A/N: This is the first vignette I wrote from my little heartbreak series. It is mildly based on one of my friendships, but exaggerated for the little tragedy type thing that's going on. I really love this story so please, please review.

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His arms wrapped securely around her body. She finally felt safe. All the demons could not reach her now, not now that he was here.

Their relationship was purely platonic; it had been for years. But they were the closest friends anyone of their companions had ever met, and one word from her had him, at any time, by her side and a subtle hint from him called her instantly. They were on the same wavelength, spoke the same indecipherable language, one that no one else could understand.

They were, in almost every sense of the cliché, almost two parts of the same person.

And like one person does with themselves, they fought. Verbal battles that caused deep psychological pains, careless words that make one stop and start at ones own stupidity. They had had some epic fights, fights that people had thought they’d never survive.

But within a month of any of these fights they would be seen dining together, or at the movies alone together; bowling with a small group of old friends.

They were addicted to each other, like a smoker his cigarette. They couldn’t be apart, not while they had the opportunity to be together.

It had long been assumed her attachment was deeper than his – she, with her dark possessiveness and he with his hidden past and lust for life. They seemed so incompatible. Perhaps it was that that kept them together. Or perhaps it was the unbreakable trust that had steadily grown between them over the years, borne of their only true-shared passion – humour.

Her black sarcasm and his tongue-in-cheek approaches to everyday difficulties had bound them in a blanket of mutual joy. They were content in each other’s company, and it was doubtless for this reason they had fused so abysmally. No one dared try to understand their bond, and no one tried to break it. Occasionally, there would be a girl or guy who tried to force their way to the forefront of either his or her life respectively, but they were always rebuffed soundly.

It almost seemed there was no room for love if not for each other, and many often assumed they were not so platonic as appearances. Perhaps they were secret, hidden … perhaps this made the whole plot – being life – more extravagant for the two of them. For her comedy and his eccentricity there was no substitute, and never enough of the genuine. They were always trying to upstage life.

But the others were wrong, for the most part. Several months past she had been seeing another. The fire that burnt in his eyes, though, when he saw them together, when it was so obvious they were in love, when they were living together – it proved one part of the theory. They were less platonic than appearances. His jealousy was a beacon, and she never saw it. She was blinded by the strong founded belief that she herself cared more. He never showed her how he felt, but she knew it was there, certainly. But he could never be envious.

And then, two weeks after the break up, when she discovered the truth and fell apart, into an emotional break down, he was there for her just as he always had been. And as his arms wrapped securely around her body, she finally felt safe. She knew she would never be able to have the more she dreamt of, though, but this was better than nothing was.

He tightened his grip, hoping she would feel his engagement to her through the grasp. She relaxed, and he knew she trusted him, but now … he always blamed himself for not having taken the chance years ago, when she’d offered. Now it was too late. He would never again have a shot at the more he longed for.

The longing in his mind came through in his touch, and she gently turned to kiss him, chastely, and then they lay down together. She smiled as he held her close, and for a moment their world was almost whole.

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