Blake chased after Myles again.
At this point, it had become routine, something he expected at least once a week, no matter how much he told himself it would be the last time. It never got easier.
The late afternoon wind cut against his face as he ran down the uneven sidewalk, sidestepping people who frowned at him as he passed. He barely noticed. His attention was fixed ahead.
Myles walked like nothing around him mattered. Hands deep in his pockets, expression distant, unreadable as always. But Blake had learned to notice the small things, the slight tightening of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders.
'Why is it always so hard with him?' Blake thought, picking up his pace. 'I'm definitely failing this.'
It had been a week since his last attempt. A week without progress.
Anthony had tried too, quiet, patient Anthony, but it hadn't changed anything. Every effort had been brushed aside, sometimes coldly, sometimes even rudely.
And Blake was still expected to fix it.
