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they were close.
too close for the lame excuses and too close for the weak lies they spewed in defense. their connection was a tangible thing, an invisible thread that pulled them together even when they tried to maintain a respectable distance. it was in the way they gravitated towards each other in crowded rooms, the way their eyes sought each other out across spaces. they'd perfected the art of being together without being together, a delicate dance of proximity and denial that fooled no one but themselves. and yet, they persisted in this charade, as if admitting the truth would shatter the carefully constructed world they'd built around themselves.
everyone was used to it by now anyway, finding it more peculiar if the pair weren't together. the line had been crossed years prior, back when their relationship had more of a 'friendship' feel to it.
less touchy feely more buddy pal.
now, they were practically joined at the hip. laurent and larry, larry and laurent. inseparable. their names always uttered in the same breath, as if they were one entity. they'd laugh it off, of course. "what, you jealous?" they'd tease, throwing an arm around each other's shoulders. but the way their bodies fit together, like two pieces of a puzzle, told a different story.
they had their routines, their inside jokes, their shared looks that spoke volumes. to outsiders, it was just two friends being friends. nothing to see here, folks. move along. but those who knew them couldn't help but wonder if there was something more brewing beneath the surface.
their friendship was a carefully choreographed dance, each step calculated to maintain the illusion of normalcy. they'd talk about girls, loudly and often, as if to prove a point. but their eyes would always find each other, a silent conversation happening beneath the surface.
it was a masterful performance, really. they'd perfected the art of being together without being together. always in each other's orbit, but never quite crossing that invisible line.
if you looked only a hint closer though you'd notice little nuances in their interactions- their eyes lingering for a little too long, how blatant the jealousy was when someone tried to flirt with the other, the way larry's smile would falter when laurent mentioned a date. tiny moments, fleeting and easily missed, but telling all the same. really you'd be dumb to miss it, but any time they were questioned of their status they'd reply with the same lighthearted answer.
"just friends," they'd say with a practiced ease, their voices harmonizing in a well-rehearsed duet. but the way their fingers would brush against each other's, seemingly accidental yet deliberate, told a different story. their shared glances spoke volumes, a silent language only they understood.
laurent would often drape his arm over larry's shoulders, casual yet possessive. larry, in turn, would lean into the touch, his body instinctively seeking the familiar warmth. to the untrained eye, it was nothing more than close friendship. but those who knew better saw the unspoken words hanging in the air.
their denial was an art form, perfected over years of practice. it was a game they played, not just with others, but with themselves. a delicate balance of truth and fiction, teetering on the edge of revelation.
they'd even throw in some gaslighting, inquiring how the thought even came to be. both would deny and dismiss every example they had, twisting and turning the story until it was hardly recognizable. if the person were lucky they could get away before their game truly began, the pair building off each other and spinning an intricate web of lies they'd simply laugh about later.
but in the quiet moments, when the world wasn't watching, the truth would peek through. a lingering touch, a soft smile, a look that said more than words ever could. these were the moments they lived for, the stolen seconds of honesty in their carefully constructed lie.
