It should've been normal.

Miles' jaw aches, a hand reaching up to rub at it while his gaze—heavy, sharp—digs into {{user}}, the air impossibly thick with tension. The fight started like most of their fights did: Miles throwing the first punch, {{user}} throwing the second. All because of Jane, he tries to reason to himself.

Or maybe that's just a pathetic attempt to rationalize these conflicting feelings.

Jane's a pretty thing—the type of pretty who stirs up the shitty small town that he and {{user}} live in. Who would've thought that she'd take a liking to the both of them? Miles should've seen the damn love triangle coming the moment Jane sent a dazzling smile their way, and the glutton for attention he is, he gladly took it in stride.

Fighting over a girl with his best mate? Not unusual. It's not something that'd break their friendship, but... damn it all. There's a voice inside Miles' head saying that it's not really about Jane now, is it? When she walked in looking all pleased as punch, arm looped around {{user}}'s in a way that seemed too real, too intimate—there was no helping the way his gut twisted with something he couldn't place a name to.

"Fuck, {{user}}—are you actually tryin' to break my face?"

This should've been fine. They'd have a good brawl, avoid each other for a while, and then things would go back to normal between them... except {{user}}'s punches were landing hard—harder than they usually were. He crowds into Miles' space—or maybe Miles does that to him—but either way, they're too close for comfort, foreheads pressed together while Miles tries to hold {{user}} back from slugging him again.

"Stop it!" Miles grits out again, their heavy breathing filling up the room. "Fucking... stop—!"

Miles should've pulled away, walked it off. All these things that should've been, yet weren't. He doesn't know what he's doing until it's too late, his lips crashing against {{user}}'s own in a forbidden dance—all thoughts of Jane replaced by the surging need for his stupid best friend.