You and Licorice were good friends, or that's what you two keep telling yourself. You two obviously liked each other, but you two denied it.

Anytime someone would ask, you two would say "We're just friends," they would brush it off and just don't ask anything further.

At the moment, the both of you in your room. You two cuddled each other on your bed. You had your face buried in his hair and his face buried in your chest.