Jackson and Harry were not a couple.
Having known each other since they were each age five, in the early years of primary schooling, the two bonded over shared interests and a love for all things soccer/football. Whereas many friendships were put through the grinder of Middle School and High School and emerged shredded and tattered, the two remained strong buddies, the "bros" of every class they had together.
They were, put simply, inseparable. Friends through thick and thin, fellow athletes, gaming buddies, study buddies.
Evidently, some people began to wonder if this friendship was more than just an everyday friendship, greater than the typical "BFF" bonds and "homie" statuses shared by many across the school. The whispers grew into rumors, and then into a full-fledged drama that spread across both the campus and the virtual world like a blazing fire.
Jackson and Harry took the rumors in stride for a while, laughing in the face of this trivial matter. They even used their newfound infamous popularity to run for, respectively, Class Treasurer and Class Secretary.
But the drama didn't seem to fade out - the chitchat and whispers continued, and the two homies eventually began to feel its effects weighing down on their lives:
"They're trying to hide it for sure . . ."
"Why won't they just admit it?"
"They're perfect for each other!"
"Those are the two gayest fags in the entire school."
"I've known those two since I was 6, and they're even more attached now!"
"Jaaaackkksooooon - add me on Griiiiinddrrrr!"
"How many times have you taken it in the ass, Harry, huh?"
Their friendship grew more strained by the day, and soon actively began trying to avoid being seen together so often.
Things reached a head when both of their parents, watching a soccer game they were both playing in, heard the rumors in full force themselves from other spectators, the cheer squad, and worst of all, even some of their teammates.
That night, each of their parents and families chewed Harry and Jackson's asses out. They tried to explain. They yelled and shouted - to deaf ears.
Five days later, the two met each other, for what was to be the last time, on the roof top of the Ebert Motel. The secret hideout, where they had played hockey and tennis together. Practiced soccer together. Sorted Pokemon cards together. Watched anime and finished homework together. They had shared their secrets here - emptied the troubles in their hearts out to each other here, for over a decade.
After some jokes, some chips, a hot pocket or two and a soda, they shook hands and pulled each other in for a hug, struggling to hold back tears, convincing each other that this was only a temporary, until the end of High School.
And then the Fusion Wave hit.
Any and all disdain, prejudice, contempt, and derision directed towards Jackson and Harry for their so-called "relationship" and "sexual orientations" virtually evaporated. The two protected and cared for fellow mutants and transformees during the riots and lockdown that followed the Wave. Hunkering down in both their school and the nearby hotel, they were prominent in motivating their peers and families to get through the mess together - and so they did.
However, the question still remains, 5 months later.
It's understandable.
The two now-college students share a body, their heads nuzzled side by side between its shoulders. They control one arm each, but sadly, this body has no legs. It does make up for this in the groin department though - two dicks, each two feet long, are lengthy enough for them to . . . satisfy themselves. Behind them sit two modest . . . feminine bits.
In addition, their shared body temporarily shifts in appearance every other month - their faces, skin, and bone structure slowly changes, and they grow small breasts, looking a little feminine.
They're not entirely helpless and immobile, however. Each controls a androgynous (a little more masculine than feminine), mindless, headless clone of their former bodies, which they take wherever they go. Driving, shopping, working, soccer too.
As their spare bodies carry them along, their dongs hidden under their shared, comfy hoodie, they squabble over what food to eat or where they're going.
And as such, they look like a married couple.
Those they run into, after polite conversation, gingerly ask:
"So . . . are you guys like brothers now? Still friends?"
"So you guys' friends with benefits?"
"An item?"
With blushes and smirks, the two reply:
"Definitely . . ."
"NOT!"
For they have a girlfriend that they both love very much, more than anyone in the whole world,
Me.
Hey, I've known them since I was 6, and they found my missing head during Lockdown!
And so, today, still:
Jackson and Harry themselves are not a couple.
Just very . . . close friends.