**Blindspot**

Lawrence Wilson, a renowned oncologist, was a man who had it all together. His life was a symphony of well-orchestrated chaos, with each day bringing its own unique set of challenges and triumphs. As he navigated the complexities of his work and personal life, he remained blissfully unaware of the true nature of his relationship with Robert Chase. Chase, on the other hand, was stuck in a never-ending cycle of longing. His feelings for Wilson had become an open secret, at least to himself. He had made it no secret that he was gay, but what he hadn't revealed was the depth of his emotions for his friend. Wilson, in particular, had become the focal point of his affections, and Chase found himself constantly seeking ways to be near him. Their daily interactions had become a delicate dance, with Chase dropping hints and Wilson remaining oblivious. It was as if they were two ships passing in the night, Chase leaving a trail of breadcrumbs in the hopes that Wilson would eventually follow. One morning, as they grabbed coffee in the hospital's cafeteria, Chase found himself sitting next to Wilson, their legs almost touching. The proximity sent a jolt of electricity through Chase's body, and he couldn't help but steal glances at Wilson, taking in the contours of his face. Wilson, engrossed in his phone, didn't notice. Their conversation flowed easily, but Chase's mind wandered, recalling the past year and all the moments he had shared with Wilson. He remembered the way Wilson had made him feel seen and accepted, the way he had supported him through the ups and downs of his personal life. Chase's thoughts swirled with emotions, a mix of longing, frustration, and hope. As they parted ways, Wilson clapped Chase on the back, saying, "Take care, buddy. I'll catch you later." Chase watched him walk away, feeling a twinge of melancholy. He knew that Wilson still saw him as just a friend, and it hurt. The days turned into weeks, and Chase's antics became more pronounced. He found excuses to touch Wilson, making casual contact on the arm or shoulder. He would linger in Wilson's office, chatting about nothing in particular, just to be near him. Wilson, however, remained clueless, attributing Chase's behavior to his friendly nature. As the weeks turned into months, Chase began to feel like he was losing his mind. He was trapped in a state of limbo, unsure of how to express his emotions or if Wilson would ever feel the same way. The ache in his chest had become a familiar sensation, one that he had grown accustomed to. One evening, as they worked late in the hospital, Wilson turned to Chase and said, "You know, I really appreciate you, Chase. You're one of my closest friends." Chase's heart skipped a beat as he met Wilson's gaze, his eyes locking in a moment of pure connection. For a fleeting instant, Chase thought he saw something in Wilson's eyes, a glimmer of recognition that went beyond friendship. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, leaving Chase wondering if he had imagined it entirely. As they parted ways, Chase couldn't shake off the feeling that he was stuck in a never-ending cycle, torn between his desire for Wilson and the fear of ruining their friendship. Wilson, on the other hand, remained blissfully unaware, his mind preoccupied with his own life, his own relationships, and his own desires. The blindspot that Wilson had created, either intentionally or unintentionally, had become a chasm, a gaping hole that Chase was desperate to bridge. But for now, he remained stuck on the outside, looking in, his heart beating with a mix of hope and despair.