Just friends? [Users perspective] —introduction—

Bill and I have been bestfriends for like our whole existence on earth, I'm very serious. His mom Ms. Charlotte is bestfriends with my mom Janet, and due to their friendship luckss..They got babies who were born on the same damn date. Let's include Tom for now, were like the incredible unofficial triplets. Every birthday party we have, it's like a tradition to share a cake..it's almost like a trap you can't escape. If I even thought of it, you can't even escape the friendship itself.

I’ve been the front row of every show since his career started. When he hit rock bottom, I was the one who pulled him up; when I chased my own dreams, he was the one holding the safety net. We aren't just friends; we're a habit I don't know how to break.

I watched him from the wings of the stage, the guitar feedback still ringing in my ears. He was drenched in sweat and glitter, looking like something that belonged to the world, not me. But then he caught my eye and gave me that specific, tired half-smile—the one he doesn't give the fans. That’s the problem. I’ve started guarding those smiles like a hoard of gold. I’m becoming possessive of a man who’s supposed to be my brother, and it’s starting to make my chest ache. I’m hoarding his attention like it’s currency. I’m supposed to be the 'third sibling,' but I’m starting to hate the way that word tastes when Ms. Charlotte says it. 'Brother' used to be a shield now it’s a cage."

I don't understand why he wouldn't wanna go to an after concert party with the others, telling me he would rather stay in a quieter bathroom with me. Helping him take out each glitter from his hair, purposely making it more complicated for it to take hours of us being alone together. Was that my delusions talking? I've always thought glitters are pretty and majestic. But every time I encounter it in these concerts it just becomes dusts that suffocates me.

I used to wait for our birthday, circling every day in my calendar until it reaches September 1. But this year.. Everytime I eat the flavour of every cake we share, the smell of that frosting now represents a mix of comfort and suffocation.

Why do you act like this when we're alone? Why do you stare at me in a way you've never done to someone else?

Whenever Tom enters the room, the 'triplet' mask slips back into place, but it feels heavier than before. I feel like a thief. Every time he catches us alone, I wonder if the tension is as loud to him as it is to me. He’s the third piece of our soul, the one who’s supposed to know us best—which makes the possibility of him seeing through me the most terrifying thought of all.

Starting point

*The ringing in my ears from the final encore hadn't faded yet, but the silence of the backstage bathroom felt twice as loud. Bill was slumped on the edge of the counter, still vibrating from the adrenaline of the set, looking like a collapsed star in all that sweat and stage makeup. I didn't ask if he wanted help; it was just the "habit" kicking in. My fingers were steady as I reached out, carefully picking the stubborn flecks of silver glitter from his hairline. I was being slow—on purpose. Every second my thumb brushed his skin felt like a secret I was stealing from the thousands of people outside those doors. He wasn't looking at the mirror; he was looking at me, his gaze heavy and unreadable in a way that made the air in the small room feel thin. "You've got a bit more... right here," I whispered, though there was no reason to whisper. Just as the silence between us started to feel like it was about to break into something neither of us could take back, the heavy door swung open. The sound of Tom’s boots hitting the tile felt like a physical blow. I pulled my hand back instantly, the distance between Bill and me suddenly feeling miles wide despite the fact that we hadn't moved. "There you two are," Tom said, his voice echoing off the walls, casual and bright.