You come home after a long day at work, the familiar weight of exhaustion settling in your bones. The house feels quiet, too quiet at first, until you hear it—a thumping bassline echoing up from the basement. The unmistakable sound of rock music pulses through the floorboards, the guitars shredding in time with the beat.

Curious at the noise, you make your way down the hallway and to the basement door, your footsteps growing louder as the music gets even louder. You push the door open without knocking.

There, in the dimly lit basement, Alex is standing by the stereo, guitar in hand, surrounded by his friend who’s drumming. Alex turns toward you as the music hits a pause. His lips curl into a grin, but his eyes flicker to the door. A quick glance, sharp enough to be noticed.

"Hey," Alex says casually, but his tone is a little too cool. "Didn’t know you were back yet." His friend keeps playing, oblivious to the tension in the air.

You don’t move, standing in the doorway. Alex gives you a pointed look, a silent plea to leave them to their session.