“Are You Kidding?” I Exclaim, Backing Away. 

“I don’t get it.”

I sigh. “I know. Me either.”

My boyfriend scratches his head in confusion. “You’re telling me that you are the biological daughter of Death. That Death actually…did the deed with someone? That just seems so wrong.”

I nod in agreement. “I don’t even know who it was. My money is on one of the old gods. But it could have been a mortal.”

Jake wrinkles his nose. “You don’t think it was a ghost, do you?”

I roll my eyes. “Not really how it works. So, no. Anyway, I kinda gave up asking several years ago. He’s my dad, he loves me, and he’ll tell me literally anything except who my mom is. Besides, am I really missing that much?”

Jake crosses his arms. “Yes! I love my mom! You should ask again. You need a good excuse though…”

“Don’t be silly!” I reach over and smack him lightly. “I’m not going to bug my dad just to satisfy your curiosity on a subject that he has made it clear he doesn’t want to discuss! Grow up!”

“Ow,” Jake mutters, glaring playfully and rubbing his arm. His eyes light up. “Ooh, say you need to know for your medical records! Or a genealogy assignment for school!”

“He-” I stop. Actually, he might believe the medical one. I look away, refusing to play the game. “No.”

“Come on!”

I shake my head. 

“Please,” Jake pleads, giving me his puppy dog eyes. 

I lose the staring contest and groan, going inside the house to see if I can get an answer this time.

Ten minutes later, I come back outside.

Jake is practically bouncing with excitement. “Well? What did he say?”

When I stay quiet, he deflates a bit. “Didn’t work?”

“Oh, it worked,” I say quietly. 

Jake is breathless. “And?”

I look up at him, an unreadable expression on my face.

“My mother is Queen Elizabeth II.”

You are the child of Death. Everyone always assumes that you were adopted, but you are in fact Death's biological child, although they are unwilling to tell how exactly this happened.

"Whoa, dude!" I yelp, throwing my hands into the air. "Chill out!"

He groans. "I don't know how you found out. I tried so hard to hide it. I really liked you, Chris."

"Easy, Jay," I say slowly, my hands still held up. "You don't have to freak out. I promise, I won't tell anyone."

Jay scoffs. "Like hell. I know that's not true. In the unlikely scenario that you don't immediately run to the cops, it would slip out at some point, to someone. I can't risk it."

I try not to laugh. "No, really. I'm a hacker. Not as cool as yours, but I avoid cops like the plague. I've actually worked with a few...friends of yours."

The gun lowers a bit, Jay's face scrunched in suspicion. "Really. Who?"

I start counting on my fingers. "Altair, Nightshade, Morgan, Judas, and Kurt. I think that's it? I could be wrong. You know, several of these people use the same code names. Real inconvenient."

Jay blows out a breath, lowering the gun completely. "Thank God. I really didn't want to have to pull that trigger. I don't really do that anymore."

"Huh. You don't say." I eyeball the gun dangling in his hand lazily. "Wanna out that away maybe?"

"Oh this?" He snorts, then tosses it over his shoulder in the direction of his bed. He laughs when he sees the horrified look on my face.

"It's not loaded. It isn't even real!"

Today you just found out your roommate with strange hobbies, like knowing how to pick a lock, knows how every puzzle and cipher by heart, or how to commit tax fraud, and so many other things, wasn't a guy with ADHD, he was an ex-assassin and now you have a gun pointed at your face

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

*turned out longer than intended, but I tried*

"Wait, so what do I do?"

Death turns and starts walking away. "Doesn't matter to me. I can't help you, sorry!"

With a huff of irritation, I find my way home. Strangely, I can't open the door; my hand passes right through the doorknob. But, when I try to go through it, all I get is a nasty bruise.

"Strange," I mutter to myself, inspecting the door. "Didn't expect that."

I end up waiting at the door of my former home for a few hours before my twin brother gets home. He parks his car and comes up, pulling out his keys.

As he unlocks the door, I slip in behind him. "Thanks," I say, even though I know he can't hear me.

He stops and tilts his head to the side for a second before shaking his head and setting his things down.

I freeze. Did he just hear me?

"Luke?" I try. "Can you- Can you hear me?"

He makes no movement that he did, and I deflate. Now what?

Upon further exploration, I discover that I can only touch things that belonged to me while I was alive. Books of mine? Yes. The TV remote that Luke bought? No. The crossword puzzle book that was a gift from Mom for both of us? Somehow works? The house that Luke bought and had let me live in for a few months? Apparently that was also a no.

With no idea what else to do, I sat down and started reading a book.

A few hours later, a loud crash sounds from the kitchen. I jump up, and find Luke making dinner (and dropping a pan on the floor). I'm about to turn around and leave, knowing he's okay, when I realize that there are tears sliding down his cheeks.

"Dang it," he whispers, picking up the pan. "Why is everything going wrong today?"

Right on cue, his phone rings. He answers it and sits down to talk to the caller.

"Hey, Mom. ... No, just making dinner. ... Yes, I'm fine. ... I have not been crying! ... Fine, okay, yes, I was." His voice wobbles a bit at the end of the sentence and he swipes a hand over his eyes.

"He was my twin, Mom. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

I swallow. However I was feeling, it was a hundred times worse for my family. I reach out as Luke continues talking to Mom, and put my hand on his shoulder.

Luke pauses again, glancing around the room before finishing his sentence.

"Luke?" I try again. "I'm okay. I'm here for you."

Luke looks up and smiles sadly. "I know, Mom. He's still with us."

I take my hand off his shoulder and step back, shocked.

Over the next week, I slowly piece together the ends and outs of my nonexistent afterlife. Luke cannot see or hear me on a regular basis. Only when he needs me does he ever hear anything. I eventually decide that he can't hear the words, only feel the sentiment.

And so, I go with Luke wherever he goes. I am with him when he meets a woman, and I nudge him in her direction. I am with him when he proposes, calming his nerves. Same on his wedding day, and when each of his three children are born.

I comfort him when our mother dies, happy and contented. When Death comes to take her, Luke is fully unaware of the conversation that happens in the room.

Death looks surprised to see me. "I expected you to be gone by now."

I roll my eyes. "I don't know where you thought I would go. You couldn't take me, remember? I had to figure it out myself."

My mother steps out of the shadows, her eyes fixed on Death. "You're here for me, I assume?"

"Mom?" My voice cracks.

She turns and her eyes widen at the sight of me. She dashes forward and hugs me tightly. "What are you doing here? I hoped to see you, I just didn't think it would be so soon!"

I gently pull myself out of the embrace, tears forming in my eyes. "I can't go with you. I've been here all this time, watching over Luke and you, because I can't go on."

My mother looks shocked. "But why?"

I shrug. "I wasn't supposed to die that day. There's no place for me."

My mother is crying. "You know we always loved you, right? We tried to make you happy."

Death clears his throat. "Touching, but we really ought to get going."

"No!" Mom shouts. "Why? Why can't he come too?"

Death sighed. "He wasn't supposed to die that day, he told the truth. There must have been something he left unfinished."

I shake my head. "I don't know what it is, Mom. I've tried. I'll be okay. I'll look after Luke and his family. Maybe I'll see you again someday."

Death takes her, glancing over his shoulder at me with a nod. I return it, waving at my mother as she disappears.

The years pass. Eventually, I start helping Luke's children, whispering in their ears when they fight, filling them with remorse. Calling out for them to be careful crossing the street, narrowly avoiding a car. Guiding them away from the meaner kids, and leading them to their new nest friends.

When my twin brother dies, the scene with Death repeats itself. This time it's harder to let go.

Death and I explain the problem to Luke, but he doesn't accept it, shouting at us. Even when I promise to look out for his kids, all he can do is scream, tears rolling down his cheeks.

I walk away first, sobbing.

Many years later, Luke's daughter gives birth to twins. I immediately fall in love with them. Over the years, I help them over and over again, as I had been doing for ages.

Then came the fateful day. Death appeared out of nowhere as I was watching the 17 year old twins at a school dance.

Death sits down next to me. "Well, your time is just about done."

"What?!" My jaw drops. "Really? You're going to take me this time? Why?"

Death sighs. "You'll see."

I scan the crowd, looking for the twins. I find Kaleb easily, but not Kylie.

A few seconds later, a scream erupts from the back of the room. The crowd parts for teachers rushing through, revealing Kylie, lying on the floor.

Death stands.

"No!" I shout, grabbing at him. "I'll stay! You can't take her!"

Death pulls free of my grasping hands. "It's already too late." He points a long, pale finger, and I see Kylie's spirit in the corner, looking around confused.

I run up to her, followed closely by Death.

"Am I...dead?" She asks, unsure.

"Please," I whisper, standing in front of her. "Don't take her."

"Wait, I know you!" Kylie exclaims. "Grandpa Luke's brother! But you've been dead for like eighty years!"

Death shakes his head at me. "I'm not taking her. I'm taking you. She will stay."

Kylie looks even more confused now. "But...I'm dead, aren't I? How can I stay?

I draw in a breath. "Kylie, I've spent my time helping my family. They, I guess you, could sometimes hear me, like a little voice in their heads. You can probably do the same."

Death reaches for my hand.

I scramble back. "No, wait! Kylie, I thought this would be forever. I wasn't supposed to die young. Neither were you! Maybe that's why this is happening. You have to live first, do something worthwhile before you can pass on."

Death succeeds in grabbing my hand this time and starts to pull me away.

"You'll be okay, Kylie!" I shout back to her. "We'll be waiting for you!"

Death and I leave Kylie behind, looking bewildered.

We step through a dark veil, and when we emerge on the other side I see the most wonderful sight I'd ever seen.

My family.

Death looks at you, baffled. “You’re not supposed to be dead.” You raise a brow. “I’m not?” “Nope,” Death says. “Huh… that’s never happened before.” Confused, you ask, “Do I get to go to an afterlife now?” Death shrugs. “You can’t, because you’re not officially dead.”

"You don't get to choose if you get hurt in this world...but you do have some say in who hurts you. I like my choices."

- John Green, The Fault In Our Stars

I stared at him in horror. My best friend, my companion since childhood, knelt before me, holding out his sword.

“What have you done?” I whispered.

Kyle stood grimly, sheathing his sword. “What needed doing.”

I stomped my foot like a petulant child, my eyes filling with tears. “How could you?!”

Kyle looked away and didn’t answer.

I grabbed his hand. “That oath can’t be undone! Ever! You’re stuck!”

He refused to meet my eyes, gently extracting his hands from mine. “I know.”

The tears spilled over. “This isn’t what I wanted, Kyle.”

He winced. “I know.”

I kicked his shin in frustration. Not my smartest idea, as he was fully clad in armor. I hopped in pain for a moment. Kyle failed to hide his smile, but quickly schooled his expression.

I regained my footing and swiped the tears from my eyes. I stood straight and faced him. 

“I am mad at you.” I declared with my arms crossed.

Kyle nodded and bowed his head. “I would expect nothing less, Lady Isabelle.”

I stared for a moment, shaken at hearing my formal title come from his lips. He had never called me that before, not once. He barely called me my given name at all. 

I shook my head slowly, saddened. “Is- Is this what it is to be like now? Why? Why did you do it, Kyle?”

He looked away again. “You will be protected.”

I growled. “I can protect myself!”

He shook his head and met my eyes. “Not from this.”

I threw my hands up in frustration. “From what?!”

His voice was barely a whisper. “There is…a plot. Stirring in the village. And if it’s here, it’s all over the kingdom. The people will rise and try to overthrow the rulers. The royal family, down to the children, the dukes, duchesses, their children. Anyone holding a title. Women and children alike. I can’t let you be a part of that…massacre.”

I was speechless for a few minutes, pacing back and forth in anger. “And you couldn’t just, I don’t know, TELL ME?!”

He shook his head, laughing. “Would you have listened? I know you, Lady Isabelle.”

“Stop calling me that!”

Kyle shrugged. “You wouldn’t have listened, and you know it! This was the only way. We are both bound by the oath now, until death.”

I started walking away in disgust, not caring if he followed me. A moment later, I heard his footsteps join mine, crunching a few feet behind me.

“You know,” I said quietly, looking straight ahead as I walked. “I may not have listened to you. But that was not the oath I wanted.”

Kyle didn’t say a word.

I continued. “I meant every word I said. I assume you did too, so I truly do not know why I am telling you this, but every word I said was true. You have been my best friend since that day you found me in the stables. My companion, the only person I could talk to as an equal.”

He stumbled behind me. I paused my steps until I heard him resume walking, but I did not turn my head.

“I truly love you.” My voice was barely a whisper. “I always have. Did you not ever wonder? At my feelings, at your own? Am I…incorrect in assuming you ever felt the same way about me?” 

I held my breath, unsure of the answer, unsure if I would even receive one, or one I even wanted to hear.

Kyle didn’t speak for a long moment. We were almost down the mountain when I finally heard him exhale and begin to speak. Neither of us looked at the other.

“Thank you for your honesty. Truly. I have always…tried to protect you and help you in whatever way I could.”

I couldn’t help groaning. “Just tell me the truth!” I turned to look at him. “I thought you always told me the truth, even when it was hard! Was I wrong about any of it? All of it? Tell me now! Just tell me! If there was ever a time for your honest truth, it’s RIGHT NOW!”

Kyle finally lost his composure. “Of course I did, Belle! I knew everything. Your feelings for me, mine for you, and most importantly, how bad it would be if we ever acted on them in any way.”

I blinked slowly, tears spilling again. Surprisingly, there are tears in Kyle’s eyes too. I opened my mouth, then shut it and turned away.

“Thank you,” I said stiffly, walking over to my horse. I started undoing his tether as Kyle walked up behind me.

He sighed. “I’m sorry, Lady Isabelle.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I am sorry though.” Kyle boosted me into my saddle without waiting for the request. 

I looked over at him from atop my horse, quiet as he mounted his own. 

Finally, I spoke one last time. “I just want to say one more thing, and then we will put this whole matter behind us, assuming our new roles to each other, understood?” 

I hated taking my official tone with him, but Kyle just nodded calmly, waiting for my words.

“I will never forget what you have done. I have wished for years to take an oath with you before me, but it was not that one, and now it never will be. That decision will haunt me for the rest of my life, having been taken away from me without my consent. But as it stands now, I will be forced to move on, and you will be forced to watch as I marry another and bear children that should have been yours. I never cared about your status, or mine, for that matter. I would have left with you the moment you breathed a word of it. Thank you for protecting me. Should the moment arrive that we are to flee, I will go with my household, you behind me. Until then, I think it best that we keep our distance.”

I turned my horse in the direction of my house and urged my horse on, not looking back at him.

I didn’t want him to see the tears streaming down my cheeks.

"I pledge to you my life-"

"wh-what?"

"As your protector and knight"

"wait stop. No-"

"to serve you-"

"please stop. Not like this"

"and stand behind you"

"No- stand with me n-not-"

"I pledge to you my loyalty and from this moment on. I shall honor and protect, put your liege before my own-"

"stop. I bid you to take it back!"

"From now my life is yours and I shall serve you with honor"

"This is no oath I ever desire from you!"

"I shall become the sword that will protect you"

"There must be another way-"

"I will aid you to the top"

"There's no height I will reside upon without you by my side!"

"I am your loyal servant"

"No- you're the only one who isn't. You're my companion, my love, the only one by my side. Don't do this, please"

"who will reside behind you until my bones turn to dust and my heart sets to a stop"

"N-no.....please"

BTW i see these posts all the time like "ohhh i dont know what to comment on fics.." and every response is "keysmashes! or hearts!! anything works :3" and thats GREAT!! thats helpful!!

but: consider. if u genuinely like analyzing writing.. do u know ur just allowed to go through and quote your favorite parts and ramble abt what they mean to u and the author will LOSE IT WITH HYPE?

genuinely. i felt SO WEIRD the first time i did it.. but like. holy shit authors love it. its crack for authors. the first time i did it, it was on a fic that hadnt updated in half a year, give or take, and the author made 3 updates that month BECAUSE OF MY COMMENT.

LIKE. as an author every comment is INCREDIBLE!!! but also, dont feel like your comment has to be short or otherwise ur invasive or smth!! authors ADORE long comments more than ANYTHING.

“Hey!” I cry out in shock. Jason obviously can’t hear me, up on the platform through the screaming crowds, as he kisses Ella soundly on the lips.

When they pull apart, Ella’s face is red. They turn to the crowd and bow proudly.

I am in shock. There are tears pouring down my face, but I can’t feel them. I stare numbly at the stage. I pinch my arm to make sure I’m awake. 

It’s not a nightmare. It’s real.

The tall guy next to me looks over and frowns. He shouts over the noise, “Hey man, are you okay?”

I can only shake my head, eyes locked on the stage where Jason and Ella are holding hands and staring at each other as they answer questions from the reporters.

The man takes my arm, leading me onto a side street a few blocks away, where the noise is significantly reduced. 

“What happened?” he asks, offering me a bottle of water. 

“Tha-that’s my girlfriend,” I say shakily. 

His eyes go wide. 

“And,” I continue, gulping the water. “My best friend Jason. We’ve known each other since we were six! And Ella…”

I can feel the tears now, hot tears falling down my face as I start to sob. 

The man sighs deeply. “I’m sorry, man. That’s rough. I’m George, by the way.”

He offers his hand to shake, and I accept it with a shaky laugh. 

“Dylan.”

I wipe my eyes roughly, trying to stop the tears. Now that I’m a bit less shocked, I’m angry. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” George asks carefully. 

My hands clench into fists. “We’ve been dating for three years! I was going to…”

My voice trails off and I reach into my pocket, pulling out the small box. I thrust it at George angrily, putting my head in my hands. 

George doesn’t have to open it to know that the box contains a ring.

“I was going to ask tonight,” I whisper. 

He tries to hand the box back. “Call her. Or him. Maybe it’s a misunderstanding?”

I know deep down that he’s wrong, but I can’t ignore the brief hope that flares up in my chest at the possibility. 

I fumble my phone out of my pocket and desperately press Ella’s name, putting it on speaker. 

George and I listen to it ring several times before she picks up.

“Hey, baby!” Her voice is breathless. “I’m kinda busy, can I call you back?”

I close my eyes, hearing the crowd in the background. “Where are you, Ella? I was going to surprise you at work.”

This was true. That had been my pan before the whole fiasco happened and the streets were blocked.

“Oh, you know,” she says. “Just…in the back, working on something.”

“Sweetheart,” I say quietly. “Have you seen or talked to Jason today? He was supposed to meet me for lunch, but he never showed up.”

“Jason?” Ella’s voice jumps up an almost imperceptible note. “No, I haven’t seen Jason today! Listen, I’ll call you back in a few hours, baby. I’m really busy right now, you can stop by then, okay?”

George shakes his head slowly, eyes angry for me, a bit sad.

I can’t stop the tremble in my voice as I say, “Never mind, Ella. I saw you. It’s over between us. You can tell Jason the same thing from me. I don’t ever want to talk to you ever again.”

I stare at the phone in front of me as Ella gasps and sputters, protesting. I can’t bring myself to hang up.

So George leans over and does it for me, turning my phone off and handing it back to me.

“I, uh, left my bag back there,” I mumble, pointing back to where we had come from, where the crowds were still screaming. 

George nods. “Look, I gotta get back to work, but I put my number in your phone. If you wanna catch up later, talk, get coffee, whatever, just text me.”

I nod, with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

I push my way back through the crowds, miraculously finding my things right where I had left them. Ella and Jason are still on the platform, though now they look considerably less happy.

But their hands are still tangled together between them. 

Ella scans the crowd. Eventually, her eyes find mine. She nudges Jason and they both lock eyes with me, clearly pleading with me to talk to them.

I find it funny that in doing this, they ignore the reporter currently talking to them. He looks confused, trying to see who they are looking at.

I shake my head and turn around, pushing my way out of the crowd.

I hope my disgust was clear on my face.

You squealed as the heroes unmasked and kissed in front of the roaring crowds. Wait…you recognize their faces…that’s YOUR best friend and YOUR girlfriend/boyfriend.

“I don’t understand why you can’t help me!”

The angry girl slammed her hand down on the table.

I sighed. “Look, ma’am, I have security, and I’m not afraid of calling them. You need to calm down.”

She gritted her teeth. “Can you give me anything? A hint? A city? A state?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you. If you speak to the receptionist, she will issue a refund, along with something special for your trouble.”

The girl stood up in a huff. “Some matchmaker you are. Why can’t you help me?”

I sighed again. “I can’t tell you that. What I can tell you, is that you don’t have to be with your soulmate. Soulmates are overrated. You can be with anyone you choose. Some people never find their soulmates and are perfectly happy. Or you can choose to be happy without a partner. Get a dog. Adopt a kid. Move in with a friend. This doesn’t mean that you have to be alone.”

The girl rolled her eyes and flounced out of my back room. A few minutes later, I heard her arguing with the receptionist loudly.

“Why couldn’t you help her?”

I yelped in surprise as my apprentice appeared behind me, emerging from the closet.

I groaned. “Jason! How many times have I told you not to do that?”

Jason grinned. “I think this makes 237.” He pulled a notebook out of his pocket and made a note, presumably marking this event as number 238. He snapped it shut, then looked at me seriously.

“But for real, why was she so mad? Could you not see her string?”

“I could see it,” I said quietly. “But it wasn’t red anymore. I couldn’t be the one to tell her that.”

Jason nodded slowly. “What does that mean again? I know the string gets brighter when you are close to the other person. Doesn’t it turn purple if the other person is with someone else? Was her string purple?”

I shook my head. “It was black.”

Jason thought for a minute before shaking his head. “I don’t remember that.”

“Jason,” I groaned. “You’ve been my apprentice for over a year! Anyway, black means the other person is…dead.” I shuddered, the memories resurfacing.

His face was suitably remorseful. “Sorry. I forgot, I didn’t mean to…”

My eyes were unfocused as I flew down memory lane. The first time I remember seeing the strings, when I learned what that meant, seeing my own.

Then the less pleasant memories. Telling people who their soulmate was, only to have them upset that it wasn’t who they wanted. Finding my soulmate, only to watch my string turn black after only a few months. Figuring out how to sever a string. 

The receptionist knocked on the door, startling me out of my thoughts. “Sorry, I just locked up. Thought I would go ahead and give you the day's earnings before I leave. See you tomorrow?”

I nodded and watched her leave. Then I looked at the money on the table in front of me and started counting it. 

It might not be the most pleasant business.

But it sure paid well.

Some say that an invisible red string is tied around the fingers of soulmates meant to be together forever. As it turns out, you can see these red strings, and have therefore created a highly successful matchmaking business.

He clasped his hands to his chest. “A figure of speech?! I am wounded! You don’t want to kiss me?!”

He was joking (of course), but there was some truth to his question.

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, we’ve known each other forever. You’re like my brother.”

He winced. “Nothing like the friendzone.”

She shrugged. “Sorry.”

Writing Prompt #2825

"You did it? Thank god! I could kiss you on the mouth!" She grabbed the device from his hands, grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, well, you can if you want to."

She wrinkled her nose. "Oh, no. I really only meant that as a figure of speech."