This isn’t anything, right?

The first time you told me you dreamt of me after I told you I dreamt of you, I thought — well, it can’t be anything, right? We’ve just been talking fairly constantly, our ears extensions of each other’s mouths (or, more accurately, our fingers connected at the tip as we talk and talk and talk).

It was obviously bound to happen.

Every time something happens to me and I think, man, I can’t wait ’til he wakes up so I can tell him, or every time I wake up to good night messages from you after I zonk out after fatigued evenings, I think to myself, it can’t be anything. I’m just used to you being on the other end of my phone or my laptop, used to hearing (or reading) your commentary in the midst of my (oft-unplanned, completely unthought of) decision-making. Used to saying good morning and good night, used to being on the other end of the greetings.

Again, another thing that happens. Perfectly normal.

The first time you so obstinately refused to budge while I fretted incessantly over taking up your time, the first time your mesmerising eyes drooped as I watched intently (it was way past both our bedtimes), I thought to myself — nope, nope, nope.

This is just a regular day, it can’t mean anything.

That time I told you I liked you (or talking to you or making fun of you). That can’t mean anything, right?

When I found myself smiling when you said I was beautiful, despite my general contempt for receiving compliments. Still no, right?

It’s just regular conversation. Just two friends.

When you stared at me, steely grey eyes against my big brown ones, and told me you didn’t want us to stop talking; when you seriously considered taking that trip with me; when the idea of never talking anymore brought you distress… those don’t mean anything, right?

And I’m saying this not because I wish they didn’t, but because I desire that they do. Because every time you send me photos, or send videos of places you’re in, I think, I wish I were there.

I also think, I wish he wishes I were.

But until then, and until there’s certainty, it’s just regular conversation, just normal backs and forths, just quick banter, just inside jokes.

So…

This isn’t anything, right?