Blake froze mid-step. Sothing wasn’t right. He was supposed to be on the bus.
Yet there he was, Myles. Standing there, calm, impossibly composed, like the world hadn’t shifted under Blake’s feet at all.
"Myles... what are you doing here? You should be on the—"
Before he could finish, a firm hand grabbed his arm.
"Hey! Wait!" Blake struggled, but the grip was iron. He tried to pull away, panic rising like bile in his throat, but he was already being pulled forward.
"Myles? Huh... where are we going?"
The streets blurred past him as he was dragged into a narrow alley, deserted, cloaked in shadow. Trash bins leaned crookedly against walls, and the only sound was the distant hum of traffic far behind. It was unnervingly quiet.
’Um...! What the hell??’
Blake’s pulse slamd in his ears, heart hamring. The alley seed too small, and yet Myles moved calmly, like he was familiar with it, never slowing his pace.
Finally, he stopped.
Blake’s chest heaved, and he barely registered the way the dim light played over Myles’ features: tall, strong, and, most importantly, impossibly close.
Myles’ eyes bore into him, cool and unyielding.
"You’ve been avoiding ," Myles said, his voice low.
Blake blinked. "Haha... what are you talking about?" He tried to laugh it off, to defuse the tension, but it sounded hollow, even to his own ears.
Myles didn’t smile. He didn’t even blink. He stepped closer. The space between them shrank until Blake could feel the faint heat of his body.
Myles’ hand reached out suddenly, tilting Blake’s chin upward. The touch was deliberate and firm, in such a way that made Blake’s stomach twist.
"Stop lying to ," Myles said, his tone flat.
Blake’s heart skipped. Not just skipped, it felt like it had shattered into a thousand jagged pieces. His chest tightened, breaths coming in uneven gasps.
The fear-resistance skill he relied on in tense monts didn’t activate. He couldn’t think, couldn’t hide behind logic, couldn’t suppress the rising tide of... sothing else.
"I’m not lying," Blake stamred, voice shaking.
The truth was... he didn’t want to lie. He couldn’t.
And yet, he felt a strange, almost unbearable heat blooming in his chest at Myles’ nearness. The touch of his hand, the directness of his gaze, it made him dizzy, made him aware of things he wasn’t supposed to admit even to himself.
’Am I... liking this or sothing?’ Blake thought, and imdiately, sha flared hot and bright, burning through his embarrassnt.
The realization alone sent him scrambling for words, for control he didn’t have.
He looked at Myles, eyes wide and trembling, almost pleading. "I didn’t an to. It’s not like I was trying to avoid you. I, I was just having a hard ti and stuff..."
Myles’ eyes sharpened. "Because of him?"
Blake froze. His brain stuttered. Him?
"Huh... who?"
"The one who follows you all the ti."
Raising an eyebrow, he finally realized it was about Anthony.
"No! No, it’s not like that. He isn’t involved," Blake said, flustered. His pulse raced even faster.
Myles tilted his head. "What do you an no? You were all over him."
Blake blinked. He could feel his cheeks heating. "No. We’re just friends."
And then it happened.
Blake felt it imdiately, a surge in his chest, a heat that wasn’t fear, a pulse that thumped louder, faster.
[ Favorability level: 5→ 8 ]
The number flashed in his mind like a sudden, shocking truth, an invisible current from Myles straight into him.
’Why now? Why this mont?’ His pulse raced, erratic, out of control. His heart pounded so fiercely he thought it might explode.
Myles didn’t move back. Didn’t release him. Didn’t let him go. The tension stretched taut, unrelenting, wrapping around Blake like a vise.
Blake’s lips parted, unthinking. "I I didn’t an to. I just... I..." Words failed him.
He couldn’t focus with this sudden improvent.
Myles leaned closer, close enough that Blake could feel the faint brush of his hair against his forehead. Close enough that every nerve in Blake’s body scread at him, electric, wild, unrelenting.
The alley was quiet. Too quiet.
Blake’s chest rose and fell rapidly. The heat pooling in his chest had little to do with fear. It had everything to do with Myles, this proximity, this impossible closeness, the way he refused to let Blake hide.
Blake swallowed hard, hands balling into fists at his sides. "Did you hear ? I didn’t do it on purpose. You did see the teacher pull aside and stuff."
Myles didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He just watched, stone-eyed, unblinking. Every instinct scread to flee, but Blake couldn’t. So strange gravity emanating from Myles kept his feet rooted, kept his heart pounding, kept his chest aching.
"...You’re hiding sothing," Myles said, voice low, deliberate, almost whispering but weighted, heavy.
"I... I’m not!" Blake said, louder, but the sound ca out shakier than he intended. Thoughts scattered.
’Why does this feel like, it matters so much? Why does he, why is he doing this, oh god my heart is beating so fast... I’m such an idiot.’
Myles tilted his head again, silent, unreadable, and then stepped closer still. Blake could feel the faint warmth radiating from him, the subtle power in his posture, the undeniable pressure of being caught and seen completely.
Blake realized, with a clarity that made his chest ache, that he had never wanted to get away from Myles. Not once. Not ever.
Myles’ gaze softened, just enough to make Blake shiver, but never broke contact. The world outside the alley disappeared. Nothing else existed but this closeness, this quiet intensity, this raw, undeniable connection.
"I don’t lie."
Myles leaned closer. His voice low, steady, his eyes narrowed slightly. "Okay."
And for the first ti, Blake realized he wanted to.
He wanted to stop explaining. He wanted, more than he could admit even to himself, to stay right here, in this impossibly small alley, heart racing, skin tingling, completely caught in Myles’ orbit.
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