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Hours later, Blake leaned against the wall playing on his phone, facing the classroom where Dean was currently having class. His classes had finished a few minutes earlier, so he had taken the opportunity to be on time, for once without having to run like a crazy man across campus.

Hearing the door open, he raised his read putting the phone back on his pocket. He smiled at some people he knew, still not moving from his spot. One of the rules Dean followed for his safety was always being the last one to leave the classroom, as to not risk being engulfed by the sea of his classmates, so Blake followed by that.

The room must have been about to empty out when something caught Blake's attention. Two girls were leaving the room, at a suspicious low pace, looking at something on the other side of the classroom, smiling and murmuring to each other.

Normally Blake wouldn't do it, but knowing Dean always sat at the area they were studying, he couldn't help but shift his attention to the girls' conversation. He was able to make out one of them talking about how it was the first time they had heard the "handsome guy's voice".

Blake's eyebrows immediately shot up, but he kept his cool until they left. Then, he picked his backpack up from the floor, entering the classroom. His eyes went straight to the only person there, sat alone at the far most removed desk in the corner, busy packing their stuff.

Glad to see his friend was not panicking in a corner, Blake smiled, calling out to him.

- Hey, bunny.

Hearing his voice, Dean lifted his head from what he was doing, looking at him. Immediately Blake knew something had happened.

The usually white skin had a red tint from the tips of the ears to the base of the neck and his hazel eyes only soften when he saw it was Blake that called him.

The man standing didn't even remember crossing the classroom, but in seconds he was right in front of Dean's desk.

- Are you ok? Did something happen?

Shifting his gaze back to the backpack, Dean attempted to hide his burning face.

- It was nothing... It's really not relevant.

The vague reply didn't hinder Blake in the slightest.

Bending one knee, he kneeled down with his arms resting at the edge of the desk, so he could see Dean's eyes even with him looking down. He noticed Dean's face changed as he watched him take that position, seemingly stunned by Blake's choice at dirtying his pants. Of course, to Dean, that should be strange. The most out of line Blake had seen him had been when he showed up at the other's house, by surprise, and even so it was impossible to point out a flaw in Dean's attire. On the contrary, Blake didn't care about getting himself dirty or misaligned. After all, pants could be washed.

- I heard two girls saying they heard you talk for the first time today.

Blake purposely locked his dark eyes with the hazel ones, which got rounder with the information.

- Did they say... - Dean adjusted himself in the chair. - From what you heard, do they think I made myself look like a fool?

The psychology student smiled unconsciously. Dean's insecurities were something Blake wanted to help him with, but he had to admit Dean looked extremely adorable, shyly playing with his fingers as he did at that moment.

- They said you are handsome.

As soon as the words left Blake's mouth, they traveled through Dean's skin tone, panting it in an even stronger red tint that it already was. Blake thought Dean looked like a bunny, but it seemed like he was giving the "chameleon look" a try. The embarrassed reaction dialed up Blake enjoyment of the scene, as the other struggled to zip his backpack closed, in a slew of clumsy movements.

- Did they hit on you or something?

It was a fair point to make, in Blake's opinion, but Dean didn't seem to agree. With rounded eyes, he shook his head intensely, hugging the backpack when this one threatened to fall from his lap.

- What? No! That wasn't the case at all.

- Then what happened?

Once again, Dean lowered his eyes, this time playing with the zip of the black bag.

- It was nothing special... The teacher asked me to explain a theory to the class.

Blake frowned lightly at the information. Knowing Dean, he had probably almost thrown up just by hearing his name being called out loud and everyone staring at him, let alone having to talk in return.

Feeling a sore sensation in his knee, which was holding the majority of his weight, he bent down the other.

- Are you ok?

Dean's answer, for Blake's surprise, was a shy corner smile.

- Well, I'm alright now but...

Slowly, he slid his right hand into the pants pocket, taking out the bunny keychain. It was clear that the white trinket had been under a considerable amount of force, as it was still slightly deformed.

- I don't know if he is...

After a bit more conversation, with the main motive of addressing if Dean was truly alright and not just hiding it, as usual, the two men made their way to the parking lot.

Already inside the car, Blake struggled to squeeze his legs into the tight space provided for it. Reaching under the seat with one hand, he tapped around aimlessly. Dean, who was already set to start the car, stopped, looking curiously at his friend.

- Is there a problem?

- Yeah, I can't find the lever to push the seat back.

With a defeated sigh, he stopped searching, opting instead to move around, trying to find a comfortable position.

- You would think such a great car would have more leg space.

Seeing his struggle seemed to amuse Dean, who showed a discreet smile. Then, has Blake watched, he took his own hand to the door armrest, clicking on one of the multiple buttons, making the driver's seat move back by itself. Seeing this, the clueless boy looked to his side, finally noting the buttons with the drawn representation of the chair's movements.

- I'm a moron. - he stated, pressing the button making his seat slide back.

When his eyes were called to the button beside the one he was pressing and he didn't understand the drawing on it, Blake couldn't stop the curiosity. Once he clicked it and felt the seat move higher, he was fascinated.

This is a spaceship.

He looked to the driver, finding he was being watched as he played with his seat. Dean wasn't smiling openly, but the soft skin around his eyes crinkled in amusement.

- What?

- It's nothing. - Dean answered, still with the same expression. Switching his attention back to the button beside the wheel, he turned on the car. - Do you have the seatbelt on?

Blake did as he was told, nodding in agreement.

They crossed the parking lot, up to the gate, where Dean waited for the traffic to stop, so they could pass. Finally, someone was kind enough to stop for them, opportunity Dean took, thanking the other driver.

The whole trip, Blake was mesmerized by the man at his side. He had already witnessed Dean transform when talking to an authority figure, putting on a strong front. But this time it was different. Dean drove with the confidence that matched his gentleman appearance, looking up to the road with a high chin, swerving the steering wheel as an extension of himself.

This wasn't a mask, this was the real deal. And that intrigued Blake.

Understanding people had always been something natural to him but, as much as he tried, it was impossible to completely uncover Dean's personality. One moment he was blushing to his core, and the other he showed himself as the heir of a wealthy family.

A loud sound interrupted the music Blake hadn't noticed playing, waking him up to the reality. Turning to the screen in front of them, a warning of an incoming call from Mr. Abe showed up. Blake didn't see Dean press anything, but somehow, he was able to answer it.

- Hello?

- I'm sorry to bother you, Sir. Are you on your way home?

The man's voice sounded through the car.

- Yes, I am. I must arrive in five minutes or so. Is everything alright? Are you feeling better?

Blake arched his eyebrows. Mr.Abe wasn't feeling well? That explained why Dean had chosen that they to start driving himself.

- I am. Thank you for the concern, Sir. I actually called to tell you I won't be home when you arrive. I have some business that needs to be taken care of.

- You are going out? Shouldn't you rest a bit more?

- You don't need to worry about me Sir, I'm truly recovered.

- If you are sure...

The conversation brought a smile to Blake's lips. Those two were just like family.

From the other side of the line, a female voice was heard even though what it said wasn't perceptible.

- Sir, Ms Lin wants me to ask you what you want to eat when you get home. She's going grocery shopping, so she will leave it ready for you.

- Give me a moment, please. - Dean asked, before glancing rapidly at Blake. - What do you want to eat?

The guest smiled, shrugging at the question. Based on the daily meal provided form him, and the red velvet cake he had eaten the last time he visited the Metharom home, everything Ms Lin cooked was heavenly.

- Are we going to have guests over, Sir?

Looking at the driver, Blake spotted a small corner smile pulling at his lips.

- Yes. I invited Blake to spend the afternoon.

Finally introduced, Blake smiled, having at the screen even though Mr.Abe couldn't see him.

- Hi Mr.Abe!

- Hello, Mr. Blake. - the servant's voice showed his smile. - Glad to have you at the house once more. Are you planning on dining with us?

Blake shook his head.

- I can't.

The answer caused Dean to glance at him once again in silence but, this time, the smile was gone. The apathetic expression couldn't conceal his disappointment from Blake, who immediately felt guilty about being the cause of it.

- That's a shame. - Mr.Abe continued, absent to the young master's mood at the moment. - Sir Dean, Ms Lin is saying she will serve yesterday's brownies and tea. Will that be sufficient?

After a nod from Blake, Dean gave the go ahead. Business taken care of, the greetings were said, and the call was terminated. As soon as the sound of the radio replaced the call, Blake turned his body to the man beside him.

- I'm sorry for not having dinner with you, but my brother told me they are all having dinner after May's demonstration, and I think I should at least go there as I'm not going to watch it like the others.

- I understand.

His reply was given with a comprehensive smile, but a diplomatic tone.

- You are disappointed.

- That's not the case at all.

Blake's eyebrows knitted together, unhappy with the sympathetic reply.

- Dean.

The inflection in his voice was enough for Dean to let out a sigh, never taking his eyes off the road even though they had just stopped at a red light.

- I just... I don't have motives to be disappointed. You should go support May and be with everybody.

Blake was about to suggest he could join them but stopped himself as a thought popped into his head. They would want to go to a restaurant and that wasn't as easy of an environment to control as the outdoor tables in the university.

As such, he decided to skip the invite, addressing another issue, instead.

- You don't always need to have reasons to feel a certain way. Sometimes feelings are just that.

He was aware of how cliché that sounded, but it was his opinion. Besides, he had never been one to hold back and if there was someone he knew wouldn't criticize him for it, was Dean.

As to prove his point, a modest smile picked up from Dean's well-drawn lips. Blake took the chance to lighten the mood.

- One day you and I are going to have dinner together. - he decided with an emphasizing side punch on his own leg. - Just the two of us.

Dean's smile grew considerably with the suggestion, responding with a single but decisive nod.

Sometime later the car pulled up in the enormous garage, with one car parked beside Dean's, and space for two more. The space was undeniably impressive, but what caught Blake's attention was the car parked in the corner. Filled with curiosity, he got out of the car, approaching the other. It was a beautiful white Lamborghini with a sporty yet classy design.

Dean's steps were heard as he approached.

- This car's really cool. - Blake commented, picking inside through the window like he had done that morning to Dean's car.

His friend didn't answer, choosing instead to lay his hand sur the car hood, keeping his eyes on it.

Still curious, Blake stepped away from the window, analyzing the machine.

- Is it your mother's?

A few seconds of silence followed, making Blake turn his attention to Dean, who still glared the hand on the car. Assuming he hadn't been heard, he opened his mouth, ready to repeat the question. However, before the words could leave his throat, he received the answer

- It was my father's...

Those words were left floating in the air for an excruciation amount of time, as Dean kept his eyes on the car, while Blake stared him with lips slightly apart.

There was no particular expression on the heir's face, no sadness, no tears, nothing that could make anyone think he was hurting. But Blake wasn't just anyone. He could see through those glazed eyes, to the hidden part of Dean's personality where he stored every aching feeling.

Blake had never felt it so difficult to resist touching Dean. He just wanted to speed towards him, wrap him in his arms and hug him tightly until Dean's defenses broke down and he cried like he was doing inside. But he couldn't give in to the urge, so he found himself taking a deep breath before splattering a smile back on his face, clap once and rub his hands together.

- I heard there are brownies.

Fortunately, the diversion worked. Dean lifted his head, showing an adorable small smile, giving him a nod.

Both men made their way from the garage to the big house, where Blake followed Dean to the living room. There, as promised, a plate with stacked brownies, two teacups, and an electric kettle awaited them in a large tray.

As he had done the first time he stepped foot in that house, Blake took the initiative of serving the tea for both of them. He had just finished pouring the tea, when he looked to the side, seeing Dean still standing.

- Why don't you sit?

Dean glanced at him, scratching the back of his head.

- Well... The guest should sit first.

Hearing this, it was impossible for Blake not to laugh. Shaking his head, he put down the kettle. When he straightened himself and looked at the overly polite host, a burning tint was visible on his spotless skin, caused by Blake's reaction.

- What...? - Dean murmured.

Maybe Blake should feel guilty for making him embarrassed, but he only found it endearing from Dean's part. Without any other answer, Blake gave in to the host's preference, taking his place at the sofa.

During the following half hour, they ate what had been prepared for them, watching a variety show on tv, with a comfortable silence that was only interrupted by laughter or scarce commentary. At a certain point, Blake's mind swerved back to the conversation in the garage. He had never had the best memory, but he was quite sure that had been the first time Dean had spoken about his father.

It had been a while since Mark and Tim told him about his employer's father's funeral, but Blake hadn't gone further into that subject. He had even asked them to not tell him anything else, and he certainly hadn't ever commented about it with Dean. If he ever wanted to talk about it, Blake would be more than willing to hear him, but he didn't feel it was his place to pressure him about it.

- Blake?

Woken up from his thoughts, he turned to Dean, who had just finished his tea and laid the cup back on its place.

- I was asking if there is something you would want to do.

Blake thought about it, stuffing his mouth with the brownie he had been holding. When an idea finally came to him and he tried to reply, only muffled sounds came out of his chocolate-filled mouth.

Dean showed a closed smile at the pathetic communication attempt. Also aware of it, Blake almost choked with laughter at the thought of how he looked at the moment. The contrast between the two men was so apparent, it only made the situation funnier.

When both of them were able to calm down and Blake successfully swallowed the brownie without any more accidents, he finally gave his answer.

- You could give me a tour of the house. This place is huge, but I've only seen this and your bedroom.

The proposal was quickly accepted by Dean. After both had finished their parts, they brought the tray back to the kitchen, where the tour officially started. From there, Dean took him to the big dining room which, he explained, was usually only used when hosting a business dinner. The following stop was what they called "cinema room", a large room with a long sofa in an L shape and a few armchairs facing a huge screen on the wall. Then, they went to the game room, which had, just like the name hinted at, a variety of games just as a pool table or poker table.

The first floor was mostly composed of bedrooms, bathrooms, and two offices.

Lastly, the guest was led to the underground floor where the in-house gym was held. Even with the multiple gym machines right in front of him, what truly spiked Blake's interest was the indoor tennis court, separated by a glass slide door.

- Wow. - he said under his breath. - I knew this was a big house, but... wow.

- This floor wasn't as big, but my parents wanted a tennis court I could frequent.

Hearing the comment, Blake's rounded eyes shot straight to the guy beside him.

- You play tennis?

Dean shook his head, still not budging his eyes from the court.

- Not anymore.

Blake kept his eyes on the delicate profile of the host, feeling a slight tug at his heartstrings. That man had so many things bottled up inside those protection walls and refused to show it. Although he usually was against pressuring Dean to say more than what he wanted, the stingy sensation in his chest pushed him to stare his theory out loud.

- Did you use to play with your father?

Silence.

Both men kept their positions for a few seconds up until Blake's eyes followed Dean's arm to the hand that vanished inside the pants pocket. Even though he was wearing a long sleeve