something about wsh coming into mack's packed ordered life and shrouding every narrow visible crevice of it with his own light. something about mack taking a look at his own general chaos and making space for wsh and everything he holds dear. something about them engaging in mundane routines, taking delight in things that are so normal, so simple that we gloss over them.
what if we were bestfriends in a sport that demanded everything of us, in a sport that wanted us to be the toughest version of ourself, in a sport that took satisfaction in a savage tapestry of bruises and blood and teeth over skin? what if we opened ourselves to one another, lowering our walls for the other without even letting the other thinking of scaling over them? what if we played together, ate together, watched the world around us pass by together? what if you shoved me against the glass during practice and i tapped you on the head with my stick and later we went and had lunch at a place we'd already picked a week ago? would you have the same dish you always do or should we pick something new and split it into two? what if i feel lonely and want to spend time with you so i open my door to make way to yours but there you are, right outside, hand held up, ready to knock? what if we laughed together when times were rough and laughed once more when they weren't? what if you had my shoulder when you were sad and i had your attention when it was i? what if you ate what i baked and read what i read and made space in your life for everything i said i wanted? what if we were just us, breathing the same air, feeling each other through the distance like a lost limb and, in each other's presence, felt the world around us as a whole dim? what if we were...
i can't with them. i really can't with them. i will sob. excuse me
