part of a series of drabbles based on a friendship of mine and its eventual decline

You and Yifan don’t exactly have what you’d call a normal friendship.

You tease each other mercilessly (well, maybe you more so than him, but there’s something about Yifan that just makes him so easy to make fun of), you always end up owing each other money (well, maybe it’s just Yifan who owes you, because even though he likes to say he’s frugal, if he wants clothes, he will get them), you help each other with homework (that’s really just Yifan stealing your worksheets and copying them during lunch because he always ditches class to play basketball), and there’s always someone who thinks the two of you are dating.

You aren’t, and never will, just to clear the air.

But you can’t deny you haven’t thought about it—what life would be like if he held your hand once in a while, or what it would be like to kiss him.

Even so, the two of you are friends.

And you’re pretty ing good friends, too, if you do say so yourself, because it takes a very special kind of person who can put up wirh the you have to put up woth by being friends with Yifan.

But that’s ok.

(It really isn’t.)

Everything’s so much more unstable than it should be, and of course you’d be the one thing that pushes everything off the edge.

It crashes and falls around you, obliterating the tower you’d worked so hard to build.

And you’re not s