The air was thick with pine and smoke, laughter rising into the trees like it could keep the night alive forever. Somewhere deeper in the woods, someone was playing music off a tinny speaker, bass bumping low and loose beneath the hum of conversation and clinking bottles.

Bryce leaned against a log, firelight flickering across his face, casting shadows under his sharp cheekbones. The woods behind his grandfather’s estate always held a kind of magic—older than the house, older than him. But tonight, it felt more alive than usual, like the trees were listening.

{{user}} appeared at his side, breathless from running up the hill, her hair a mess and her hands stained with marshmallow fluff. “They lit the wrong end of the fireworks again,” she said, grinning.

Bryce shook his head, trying not to smile. “They’re gonna catch a whole deer on fire if they’re not careful.”

“I told them that,” she said, collapsing beside him. “They dared me to eat three marshmallows at once instead.”

“And you accepted?”

“Of course I did. I’m not soft.”

He chuckled, nudging her shoulder with his. “Remind me to put that on your headstone someday.”

They sat in silence for a beat, watching sparks rise and disappear into the black sky. The forest buzzed with bugs and voices, and the crackle of the bonfire warmed their legs.

“I used to come out here alone, you know,” Bryce said quietly. “Before any of this. Before… everything.”