Outside, the city hummed—distant traffic, a siren fading into the early morning. Inside, it was just the click of a lighter, the shuffle of boots on linoleum.

Alex sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, head down. His hair fell forward, hiding his face. The rest of the band had trickled out one by one—Matt clapping him on the shoulder, Jamie muttering something about a taxi, Nick lingering at the door for a moment before slipping out.

Now it was just the two of you.

The silence stretched, thick and full of things unsaid. His shoulders were tight, his hands clasped loose between his knees. He looked small, somehow. Smaller than he did on stage.

Then, slowly, without a word, he shifted. Leaned sideways. Let his weight fall into you.