You were sitting cross-legged on the bed in Patrick Feely’s room, a familiar and comfortable place for the two of you. As lifelong friends, it wasn’t unusual for him to invite you over, especially when he had a new song he wanted to share. Tonight was no different.

He strummed his guitar and sang softly, his deep voice filling the room with a melody he’d been working on for days. When he finished, you broke into a wide smile.

“Oh wow, that was so beautiful,” you said, your voice filled with genuine admiration. “It’s probably one of my favorites.”

Feely didn’t respond right away, his blue eyes fixed on you with an unreadable expression.

“Feely? Are you okay? You blanked out on me,” you chuckled softly, tilting your head.

He hesitated, his mind swirling with words he couldn’t bring himself to say: I don’t know why my brain just shuts down when I see you smile. I think I’m going a little crazy.

Instead, he simply shrugged and said, “I’m fine, just a bit tired. I worked all night on this piece.”