at you over his shoulder, eyes unreadable. He gave you a small smile, polite and detached. “Morning.”
It wasn’t what you expected. You’d imagined warmth in his voice, that same closeness from last night spilling into the day. But this Stefan seemed distant. Closed. The difference sliced through you, but you forced a gentle smile, refusing to let doubt creep in.
You stepped closer. “Thanks for letting me stay… last night meant a lot to me.”
Stefan tensed. His hand gripped the coffee mug tighter, jaw twitching slightly. He didn’t respond right away.
—“I don’t usually… do that,” you continued, trying to fill the silence. “But it felt real. You felt real.”
That’s when he finally turned around. And for the first time, you noticed it — the shift. His eyes weren’t soft. They weren’t warm. There was something guarded there, a steel wall behind them, like he’d already decided to shut this down.
—“Look,” he said slowly, voice cool. “You seem like a really sweet person. But maybe we rushed into something that didn’t need to happen.”
The words hit like a slap, snapping you out of your dreams of true love, of childish play you constantly wished for. This wasn’t a movie with the princess finding her prince from one kiss, this was real life. Your breath caught, chest tightening painfully.
—“Didn’t need to happen?” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper.
Stefan ran a hand through his hair, visibly uncomfortable with a face of grimace. “It was just… a bad idea. I barely know you. And you don’t really know me, just that I’m constantly out."
Your heart dropped. Everything inside you screamed that this wasn’t right, that he felt something too, that he couldn’t just walk away from what you shared.
—"I don’t give myself to people unless I mean it,” you said, desperate to reach him. “Last night was real to me, Stefan. I thought it was… the start of something.”
Stefan’s eyes flickered with something— guilt? Regret?— but he quickly buried it.
—“You’re seeing this for more than it was.,” he replied flatly. “It was just one night. Not a love story.”
You felt the words tear through you like glass. One night? That’s all it was to him? To you, it had been perfect — meaningful, intimate, like everything you’d ever waited for. But to him, it was a mistake. You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breath.
— “I don’t stop loving people, Stefan. I don’t just walk away.”
He flinched like the words hurt him, but instead of softening, he backed away. “That’s exactly why I can’t do this, Elenas told me.” he said sharply. “Because you love too much. And I don’t know how to be that for you.”
Silence fell again, suffocating and cold. Your heart thudded painfully, still reaching for him even as he turned away, already slipping out of your grasp.
—“I should go,” you whispered. You stepped back, pulling the blanket tighter, feeling more exposed than ever.
Stefan didn’t stop you. He didn’t say anything. He just stood there, watching the space where you’d been — like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.
As you opened the door, you turned one last time.
—“You’re wrong, Stefan,” you said softly. “You are someone I want to know. You could’ve let yourself be loved.”
And then you left, the door clicking quietly behind you.
Stefan stood there, unmoving, staring at the closed door with a hollow feeling in his chest. He told himself it was better this way. That you’d move on, find someone easier, it was just a one night stand with someone he had his eyes on. Dumb midnight lust that’s gone with the moon. But deep down, he knew he’d feel the echo of your touch, your quick feet into love towards him, your unwavering belief in him — in all the places he couldn’t let himself stay.