Jaime Hebel | Head of Illustration

When someone asks you to describe your best friend, it’s impossible. How do you pick a single memory or defining trait when everything with them is your favorite? So, like a lot of good things, the easiest way to describe it is from the beginning — the inciting incident for years of love and joy to come.

Hieran & Cameron

There are some spots that just call for strangers to meet, and the large tables in Tisch Commons are one of those locations. Two years ago, then-sophomore Hieran Andeberhan and then-junior Cameron Thompson found themselves at one of those tables. Andeberhan posed a seemingly mundane question about workloads and her Global Studies major to the whole table, and Thompson responded, quickly erasing her stranger status to Andeberhan and connecting over their shared major.

From there, the friendship grew very organically, so much so that the duo has trouble recalling what exactly they did during their first few outings. Yet, when they look back on this past summer and early fall, it’s clear to both of them that that’s when their friendship crossed the threshold into best friendship. They had a photo shoot by the Missouri River, took a day trip to Johnson’s Shut-Ins State Park, and visited the Missouri Botanical Garden.

“I feel like our dedication to really staying in touch over the summer made it feel like we weren’t just ‘school friends,’” Andeberhan said. “We really took the time to go out and try new things and make new memories together.”

Aside from this handful of sun-soaked summertime memories, the two fondly look back on moments of accomplishment they got to share with each other: when Thompson submitted her final Canvas assignment (she graduated last spring), when Andeberhan got accepted into the WashU 3-2 Master of Public Health program. Both times, they were side-by-side.

Outside of the tangible memories, they both have a grocery-store length list of traits they admire in the other. Thompson feels like she can be herself around Andeberhan, who she also calls the “voice of reason.”

“I don’t have to put on a performance or fake anything. I can just be my genuine self,” Thompson said. “After long days of work or classes or taking on so many roles, I can take off all of that and just be who I am.”

For Andeberhan, the friendship is bigger than the two of them. She sees Thompson as a person who models “true friendship,” creating “positive ripple effects” in other parts of her life.

“Over these two years, I’ve grown so much as a person in learning how to show up,” Andeberhan said. “I guess this is a testament to just sitting at that table and having a conversation with someone new.”

Ben & Grant

Over the course of their first year, current seniors Ben Ewer and Grant McIntyre had several “two ships passing in the night” moments before they really saw each other for the nerd and best friend they each are. Once, Ewer used his 1,200 extra meal points to buy dozens of Mike and Ike candy boxes and hand them out to strangers. Soon enough, he landed at McIntyre’s table. They liked each other, but it wasn’t for a few months, and a niche party theme, that they properly clicked.

Cue the Pitbull x Brokeback Mountain-themed party. McIntyre was on aux, and Ewer casually suggested the Allman Brothers Band’s “Whipping Post (Live at The Fillmore East, March 1971),” a 23-minute and nine-second song. In a cosmic, only-the-stars-know-why kind of way, not only did McIntyre know the song, he loved it.

“We bonded over the fact that we might be the only two people at WashU who have listened to “‘Live at The Fillmore East’ by the Allman Brothers,” McIntyre said. “It’s quite a niche live recording from 1971.”

“It shouldn’t be niche!” Ewer said. McIntyre agreed.

Quickly, their friendship grew. A mutual friend and now-roommate cemented their best friend status with a long, shared dinner at Thai Country Cafe. They continued hanging out throughout each grade, often pulling out their individual sets of AirPods at parties and pressing play on a Pink Floyd album at the same time. They played guitar together, talked sports, and made an elaborate “would you rather” scheme about doing the duck face in every photo or killing a duck a day (with too many intricate details to even attempt to put in writing).

And of course, like any best friends and roommates, they have a constitution, modeled off the U.S. Constitution and penned by “Mr. Philosophy” Ewer. The shared Google document, formatted with strict articles and center-aligned text, came after Ewer drafted their Declaration of Independence from campus housing when they moved to an off-campus apartment. Like any friendship constitution, there are serious rules: how to make a decision in a crisis (i.e. when there’s a dispute about what to watch on the communal TV) and the voting power of tenants versus visitors. And naturally, you guessed it, the second amendment pays homage to one of the first moments they clicked over — that not-so-random 23-minute and nine-second song.

“I wanted rules for engagement for how we make decisions in our apartment,” Ewer said. “We also really wanted to make an Allman Brothers shrine, so we were thinking, ‘How can we codify this?’”

Even with their affinity for always putting things into writing, both McIntyre and Ewer see the core of their friendship as an unspoken shared understanding, a care so strong and understood, it doesn’t need to be verbalized.

“It means a lot to me personally,” McIntyre said. “It’s weird to think about it because it might be the nature of male friendships where it rarely gets deeper than surface level. Internally, it means more to me than that.”