Blake had agreed surprisingly fast.

At the time, it had felt natural.

Now, however, sitting cross-legged on Myles’ kitchen counter while they tried to decide dinner, he realized he might’ve underestimated how nerve-wracking staying over actually was.

"You’re staring at the fridge quite intensely," Myles said from behind him.

Blake blinked, immediately looking away from the open refrigerator. "I’m thinking."

"You’ve been thinking for six minutes."

"I mean, cooking requires strategy."

The problem was simple.

He wasn’t exactly versatile in the kitchen.

He could cook soups. Noodles too, if they weren’t anything fancy. Salads were easy because technically they barely counted as cooking.

"So," Blake said, hopping down from the counter, "what do you usually eat for dinner?"

"Whatever is available."

Blake narrowed his eyes. Well, it did make sense, but everybody had preferences, even Myles. The guy just talked like he’d transcended human wants entirely.

Blake crossed his arms. "Okay, then what do you eat most often?"

Myles thought for a second.

"Salmon and green salad."

’That’s unexpectedly normal.’

Even last time, at the amusement park, he showed a preference for fish.

"It has only a few bones."

Blake raised an eyebrow.

"Okay?"

Why was he talking about fish bones?

"Do you at least have the ingredients already?" Blake asked.

"Yes."

"Well." Blake cracked his knuckles dramatically. "Guess we’re cooking then."

Blake immediately decided he would not be touching the knife often.

Unfortunately, Myles apparently agreed.

The second Blake reached toward one, Myles calmly moved the cutting board farther away from him.

Blake stared. "Um?"

"I’ll handle this part."

"You think I can’t cut vegetables?"

"No, but it’s dangerous."

Blake opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Okay..."

Honestly, watching him cook felt strange enough as it was, so there was no point in making things even weirder.

At the end, Blake ended up in charge of washing produce and preparing the salad dressing instead.

"Are you sure this is enough lemon?" he asked.

"Yes."

"You didn’t even look."

"You’ve asked three times already."

Blake sighed dramatically while whisking the dressing.

The salmon itself turned out easier than Blake expected.

Myles seasoned it simply, nothing excessive, then showed Blake how to prepare the pan properly so the skin crisped instead of sticking.

And he listened carefully, too.

Although, occasionally he got distracted watching the way Myles’ hands moved, which was a little embarrassing to admit even internally.

"So you just cook this stuff regularly?"

"Yes."

"Every day?"

"Frequently."

Eventually dinner was finished.

The salmon looked genuinely good. Golden edges, crisp skin, fresh salad arranged neatly beside it.

Blake sat down at the table while Myles brought over the plates.

He wasn’t starving exactly, but he did want to eat.

The bigger issue was that he usually didn’t even like fish that much.

Still, maybe this would be different.

They sat across from each other quietly.

Blake picked up his fork, mentally preparing himself, then took a bite.

’Oh, okay, it’s pretty good.’

Not overwhelmingly fishy at all. More delicate, kind of like the swordfish from their amusement park date.

Blake blinked twice before taking another bite.

"You might as well become a chef."

The whole vibe was pretty comfortable.

Blake found himself glancing at the clock on the wall.

7 p.m.

"What time do you usually sleep?" he asked.

"Around ten."

’That’s absolutely a lie, he is usually in other cities at that hour...’

Still, Blake let it go.

Which left the question...

What exactly were they supposed to do for the next several hours?

After dinner, Blake stood up automatically. "I’ll wash the dishes."

Before he could even touch the plates, Myles gently shoved him sideways toward the living room.

"You choose a film."

"What?"

"I’ll handle this."

Blake blinked as Myles calmly started gathering dishes.

’Does he think I’m incapable of doing anything?!’

Huffing, he dropped onto the couch and grabbed the remote.

The television flickered on.

He had absolutely no idea what someone like Myles would enjoy watching.

Horror movies felt risky somehow.

Not because of violence exactly, but because Blake couldn’t imagine Myles reacting to anything scary like a normal person.

Comedy also seemed questionable.

’Would he even laugh?’

Eventually Blake scrolled through random recommendations until one caught his attention.

University setting.

Some genius protagonist.

Apparently dramatic but grounded enough to keep conversation flowing naturally.

Perfect.

At the end of the day, the movie itself didn’t matter much. It was mostly just background to smooth things out.

Without checking further, Blake clicked play.

A few minutes later, Myles returned and sat beside him.

"What did you choose?" he asked.

"Something about university life and some genius guy, I think."

"Okay."

The movie started.

And immediately opened with a sex scene.

"Ah."

Onscreen, two characters were aggressively making out against a wall while dramatic music played.

Blake slowly turned toward Myles in horror.

Myles, meanwhile, looked entirely neutral while watching the screen, then he glanced over.

"Is this your taste?"

"Nope. Absolutely not. We are skipping this immediately."

Fast-forward.

Unfortunately, the plot summary now became obvious.

A womanizer genius going through university while slowly maturing emotionally.

Blake wanted to evaporate.

’This is not helping my image at all.’

At least, Myles said nothing.

The movie continued and people flirted dramatically... someone kissed in a library.

Blake experienced physical pain.

And after a while, he realized something else.

Myles hadn’t spoken once.

Usually Blake was the one carrying conversations, sure, but Myles still looked at him occasionally.

Now he was just watching the screen quietly as if he genuinely cared about the movie.

Blake shifted slightly closer.

"Is it boring?" he asked.

Myles glanced at him. "It was your choice. I can’t judge."

Blake covered his face instantly with one hand.

"No. No, this is not my taste at all."

Myles hummed softly.

Blake peeked at him through his fingers.

Then, before thinking too hard about it, he reached over and took Myles’ hand.

Maybe he was feeling brave tonight.

"Would it be a problem if it was my taste?" Blake asked lightly.

Myles looked down at their intertwined hands.

Silence settled.

Except for the movie in the background, where two characters had apparently started another intense make-out session.

Blake slapped his own forehead dramatically.

"We should just change the movie."

He grabbed the remote again, then suddenly froze when Myles leaned over and lightly bumped his forehead against Blake’s.

"It isn’t a problem. Just keep it down."

Blake froze again, for around five seconds.

"What does that mean?"

Myles leaned back against the couch without answering.

’That’s not fair...!’

Blake groaned quietly, sinking farther into the couch cushions.

Honestly, though...

He didn’t mind waiting.

Somehow, time felt strangely easy around him.

***

When Blake woke up, the room was dark.

For several seconds he had no idea where he was.

Then he realized two things simultaneously.

First: his head was resting against Myles’ shoulder.

Second: their hands were still intertwined.

Blake blinked slowly.

At some point they changed movies entirely. He vaguely remembered another film starting, something less humiliating.

Then apparently he’d fallen asleep.

And ended up like this somehow.

The room looked late-night dim, the television casting soft flickering light across the couch.

Blake lifted his head slightly, and Myles was already looking down at him.

Blake’s heart skipped instantly.

"Sorry," Blake mumbled sleepily. "I didn’t mean to fall asleep."

"It’s fine."

Myles’ voice sounded quieter at night.

"We should sleep now," he added.

Blake nodded, rubbing one eye while sitting up fully.

Myles turned off the television.

Inside the bedroom, Myles’ opened a drawer and handed Blake a set of clothes.

They looked slightly oversized.

Well, more than slightly.

"Uh, thanks."

"I’ll shower first."

Then Myles disappeared into the bathroomz leaving Blake alone in the room.

Immediately, curiosity attacked him.

But there wasn’t much to look at, the room felt exactly like Myles somehow.

Minimalistic and quiet.

Blake sat carefully on the edge of the bed before eventually lying back fully, staring at the ceiling, letting out a heavy sigh.

’What does Myles think of me now?’

More importantly...

’What do I feel?’

His mission was to seduce him.

So was all this just because of that? Was he unconsciously forcing himself into attachment because he needed Myles emotionally invested?

The bathroom door opened.

Blake sat upright instantly.

"Your turn," Myles said.

Blake escaped into the bathroom before his thoughts could continue spiraling.

Warm water helped a little.

Still, using Myles’ shampoo and body wash somehow created an entirely different problem.

Because now Blake smelled exactly like him.

Which felt pretty dangerous.

Blake shamelessly sniffed his own sleeve after drying off.

’Ugh, I feel creepy.’

The oversized clothes hung loosely on him when he finally stepped back into the bedroom.

Myles was already under the covers, scrolling calmly through his phone.

"Where am I sleeping?"

Myles looked up. "The bed."

"With you?"Are you sure?"

"It doesn’t matter to me."

Blake stood there awkwardly for another few seconds before finally climbing in carefully.

He laid stiffly on his side facing away from Myles.

Which somehow only made him more aware of the other person behind him.

After a moment, he heard Myles set his phone down and shift beneath the blankets too.

Blake turned slightly despite himself.

Myles was lying on his back with his eyes closed already.

"Are you asleep?" Blake whispered.

"No."

Blake closed his eyes too.

Eventually, sleep pulled him under again.

*** 𝐟𝚛𝕖𝚎𝕨𝗲𝐛𝚗𝐨𝐯𝐞𝕝.𝐜𝗼𝗺

Around three in the morning, Myles sat quietly against the headboard, he wasn’t asleep.

Years of training had erased that habit long ago. Even resting, his senses stayed alert constantly.

Beside him, Blake slept peacefully.

At some point during the night, he’d shifted closer unconsciously.

Now his face rested near Myles’ hip, breathing slow and even.

Myles stared down at him silently.

Then, after a long pause, his hand moved carefully toward Blake’s neck.

Not enough to wake him.

Just enough to feel warmth.

His fingers slid upward instead, brushing gently through Blake’s hair.

Looking down at him, Myles couldn’t help but think, how could he be this defenseless?

Especially since, at a random point of the school year, Blake started being afraid of him, someone he never even talked to.

Not only that, but staring and approaching him.

It felt repulsive.

Even more now that he let this get out of control.

Tightening his grip on Blake’s hair, Myles had a cold stone face.

"Um..."

"..."

His eyes twitched as he immediately released his hair, caressing again.

Just why, why did the darkness around him feel lighter than usual?