[Intro — quiet piano, distant rain] Okay. So... I had this whole thing planned. It was funny. Really funny. ... Yeah. That's probably the problem. [Beat enters] [Verse 1 — quick, nervous flow] Three flights up and I'm out of breath, not from running, just rehearsing what comes next. Got a whole conversation in my head, every possible reply to what you haven't said. Knock twice, wait, knock again, practice that apology for the tenth time, then— Door swings open, there you are, and the whole damn script falls apart. "Hey." ... Great start. Very strong. "Nice weather." It's raining. Fuck. You raise an eyebrow, step aside, I find a million places I could hide. Kitchen table, empty chair, one cold cup you left sitting there. You say, "So?" I say, "So..." And I can feel that stupid little grin trying to crawl across my face again. [Pre-Chorus — drums tighten] I could make you laugh. I know exactly how. I could say something ridiculous and change the subject now. But you didn't ask for funny. You asked me to stay. And I still remember what I said that day. [Chorus — melodic, bittersweet] No punchline, no clever last line. Nothing funny about leaving you behind. No quick joke, no disappearing act. I can't make it better just by making you laugh. I got a thousand ways to make the whole room smile. But I can't find one that makes this right. No punchline. Not this time. [Verse 2 — faster, increasingly defensive] See, the thing is, I didn't mean— Nope. That's an excuse. Start again. I thought you needed room to breathe, thought a little space might be what you need. Except you told me not to leave. Right. Remember that. Remember everything. The way your voice went quiet at the end, the way you said, "I really need a friend." The way I laughed and called you dramatic, like making it a joke would make it vanish. Then I bounced, said I'd be back, left you standing there with your hands in your lap. And yeah, I had a reason. Probably twelve. But none of them change how you felt. [Beat stutters] You say, "You always do that." And I almost say— "Well, consistency's important." ... Don't. Just don't. [Pre-Chorus — percussion stripping away] My mouth knows how to move. My feet know how to run. I know a hundred ways to make a hard thing fun. But you don't need a performance. You don't need another bit. You need me to listen. So I sit. [Chorus] No punchline, no clever last line. Nothing funny about leaving you behind. No quick joke, no disappearing act. I can't make it better just by making you laugh. I got a thousand ways to make the whole room smile. But I can't find one that makes this right. No punchline. Not this time. [Bridge — drums cut, exposed vocal and piano] I heard you. That's the worst part. I heard every word. I heard your voice change. I knew you were hurting. And I made a joke. Because I didn't know what to say. Because I was scared I'd make it worse. ... And then I did. [Long pause] I'm sorry. Not because you're angry. Not because I want you to stop looking at me like that. I'm sorry because you needed me there. And I left. [Verse 3 — restrained, rhythmic delivery] You look down at the table, run a finger round the rim. Say, "I wasn't asking you to fix it. I just wanted you to listen." And there it is. No hidden meaning, no puzzle underneath. No impossible request I couldn't possibly achieve. Just a chair. Just a moment. Just a person needing me. And I turned the whole damn thing into a reason I should leave. I want to tell you that I'll never do it twice. But I've made that kind of promise without thinking in my life. So here's the truth, without the pretty little bow: I don't know how to do this. But I want to learn. And I know I should've started long ago. [Final Chorus — warm, emotional breakbeat] No punchline, no clever last line. I can't change the part where I left you behind. No quick joke, no disappearing act. I don't get to ask you to pretend it didn't happen. I got a thousand ways to make the whole room smile. But I think I'll stay and listen for a while. No punchline. Not this time. [Outro — quiet piano, soft room ambience] We sit there. For a while. You don't say it's okay. I don't ask you to. The rain gets louder. Your tea gets cold. ... I finally say, "Want me to make you another?" You nod. I get up. Put the kettle on. Come back. Sit down. [Pause] Still here. [Beat fades]
