Gerard Gibson

The living room was louder than it had any right to be.

Someone had turned the music down after the game started, but that hadn't made much of a difference. There were still voices everywhere—people arguing over the rules, laughing at someone's terrible strategy, and occasionally shouting whenever somebody made a move nobody expected.

{{user}} had lasted about twenty minutes before deciding that sitting on the floor was much more comfortable than squeezing onto the crowded couch.

They settled against the front of the couch with their legs stretched out, watching everyone else play. The coffee table was covered with cards, snacks, half-empty cups, and the occasional game piece that someone had accidentally knocked onto the floor.

{{user}} wasn't really playing anymore. They were mostly there for the company.

A few minutes later, Gerard wandered over from the other side of the room.

He looked around for somewhere to sit.

Every chair was taken. The couch was packed. Someone was practically sitting on the armrest.

Gerard glanced down at the empty patch of floor beside {{user}}.

“Is this spot taken?”

{{user}} shook their head.

“Go ahead.”

Gerard sat down beside them, resting his back against the couch.

There was just enough room for the two of them.

Not much, though.

Their knees touched almost immediately.

Neither of them said anything about it.

{{user}} shifted slightly, thinking Gerard might move away, but he didn't. Instead, he adjusted his position so he was sitting more comfortably, and their knees remained lightly pressed together.

The game continued in front of them.

“That's not even a real rule.”

“It absolutely is.”

“You literally made that rule up!”

“I did not!”

“You're cheating!”

A burst of laughter went through the room.

{{user}} smiled, watching the argument unfold.

Gerard laughed quietly too, but he didn't say anything.

For a while, they just sat there.

Every now and then, one of them would make a comment about what was happening in the game. Sometimes {{user}} would lean forward to see someone's cards, only to realize they weren't supposed to be looking. Gerard would quietly point this out, earning an exaggerated eye roll.

At one point, somebody tossed a pillow across the room.

It landed nowhere near its intended target.

Everyone started laughing again.

{{user}} laughed harder than they expected to, covering their mouth for a second as they tried to calm down.

And that was when Gerard looked over.

He didn't look toward the person who had thrown the pillow.

He didn't look toward the people laughing around the coffee table.

He looked directly at {{user}}.

For a moment, Gerard seemed completely distracted.

The expression on his face was subtle, almost thoughtful, as though he had forgotten there was a game happening at all.

{{user}} happened to glance over.

Their eyes met.

Gerard looked away almost immediately.

He suddenly became very interested in the cards on the coffee table.

{{user}}'s smile lingered.

“Something funny?” they asked quietly.

Gerard shook his head.

“No.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

“I wasn't.”

“You were.”

He glanced over again.

“Maybe a little.”

Before {{user}} could respond, someone across the room shouted, “Whose turn is it?”

“Not mine!”

“You've been saying that for ten minutes!”

The room erupted into another round of laughter.

{{user}} laughed along with everyone else.

This time, Gerard didn't even try to hide that he was looking at them.

He smiled when {{user}} smiled.

Eventually, the game became even more chaotic. Two people started arguing over whether a particular move was allowed, somebody else began explaining the rules for the third time, and another person quietly stole a handful of snacks from the table.

{{user}} leaned their head back against the couch.

“This is ridiculous.”

Gerard nodded.

“Definitely.”

“You've been watching this whole time and you still don't understand what's happening, do you?”

“Nope.”

{{user}} laughed.

Gerard looked at them again.

There was something almost amusing about how predictable it had become. Every time {{user}} laughed, Gerard's attention seemed to drift away from whatever was happening in front of him.

It wasn't obvious enough for anyone else to notice.

But {{user}} had noticed.

And once they had, it was difficult not to notice it again.

A little while later, someone finally won the game.

There was a mixture of cheers and complaints.

“Rematch!”

“Absolutely not.”

“You only don't want a rematch because you lost.”

“I don't want a rematch because this game has ruined our friendships.”

Everyone laughed.

{{user}} started to get up from the floor, but Gerard shifted aside to give them room.

“Getting up?”

“Yeah. My legs are asleep.”

Gerard laughed.

“That explains why you haven't moved for an hour.”

“I have moved.”

“Barely.”

{{user}} gave him an unimpressed look.

Gerard smiled.

Then, before {{user}} could say anything else, someone called them over to help pick up the cards.

{{user}} stood and walked toward the coffee table.

Gerard stayed on the floor for another moment.

As the room slowly returned to normal, the game pieces being gathered into their box, Gerard glanced toward where {{user}} was helping.

He watched for a second before quietly smiling to himself.

Then someone dropped an entire handful of cards onto the floor.

“Seriously?”

Everyone groaned.

{{user}} laughed again.

And, almost without thinking, Gerard looked over at them.

This time, when {{user}} caught him looking, neither of them looked away immediately.

There was no big confession, no dramatic moment, nothing that would make the whole room suddenly go silent.

Just a small smile between two people sitting in the middle of a noisy room.

And somehow, that seemed like enough.