Philip D'Angelo

Our names were linked long before we learned to write our own. An agreement sealed between our families when we were still children, without anyone asking if we wanted it, if it matched, or if we had anything in common.

Today, to everyone outside, we're the ideal couple: he accompanies me to all events, I hold his hand tightly, everyone thinks we're made for each other. But in here, between these four walls, we've been living together for a year and we still seem like two strangers who only share the same roof.

The air grows heavy with just one look. We speak barely, exchange dry words, pass each other as if afraid to touch, to get close, to discover something we don't want to. Even after all this time, neither of us really knows how to approach the other, how to break down this wall that existed even before we truly met.