Chapter 135: Angry drunken fight
The cold night air did little to clear Blake’s head.
Everything swayed around him, the streetlights, the pavement, even the sound of footsteps beneath him.
Or maybe those footsteps belonged to Myles.
Blake couldn’t tell anymore.
He only knew he was being carried, one arm under his knees and the other around his back, held securely against a chest he no longer wanted to be near.
"What were you thinking?"
Myles’ voice broke through the fog.
It wasn’t loud, it wasn’t even truly angry.
Just strained. Mildly irritated, maybe.
Blake shut his eyes, ignoring him, but he wasn’t done with the questions.
"What were you thinking, getting drunk like this?"
"None of your business."
"It actually is now, since the barman called me, and I’m here to carry you back."
He immediately frowned and, without looking up, he shoved a hand against Myles’ face, pushing his cheek away from him.
"Did you hear me?" he snapped. "It’s none of your business. And after this, I’m never speaking to you again, ever again!"
The words came out harsher than intended.
Myles didn’t answer, but be could feel his gaze.
He was staring down at him, completely silent, so much so even Blake could tell.
"Stop looking at me."
There was no response, which made his frown deepen further.
"I said look somewhere else. Don’t bother me like this."
His throat tightened.
"Especially after what you did."
Still nothing, the silence stretched between them and then, Myles started walking again.
As if Blake hadn’t threatened to cut him out of his life forever.
As if none of this mattered.
He hated that.
He hated the steady rhythm of Myles’ steps.
Hated how safe he felt despite everything.
Hated that Myles continued carrying him in a bridal hold like he weighed nothing!
After another minute, he finally spoke.
"What did I do?"
Blake didn’t answer, his eyes lowered to the pavement below.
’What did you do? What did you do?!’
The question made something painful twist inside his chest.
’You had a big part in ruining my plan, you piece of shit!’
Many of the future plans he had in mind were gone.
Destroyed with a few careless words and many stupid lies.
His throat burned and before he could stop himself, he sniffled.
The tears came immediately afterward.
’Damn it.’
Blake squeezed his eyes shut.
’Not again, not here in front of him...’
Myles shifted his grip and lifted him slightly higher.
"Why are you crying?"
But he said nothing.
"Blake."
Instead, he covered his face with both hands.
He thought that if Myles couldn’t see him at all, maybe it would be easier, but he thought wrong, since his arms tightened almost imperceptibly around him, just enough for Blake to notice.
They continued walking.
A new realization struck, making him frown.
’Wait, where is he even taking me? My house? Or his house? Hell, both options are terrible!’
Immediately, he shoved weakly against Myles’ chest.
"Put me down."
He glanced at him.
"Are you feeling sick?"
"I said, put me down."
"You don’t look like you’re about to throw up."
"I’ll go home alone."
"No."
"No?"
"You’re not going anywhere alone in this state."
For a second, Blake was too stunned to respond, then he clenched his jaw.
"Excuse me?"
Myles kept walking.
"It’s not safe."
"Well, and that’s none of your business! You should’ve thought about my well-being before this."
He simply continued down the street, so Blake let out a frustrated breath.
’Of course he isn’t responding. What is the point of arguing anyway?! He’s stronge than me, he would win any physical confrontation.’
He slumped slightly in Myles’ arms, his head lowered even more.
The street continued passing beneath them until eventually familiar buildings appeared.
Familiar windows.
Familiar stairs.
It was his own house. He had brought him home.
He climbed the stairs slowly.
Halfway up, a wave of nausea rolled through Blake’s stomach, which made him grab Myles’ shirt.
By the time they reached his apartment door, he felt miserable.
Myles finally set him down.
Blake still kept his head turned to the other side.
"Give me the keys."
"No, I’ll go inside first, then I’ll open the door myself."
"No."
"Why?"
He stared, then, before Blake could react, he gently pushed him against the wall.
"Hey!?"
One hand pinned him there while the other searched his pockets.
"Stop!"
He found the keys almost immediately.
"Seriously?! Why do you never listen to a single word I say?"
Blake’s face heated.
Myles unlocked the door, then he dragged the other inside before he could protest further.
The apartment was dark and quiet and, unfortunately for Blake, he was still there.
He barely made it three steps before he was pushed onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath him.
"What is wrong with you?" Blake snapped.
Myles stood over him.
"What’s so angering about me lying?"
Blake immediately turned onto his side. He didn’t want to look at him, at his face. He didn’t want to hear his voice.
He remained silent.
Then the mattress shifted.
Before he knew it, Myles was on the bed too.
A hand caught his shoulder, and he was rolled onto his back.
"Myles!"
"Why do you care so much about that person?"
Blake froze.
"Time ago," Myles said quietly, "you treated him exactly how he deserved."
Blake stared at the ceiling, his chest hurting.
"It doesn’t matter."
"It does."
"It doesn’t! Now it’s different."
Myles waited, eventually Blake huffed bitterly.
"Do you even know what happened? Zlatan went to the hospital, because apparently, he’s deathly allergic to shrimp."
He stared down, unimpressed.
"So?"
"What do you mean so?! Why would you tell me shrimp was his favorite food? You wouldn’t care if he died?!"
"And you do? I know you wouldn’t."
The room went still, then rage erupted through Blake.
"Sit."
Myles stayed still, not moving.
"Sit down."
His voice came out sharp enough to cut glass.
"Or you’ll regret it."
Myles backed away this time. He sat at the edge of the bed, watching carefully.
Blake immediately pushed himself upright, although the movement made the room spin.
"What exactly do you know about me?"
Myles frowned ever so slightly.
"No, don’t look at me like that, because again, what do you know?"
The dizziness worsened.
His head hurt.
His chest hurt.
Everything hurt.
And somehow his mouth kept moving, saying things he never intended to say.
His vision blurred, a tear slipping down his face, then another.
"You know nothing, you know absolutely nothing about me."
His voice broke completely.
"And you probably won’t for a long time, maybe never!"
The room felt too small.
Too warm.
Too exhausting.
Why couldn’t they be normal?
Why did everything have to be so complicated?
Why did this conversation feel like a battle?
The answer came before he could stop it.
Because they weren’t normal.
Because Blake wasn’t normal around him.
Because Myles wasn’t just anyone.
Blake finally lifted his head.
For the first time since leaving the bar, he looked directly at him.
Their eyes met, and the sight of Myles’ face alone made his chest ache.
"Why?"
Blake laughed weakly, a bitter, miserable sound.
"Why do I love you so much?"
The words escaped before he could stop them his eyes squeezing shut.
Tears spilled freely now.
Because it was true, that was the worst part.
He loved him.
No matter how much it hurt, his heart refused to let go, and he hated it, he loved loving Myles.
He loved every moment, every smile, every conversation, every memory.
But he hated it too.
Because he could lose him.
And tonight had proven exactly how easily that could happen.
Neither of them spoke.
Eventually, Blake felt movement.
Myles was reaching toward him, hand lifting toward his face, but he immediately smacked it away.
The sound echoed through the room.
"No."
Myles froze.
"For this," Blake whispered, voice shaking, "we might not see each other ever again, don’t you realize that?"
Myles froze.
"What does that mean?"
Blake looked away.
"I can’t say."
"Why."
"I just can’t."
His throat tightened.
"I can’t."
For a moment neither moved.
Then Myles leaned slightly closer, his voice was quieter than before.
"I understand."
Blake’s chest tightened.
"I won’t do it again, ever."
The sincerity in his voice almost made everything worse.
Blake covered his eyes.
"I can’t handle this anymore."
The room became quiet.
"Please leave, I won’t speak to you for the time being!"
The words hurt, and they were also unnecessary, he knew that. He knew he would literally meet him the next day if he decided to go to school.
And of course they would end up speaking in less than a week.
Nothing happened immediately, then he heard fabric rustle.
Myles’ hand clenched briefly at his side and, after a second, he stood.
The mattress rose beneath the loss of his weight.
Footsteps crossed the room.
The door opened.
Blake remained motionless.
"Take care of yourself."
Looking up, Blake saw Myles standing there one last time, looking back at him.
Waiting.
For what, Blake didn’t know.
When no response came, Myles nodded once, then he left, the door closing softly behind him.
And for the first time that night, Blake was finally alone.
