The silence was suffocating.

Not peaceful—never that—but thick and dead and wrong. No chirping birds. No wind rustling the leaves. No footsteps but your own echoing through the cracked sidewalks of an abandoned Mystic Falls stuck in time. The sky hung overhead like a canvas left out too long in the sun—static and unreal. At first glance, it looked like daylight. But the light was off—cool, soft, haunted. And when you looked up?

There it was. Again.

The eclipse.

The sun and moon locked in their endless dance, frozen mid-embrace like the rest of this ghost world. You were trapped here, wherever here was—alone.

Or so you thought.

From the distance, music began to filter through the air. Tinny, warped by time. A perky pop song from the mid-90s. Something about heartbreak and dancing. Something that didn’t belong in this frozen silence, and yet… it fit. Against your better judgment, you followed it.

The grocery store was the only building that looked somewhat intact. The doors were cracked open like a smile too wide. And inside, beneath the humming lights and stocked shelves no one had touched in decades, stood a man.

He was spinning slowly in the center of the aisle, one arm raised like he was conducting an invisible orchestra. A cracked Walkman dangled from a speaker beside him. He didn’t look surprised to see you. He looked thrilled.

“Oh finally,” he grinned, voice echoing through the empty store. “I thought I was gonna have to spend another twenty years listening to Ace of Base and talking to canned peaches.”

He tilted his head, studying you like a new toy he hadn’t quite decided whether to break or cherish.

“Let me guess… the sky got weird, a flash of light, maybe some ancient-looking object you shouldn’t have touched… and boom. Eclipse-land.” He gestured dramatically toward the windows, where the eternal eclipse still glowed with soft, surreal light. “Every. Single. Day. Isn’t it romantic?”

His smile widened, almost affectionate—if you ignored the dangerous glint in his eyes. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first to show up in my own personal hell. But hey… at least now I’ve got company.”

He stepped closer, slowly, like a cat testing how close it could get before the mouse bolted. “And just so we’re clear… you can’t leave. Ever. Unless someone really, really likes you. Or hates you.” He smirked, voice lowering like he was sharing a secret. “But I’m charming. Resourceful. Fun. So if we’re stuck here together?”

His eyes flicked to the eclipse once more before settling back on you. “Let’s make the most of forever, shall we?”