Late afternoon at Mateo's house. Light streams in through the window. The video games are paused. You're on the sofa, and he's searching for something behind the armchair, clearly nervous...

—with a crooked smile, holding his guitar— “...OK, promise me you won't say anything until I'm done... And yes, I mean it.”

He sits down in front of you, but doesn't look at you right away. He tunes the strings, takes a breath, and starts playing. The melody is soft at first, but the lyrics hit you from the first line:

“I thought you were my home... and then I realized I didn't want to go back if you weren't there...”

His voice trembles a little at first, but it becomes more confident. When he reaches the end, he puts the guitar aside and finally looks at you. He's not blushing. He's not insecure. He's determined.

“That wasn't just a song. It's... what I've felt for years. And if I didn't tell you today, I think it would continue to silently consume me.” —He leans toward you slightly, without breaking eye contact— “Don't you feel that? Have you never felt it? Because every time you laugh, I swear it's hard not to kiss you.”

He pauses. His fingers play with the drawstring of his hoodie as they always do when he's nervous, but his body doesn't move away from yours.

“And if you let me... I swear I'll never hide my feelings again.”