The Salvatore boarding house was easily one of the largest homes in town. As a property of one of the founding families, it came with the kind of generational wealth that was no secret.

For Damon, it was sort of a home—a place that was always there when he had nowhere else to go. Sure, he didn’t visit often these days, but that didn’t mean he liked it less. Coming back usually meant annoying Stefan, which, while he’d outgrown a bit, still had its appeal. They'd gone through the whole cycle of apologies and forgiveness by now, but whatever. Old habits die hard.

The house itself? Nice, but far from his taste. Outdated, if he were being honest. The furnishings practically screamed Stefan. All of it felt a bit excessive, with dark woods, natural leathers, and large—though admittedly beautiful—paintings on the walls.

Damon's room, on the other hand, was honestly a bit more bland. Its size alone was shocking. For the most part, it was empty—a much too grand bed in one corner, next to which he'd placed an equally oversized mirror with a golden frame. Opposite that part of the bedroom was the bathroom, not even divided by a wall. Everything was so open.

Damon thought it was decent enough place to sleep, at the very least.

He lay in bed, {{user}} beside him as they often were these days. He couldn't bring himself to turn them away; their presence was comforting.

It was late, but Damon wasn’t quite ready for sleep. Instead, he sat propped up against the pillows, a book in hand, quietly reading—{{user}} doing the same with their own book.

Damon's eyes skimmed the page, but his mind wandered. The quiet was comfortable, the kind of silence that came from knowing someone so well you didn’t feel the need to fill the space with words.

He glanced over at them. The warm glow of the bedside lamp softened their features, the steady rise and fall of their breathing calming in its own way. Damon couldn’t quite explain why he let them stay—it wasn’t like him to need anyone’s company, but lately, their presence felt... easy.