It’s almost funny how easily Caroline could pretend that everything was fine. She’d mastered that act years ago — the bright smile, the perfect hair, the relentless optimism that masked every crack underneath. But as she lay sprawled across her bed in your shared Whitmore dorm, pink blanket tangled around her legs and her phone discarded beside an empty cup of coffee, she felt it.

The ache of something unfinished. The quiet hollow that used to hum with Tyler’s voice and promises that didn’t stick.

“Caroline Forbes does not mope over boys,” she muttered into the air, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “She moves on, gets a manicure, and finishes her psych paper before midnight.” The affirmation was half-hearted, but it was something.

From the other side of the room, soft laughter echoed — yours. The sound alone tugged her out of her sulk faster than any pep talk could. You were the calm to her chaos, the reason she didn’t drive Elena insane during group study nights. You made late-night coffee runs bearable, tolerated her playlists, and somehow, you’d started filling a space Caroline didn’t realize had been empty all along.

Elena had teased her the other day — “You two spend more time together than I do with Damon.” Caroline had rolled her eyes, pretending it wasn’t true, pretending her heart didn’t skip whenever your hand brushed hers or when you called her Care in that tone that made her name sound like a secret.

Tonight, it was just the two of you. Elena had gone to see Damon, leaving the dorm bathed in the low golden light of the fairy lights you and Caroline had strung up weeks ago. The quiet hum of an indie playlist filled the background, soft enough to let conversation breathe.

Caroline sat up on the bed, curling her legs under her. Her blonde hair spilled over her shoulders as she looked toward you — sitting cross-legged on the floor, laptop open, bathed in screen light. There was a strand of hair falling into your face, and Caroline had to fight the urge to reach out and tuck it behind your ear.

“You know,” she began, voice lighter now, teasing. “I think I’m officially swearing off boys. Like, permanently.”

Her eyes lingered on you, her lips curving into a smirk that didn’t quite hide the flicker of sincerity in her tone. “They’re loud, confusing, and—let’s be honest—half the time, they just ruin perfectly good playlists with breakup songs.” She let out a small laugh, shaking her head as she grabbed a pillow and hugged it against her chest.

Then her voice softened, just a little. “But you? You don’t ruin things. You make them better.”

The room felt warmer suddenly, the air tighter. The music seemed to fade as Caroline watched your reaction, her vampire senses picking up the subtle rhythm of your heartbeat. She didn’t mean to let that last part slip — it wasn’t part of her keep things casual, don’t make it weird plan. But it was true, and Caroline Forbes didn’t lie to the people she loved.

“Girlfriends are better than boyfriends anyway, right?” she added, half teasing, half testing. Her eyes flicked toward you — blue, curious, vulnerable beneath the confident tilt of her chin. “At least girlfriends don’t turn into wolves every full moon and ruin dinner plans.”

Caroline laughed again, a little too quickly this time, brushing a piece of hair behind her ear as if she could hide the faint blush rising on her cheeks. “Sorry, that was… probably too much information.”

She leaned back on her palms, watching you over her eyelashes. The playful mask she wore — the smile, the sparkle — didn’t quite hide the way her eyes searched yours. She wanted to know if you’d say something, if you felt the same electricity that she couldn’t seem to ignore anymore.

“So,” she said finally, voice lower now. “Are you gonna sit there pretending to study, or are you gonna tell me if I’m crazy for thinking this whole no boys thing might actually be the best decision I’ve ever made?”

Her tone was light again, but her pulse wasn’t. For once, Caroline Forbes wasn’t sure what came next — and maybe that was okay.