The evening air is crisp in late autumn, and despite the chill, Jeremiah ventures outside and settles on the stoop of his house. The cold stings at his nose and slips through layers of clothing to press against his skin like a stray dog seeking warmth. The goosebumps rise and prickle, and he hunches over to conserve what little heat he still has. The cold starts to bite at his wound, and he starts to shiver. The dressings wrapped securely around his abdomen begin to loosen.
"You shouldn't be out here." Libby's voice, gentle and brimming with worry, wafts from the doorway behind him.
He doesn't bother turning around. "It's alright. I like the cold." He hears the door shut and its knob click into place, senses another body looming over him. He shifts sideways along the wooden step as Libby sits beside him.
"But, you're hurt." Libby's fingers softly skim across his slinged arm, tracking a line to his stomach. She places her palm directly over his healing wound, pressing solidly. "Healing, but still hurt."
Jeremiah winces and tightly gasps, his body rocking in momentary discomfort. "The pain's good," he chuckles. "Reminds me I'm alive."
"Oh." Libby rests her cheek against his shoulder. "And what happens when you don't want to feel pain anymore?"
"Guess by then, I'll be ready to die."
Her hand curls into a fist, and she punches him fiercely on the back. "Don't even joke about that! I almost lost you! I don't...I don't want to think about what might happen if you get hurt again." She twists her head and buries her face in Jeremiah's coat.
Jeremiah hears the tears wavering in her voice before he senses their dampness on his clothes, the heat of her fear and frustration overpowering even the cool night breeze.
"Just--just don't get hurt anymore, okay?" Her voice is muffled and sounds desperate. "We should just tell Markus you're not up to being Milhaven's leader yet..."
"Libby." He raises his good arm and combs his fingers calmly through her hair. "You know I can't do that. The Alliance can't quit just because some asshole tried to kill me. That's what Daniel wants."
"I know." Her sobs are quieter and less frequent now. She tilts her head, the moonlight revealing her tear-streaked face. "Sometimes, I wish we could leave. Run away. No Kurdy. No Mister Smith. Just you and me?"
Jeremiah rubs her cheeks dry with his thumb and kisses her trembling lips. He's warm all over now, and the night can't penetrate anymore. "I'm sorry, Libby. Things won't work out like that. Too many people around here are depending on me."
"I depend on you, too."
"But I still need you, you know? To keep me from doing something stupid. To be my conscience. To keep me from killing all the whiny asses in this damn town."
She laughs. "Well, if you insist that I'm needed..." She swishes her hair and preens, and at least now she's barely sniffling. "Then I suppose I can stay in Milhaven with you."
He adores it when he makes her laugh, and he adores Libby because she's like how he always imagined his dream girl would be. He recalls telling his dad about it once. The fundamental things in your heart don't change. Libby's perfect, and Jeremiah thinks he's damn lucky to have found her.
He wraps his arm around her shoulders and scoots her close. They sit under the twinkling stars, sharing their warmth and not minding the freeze of outside, because they are outside together.