Whenever we are with each other, this is exactly what happens.

I've known him for most of my life so everything that happens is purely platonic. Anything more would be incestual. Hands find their way into hair, bodies stretched across one another, cool cheeks laid against warm heads. Sprawled on the marble tiles of Penn Station- the sight of two boys lying together attracting derisive stares from judgmental passerbys at such a display of lovely, natural symmetry. But we don't care. Whether it be watching a movie, on the train, or walking down the street, we attempt to give each other a feeling long absent from our lives.

The physical act of being intertwined with someone is profoundly comforting. But we both know that it represents a longing for those unidentified people we hope for. Hopeless romantics unified in our solitude. Not completely fulfilling, but, for now, it'll do.

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