When I saw him walking toward me in the airport, my heart lit up like it does every time I see him. With a beaming smile on my face and on his, I walked toward him and we exchanged a firm but quick hug. Our faces were pressed against one another for just a second and it felt right. We gathered his luggage and made our way to the car, sharing stories of his trip and stealing longing glances at one another. During the drive, as we had moments of stillness, we’d gaze at one another and smile for just a second. A sliver of time dedicated to saying “I love you” without mumbling a word. Here and there a hand would pat a shoulder, back, or thigh, followed with an, “I have missed you so much, man,” the type of phrase that held up the slim boundary that kept our relationship still.

Our relationship has always been weird. Everyone know thinks that we’re fucking behind their backs and are just too scared to tell them, but that really isn’t the case. We’re best friends, no doubt. I’ve spent more time with him than any other person, and we’ve only been close for about 17 months. He has slept over in my bed because he hated his roommate so many time I lost count, and when neither of us hit it off with a girl after a night of drinking, I could count on him to be back in my bed that night. We talk daily, and there isn’t anything we don’t talk about. Our thing has always been watching movies together. We would sit in bed and lean against one another, have an arm wrapped around a shoulder, and a few times even held hands. But other than a few drunken, joking kisses that were far from abnormal in our close-knit friend group, we never went further than that. I always knew I wanted to, but risking our friendship was never something I found to be an option.

Back in his apartment, we laid in bed as he dozed in and out of sleep, failing to conquer the jet lag. Still, occasional smiles at one another would confirm how grateful we were to have someone around. After what must have been the third stare in as many minutes, I made a leap. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to have to kiss you right on the mouth,” I said jokingly.

“You know what? People have been talking and I heard you wouldn’t,” he countered with a straight face.

“You know how I feel about those people talking… Just don’t let it happen again.”

We went on about our conversations, discussing his escapades in Europe and mine with the girl that I hadn’t spoken to since high school graduation. “You mean to tell me that after 15 snapchats you were with her and she was topless?” “I’m telling you, man, she has it in for me and has for about 10 years. It was simple.”

“Dude, you’re my hero.