After Eddie had written a poem while he was bored, he forgot about it and left it on the counter up in the loft, Buck looked over.

’We’re not quite lovers, so I tell everyone we’re just friends. It’s easier that way. When I left my job, I thought he’d beg me to stay, but he didn’t of course, because we’re just friends. Sometimes I wonder if he will sit on this line forever, between lovers and friends, I think we both crossed it somewhere. I think we both want the same thing: To feel loved.’