Your old hoodie smells like your shampoo and I keep it for emergency steadying.

You whistle that off-key line and it's the stupidest comfort I have.

I will always be the person who answers your 'are you awake?' text.

I feel proud in a quiet way when you tell someone my dumb story.

Your backpack strap always slips and I tighten it for you without being asked.

I love that you keep arguing with song lyrics and I keep listening.

You steal my fries and I let you, because that's our unofficial agreement.

You draw terrible doodles on napkins and I frame them in my head.

Your chipped mug says you drink coffee the same stubborn way every morning.

You send me a single word and I know whether to worry or celebrate.

You taught me one harmonies trick and I sing it on purpose now.

Hearing your laugh through the phone fixes the rest of the afternoon.

I still have the ticket stub from that terrible movie we both loved.

You answer my panic with an exact meme and I stop spiraling.

I want to learn your bad dance moves and make them honors, not jokes.

You text me spoilers with a wink and I forgive you instantly.

Your late-night playlist taught me how to sit with quiet and not panic.

I want to steal your terrible jokes and claim them as mine.

You make ordinary errands feel like a chorus I can sing along to.

I love the way you hum the bridge under your breath while cooking.

I picture us still sending each other one-line check-ins that mean everything.

I'll keep offering to help paint rooms even when our arms are sore.

I want to know we'll still meet weekly for bad takeout and better company.

I want to be the person who remembers your birthday before Facebook does.

I want a future where your plant collection takes over my kitchen counters.

Promise to nudge me when I'm buried in work and forget to eat.

I see us still sharing playlists and swapping books on quiet afternoons.

I'll make sure there's always an extra toothbrush in my bag for you.

Can we agree to clear snow from each other's cars when winter hits?

I misspoke: I don't just hope we'll stay close, I trust we will.

I want a future that includes your terrible puns at every holiday dinner.

I will cheer the loudest when you get the promotion you deserve.

Let's promise to learn basic plumbing together so rental floods don't win.

I like thinking of us checking in with honest texts, not long speeches.

I'll be the one who helps you move boxes, no questions, every single time.

I want to argue about paint colours for an apartment we'll share someday.

I want to keep your postcards from trips and tack them on a corkboard.

I feel sure we'll find ways to support each other's messy ambitions.

I want a future where we still steal fries from each other's plates.

Let's finally learn one recipe together and always mess it up the same way.