Chapter Two: Flickers
The late morning light streamed through the school windows in a dusty gold haze, casting long shadows across the tiled hallway. Elena stood at her locker, tucking her journal into her bag, the silence between classes filled with the familiar hum of chatter and slamming lockers.
She should've felt normal here.
Safe, even.
But Damon's voice from the cemetery still echoed in her head.
"You write to the dead?"
"Sometimes they're easier to talk to."
"That's fair."
It wasn't just what he said. It was how he said it.
Like someone who wore charisma like armor—and expected no one would ever try to look underneath it.
"There he is again," Bonnie murmured suddenly right next to her.
Elena jerked her head up.
A boy stood by the trophy case at the far end of the hall—leaning against the wall like he belonged there, though she was sure she hadn't seen him before. He was reading a worn copy of Wuthering Heights, flipping pages like he already knew how it ended. Dressed in jeans, a dark blue t-shirt and a grey zip-up hoodie, he almost looked like a normal high school boy. But his sculpted jaw, sharp cheekbones and angular nose made him look like a model. He was tall. Dark-haired. Green-eyed. And still.
Still in a way that made everything around him feel too loud.
"Okay," Bonnie said. "Why does he look like he escaped from a runway?"
Elena smirked. "Because he kind of does."
"Do you think he's new? Or just mysteriously appearing now to make us feel disheveled?"
"He's definitely new."
"Maybe he's cemetery guy's less chaotic twin," Bonnie added.
Elena's brow arched. "He doesn't look anything like Damon."
"No, but he's got that same energy just hearing Damon's name made me feel. And his eyes. He's got that old soul, 'seen too much' vibe." Bonnie said, motioning subtly toward him.
Elena hummed thoughtfully. "You think he's a vampire?"
Bonnie gave her a look. "I'm not ruling anything out."
Elena glanced at the boy again, and this time he looked up just in time to meet her gaze. He smiled, a shy, timid upturn of his lips. Elena returned the smile politely, before turning and leading Bonnie down the hall to their next class.
It was one of those Mystic Falls nights where everyone ended up at the Grill without planning to—like the town pulled them all together with invisible strings. It seemed to happen fairly often when there were no town-wide celebrations or founders' events.
Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline squeezed into a booth near the windows. Outside, thunder rolled low in the distance, the first hints of an autumn storm settling into the air.
Bonnie picked at a basket of fries, her shoulders tight, her phone untouched on the table.
"You good?" Elena asked.
Bonnie hesitated. "I'm just… on edge."
Caroline sipped her lemonade. "Is this about the mysterious guy from school? The one who reads Brontë like it's cool?"
Bonnie shook her head. "It's not just him."
Before Elena could ask more, the front door to the Grille creaked open, and Damon Salvatore walked in like he was in the mood to ruin someone's night. Or make it.
Dark jacket. Subtle swagger. And eyes that immediately found Elena.
He crossed the room like gravity had tilted in his favor and slid into the booth beside Bonnie—uninvited and completely unconcerned.
"Ladies," he greeted them with a smirk.
Bonnie tensed. Caroline looked like she might physically eject him. "Wow. We're just skipping the small talk?"
Damon grinned. "It's overrated. You're Caroline, right? Blond ambition, head cheerleader, sixteen magazine covers in your future?"
Caroline blinked, trying not to act flattered. "Seventeen, but thanks."
He turned to Bonnie. "And you… you're the one who sees things."
Bonnie froze.
"Excuse me?" she asked, voice tight.
"I mean, you've got that vibe," he said smoothly. "Witchy. Like you know when the storm's coming. You should probably ground more often."
Ignoring Bonnie's scowl, he turned to Elena.
And everything slowed.
"Glad you came out to play," he said, voice rumbling quietly.
Before Elena could answer, another voice cut in—calm, low, and sharp:
"Damon."
Elena turned.
The new guy from school—Stefan Salvatore, Caroline had learned during her first period AP English class she shared with him—stood beside their table. Same dark jeans, same unreadable expression. But the tension radiating off him was palpable.
"You two know each other?" Elena asked, confused.
Damon smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "We're brothers."
A pause.
"Aren't we, little brother?"
The word brother landed like a stone in a still pond.
Elena blinked between them, suddenly seeing the resemblance in the eyes, in the way they held their tension like secrets. She shared a knowing look with Bonnie.
Damon raised a brow. "Don't all speak at once."
Stefan stepped closer; his posture was quiet but unmistakably protective. "What are you doing here, Damon?"
"Just visiting," Damon said smoothly. "A little nostalgia. A little bourbon. Maybe a little chaos."
Stefan didn't flinch, but Elena felt the weight of something unsaid.
Damon looked back to her. "But the company's much better than I remember."
Elena gave him a shy smile that he returned with an upward quirk of his lips.
That's when Bonnie accidentally brushed his hand, and she reached for a fry.
Just barely a touch.
She gasped.
A flash—a woman's cruel voice, a blood-soaked hallway, Damon on his knees, crying out in pain. And something else. A shadow with no face, watching. Reaching.
She yanked her hand back like she'd been burned.
Damon noticed. His smirk didn't falter, but his eyes flickered. Just for a second.
Damon tilted his head. "Everything okay, Bonnie?"
Elena leaned in. "Bon?"
"I'm fine," she lied quickly, averting her eyes.
But her pulse was racing.
And when she looked at Damon again, she wasn't just uneasy.
She was afraid.
Rain was falling softly now, blurring the streetlights.
Elena stood under the awning with Stefan, waving goodbye to Bonnie and Caroline.
"I wasn't expecting that," she said, gesturing inside the restaurant where Damon was now sitting at the bar.
"Damon tends to show up when he's least wanted."
She looked at him. "He's your brother?"
He nodded once.
"And you don't get along," she stated.
"Not in a very long time," Stefan murmured.
She studied him carefully. "There's something about both of you. It's hard to explain. You don't just feel… mysterious. You feel old."
Stefan's jaw tightened and he avoided her eyes.
"I know about vampires," Elena said softly. "Bonnie told me things. Her grams, too. I used to think it was a myth. But now…"
A pause.
"I believe it."
He didn't speak, but the tension radiated off him as he stared out into the dark night.
"I'm not afraid of you. Though I probably should be," she smiled self-deprecatingly. "I know you're not going to hurt me," she murmured. "If you wanted to, you already would have."
Stefan looked at her then—truly looked. And said quietly, "You're not wrong."
Elena smiled up at him. Placing her hand on his arm in a friendly way she said, "don't worry; your secret is safe with me. I'll see you at school." She turned and walked to her car, glancing back just once before she pulled away. He was gone.