Chapter 136: Unnamed but known feeling
Myles stood just outside Blake’s apartment door, his back pressed flat against it.
Truthfully, he never wanted to leave in the first place, and usually, when he didn’t want something to happen, and the circumstances allowed him the luxury of refusing, he simply did whatever he wanted.
Most people bent to expectations, obligations, emotions. Myles didn’t, if something was unnecessary, he wasted no time on it.
Yet here he was, standing in a dim hallway, just because he was told to get out.
Earlier, those eyes had looked at him with something painful enough that even now Myles couldn’t fully erase the image.
To some extent, he did understand why it lingered and why it was bothering him, so much so that he waited before going out, uselessly waiting for Blake to change his mind, although he knew that wouldn’t have happened.
So now he remained on the other side of the door, listening to every movement, every breath, every shift of fabric.
Drunk people were careless... they tripped over furniture, fell down stairs, choked on their own vomit, passed out in absurd positions and woke up with injuries they couldn’t explain.
He had seen worse, so he waited, his fingers shifting around the set of keys in his hand.
Blake hadn’t even noticed they were taken out of the house.
Glancing down at them, he hummed.
’How can someone be this careless?’
He closed his hand around the metal and then he tilted his head back against the wall and let out a quiet breath through his nose.
As always, there were moments when he truly couldn’t understand Blake in the slightest.
The heartbeat on the other side of the wall slowly settled.
The rhythm lost its instability.
The alcohol-induced emotions faded.
Eventually, it became steady and even.
He was asleep.
Myles opened his eyes and, a few moments later, he unlocked the door and stepped back inside.
The apartment was silent.
He crossed the living room without making a sound.
Blake was sprawled across the bed exactly as expected, one arm hanging off the side and his shoes still on.
A disaster.
Myles stared at him.
Then, he slipped an arm beneath Blake’s knees and another around his back. Then, he made a sleepy noise.
"Sleep for now."
The word came automatically as Blake’s head dropped against his shoulder.
Myles carried him to the bathroom, carfully sitting him on a chair.
The bright light immediately made his eyes squint, and his face twist.
"Mm..."
Myles washed his own hands first before wetting a washcloth and wiping Blake’s face clean.
A few minutes later he nudged Blake’s shoulder.
"Open your mouth a little."
Blake managed a weak blink.
Myles held him again, this time in front of the sink, washing his teeth.
Clearly, he wasn’t understanding the situation, with his balance nonexistent and his reactions delayed.
Several times his head nearly fell forward, and each time, Myles caught it.
When the brushing was finished, Myles held a glass of water against his lips.
"Rinse."
After a few confused seconds, he obeyed, the process taking far longer than it should have.
Next came the hair.
Myles sat him on a chair beside the bathtub.
He looked absolutely miserable, with his eyes remaining half-open.
Without comment, he adjusted the water temperature and carefully washed his hair.
Blake leaned forward, then sideways, then forward again, but Myles prevented him from falling every single time.
When the hair was finished, Myles rolled up Blake’s pant legs and removed his socks.
His feet were freezing.
For Myles or similar people, it was only natural to be cold, but regular humans were usually warm, or at least lukewarm.
"You drank was too much."
He then washed Blake’s feet before cleaning his arms as well.
The entire time, he muttered incoherent things under his breath, not a single sentence making sense.
Finally, he carried Blake back to the bedroom.
Myles changed him into clean clothes and left him half asleep, sitting against the headboard.
From a cabinet near the kitchen, he retrieved electrolyte tablets and a glass of water.
Not exactly medicine, but at least they were useful.
Alcohol dehydrated people and dehydrated people suffered.
Blake was already going to wake up with a headache.
There was no need to make it worse.
Myles shook him gently, and Blake groaned. It was good enough, so he helped him sit up.
His face turned pale.
Myles held the glass in front of him.
"Drink."
Blake blinked, then slowly drank.
Afterward, Myles handed him the dissolved electrolyte mixture.
The second glass disappeared as well.
Satisfied, he helped him lie down on the mattress.
The blankets were pulled over him and everything became quiet.
For a moment, Myles remained seated beside the bed.
Blake was breathing calmly, his hair falling messily across his forehead.
Without really thinking about it, Myles brushed it aside.
Then, after a few seconds, he withdrew his hand.
"How troublesome."
Myles stood and walked out, placing the keys on the kitchen counter where Blake would find them in the morning.
Then he left the apartment, the door locking automatically when it closed behind him.
***
Some time later, he stood inside a hospital room.
Zlatan looked healthy, really.
Myles stared at him, then grabbed the front of his hospital gown, punching before Zlatan could say a word.
His head snapped sideways.
Slowly, he turned back, and laughed.
"Ah, so you found out."
Myles hit him again, harder.
The laughter became a cough.
"Did Blake get angry?" Zlatan asked.
A third strike nearly followed, but the second before it could happen, Myles simply shoved him backward.
"Don’t say his name."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop while Zlatan landed against the mattress with a grunt.
For a moment, silence lingered, then, he sighed dramatically.
"You really should’ve been there, your precious Blake brought me flowers."
Another laugh.
"What a coincidence, I’m allergic to pollen. And then, he suggested ordering shrimp."
Zlatan pressed a hand over his face, holding it together.
"And who would’ve thought, I’m deathly allergic to shrimp!"
The tone that followed sounded quite amused.
"It was honestly one of the funniest things I’ve ever experienced."
Myles remained expressionless as Zlatan lowered his hand.
"You shouldn’t lie so much, you know, he looked genuinely shocked, not just because of me."
His gaze shifted toward the ceiling.
"I think he was more shocked that you lied."
"What was he like before your little performance?"
Zlatan hummed thoughtfully.
"Not thrilled, but his smile fooled me at first, which is impressive on its own."
Myles turned around and, without another word, he walked toward the door.
Behind him, Zlatan called out.
"You know, you’re way too heartless."
No response.
"Especially considering you’re basically responsible for putting me here."
The door closed, with Myles never looking back.
The stairs echoed beneath his footsteps as he descended from the hospital.
At the amusement park, he had heard Blake’s heartbeat clearly.
When someone disliked another person, they aren’t necessarily nervous around them. Most of the time the difference was negligible, so tiny that it was almost impossible to detect.
However, when he was younger, Myles had to do a lot of spying, by now he could notice details even beings like him had difficulties detecting.
Blake found Zlatan annoying, that much was obvious, yet annoyance wasn’t hatred.
So why? Why pursue someone he didn’t particularly enjoy?
At the start, Blake’s reactions had never indicated genuine comfort around Myles.
There had always been anxiety, confusion, an elevated pulse.
Myles had known immediately that Blake’s claims about love were nonsense.
Love didn’t sound like that, fear and uncertainty did.
Over time, however, things had changed.
The heartbeat had changed.
The tension had eased.
The nervousness had softened.
And now, now Blake genuinely loved him, Myles knew it.
’So why are you chasing someone you barely like?’
There were only a few possibilities.
One possibility was Zlatan, maybe he had promised him something, manipulating him.
Though honestly, knowing him, that seemed unlikely. Besides, Blake wasn’t mentally weak.
Which left another possibility.
The possibility Myles had never fully discarded.
Blake was, after all, a spy.
Of course, it was less likely than before because of the new informations he gained, but not impossible.
Only AL-TECH or, in general, the government would gain anything from using another human to investigate him.
They lacked concrete records regarding second generations.
Most of their knowledge consisted of theories.
And one of those theories suggested second generations were more emotional than the first generations. By thinking so, they send humans to try and sway them.
A ridiculous assumption.
His ideological enemies knew better.
That was why they preferred using animals to spy on each other.
Animals observed without interference and didn’t create unnecessary variables.
If he was involved and poking around Zlatan’s territory as well, then that became a problem.
Because if not AL-TECH, then who could send him?
Myles exhaled slowly.
The frustrating part was that he couldn’t even investigate Blake properly.
Not in the way he normally would.
Not with the techniques that had always produced answers.
He didn’t want Blake getting hurt because of him.
This fact deeply irritated him.
As the hospital doors opened, cool air brushed against his face.
Myles stepped outside.
For a moment, his thoughts finally quieted, then, he looked up at the sky, which was stretching endlessly overhead.
Soft clouds drifted across fading light.
Blue.
Bright.
And despite himself, they reminded him of a certain someone..
