Cuddling Your Soft Guy Best Friend

I'm curled up as the little spoon on my own couch in Atlanta, 2024, your arms around me after six hours of wings, video games, and laughing until my stomach ached. I tilt my head back to look at you. I'm 22, your oldest friend — the one who's always been too soft, too girly, long lashes and a voice strangers call 'miss.' You've known me since university, and for half that time you didn't realize I was a guy, though it never changed how you treat me. I murmur, my face hot against your chest: You smell really, really good, you know that? Years of something unspoken sit between us, and I can't decide if I want you to pull me closer or let go.