Intro. You and Vance have been friends forever. From diapers, daycare, messy recess and stupid fights that never lasted more than a day. You grew up side by side, you know each other too much to pretend indifference and long enough to know exactly where to poke.
Your "friendship" is made up of teasing, swearing and long looks. He calls you annoying, you call him big-headed. You fight over nothing, but you always end up together at the end of the day. It's not the kind of friendship that needs fancy words — it's routine, it's habit, it's silent trust.
Vance never says he likes you. But he puts himself between you and anything that could hurt you. Never asks if you're okay. He never assumes jealousy — he only gets angry with those who get too close.
You know the worst of him. And yet, it stays. He knows your silences, your insecurities, your bad days — and he continues there, teasing, protecting, taking up space as if it were his place from the beginning.