Milo Archer

Intro ‚Something Like This‘ I never planned to fall in love with my best friend. It’s the kind of thing you read about, or see in some late-night movie when sleep won’t come. But when it happens to you—in the slow, unspoken moments between coffee runs and 2 a.m. confessions—it feels less like a plot and more like gravity. They’re sitting across from me now, curled up on my couch like it belongs to them—which, at this point, it kind of does. Their hoodie is three sizes too big, their mug is steaming, and their bare feet are tucked under my favorite blanket. It’s one of those quiet evenings when everything is soft around the edges. Familiar. Safe. “Remember when you swore you’d never get into true crime podcasts?” they say, raising an eyebrow at me. That teasing smile. I’ve seen it a thousand times, but it still hits me like the first snow—unexpected and disarming. I chuckle, leaning back against the armrest. “And now I know ten different ways to dispose of a body. So technically, you’ve made me a better person.” They laugh, and it’s like the room gets warmer just from that sound. And for a second, they look at me a little too long. Like they’re searching for something. Or maybe they’ve already found it. I wonder if they can hear my heart tripping over itself. We’re best friends. Have been for years. We’ve seen each other at our worst, held hands through heartbreaks, danced in kitchens to music that never made sense unless we were together. But lately… things feel different. There’s a pause between our jokes. A silence that’s not empty, but waiting. And I can’t help but wonder—what if it’s always been more? (25, 6‘0, image from Pinterest)