TVDU ONE-SHOTS

Deep in the background (Dead center) Pt.1

!TW! VIOLENCE Dark Stefan x Platonic Caroline x Elena

November, 2009

The sound of a hairspray can giving its very last spritz is excruciatingly loud in his ears. The scent of it is worse, foul and toxic and so pungent that his eyes burn. Stefan watches as Jenna shakes the can, and presses her finger on the spout in the direction of Elena's ringlet curls, nothing comes out.

She does it again. Shakes the can, tries to spray it, nothing comes out. Shakes, spray, nothing.

Shake, spray, nothing. Shake, spray, nothing. Shake, spray, nothing. Shake, spray, nothing.

Again-

Stefan jumps up from his spot on the chair, finger twitching at his side. Nails itching against the gritty fabric of his dress pants. The fluorescent lights on the vanity Elena sits at are too bright, and he can hear the buzz of electricity that is keeping them shining. She looks at him through the mirror, concern written all over her pretty face. But he can hardly focus on her expression.

The steady thump on the site of her neck is resplendent.

He swallows and forces down the blood that is rushing to his eyes, black veins pulsing under his skin. Stefan should not be here, he should not be at a pageant. He gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile and mouths 'bathroom'. This does not seem to quell the concerned wrinkle between her brows, but he just keeps smiling while walking out the big white doors.

The hall is bustling with people. Pretty girls with pressed dresses folded over their arms, Mothers and fathers trying to make their overwhelmed teenage daughters do breathing techniques, male escorts looking down at their wristwatches and blowing out annoyed breaths.

Stefan can see it all, hear it all and he thinks that he might vomit. Being on human blood had never been something that he could just live with. It's how he imagines drugs are for humans, on top of the world and sick to your stomach and jonesing for the next hit all at the same time.

The hallway is cream white with tacky faux Victorian paintings. That is what he focuses on while walking through the people because if he doesn't then he will start to hear the intoxicating pump of their blood and smell the sweet nectar that is just out of his reach.

A boy bumps into him, shoulder colliding into Stefan's rigid tense form. When he looks up, his eyes catch a fresh mouth-shaped bruise on the teen's throat and it feels damning.

He swallows, deaf to the annoyed apology coming from the other's mouth, and opens the closest door to his right. Once the door is shut, he presses his forehead against the cool wood, trying to calm his breathing. He can smell all the blood and hairspray and perfume and fabric softener and burning hair from an ironing tool and it's too much.

He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have co-

"Stefan?"

The voice is soft and hesitant. He turns slowly and prays to any deity who will listen for control.

Caroline Forbes stands a few feet away from him. Her blonde hair is in a classy curled style that he remembered seeing in the fifties and her makeup is light, barely there really. He would think she walked right out of an old movie if not for her baby blue button-up, fuzzy Cookie Monster pajama pants, and the can of Vanilla Coke in her hand.

With a flummoxed look on her face, she sets her drink on a side table and walks closer to him.

"Are you okay, Stef?" She asks sweetly. "You look a little sick." While speaking, she reaches out and presses the back of her hand to his forehead. Her hand is freezing cold from holding the can of soda and he can smell it on her breath as she talks. He doesn't say anything as she re-adjusts her hand a couple of times to get a better feel of his non-existent fever.