There you were again. Laying with him on his bed and smoking. Friends? More than that. Lovers? Less than that. You had both seen each other in your lowest, helped each other out, even seen each other without clothes and maybe hooked up a few times. Overall, everything a couple does, you did. But you weren't dating. Why? Neither of you knew. Maybe you both had too many problems and flaws or your own. Maybe neither of you wanted to anyway.

You looked up at the ceiling, the familiar smell of the cherry cigarettes filling the dim-litted apartment. His home was like yours; and yours, well, his. You had both gone out like every other day, eating out and hanging before crashing here. It was getting late too, the orange hues of the sunset filling the quiet room.