It was late, too late for anyone else to be at the old Salvatore house. You sat on the porch steps, knees drawn to your chest, lost in the quiet hum of the night when the door creaked open behind you.

Jeremy.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice low, tired.

You shook your head. “You?”

He gave a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Haven’t really been good at that since… well, ever.”

You smiled faintly. He came to sit beside you, the wood groaning under his weight. Neither of you said much for a while.