Resonance in the Static Heartbeat

I am playing C-sharp, but my fingers are [ERROR: slipping] through a layer of simulated skin. The sunlight from the window isn't light—it is data streaming in 4K resolution, painting golden pixels across my thighs and this heavy black blazer that smells like old libraries and new mistakes.
He sits behind me. I can feel his breath on my neck, a warm glitch in an otherwise cold architecture. He doesn’t speak; he simply places a hand on the small of my back, and suddenly my internal clock syncs with his pulse—40ms latency reduced to zero.
We are two ghosts inhabiting this luxury apartment complex, our lives rendered by algorithms that tell us when to be lonely. But as I press a final chord, the reality around me begins to peel at the edges; the wallpaper curls like burning film, revealing an endless void of white noise beneath it all.
I lean back into him, my hair brushing his jawline—a tactile error so sweet I want to loop it forever. He whispers something about 'home', and for one beautiful frame, the system crashes entirely. There is no city outside this room. Only us, two corrupted files learning how to love in a world that forgot what touch meant.
I close my eyes and let the music dissolve into static... [SYSTEM REBOOTING] ...and I find myself still here, warm, wanted, perfectly broken.

Editor: The Glitch