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The first time Joey sits next to Harry and their sides press together, Harry tries to move down the mess bench to give him room. There's not really room to give, though. Harry's already on the end, and the space Joey's taking is maybe three-quarters of the size it needs to be.
"Watch the elbows, Payne!" shouts the guy on Joey's other side. "I need my ribs!"
"You can always tell who's an only child," Joey says, grinning at Harry. "They're never ready to make space."
Harry chuckles a little and shifts. His left arm ends up resting on Joey's shoulder while they eat. It gives Joey just enough space to lift his fork without his elbow getting Harry's ribs.
The next time Joey takes up a space that's a little too small, Harry just lifts his arm automatically.
*
The first time Joey flops across Harry's lap, they're up late in the library, studying side-by-side. Joey makes a pained noise, puts his hand to his forehead, and dramatially swoons, knocking Harry's arms down and landing face up.
"I do declare," Joey says, thickening his accent, "I am plumb tuckered out."
"Like the food?" Harry asks.
Joey grins. He drops his hand to his chest. "Nah, just means real tired."
"Plumb is a line, though," Harry says. "A vertical line."
Joey grins and taps Hary's chest with two fingers. "It's just a saying."
"But you think it'd reference a horizontial line," Harry adds. "Because you want to be lying down."
"Maybe it's from plumb bob," Joey says. "It pulls the line taut when you fish. Probably feels like when we had to run first thing in the morning in basic and could barely move."
"I wonder if the dictionary explains it," Harry replies. He tries to stand, but Joey presses his head against his legs.
"Hey, pillow can't escape," Joey says.
Harry stares at him a moment, then laughs. "I just wanna finish the chapter I'm on," he says.
"Sure," Joey replies.
Harry finishes the chapter with Joey's head still in his lap. He doesn't notice when Joey presses his whole hand against his chest.
*
"Hey, Loop, where's Hook?" Morton asks one day when he catches up to Harry during a run.
"Hook?" Harry asks, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. "Who's Hook? Why am I Loop?"
"Like Velcro," Morton says, looking surprised. "It's Payne, of course. You two are barely apart. Some of us were starting to think you sew your clothes together."
Harry snorts, embarassed but not overly so. A few months ago, a statement like that would have made him bright red and flustered, but they all talk shit with each other, and he and Joey are very close. "Well, he must have cut himself loose when I was sleeping. Haven't seen him all day."
"The world's ending," Morton says, then picks up the pace and leaves Harry behind.
Harry thinks over what Morton's said as he finishes his five miles. Are he and Joey really that attached to each other? They're best friends, and they spend a lot of time together, but Harry doesn't think they touch all that much. Sure, Joey squeezes onto the bench or naps on Harry sometimes, but it's not like—
*
The problem with being an overthinker, Harry has told Joey more than once, is that it is amazing the things you can actually underthink when you're focused on other stuff. "But it's also not real underthinking," Harry told him one night when they're out for a walk, arms brushing now and again, nearly tripping over each other's boots a couple of times. "It's more like…it's working in the background the whole time. The thing you're not thinking about, you're still thinking about, but because it's not the top thing you're thinking about, it doesn't hit you until it really hits you."
"Like how?" Joey asked.
Harry thought for a long moment. Their arms brushed again, and then Joey linked them together at the elbow. Harry reached over with his other hand and held Joey's forearm for a moment. "You ever like someone, and you don't know if they like you back, but then you ask them, and they're surprised you didn't know? It's like that. Like, you can look back and see it all, but you have to see it first."
Joey was quiet for a longer moment than usual, but Harry didn't think anything of it. Joey sometimes let thoughts simmer a little. He didn't have the need to have an instant answer like Harry did.
"Sure," Joey had finally said. "I see what you mean."
*
"Fuck."
Harry stops short twenty feet from the showers as the realization hits like a train. His brain is undwinding months of Joey reaching out. Joey squeezing in. Joey touching Harry's arm or patting his back or wrapping a hand around his shoulder or half-tackling him in a hug. Making sure their bodies touch in some way. Finding excuses again and again. Sending a signal clear as day.
"Fuuuuuuck."
"What's wrong?" Joey asks, suddenly at Harry's side like it's nothing. He's in his uniform, clearly on his way somewhere. He reaches out and plucks at the front of Harry's sweaty T-shirt. "Forget a fresh undershirt again?"
Now that it's right in front of him, having underthought it's way to the top, all Harry can do for a moment is stare at Joey. Joey raises his eyebrows, then waggles them to try and make Harry laugh.
"I have to shower," Harry blurts, the need to say something burning up his throat. "But after, where are you going to be?"
"Just headed to the library," Joey says. "Why?"
"Can I hold your hand?" Harry sighs at his mouth getting ahead of his brain. But it's always been like that, and Joey's never cared. "Because I think you want to hold mine," he adds. "I think you've been very obvious about—"
"You noticed!" Joey says, beaming. "Finally!"
Harry squeezes his eyes shut. "Why am I like this?"
"I like how you are," Joey says, sincere and serious. When Harry opens his eyes, Joey's giving him a steady look. "I didn't know how you'd handle getting asked out directly, so I figured I'd just be obvious until you noticed."
"How much longer were you planning to keep it up without telling me?" Harry asks. "It's been months."
"You were wearing me down," Joey replies. "I won't lie."
"Ugh, and I had to figure it out because of Morton."
Joey laughs. "Oh, no! Not Morton!"
"He's chasing me down for highest scores, and now this," Harry moans, very dramatic. He makes a show of slumping forward and resting his head heavily on Joey's shoulder. "It's too much. I can't take it."
Joey pats his back. "There, there," he says. "Go shower and meet me in the library. We can hold hands where Morton can't see and pretend you haven't figured out anything for a few days so he can't take credit."
Harry laughs and stands. He pushes lightly at Joey's shoulder. Another string of moments unspool in hi smind. Touching Joey back. Crowding Joey on the buses and at the library table. He's been giving back as good as he's gotten, he realizes. That underthinking really knew what it was doing. "Give me twenty minutes," he says.
Joey nods and steps around him. For a moment, their fingers intertwine. "I'll be waiting," he says.
For the last time, Harry thinks to himself as he hurries to the showers. Definitely for the last time.