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"You know you can tell me anything right?" Till said, his gaze steely. "I'm always here to listen." Flake felt touched, he opened his mouth to say something, part of him wanted to tell the truth. But he just couldn't. He couldn't let Till find out.
"Thanks." Flake said, giving him an appreciative smile." It means a lot. I'm here for you too, always."
Till has recently moved into Flake's house and is making himself familiar with his new home. Late nights spent in bed, tasty home-cooked food, the occasional intimate moments- everything should be perfect.
Yet Till feels there's something off. As if there's something Flake's hiding.
His tedious tendency for cleaning the house intensely every now and then, how secretive he is about what he does when he isn't home.
Why this new-found passion of cooking? And what goes on during Flake's nightly walks?