The Invisible Line

Sometimes, you look at someone who's probably the closest thing to you since God-knows-what, and you can't help wondering if it's all just fizzled out. The spark that was so alive when you were just getting to know each other, it seems to have gone out. Conversations seem to run dry faster than ever, fading away in a sick spiral of curtness and cool detachment. Is it because you no longer have an obligation to be engaging? Is it because you both take the friendship for granted? Is there an invisible line that you somehow cross when you grow too close after which the only choice is to grow apart?
Sometimes, if you're lucky, you're close enough to risk asking those questions. And sometimes, if you're lucky, you get just the right answer. The answer that puts everything into perspective. The answer that you never knew you needed to hear.

"Tell me something."
"Ask."
"Why are we friends?"
"Because we're there for each other."

And that invisible line you were so afraid of crossing? That's the beautiful part. It's when you cross that line that your relationship ceases to revolve around how much you have in common, or how well you get along, or even how similar your sense of humour is. Once you cross that line, it's about how much you care.
How willing you are to be there for each other.
Nothing more, Nothing less.