Author's Note: I'm giving this new Vampire Diaries-fic-in-my-head a try. Funny, it's summer, I have nothing to do, but I'm not all out writing. Please do tell your opinions regarding this fic.

I learned to live half alive

As far as the world knows, Damon Salvatore no longer exists. As far as the people passing by the architectural genius by the lake are concerned, a lonely man owns that place, and there is no way in hell that his name is Damon Salvatore. There have been talks, that maybe he was mentally ill, an antisocial, a writer who puts his heart on his literature but never in action, or maybe even a rich man with the worst physical impairment who is better off locked away. But the people came to a conclusion – that maybe he was an architect, because how else would his house be such a masterpiece?

No one knew his name. The closest neighbor he has is ten miles away, so people really don't bother getting to know him. The only person he ever talks to is the owner of the convenient store just off the highway. And if he isn't in his house, he can be seen sitting just outside the store.

What you don't know won't kill you.

That was Damon's new and improved motto. With all the drama in his life gone, all he wanted to do was to live life safely the only way he knew how – laying low. What the people don't know is that he is a vampire, and that he is Damon Salvatore, one of the Salvatore brothers from 1864 Mystic Falls, the town just at the end of the highway. What they don't know is that after all the drama in his life – namely Katherine and Elena – he wanted to lay low. To live slowly and peacefully.

He doesn't even talk to his brother that much. Stefan is always busy silently mauling at Elena. Twenty years have passed and he still isn't over her. Stefan decided to let her go, so that she could live her life normally. They figured that since she survived the storm that was Klaus, she deserved some peace. But Stefan couldn't stay away. He was always watching her from a distance.

Damon is better than that. After Katherine, he knew he deserves better than loving a woman he couldn't have.

Damon has been compelling the owner of the convenience store that he was never there. If he wanted to live peacefully, he needed people not to notice that he never grows old. He sits down at the bench just outside the store, watching the cars pass by. Some even stop to buy some refreshments and Damon doesn't have time to be friendly to them. Occasionally, he would get curious stares from kids who were off to a dumb vacation with their parents, and he would shrug them off by staring back. He became the mysterious man that nobody wanted to mess with.

In another uneventful day, or so Damon thought, a car pulled up in the other side of the road. From what he could make out from his spot, the passengers were two college girls. Going home to Mystic Falls, maybe? Summer was just entering.

Summer – Damon's favorite time of the year. Maybe it was the sun – the only thing linking him to his humanity. He was thankful that he had a ring that would prevent him from burning under the sun. He cannot even begin to imagine how to live without being able to walk under the sun. What a nightmare, added to the fact that he was a living nightmare – a vampire. He not burning in the sun gives him reason to pretend that he wasn't a monster – that he doesn't fit perfectly in the description of a vampire. Sure, he drinks blood, he doesn't grow old, but at least he doesn't burn in the sun.

Damon cringes at the thought of a friend he once knew. His special friend who spent half a century being a slave of the sun. He remembered how he granted her last wish, and he wanted to vomit at the cheesiness of what he did.

But who was he fooling. He cared.

"Excuse me, there's no one inside," the woman was addressing him.

He remembered the days when he would stop a car, prompting the passengers to come out, and then rip the neck and drain all the blood in their system. He repressed the smile that was threatening to form in his lips. If he were the old Damon, the Damon whose life was full of drama, the two college girls will be the on top of his victim list.

"Then there's no one inside," he offered a fake smile. He wanted to be left alone. Besides, does he even look like a receptionist?

The woman raised an eyebrow, "Well maybe you could tell us if we're heading towards the right direction," she pointed towards where they were obviously headed. "Mystic Falls?"

"Yes, now get going," except he didn't say it, he had another smart answer. "Didn't you bring a map?" Once in a while, Damon liked being the rude guy.

"Emily! I told you I can read a map. We don't need to ask anyone."

Damon's head snapped in the direction where the voice was coming from. That British accent was unmistakable, he knew he heard it somewhere, but where exactly, he doesn't know. But then he saw her – brown hair with soft curls landing on her shoulders. She obviously witnessed how he expressed his hospitality to her friend. But it was impossible. He can still clearly remember the night he torn his own heart into pieces. And yet she was there – alive and breathing, and more importantly, giving him a glare.

"Rose," he muttered. It was impossible. "Rose," he said again, trying to call her attention, but not loud enough for her to hear. But it was too late. Her friend was already in the car, driving away from the rude man outside the convenient store.