Blake leaned back against the sofa and stretched his arms over his head.
"So," Blake said, turning his head toward Myles, "what should we play now? You can decide this ti."
Myles looked up from where he had been scrolling through sothing on his phone.
"I haven’t tried the gas you gifted yet," Myles said. "Let’s play those."
Blake blinked.
"The ones I gave you?"
Myles nodded.
"Why haven’t you tried them already?" Blake asked. "Do you not play them?"
The question seed perfectly reasonable to him.
Myles looked at him for a mont before answering.
"I only play gas when you’re here."
Blake sighed.
"Seriously?"
Myles rely stared back.
Blake reached over and poked the top of his head.
"That’s not healthy, you know."
Myles didn’t react, as usual.
Blake stood and walked over to the nearby drawer where several ga cases were stacked. He crouched down and began rummaging through them.
Blake casually picked one, and neither of them paid much attention to the cover.
That turned out to be a mistake.
They settled onto the sofa and started the ga.
About five minutes later, Blake stared blankly at the television.
"..."
"..."
The screen displayed a beautiful girl standing beneath cherry blossoms while approximately twelve impossibly handso n surrounded her from every conceivable angle.
It was an oto ga.
Blake slowly lowered the controller.
"What."
Myles glanced at him.
"Oto."
"I can see that."
Blake rubbed his forehead.
’Was the previous Blake into this kind of stuff or sothing?’
Why had he gifted this? More importantly, why hadn’t he checked the gas thoroughly before handing them over?
He looked sideways.
Myles had both eyebrows slightly raised, outright judging him.
Blake could only remain silent.
The silence itself was basically an admission of guilt.
"It wasn’t my choice," he muttered.
Myles continued staring.
"I an, technically it was."
Another stare.
"Okay, fine."
The ga continued, and the protagonist was apparently nad Aria.
Aria had sohow beco the center of attention for an absurd number of n.
There was Lucien.
And Damian.
And Cassius.
And Rowan.
And Ezra.
And Leon.
And Silas.
And Cedric.
And Vincent.
And Aiden.
And two more whose nas Blake had already forgotten.
"How many are there?" Blake asked.
"Twelve."
"Why are there twelve?"
"No idea."
"This girl can’t even rember all of them."
"Neither can you."
"Exactly."
The ga only beca more ridiculous from there.
Every single character seed determined to confess their love within ten minutes of appearing.
One of them dramatically jumped from a rooftop.
Another challenged soone to a duel.
A third declared that he had been in love with Aria since childhood despite never being ntioned before.
Blake was cracking up.
"This is incredibly bad."
"It is."
"Why is he speaking like that?"
Myles looked at the screen.
"’My heart burns with the fire of ten thousand stars.’"
Blake shivered just by hearing him.
"No please, don’t say stuff like that even if it’s not what you think..."
Apparently it was.
The ga thought otherwise.
As they progressed, Blake and Myles divided the dialogue choices between themselves.
One choice for Blake.
One choice for Myles.
Back and forth.
Neither of them had any idea what they were doing.
At one point Blake selected an option that encouraged honesty.
The result sohow triggered a duel.
Myles selected an option intended to calm everyone down.
Three characters imdiately beca jealous.
"This ga hates us," Blake said.
Myles nodded.
"Seems likely."
So ti later they reached their first ending, and the result was catastrophic.
Several love interests had beco obsessed.
One started a fight, another started a second fight, and Aria got caught in the middle of everything...
The ending screen faded in.
The protagonist died.
Blake stared.
Myles stared.
Then Blake slowly scratched the back of his head.
"Dang. That was rough. How did we even manage that?"
"No idea."
They reloaded and tried another route.
That one ended with two characters disappearing and one becoming a wanted criminal.
The next route ended with a betrayal.
Another ended with soone leaving the country forever.
One route sohow involved a ship explosion.
Blake was beginning to suspect there wasn’t a single sane person in the entire ga.
By the ti they reached ending number six, both of them looked exhausted.
The ending music played.
Another disaster.
Blake dropped back onto the sofa.
"What is wrong with these people? All twelve need therapy!"
"Thirteen including Aria."
The ga was finally switched off.
The living room imdiately felt quieter.
The television remained on, though, playing so random program neither of them paid attention to.
They sank into the sofa cushions and started talking.
About the ga.
About school.
About random things they’d seen online.
The conversation wandered naturally from topic to topic.
Sotis there were long pauses.
Neither of them minded, the quiet never felt uncomfortable.
Eventually the sky outside darkened.
Blake glanced at the clock.
"Let’s make dinner."
Myles followed his gaze.
"Yeah."
They both stood, tonight’s plan was chicken noodle soup, as Blake wanted.
The mont they entered the kitchen, it beca apparent that they had completely different ideas about how chicken noodle soup should be made.
Blake placed ingredients on the counter.
Myles did the sa, then they compared.
"Wait," Blake said. "Is that how you do it?"
He looked at his ingredients.
"Yes."
There were considerably more vegetables on his side, a lot of broth.
Blake’s version, anwhile, focused much more heavily on noodles and chicken.
Myles picked up a carrot.
"The version I make is focused on nutrients."
Blake narrowed his eyes.
"And mine isn’t?"
Myles calmly pulled out a cutting board.
"Not particularly."
"Watch it..."
"It is true."
Before Blake could protest further, Myles gently pushed him toward a nearby chair.
"Sit."
"What?"
"I’ll handle this."
Myles began arranging ingredients.
"More vegetables ans more nutrients."
"You’re making it sound like I’m cooking instant noodles!"
"It is close enough to that."
anwhile, Myles had already started cutting vegetables with smooth, efficient movents.
Blake watched him for a mont, then sothing occurred to him.
Last ti they’d cooked together, Myles had also prevented him from using the knife.
That couldn’t be a coincidence.
Blake stood.
"Can I at least do sothing?"
"You can sit."
"Myles."
"We are cooking together."
"It doesn’t look like it."
Myles glanced over.
"You can prepare the noodles later."
"And?"
"And help with the chicken."
Blake raised an eyebrow, then reluctantly sat back down.
"Honestly," he said, "you’re underestimating my knife skills."
Myles continued slicing.
"Once you cut your finger."
Blake froze.
"...What?"
"You cut your finger."
"When?"
Blake stared, then rembered on his own.
’How the hell does he rember that? Have I even told him about it? Just seeing the plaster made him understand?’
It wasn’t even a major injury, just a small accident.
A grin slowly appeared on Blake’s face.
’Well, well. Isn’t that cute?’
anwhile, Myles carried several vegetables over to the sink and began washing them.
Blake quietly stood, then approached from behind.
A perfect opportunity.
Without warning, he wrapped his arms around Myles’s waist.
Success, or so he thought...
Myles simply turned his head.
That was it... no jump, flinch or startled reaction.
Nothing!
Blake imdiately rembered.
’Right, Myles isn’t ticklish...’
Nor was he particularly easy to surprise.
Myles looked down at him.
"What is it?"
Then he turned fully toward him and leaned slightly closer.
Blake paused, his original plan had completely disappeared from his brain.
"Uh."
Myles waited, Blake reached up and patted his head.
"Haha."
"..."
"Nothing."
"..."
"I just wanted to complint your kitchen skills."
Myles stared for another second.
"Hah..."
A short chuckling hum escaped him. Then, he walked past Blake and returned to cutting carrots.
Blake remained frozen, his eyes widening.
’What... what?!’
He imdiately covered his face.
That had been unfair, and his face was feeling slightly too warm.
The brief chuckle replayed in his mind.
Why was that so cute?
He already liked Myles, and admittedly, part of that included his face.
But still, that should not have been enough to nearly knock him out...
Blake let out a long sigh.
’I need to calm down...’
The vegetables were nearly finished.
The broth had already begun simring.
Now it was ti for the chicken.
The chicken had been cut beforehand by Myles, naturally.
Blake seasoned it lightly before adding it to the pot. The pieces cooked gently in the simring broth, becoming tender while absorbing flavor from the vegetables and seasonings already inside.
This, finally, was sothing he could help with.
Once the chicken was nearly done, Blake moved on to the noodles.
A second pot of water was brought to a boil.
The noodles were added and stirred carefully to prevent sticking.
Myles occasionally glanced over to supervise.
Blake pretended not to notice and, eventually, everything ca together.
The vegetables were soft.
The broth slled wonderful.
The chicken was fully cooked.
The noodles were ready.
Dinner was served!
Blake sat down at the table with obvious anticipation.
Myles placed the bowls down, steam rosing gently from the soup.
Blake took one bite.
"This is so good."
Myles nodded.
"You look very confident."
"I am."
Blake laughed.
By the ti dinner ended, he had completely finished his bowl.
Then he got another serving, and finished that too.
Afterward, he gathered the dishes.
Myles imdiately noticed.
"I’ll do them."
"Nope, you cooked."
"We both cooked."
"Myles..."
"I’ll do them."
Blake ignored him and carried everything to the sink.
A brief argunt followed, and Blake won.
Mostly because he had already started washing the dishes before Myles could stop him.
Warm water ran over his hands as he cleaned the bowls and utensils.
The kitchen gradually returned to order.
When he finally finished, he dried his hands and turned around.
Myles was waiting nearby.
The house had beco quiet again.
The television still murmured faintly from the living room.
For a mont neither of them spoke.
Then Myles broke the silence.
"Do you want to go out?"
Blake blinked.
A grin imdiately spread across his face.
And just like that, the evening seed ready to begin.
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