Chapter 120: Some things I don’t like

Blake frowned and covered Myles’ eyes with one hand.

"Hey, stop staring. You’re doing this on purpose."

"No."

Blake narrowed his eyes.

"No what? That you’re not doing this on purpose, or that you want to stare more?"

Myles’ expression didn’t change and, of course, the answer somehow made Blake even more suspicious.

"You’re impossible at times."

Still, he couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth.

With a quiet sigh, Blake lowered his hand. His fingers lingered briefly, brushing Myles’ hair back from his forehead instead.

’There, now I can actually see his handsome face...!’

Unfortunately, that only made it harder to look away.

"Had fun without me?"

Myles stared at him.

"..."

"Seems like that’s a no."

The answer wasn’t exactly surprising. Even so, the atmosphere shifted strangely afterward.

Like there was something sitting between them, that neither of them wanted to touch first.

Blake found himself looking away first.

"What did you do at your family’s?"

"Uh..."

The single sound escaped before he could think of a proper answer.

Myles waited patiently, while Blake leaned back slightly.

For a second, he held his breath, then he leaned forward again.

His hands settled on Myles’ shoulders almost absentmindedly.

"Honestly..."

He laughed once.

"It was kind of a mess."

The moment he said it, he regretted it.

’Ack, what did I just say? Am I going senile?! Now he’s going to ask questions!’

For some reason, Blake wasn’t sure whether he wanted to talk about it or not.

The words already felt loose inside his throat.

Like they wanted out.

Especially today, which had been exhausting.

Somehow, sitting here with Myles made it worse, or maybe better. He couldn’t tell.

The main reason he even blurted that out was that because Myles always listened in a way that made him want to keep talking.

"What happened?"

He opened his mouth, then stopped.

The answer was right there.

He could say it, it wasn’t difficult. Those were just words, parts of a bigger conversation.

So why did it suddenly feel impossible?

"Blake."

His name immediately pulled his attention back.

He looked up, Myles was already looking at him.

Their eyes met and, just like that, whatever resistance he had crumbled.

"Today..." he started slowly. "I met my aunt."

The words sounded strange, just, a bit too heavy.

"I haven’t seen her in a while."

He laughed, however, but there wasn’t any humor in it.

"But that wasn’t enough time for her to stop hating on me."

Myles’ brows knit together slightly.

"It was the same stuff as always... for example, she talked about my mother."

His fingers tightened against Myles’ shoulders.

"And about my birth, as if it was some kind of crime."

The memories came back immediately.

The dining room.

The voices.

The expressions.

Ba-dump.

The way all of them spoke when they thought they were justified.

The way they could say something horrible while convincing themselves they were being reasonable.

"She said some pretty awful things."

Myles didn’t interrupt once, so Blake kept going.

"Then my stepmother joined in, along with my half-brother."

His chest felt tight.

"But they weren’t particularly bothered by what she was saying."

If they had been angry, maybe it would have made him feel better, for some reason.

Instead, they had spoken so casually and lightly, like they were discussing the weather or some minor inconvenience.

Like he wasn’t sitting right there listening.

"They just... they acted like none of it mattered."

His throat felt dry.

"They talked about me as if I wasn’t even in the room."

His gaze drifted.

"And my father too, that week, when I went last time..."

The words stalled.

For a second, Blake wished he hadn’t started, but it was too late now.

"He barely looked at me."

Deep in his heart, he knew Blake’s father could sit there and say nothing.

The fact that he probably already got word of what happened still looked away infuriated him to the point of anger.

Blake clenched his jaw.

"I don’t get it."

The words started coming faster.

"I seriously don’t, Myles."

He looked down at his hands.

"They keep acting like it’s obvious, that I’m an eyesore."

His thoughts tangled together.

"They say I shouldn’t have expectations and that I should be grateful."

The words refused to stop now.

"They say my mother made a big mistake and that my existence caused problems, that everything would have been easier if things had simply not happened at all."

His chest tightened.

"They say I never should have existed."

The room blurred for a second.

Blake hadn’t even realized how much that bothered him until now.

Even if he still thought about his real, very much loving parents, hearing such horrible words had finally pushed something too far.

Why would they say that? Why would anyone say that? What kind of person looked at another human being and decided they shouldn’t have been born?

How was that fair?

By the time Blake realized he was practically rambling, something warm touched his cheek.

He froze immediately, his thoughts and voice stopping.

Myles was cupping his face.

The simple contact pulled him back to reality.

Blake blinked.

Myles looked at him quietly, patiently.

"There’s no need to speak so fast, I’m listening."

For a second, he could only stare.

Then embarrassment crashed into him all at once.

He covered his face.

’Jeez, what am I doing? What is wrong with me?!’

He had just unloaded everything without warning or restraint, as if Myles was supposed to deal with all of that, when he was probably in a much more frustrating situation.

Maybe he really had lost it.

’I’m not even Blake...’

The thought struck him unexpectedly. It was, by now, a familiar, ugly feeling.

What was he doing, acting like this? Why was he treating these feelings as if they belonged to him? Why did they hurt so much?

Slowly, Blake lowered his hands.

The moment he raised his head again, Myles’ hand settled against the back of it, pushing Blake on the crook of his neck.

"Don’t cry."

The words made Blake let out an incredulous laugh.

"I wasn’t crying."

Myles didn’t argue, simply resting a hand against his back.

Then slowly stroked upward.

Blake found himself going quiet. The embarrassment lingered, but somehow it didn’t feel unbearable.

His eyes drifted shut.

’How is Myles like this? Seriously... just how?’

The two of them hadn’t even known each other for that long.

Barely half a year.

And yet here Myles was, holding him without even trying, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He couldn’t understand it, he really couldn’t.

After a while, he lifted his head slightly.

Myles tilted his own, and their eyes met again.

Something twisted painfully inside Blake’s chest.

He couldn’t just keep taking.

Myles carried things too, things that Blake couldn’t even imagine.

So he should help too, even if only a little.

Leaning forward, Blake pressed a brief kiss against Myles’ cheek.

Then, he leaned back.

However, a hand instantly covered his eyes.

Blake froze.

"...What?"

Silence followed, and that only made his confusion grow.

Chuckling, he reached up and touched the hand covering his face.

"What’s wrong with you?"

No answer.

On the other side of that hand, completely hidden from Blake, Myles’ eyes had widened.

His free hand slowly rose toward his cheek, to the exact spot Blake had kissed, as though he needed to check whether it had actually happened.

Meanwhile, Blake remained entirely lost.

’Seriously? What is this?’

Myles had literally kissed him before, on the lips! So why was a cheek kiss causing this much trouble?

It didn’t make any sense!

"Myles..."

Blake laughed.

"Move your hand."

A few more seconds passed.

Then, finally, he complied.

And he immediately looked at him. Still, unfortunately, whatever expression had appeared earlier was already gone.

His face looked completely normal.

Blake clicked his tongue.

’Hey, you look perfectly fine... I expected some kind of blushing but...’

Instead, he reached forward and wrapped an arm around Myles’ head, pulling him closer.

He allowed it without resistance, his forehead brushing Blake’s shoulder.

"You know," he started quietly, "you can talk too."

His hand moved through his hair, slowly untangling a few strands.

"It doesn’t always have to be me."

Myles remained silent.

"I want to help too, you already know that."

For a while, neither of them spoke.

The silence wasn’t awkward or overwhelming anymore, just quiet.

Eventually, Myles raised his head, his arms tightening around Blake’s waist.

Then, he looked up, directly at him, and said absolutely nothing.

However, Blake immediately saw it.

The hesitation, the tension and the conflict in Myles’ eyes. It was barely visible, only someone who had to go through the same would notice.

Blake knew, Myles’ tongue was tied, as if there were words trapped behind his teeth.

Words he wanted to say but didn’t want to say.

As if he was searching for something.

His expression softened and, without thinking, he resumed stroking his hair.