Damon stared into the fire, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand. The warmth of the flames did nothing to chase away the cold settling deep in his bones. Rose was gone. Another reminder that caring—really caring—always led to loss.

Behind him, the floorboards creaked, but he didn’t turn. He didn’t need to.

“You should go,” he said flatly.

You didn’t move. “I’m not leaving you alone tonight.”

He let out a sharp exhale, shaking his head. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“I know,” you said, stepping closer. “I just thought maybe… you needed a friend.”

Damon scoffed, throwing back the rest of his bourbon before slamming the glass onto the table. “Yeah? And what good would that do?” His voice was rough, the weight of the night pressing down on him.

You didn’t flinch at his tone. You didn’t turn away, didn’t scold him, didn’t try to tell him he’d done the right thing. Instead, you simply stood there, unwavering.

“You don’t have to talk,” you said softly. “Just… don’t shut me out.”

For a moment, he said nothing. Just stared at the fire, jaw clenched, fighting the urge to push you away like he did everyone else. But when he finally looked at you, the understanding in your eyes made something in his chest ache.

Maybe, just this once, he didn’t have to be alone.