As I write this, I am heavily under the influence of alcohol. My face is red, my nerves are numb, and I can feel the heat and tension rising from the back of my neck to the top of my head, all while staring at the tall green grass in front of me.

Whatever comes out of this essay is likely a product of the chemicals fluctuating in my brain, perhaps it reflects what I feel in my subconscious. So, I am going to be honest with myself.

I felt something beyond friendship for my best friend. We’re both guys in the prime of our teenage years, and it’s supposed to be taboo, as friends should stay as that—friends.

He has always been my soulmate, and we understand each other’s quirks, even when we would always exchange banter and sometimes disagree.

This year, something has changed. We’ve become closer, and he’s become more open, more affectionate, more vulnerable.

From polar opposites, we have become intimate with each other. While I know this connection is rooted only in friendship, there have been moments that blurred the lines—like when we cuddled, or that time he kissed me on the lips when we were drunk, just one of those reckless things teenagers do.

Perhaps it’s foolish, or worse, delusional, but I developed something special from our relationship.

For him, I’m sure it only means friendship. For someone like me, this is uncharted territory. After so many years, I have never felt more love for someone than I do for him.

It’s a sin. He is my best friend. But when I am with him, my heart beats at a pace much faster than normal.

The hardest part is that I cannot confess my feelings because my friends would be mad if I did.

This is not me. Normally, I would take the person I like to a place with our shared memories, then I would hold his hand, look into his eyes, and tell him how I really feel.

But I cannot do that. Not this time. Not with him.

Life would go on as usual—sitting on benches, talking about everything. No strings attached. And yet, it’s painful to hold back your thoughts when the very person who fills them is right in front of you.

As we drink alcohol right now on the grass, I feel uncomfortable, but weirdly enough, the itchy feeling turns into a tickle that electrifies my heart like a pacemaker.

This feeling is strange. I have never loved a best friend romantically. Perhaps there is a first for everything, and I am glad he was a part of it.

I would hate to confess, so here I am pouring my heart out into this essay.

A director at a screenwriting workshop once told us to fall in love, to experience things, to truly live, in order to write beautiful stories.

I never thought those stories would include me loving my best friend so casually.

Perhaps that’s the beauty of it—that sometimes, love arrives unannounced and sits quietly between the lines.