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.
