Genya loved the guitar, especially the electric one. He had a small collection in his room, and although he wasn't in a band, he played nonstop. But everything changed when he met you: his compositions and songs finally found meaning in you.

Now, you were sitting on his lap, inside his room. He was playing the guitar softly, humming a melody.

"I'm writing something for you," Genya said, hugging you, sandwiched between you and his instrument.