How To Build Character Chemistry With Dynamic Relationships and Friendships
Most of us can spot a technically sound relationship in fiction that still falls completely flat.
The characters check all the boxes—they’re opposites, they have banter, maybe even some shared trauma—but somehow the chemistry just isn’t there.
Why?
Because chemistry isn’t a checklist.
It’s an emergent property—it happens between characters, not within them. And here’s the tricky part: it only becomes real when it’s rooted in tension, contradiction, and emotional movement.
This post is for those of us who want to go beyond “they get along” or “they argue well.”
We’re digging into the actual mechanics of how chemistry works on the page, especially in friendships and dynamic duos. Think co-dependents, reluctant allies, deep platonic loves that feel more intimate than romance.
We’ll talk tension, power shifts, subtext, and all the micro-moves that make a relationship come alive—because honestly, that’s where the magic is.
The Architecture of Dynamic Interpersonal Tension
Let’s start with something foundational: chemistry thrives in friction.
If your characters are too aligned, too polite, or too predictable, it flatlines fast. What you want instead is dynamic tension—that constant movement of closeness and distance, trust and doubt, warmth and withdrawal.
1. Push and Pull Mechanics
In great character chemistry, especially in friendships or rivalries, each character is always pulling something from the other—validation, resistance, control, forgiveness. They may not even know they’re doing it, but that friction drives interaction.
Take Geralt and Jaskier from The Witcher. Geralt wants silence, solitude, and control over his emotions. Jaskier wants attention, connection, and chaos. The brilliance is that they both need the other to get what they think they don’t want. That’s the push-pull—Geralt pushes Jaskier away, but he’s clearly drawn to his companionship. Jaskier pulls closer, but occasionally hits limits that sting. The chemistry? It’s in that space between want and resistance.
2. Power Shifts
Static relationships are boring. Real chemistry comes from shifting power. Maybe one character starts out as the caretaker or the alpha, but circumstances change—emotionally or situationally—and suddenly they’re the one off-balance. Readers lean in when relationships flip.
BBC’s Sherlock gives us a masterclass here. Sherlock has intellectual power, but Watson has emotional and moral clarity.
When one of them miscalculates, the power shifts—subtly or dramatically. You feel it in who’s speaking, who’s withdrawing, who’s trying to repair the breach. This keeps the connection from stagnating. You’re watching two people negotiate their dynamic in real time.
3. Unspoken Contracts
One of the most underutilized tools for character chemistry is the implied emotional contract between two people. What do they expect of each other, silently? What boundaries have they both agreed to without ever saying it out loud?
In Fleabag, for example, the “Hot Priest” and Fleabag never define their relationship, but it’s full of invisible terms—respect, vulnerability, secrecy, tension.
And when any of those terms get broken (especially when he breaks his vow of celibacy), the fallout feels devastating. That’s the contract being rewritten.
And this is gold for us writers—when characters break their contracts, readers feel it deep.
So ask yourself: what promise have these two characters made to each other without ever saying it?
And what happens when it gets tested?
4. Tension Isn’t Always Loud
This might be the most important point for advanced writers: emotional tension doesn’t require argument.
It can live in silence, in avoidance, in over-agreement. Sometimes chemistry is the ache of everything not being said.
In The Leftovers, the relationship between Kevin and Nora is quietly one of the most magnetic I’ve seen. They rarely fight, but you always feel the grief and unspoken desperation between them.
Their dynamic is rooted in shared trauma, but they process it so differently that it creates a low hum of emotional noise in every scene.
So yeah, chemistry doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it just breathes heavily in the background.
These mechanics aren’t new in isolation—but it’s how you layer them that unlocks truly electric relationships. In expert hands, even small moves—an offhand remark, a power glance, a shift in physical space—can speak volumes.
The goal isn’t perfect harmony. The goal is motion.
Tactical Tools for Writing Magnetic Friendships and Rivalries
Once you understand the tension-based foundation of chemistry, the next question is: how do you actually build it on the page?
This is where things get fun.
These tools aren’t gimmicks—they’re pressure points. Used deliberately, they’ll give your character dynamics a charge that readers feel immediately.
1. Contrast Core Worldviews
Think of character chemistry as a philosophical debate with emotions. If your characters have identical values, there’s no real friction. But if they see the world differently—that’s gold. You’re not just writing interaction anymore; you’re staging an ongoing ideological clash wrapped in friendship or rivalry.
Example: In The Good Place, Eleanor and Chidi have polar opposite worldviews. Eleanor’s a chaotic self-preservationist. Chidi’s an anxious moral philosopher. Their friendship works because they fundamentally challenge each other’s beliefs—and that friction is the relationship.
Tip: Write a one-sentence “moral thesis” for each character. Then throw them into scenes where those theses collide.
2. Embed Micro-Conflicts
Big arguments are fine, but it’s the micro-conflicts that give a relationship texture. These are the offhand dismissals, the eye rolls, the moments where one character slightly betrays the other’s trust without even realizing it. They’re low-key, but high-impact.
Example: In Stranger Things, Dustin and Steve’s bromance thrives on micro-conflicts. Steve mocks Dustin’s fashion sense; Dustin ignores Steve’s advice. But these tiny digs reveal affection and insecurity. They’re mini power plays that help define the emotional stakes.
Why it works: Micro-conflicts create contrast without high drama. That keeps the chemistry simmering, not boiling over.
3. Leverage Shared History
A shortcut to believable connection? Give your characters a past they interpret differently. History is sticky—it creates resentment, nostalgia, and blind loyalty all at once.
Example: In The Umbrella Academy, the sibling dynamics are supercharged because they grew up together—but remember things differently. One character recalls a moment as abuse; another saw it as discipline. Boom—instant tension, and it’s personal.
Pro move: Make one character weaponize a shared memory (“You always do this”) while the other denies it. That scene writes itself.
4. Unreliable Emotional Mirrors
A clever chemistry trick: make your characters misread each other. Not because they’re dumb—but because they project their own fears or desires onto the other. That misalignment creates heat. It’s not miscommunication for the sake of plot—it’s emotional misinterpretation rooted in character flaws.
Example: In Succession, Roman thinks his provocations are affection. Gerri sees them as liabilities. Their dynamic is twisted, confusing, and fascinating because they’re not on the same emotional page—but they pretend to be.
Reader payoff: When readers see characters fail to understand each other, they feel smarter and more invested. It builds a bridge between audience and text.
5. Situational Pressure Tests
Want to see if your relationship writing has legs? Throw pressure at it. External stakes are like a chemistry litmus test. Under crisis, characters either splinter or solidify.
Example: In Mad Max: Fury Road, Max and Furiosa start as enemies. But the relentless physical threat forces them into moments of mutual reliance. The respect and trust develop through actions, not conversations.
Good pressure is personal: Use dilemmas where characters must choose between the other person and their own goal. That’s where real chemistry ignites.
6. Nonverbal Chemistry
Finally, one of my favorite tricks: use silence, body language, and gesture to build tension. Don’t let dialogue do all the heavy lifting. Let a glance sting. Let proximity mean something. Let a casual touch make one character flinch.
Example: In Killing Eve, the chemistry between Eve and Villanelle is saturated with nonverbal cues. Their scenes often feel like a dance—flirtation, suspicion, violence, longing—all communicated without direct statements.
Challenge yourself: Write a scene where the characters don’t say what they feel at all. Make the chemistry leak out through action instead.
Stack just three or four of these tools in a scene, and you’ve got something alive. And here’s the real flex?
The best dynamics evolve.
So plant those early misalignments now—you’ll thank yourself later when the relationship starts shifting under pressure.
Importance of Dialogue
Let’s talk dialogue, because wow—this is where chemistry really lives or dies. For all the setup we’ve done with tension and contrast, the actual lines your characters say (and don’t say) are what make readers feel the spark. Or the sting. Or the low-key ache of longing.
Think of dialogue like emotional combat. Even in friendships. Especially in rivalries.
Here’s how to make it cut, charm, or combust:
1. Power Play in Dialogue
Every conversation is a mini power struggle. Even your sweetest besties are constantly shifting dominance—interrupting, withholding, offering, deflecting.
Example: In Better Call Saul, the verbal sparring between Jimmy and Kim is brilliant. They’re partners, yes—but the dialogue often becomes a tug-of-war for control. Watch how Kim reclaims the floor with a single look or line when Jimmy veers off-course.
Trick: Have one character consistently interrupt, until the other finally reclaims space with a devastating one-liner or silence.
2. Echoes and Callback Lines
One of the most satisfying things you can do is recycle dialogue—but twist it. A line that meant one thing early in the relationship means something totally different later.
Example: In The Last of Us, when Ellie says “Okay,” it’s a tiny line—but it becomes emotionally loaded as it echoes through the narrative. Callback lines signal growth, regret, nostalgia—sometimes all at once.
Craft tip: Pick one emotionally resonant phrase per relationship and track its evolution over the story.
3. Hidden Subtext
Advanced dialogue is all about what’s not being said. Subtext is tension’s best friend.
Example: In Call Me by Your Name, entire conversations are layered with what Elio and Oliver aren’t saying. The pauses. The deflections. The way Elio changes the subject when he gets too close to truth. That’s how you build intimacy without exposition.
Scene challenge: Write a scene where the characters say the opposite of what they feel. Let the truth live in the pauses and contradictions.
4. Silences and Beats
Don’t underestimate the power of silence. Sometimes the most electric thing in a scene is what’s missing. Beats—those little pauses between lines—are where the unspoken emotions breathe.
Example: In Normal People, the dialogue is so sparse that every beat between words feels like a scream. Connell and Marianne rarely say what they mean, but the pacing of their speech tells the entire story.
Try this: End a tense conversation with no resolution. Let one character walk away. That silence will speak louder than any monologue.
5. Conflict-As-Connection
Chemistry thrives in verbal combat—not because they hate each other, but because the conflict is intimate. The best character dynamics treat arguments like affection in disguise.
Example: In Fleabag, every exchange between Fleabag and her sister Claire is both a fight and a love letter. They tear each other down, but only because they still care enough to want change.
Important nuance: Let your characters fight not to win, but to be understood. That’s the secret to chemistry in conflict.
Final Thoughts
So here’s the takeaway: chemistry isn’t about getting along. It’s about emotional movement. Tension, contrast, pressure, and misalignment—that’s where relationships come alive.
If your characters are shifting each other, challenging each other, misreading each other while still showing up for the next scene—that’s chemistry.
And the best part?
Readers feel it before they understand it. They don’t need to be told why these characters work together. They just know.
So go build duos that argue, love, break, and evolve—and let your scenes breathe with the energy that only dynamic relationships can bring.