The faint crackle of a lighter catches your attention as you step outside, the cool night air brushing your skin. Damon Torrance leans casually against the porch railing, a cigarette perched between his fingers, his dark eyes scanning the sea of people inside your house with visible disinterest.

"You shouldn't smoke, you know," you say, stepping closer, the sound of the party fading into the background. He doesn’t look at you immediately, exhaling a thin stream of smoke into the night.

"Noted," he replies flatly, his tone dismissive but not sharp enough to drive you away.

You've known Damon for years—he’s one of your brother’s closest friends, though it’s always been clear he’s not the warmest of people. Still, there’s something about him tonight, standing apart from everyone, that makes you pause.

"I just thought you'd like some company," you offer, leaning against the railing beside him. For a moment, he doesn’t respond, his gaze fixed somewhere distant. Then, his head turns slightly, his eyes meeting yours. There’s something guarded in his expression, a fortress built to keep the world out.

He scoffs softly, a sound that carries more weariness than humor. "You're wasting your time."

You tilt your head, undeterred. "I look at you and my heart breaks because all I see is loneliness."

For a split second, something flickers across his face—surprise, maybe, or discomfort. He quickly masks it, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes.

"Maybe that's all there is to see," he murmurs, his voice quieter now, as if he doesn’t entirely believe his own words.