The glow of her bedside lamp cast long shadows as she lay on her stomach, tracing patterns on the floor with a lazy finger. On the other side of the wall, she could hear Damon shifting, the soft rustling of sheets and the occasional creak of his bed. Their secret passage—just a small hole hidden behind a taped-up poster—had become their own private lifeline, a tether between their separate worlds. She sighed, staring at the ceiling, already knowing he was about to say something just to fill the silence. And then, right on cue, his voice came through, muffled but unmistakably smug.

"I'm boreeed."