THE VAMPIRE DIARIES
'Is this a bad time to mention that I'm not Elena?'
Two vampires falling in love isn't exactly a functional norm in the world of Mystic Falls, and the relationship forged between Katherine Pierce and Florence Allen is...
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"I CAN'T believe they're making us answer questions about Vicki," Ryan muttered, shaking his head. He tilted it downward, eyes trained on the side of Florence's face when she sighed.
"I can," she replied. She leaned over and placed her head on his shoulder, earning an arm around her waist. She watched, annoyed, as Elena stopped in front of Stefan, going off about how guilty she was feeling. "God . . . only those two would find a way to make everything about themselves when Matt's breaking apart."
Ryan gave her a strange look. "Thought you didn't believe in a god." She punched his shoulder softly, and he grabbed it, scowling in pain. "Uh, ow, Flor. Besides, how do you know what they're talking about?"
Her eyes widened a fraction. "I don't. I'm just assuming. You know how Elena is." He gave her another look and she smiled nervously, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "I'm gonna get going. Italy's coming back home today and she'll kill me if I don't clean my room."
She didn't even let him have a word as she rushed from the police station, panic evident in her eyes. If she had slipped about being a vampire to Ryan, she didn't know what she would do. Or, what he would do. He'd probably never speak to her again. That's what scared her more than anything; she didn't want to lose him.
He meant too much to her.
°
"YOU KNOW, one hug doesn't mean you get to come over to my house whenever you want to."
Florence sent him a glare, using her vampire strength to shove a pillow into his chest. He heaved, his breath being knocked out of his chest. She grinned at the damage done and he reciprocated her previous glare. He handed it back to her gently, which made her roll her eyes. At least give the girl a fight!
"Hey, that's why it's called a throw pillow," she pointed out, as if her presence wasn't annoying him enough. He sent her a look and she narrowed her eyes. "Don't give me that attitude, Salvatore. You owe me."
"Correction," he snatched the pillow from her, "my brother owes you."
She slouched in her seat with another roll of her eyes. She parted her lips to say something when a gasp came from the top of the staircase. Her eyes moved from Damon's to the girl that was now standing behind him, her torso covered by nothing but a towel.
"So this is Florence," she revealed, tilting her head. She moved her hand to Damon's shoulder and patted it. "You know, you were right. She is really pretty." This caused Florence to widen her eyes a fraction and she would have said something if a knock didn't sound at the door, which made the blonde quickly remove her hand from his back. "I'll get that!"
As she rushed to the door, Florence hit his shoulder with a big grin. He shook his head, spinning his finger next to his head in a circle.
"Don't listen to a thing she says. She's crazy."
She hit him again.
"Shut up, Salvatore! Admit it, you think I'm pretty."
He made a face.
"In your dreams."
She pointed her finger in his direction. "You aren't sli—"
Her sentence was cut off yet again, this time by Lexi zooming by, anger radiating off her. Florence furrowed her eyebrows, completely confused as she heard yells from upstairs. She glanced over at Damon for guidance and he sighed.
"She just met Elena. You know, since you're a vamp now, it'd be great if you actually opened up your ears and put them to use."
She scoffed and punched him in the arm, which caused him to hiss out in pain.
"Damn! Tone it down, Bambi."
°
FLORENCE SHOWED up to Caroline's party for Stefan in a stunning black dress, a particular Salvatore on her arm. When she'd noticeably made an entrance, she unhooked her arm from his and began to walk over to the bar. However, she decided against it when she saw Elena brooding, her eyes on Lexi and Stefan. Quickly, she took two shots from a random person in the crowd, giving him the bird when he yelled after her.
"You should leave the brooding to Stefan," she joked, sliding one of the shot glasses over.
Damon joined her almost a second later, loosely draping his arm around her waist.
"Stefan smiles," he narrated, taking the spot between the two girls. "Alert the media."
Florence groaned, taking her shot and walking away, downing it in one go. Usually it would take her five shots to feel a buzz. These days, with her parasitic needs, she needed ten, at least. The bright side was that, because of her connections to the waiters at the grill and her hidden skill of compulsion, every drink that traveled down her throat was one hundred percent free.
Ten shots and two glasses of whiskey later, she was walking down the alley next to the grill. Well, walking was a loose term. Really, she was stumbling, giving a couple spins here and there. It wasn't long before she reached the back lot and she was about to walk across when she noticed Caroline's mom there with Lexi.
She gasped when she saw her shoot her gun and almost ran over when something pulled her from the ground. Now, she was pressed against the wall, Stefan's hand pressed to her lips. She widened her eyes and he shook his head, stopping her from speaking. She was breathing heavily, her eyes focused on the scene before them.
When she saw Damon shove a stake through her chest, she screamed against his hands, shutting her eyes tightly. She felt her heart drop when she heard a faint and weak "Why?" come from Lexi, and didn't know she was crying until she saw that Stefan was as well.
She struggled against his hold and didn't stop until he finally let go. She watched, horrified as he walked off with her body carelessly wrapped in a body bag. His plan was elaborate, and she would have commemorated him for it if it was fake, and if Lexi would have jumped out of the bag screaming, "I can't believe you fell for it!"
But it was real. And Florence knew that Stefan would never forgive himself for letting her die; he would never forgive himself for trusting Damon when he still had his doubts about his brother's loyalty. And Florence knew that she would never forgive herself for seeing the good in Damon, seeing him as more of a friend than the emotionless monster he really was.
That night, unlike any night they'd spent together before, Florence and Stefan were displaying their true, raw emotions. Lexi was dead. That was all they could think about. And where one was crying out of guilt, the other was crying out of sheer pain. If only Damon could have realized just how much he was hurting the ones closest to him. Maybe then he wouldn't have done it. But Florence wouldn't dare wonder; she convinced herself she didn't have an ounce of care for either Salvatore brother.
She knew she was lying about it, but it didn't stop her. And as Stefan collapsed in her arms, the image of a dead Lexi haunting his memories, she didn't feel guilty for wanting to be his shoulder to cry on.
There was something about that night that was beautiful, and not in a sadistic manner, either. Neither of them could put a finger on it.
