Because the thing is, the two of them kiss sometimes, sleep together sometimes, hold hands sometimes; but they never say I love you. Never in the romantic sense anyway. Always an  I love you, my brother.

That’s just how they are.

Their friends could never understand it. All they know, is that sometimes, looking at the two is… disappointing, perplexing, frightening. Like looking at a firework that never went off, you don’t why, but you’re scared it will (when it’s the wrong time, or when it’s already too late.)