on narrow stairs

you’re my best friend.

you’re a “straight male.” 
yet just recently we’ve kissed, upon your initiation.
we cuddle all the time. we find excuses to touch each other. 
when you’re lonely, you cuddle with me, and i with you.
when you cry, you make your roommate come get me so i can hold you and no one has to see you cry.
there was even a night that you had a meltdown, and i held you and kissed your forehead, running my fingers through your hair and my nails across the skin of your arm until you fell asleep. and i just held you all night because i care.
when we get drunk we sleep together and spoon and sometimes you hold my hand while we sleep.
we’ve talked about sex (not really anything significant, just who would be on top and who on bottom.)
we’ve both gotten jealous.
this is that part in life when that line between best friends and more gets really blurry.