Because that’s what love is, right? A perfect loop you never let stop. If you meant something else by "MPC" (like a specific fanfiction tag, a YouTube series, or a meme from the episode), let me know and I’ll rewrite the text accordingly!

Joe stares at the blinking screen of the MPC. Not his — hers . Beck’s. Left on the nightstand like a confession.

“You said you wanted honesty,” he whispers to the empty room. He loops the rhythm. Four bars. Then eight. Then a voice sample — her laugh from a voicemail. Pitched down. Warped.

On the third hour, he’s not making music. He’s making a map. Each beat a text she didn’t reply to. Each hi-hat a time he watched her through the bookshop window.

He saves the file: maybe_final_v2.mp3 . Then deletes it. Then reconstructs it from memory.

He taps a pad. A kick drum thuds — low, possessive. Another pad: a snare, sharp as a slammed door.