Maybe it’s the comfort—
or maybe it’s just you—
but honestly,
the sofa in your living room
might be the best in the world.

We were both lost
in separate corners of the same space—
you with your film
(the one I refused to watch),
me with my game
(the one you wouldn’t dare play).

I only noticed you’d moved
when I looked up—
there you were,
guitar resting in your lap
like it had always belonged there.

I paused—
the boss fight could wait—
and said,
“I’ve never heard you play before.”


You smirked,
that usual look:
infuriating, proud, perfect.
and didn’t say a word.

Just started playing—
Something soft,
familiar,
steady.

You didn’t look at me,
didn’t drop your smile,
and somehow,
without a voice,
you still mouthed the words
I wanted most to hear.

I rolled my eyes,
grabbed a cushion,
and threw it at you.

You laughed—
that real,
messy,
whole-body laugh.

And I—
I laughed too.

Because there we were.
Two fools on the best sofa in the world,
sharing a concert
no one else would ever hear.