Damon and Lexi asked me about the dance the second I got home. Their similar questions were making my head pound even more than it already was. I didn't need to feel like I was surrounded by inquisitive parents every second of my pathetic life.

"I'm going upstairs," was all I said in response.

I could tell that Lexi was smiling wide without even turning around. "That sounds like progress," she cooed.

Her words aggravated me more than they usually did; tonight, I was feeling more on edge than usual. I was already beyond angered at stupid Elena Gilbert for making me feel... something, and I hated it. "No!" I suddenly snapped, turning around. "It's not progress, Lexi! I just spent my whole damned Friday night in a sweaty gym with sixteen year old girls trying to grind on me while Elena Gilbert was attempting to give me a lesson on how to live my life! I'm starving, and I'm going to sleep."

Damon arched a brow, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed in front of his chest. "So, you don't feel anything, Stef?" He smirked, a facial expression that usually amused me but frustrated me tonight.

I gritted my teeth. "No, Damon," I lied blatantly. "Goodnight."

I quickly made my way up into my room despite Damon and Lexi's surprised stares. Like the emotional, misunderstood teenager I was supposed to be, I slammed the door behind me. I convinced myself I was so angered because everyone, including Elena, was determined to bring out my humanity.

Deep down though, I knew that I was only feeling absolute, hot fury because it was the only emotion I was allowing myself to feel. Never, in a thousand years would I admit that to myself.

When I went to bed that night, I hardly slept. And when I did close my eyes, all I saw was Elena. Stupid Elena, with her soft words of humanity and sadness. Sweet Elena, with her gentle eyes and thankful smile. Enticing Elena, with that flowing honey and coconut hair, with those perfectly soft lips...

I wanted nothing to do with her, yet I couldn't help but wonder when I'd see her again.

Stupid, sweet, enticing Elena.

I skipped drama class the next day for good reason. A, it was the lamest class ever created and B, Elena was in it.

Despite my attempts at avoiding her, she found me after school. I didn't feel like going home to Damon and Lexi or socializing with anyone I pretended to like at the grill, so I was sitting against my locker, writing in my journal. Yes, even I sometimes thought that journaling was a ridiculous past time, but memories were far too important to waste.

I heard quiet footsteps from the end of the hall, but I thought nothing of it and continued to write.

Dear Diary,

Sometimes, at night, I lie awake and just think. But lately, I've been avoiding that, because some way or another, thinking leads to feeling. Why don't I want to feel anything? The answer's simple: I'm not ready to experience the unimaginable anguish that it always brings. Sometimes, the good just isn't worth the bad. Everyone has been pushing at me lately, but honestly, everything just seems simpler this way. Pushing people away is easy; it seems to be something I'm naturally gifted at.

But is there ever a point when the switch coming back on becomes inevitable, when turning it all off causes more pain than the pain itself? That's something that even I don't know, and I'm terrified of the answer. But for now, I'll continue to fight the emotions threatening to bubble to the surface.
Right now, I have no good to feel, no pleasure. It's just easier this way.

-Stefan

"You know..." I jumped at the sound of Elena's voice a few feet away. Making sure to shut my journal and glance up at her, I waited for her to continue. "There's a library a few rooms over. I bet it's a little more comfortable." She smiled gently.

"I'm fine," I responded coldly as I put my journal back into my bag. "What are you still doing here?"

Elena politely grinned. "I'm working on details for the yearly Christmas play we're putting on." She looked down at me with glowing chocolate brown eyes, the expression showing that she expected to stay for a conversation. Rolling my eyes a bit, I gestured to the spot beside me and she sat down. So much for trying to push her away, I thought with bitter frustration.

"The one with the guy and the angel, right?" I questioned. She smiled and nodded. "Your dad wrote it, didn't he?"

Elena nodded again. "He wrote it after my mom died." She looked down to the floor for a second, her face covering with an undeniable sadness. And in that small second, I wondered if I was so allured to her because of the fact that we had something in common. She lost her mom. She knew what it felt like to be alone. So did I.

I wondered if she expected me to comfort her, place my hand on her back and tell her everything would be alright, but of course, I didn't. I wasn't the sentimental type, not at that time at least. So, I just stared at her for a second, making note of the way that her hair was still perfectly in that usual ponytail of hers. Her face was still averagely pretty, aside from the distant frown covering her features. "I lost my mom too. And my dad," I said after a while to break the silence. Of course, I no longer missed my family; I had learned to move on without them in 145 years. But it seemed to take that frown -that oddly bothered me- off of her face. "You're lucky you still have him."

Elena looked at me in wonder. "It must be hard, being so alone. Is that why you're so reserved most of the time?"

"Partly," I said softly. Usually, this matter bothered me, especially coming from her, but I let it slide tonight. Maybe I actually felt bad for her. Maybe. "It's a little more complicated than that."

"It always is," she breathed.

I glanced over at her and realized she was intently looking at me, her irises looking like gingerbread mixed with black coffee as they shone in the light from the window. She was grinning, softly and genuinely.

The edges of my lips curled up in the most genuine smile I had displayed in a long time. But then, I felt it again: that strange tugging feeling in my chest. The last time this happened was when she kissed me on the cheek after the dance.

Was that tug my heart skipping a beat? Whatever it was, it brought me back into reality and I tore my eyes away from hers, instantly putting up my cool facade again. She'd seen enough; so had I. "You should get back to the play," I said coldly.

She shrugged. "We were just finishing up actually."

I clenched my jaw and grabbed my bag, standing up. "Well I have to go," I announced. Within a second I was strutting to the door, refusing to look back. I knew that if I did, I'd find her looking at me with shock and confusion.

I really needed to stop talking to her.

Stupid, sweet, enticing Elena.

AN: Yay, I finally updated! Elena's still evoking emotion from Stefan; it seems that she's the only one who really knows how to get to him :) Hope you liked it and I'll try to make the next update speedy! Review and let me know what you're thinking of what I'm doing with this fic. Let me know if you like it, love it, hate it, and if you want me to continue! Thank you! Xoxo
-Sara :)