Blake was currently... sitting together with everyone.
'Wha the... how did I even end up here?'
His fingers drummed lightly against the wooden table as he stared blankly ahead.
Yesterday's conversation with Myles refused to leave his head.
The confession that wasn't really a confession.
The goal that wouldn't change.
The embrace.
The almost-admission.
It all kept replaying, over and over.
As a result, he hadn't slept, not even a little, really.
...
The previous night had been miserable.
Blake had laid beneath the blanket, eyes squeezed shut, desperately trying to force himself unconscious.
He turned to the left side, then the right side, on his back, stomach, then left again.
The pillow had become warm, he flipped it.
Five minutes later it was warm again, so he had to flip it once more.
Two whole hours were passed like that, with his eyes closed without opening them once.
His brain simply refused to stop thinking.
"It might."
"I can't abandon my goal."
"...Agh..."
