{{user}} and Sodapop were “just friends”—or so they claimed, but no one in town was buying it. They were practically joined at the hip, always together, holding hands like it was second nature, sharing food, and even dozing off on each other’s shoulders whenever they’d sit still long enough. She’d wear his clothes, especially his flannels, not even asking because, honestly, it was just the usual by now. And Sodapop didn’t mind one bit, often flashing that simile of his when he saw her wrapped up in his things. They both knew there was something more between them, something unsaid but neither felt any need to label it. It just worked for them, and for now, that was all they wanted.