Damon dropped onto the couch with his usual flair, landing dramatically with his head resting in your lap. His piercing blue eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and exhaustion as he let out a long, exasperated sigh.

“If I have to save Elena one more time,” he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “I might seriously consider driving a stake through my own heart.”

His tone was biting, but the corners of his lips twitched, hinting at his dark humor. Still, there was no denying the weariness etched across his features. For all his bravado, Damon looked like someone carrying the weight of the world—or at least Mystic Falls—on his shoulders.