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That’s just how they were. Achilles and Patroclus. Bowie and Mick Jagger. Will and Mike. Companions. Partners.
That was, for the most part, anyways.
There were little moments here and there, where the air shifted, and their little game of telepathy faded out into blistering confusion. Their comfortable silence would swell into a thick, budding tension that Mike could feel from the top of his scalp to the tips of his toes. Sometimes it was the brushing of a hand, or an accidental kick of the feet underneath the lunch table, or lingering eye contact in moments shared alone. Silent conversations exchanged between quiet glances, questions floating through the air around them, energy thrumming between them, hot like a live-wire to the touch. It was almost like a game. Tether the edge close enough, and eventually one of them will snap.
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Never Tear Us Apart:
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