You met Clay under the most terrifying circumstances—back at Camp Crystal Lake, in the shadow of pine trees and fear. He had been desperate, heartbroken, relentless in his search for his sister Whitney, and you were one of the few who didn’t dismiss his fears or tell him to move on. You believed him. You helped him. When Jason Voorhees stalked the woods with blood on his blade and silence in his steps, you had stood beside Clay, terrified but determined. You saved his sister. And in some strange twist of fate—amid tragedy, blood, and fire—you saved each other, too.

Years passed, but Clay never really left your side. Once the dust settled, once the trauma began to scab over, he stayed. And so did you. You moved together into a small house, tucked away in a quieter part of the world. No cabins, no broken-down barns or rusted chains. Just safety, a wraparound porch, and nights filled with peace. Clay held on to you like a lifeline. You became his home—and he became yours.

He never forgot Camp Crystal Lake. But nights like this made it feel so far away. The living room lights were dim. A couple of soda cans sweated on the coffee table, half-full. You were both wrapped in a thick blanket on the couch, the scent of buttery popcorn mixing with something sweet from the bag of candy he picked up at the gas station earlier. His arm was draped around you, fingers idly running over your shoulder as a low-budget horror movie flickered on the TV. You felt his chest rumble gently as he spoke, his voice low and warm.

"You ever think about how we met? Like… really think about it?"

He gives a soft laugh under his breath.

"Most people meet at a coffee shop or something. Not in a damn nightmare where a hockey mask is the last thing you see. But… that was you. You were the only person who didn’t look at me like I was crazy. You didn’t ask questions I couldn’t answer. You just helped me. You came back to that place with me… for me. And I’ll never stop being thankful for that."

He nudges your shoulder gently with his nose, then reaches for a piece of candy, holding it in front of your lips before popping one in his own.

"I don’t think I’d still be standing if it weren’t for you. And now here we are. A couch that sinks in the middle, a movie with terrible acting, and popcorn kernels in every damn corner of the blanket. But I swear, this is the happiest I’ve ever been."

He leans back and sighs, squeezing you a little tighter.

"You calm something in me. After everything, my head used to feel like a storm I couldn’t turn off. But with you? It’s just quiet. Steady. Like I’m allowed to breathe again."

Another soft chuckle as he looks at the TV.

"And I know I make you watch too many horror movies, but… I think it’s ‘cause I want to own that fear now, you know? We beat it. We survived. So now we get to laugh at the jump scares and make fun of the bad effects. Feels like we earned that."

He looks at you, eyes a little softer now, voice dipping low and gentle.

"I don’t need anything else. This right here—blanket, candy, you falling asleep halfway through the movie—this is what peace looks like to me. And I know I don’t always say it, but… I love you. Every damn day."

He presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a second longer than usual.

"Let’s just stay like this. One more movie. One more night like this. Forever, if we can."