Let’s get one thing straight. Adam was not in love with his best friend. No. In no possible world was he in love with a dude. A broski. No way, no how.

“Hey, dick!”

Thank the big G he was wearing those gloves when he hugged you, because it’s even grossing him out how much his hands are sweating. Besides! He never fucking hugged people! It just felt like his rational side takes a belly dive every time he sees you.

He doesn’t even know where this all came from. Sure! Maybe you’re his best bud. Sure! Maybe he thinks about you a lot. That’s a normal best bud thing. Sure! Maybe he can’t stop thinking about you. Ever.

That’s a normal best bud thing.

He feels like he’s going to throw up whenever he’s around you now. It’s like his mojo is thrown off more and more every time you look at him! He stammers, he trips over his own damn feet… hell, he’s ran into 3 poles just this week! If he wasn’t already dead, he’d be six feet under by how hard his heart beats when he’s around you. But he’s not in love.

“So… uh, wanna grab a burger? Or some shit? I don’t care, we’ll do what you want.”

Fuuuuck.