He's changed a lot over the years, my Matthew. Hair style, hair colour. Lost weight, put weight on. Dressed weirdly or looked incredibly suave. He's been quiet and thoughtful, loud and flamboyant. Sometimes he talks so fast and nothing makes sense, and other times he talks to me in a whisper and our thoughts all line up. He's been nervous and scared, and he's been excitable and brave. He's recieved a lot of praise, he's recieved a lot of crititsm. He's been admired and disliked. He's been kind and he's been a bastard.
But I've always liked him. I've always loved him. He's my best friend. Somewhere along the line I felt something different. Everyone changes, but only he's managed to change into someone I loved consistently all the way.
We used to have the smallest tour bus. It was cramped, but no one really cared. We were excited. We sat at the back, resting together on the upholstered seats, holding each other. The first big shows were nerve wracking for everyone, so we just tried to calm down. In tiny hotel rooms, he'd find his way to my bed, and spend that night sleeping peacefully. Nothing romantic in any way.
As we grew up a bit this seemed to stop. Although every now and again, his arm would be around me, or our eyes would be fixed on each other, smiling secret messages, like it was a habit.
One night he sits with me at home. He made himself comfortable, watching some sci-fi thing. I sit next to him, and there's a gap which never used to be between us. He moves closer and I smile. His arm was across the back of the sofa, close to being around me. I leaned in a little and he rest against my shoulder. I kissed the top of his head, making him look up at me before I took the opportunity to peck his lips, then continue to watch TV. He resumed his position lying against me.
Nothing's changed, nothing was ever said. Sometime we knew it, and other times we just had suspicion.
"I love you too." he muttered.
But we were always in love.