One day we’ll live together, you and I, and we’ll stay up late playing video games and get up far too early the next morning (early, in our opinion, is before 10am). I’ll complain that I’m tired, you’ll say that I’m not human till I’ve had coffee, and I’ll joke that you’re not even human at all. Then, we’ll sit outside, eat breakfast and drink coffee and lounge around in our pyjamas. Maybe we’ll have a balcony. Maybe we’ll have a backyard. I bet the sun will be shining in our eyes, either way. And we’ll laugh, because we laugh a lot around each other.
We’ll probably end up sleeping in the same bed every once in a while: you’ll complain that I stole all the covers and I’ll just grin and press my cold feet against your calves. We’ll talk till it’s 2am. 2am, when the world is quietest, but we aren’t.
We’ll play music and dance – we’ll dance horribly, or at least I will – and I’ll trip over something and fall onto the floor, and moments later you’ll join me there, breathless with laughter while one of our favourite songs plays in the background.
We’ll make terrible sushi and eat too much pizza, and we’ll drive to McDonalds at midnight because neither of us can sleep and if I stay up past midnight I always get hungry. I’ll eat your fries. You’ll wrinkle your nose at my cheeseburgers. We’ll kick each other under the table and grin at each other over the top.
We’ll borrow each other’s clothes. You’ll say that I make you wear too much flannel, and I’ll tell you that there’s no such thing as too much flannel. I’ll take your coats; you’ll steal my hoodies.
I’ll drag you into the kitchen to help me cook, and you’ll groan and carry on for a while, but then you’ll dutifully chop vegetables and stir the contents of pots, and you’ll sigh when I accidentally injure myself. It happens a lot, I’m clumsy. We’ll both laugh about it.
We’ll go to work and we’ll go to university: I’ll shuffle in through the door at some late hour and you’ll hand me a beer, just like the way I hand you a coffee in the mornings.
One day we’ll live together, you and I, and it will be the best of things: we’ll laugh, we’ll have fun, we’ll learn how to be adults and we’ll make mistakes along the way. We’ll argue, inevitably, but we’ll work things out. We always have and we always will. And we’ll always say: this is the greatest friendship I have ever had.