Grasp.

My fingers absentmindedly trace the edges of the sofa at his house, and I wait with my sister for him to come back downstairs.  I walk quietly through the living room in a natural way, exchanging comments now and then with her.
"If you love me, let me go," goes the song in my head, and I sing it a bit without really thinking.  "If you love me, let me go."  Several times.
My voice fades out, and I hear footsteps coming down the staircase.  He enters the living room, full of life, as usual, lost somewhere in his own world that I somehow get to be a part of sometimes.  And he sings the song that must have been in his head for some time.  My heart stops when I hear the lyrics.
"Please don't let me go," he sings, hitting every note.
I don't look at him, but there's no reason to avoid his eyes.  He couldn't have heard what I've been singing-- there's no way.  And now there's no way he knows what he's sung in comparison to my subconscious words.
"Okay," my mind tells him.  "I won't."