Chapter 293: Not a Ramsy (part 2)
Clyde could see the shift in Micah before the panic even hit him fully. The flush in his cheek vanished. His lips parted, chest rising and falling too fast. Micah’s breath had become ragged, uneven, gasping for air like a fish out of water. His eyes turned distant, glossy, unseeing, and wide with terror. Tears gathered at the corners, trailing silently down his pale cheeks.
Clyde felt his stomach drop. Micah was having another panic attack.
Clyde’s body went rigid for half a second, then moved on instinct. His hand hovered near Micah’s back, then hesitated. He clenched his fingers into a fist before reaching out. No... he had read about this. After last time, when Micah broke down in front of him, Clyde had read every article, every medical blog, every forum post on how to help someone during a panic attack. The advice was clear: No sudden movement, no overwhelming touch, not unless the person initiated it.
His heart clenched painfully, but he followed it. Instead of pulling Micah into a tight hug, he just stood near him, letting him lean on him.
He understood what triggered it. "I lied," he said firmly, clearly. "No one knows. Micah. You are safe. No one knows. Breathe. You’re okay."
Micah didn’t seem to hear him.
His fingers had fisted themselves in front of Clyde’s coat, shaking. Clyde didn’t dare to move. Micah was trembling all over, clutching him so tightly that the fabric stretched around his knuckles. His body was ice cold and stiff, yet his forehead was slick with sweat. His chest rose in shallow gulps.
"Micah," Clyde said, softer now. "Look at me."
Micah blinked slowly. His gaze tried to find Clyde’s, struggling through the mental fog. Then he pressed his face closer to Clyde’s chest, sniffing faintly as if searching for that familiar scent. Sandalwood. The one that always followed Clyde. He needed it right now like air.
Micah saw Clyde’s lips moving, but he couldn’t hear the words. It felt like submerging underwater. His hands clenched Clyde’s clothes tighter. He could see in those pale blue eyes the terror. Terror of losing him.
Micah breathed. Then again. He took deep breaths. Until he finally heard Clyde’s voice. "No one knows."
Micah stared at Clyde’s eyes. There was no lie. No deceit. Only warmth. Only worry.
"I’m sorry," Clyde said gently. "I think you misunderstood me earlier. I wasn’t talking about... I didn’t even know...I swear, Micah." Clyde said, trying so hard not to embrace Micah completely into his arms. He wanted to. God. He wanted badly. But he stopped himself.
Micah’s arms trembled as he leaned harder into him. His grip loosened slightly. His face pressed into Clyde’s chest fully, hiding again. He sank into Clyde’s warmth until his forehead rested over Clyde’s heart. The sound. That steady heartbeat. It was all he needed.
Micah felt the world steady around him again.
His mind calmed down slowly.
The tightness in Clyde’s chest finally loosened. He could feel Micah’s breathing starting to slow against him.
"Are you better?" he murmured after a moment.
Micah gave the tiniest nod, burning his face into Clyde’s chest more.
"I’m sorry..." Clyde’s voice cracked slightly. He tilted his head downward, his lips brushing against the top of Micah’s hair. "I feel like I keep doing everything wrong. Like I’m the one making you suffer... make things worse for you Micah..."
Micah shook his head slowly. His brain started working again. He knew it was his fault. He had jumped to a conclusion. Thinking Clyde was talking about the swapped case.
"No...." Micah said hoarsely. "It wasn’t your fault."
Clyde shut his eyes. He didn’t deserve that trust.
"Come on, let’s go inside. The air is too cold here. You need rest," Clyde whispered.
Micah hesitated, then nodded again, exhausted. He dropped his head and tried to take a step. But the moment he did, his knees gave a little, his balance tilting.
"Hey," Clyde quickly caught him, slipping an arm securely around his waist. "It’s okay. We’ll go slow. Just lean on me, alright?"
Micah didn’t argue.
Clyde leaned forward and picked up Micah’s phone from the ground. Then he texted Lin Heye quickly.
CL: Make the coast clear. No one in sight.
Clyde slid back his phone into his pocket, then gently guided Micah forward. By the time they reached the condo, it was quiet and dark.
Clyde opened the door and led Micah inside the suite.
Micah shuffled toward the bed and sat down, keeping his head down. He avoided Clyde’s gaze completely, his fingers curling over the edge of the blanket.
There was a deep silence between them.
Clyde knelt down in front of Micah and gently untied his shoes, slipping them off one by one. Then he pulled a soft blanket over Micah’s legs and stood, heading to the kitchenette. The water boiled, and within minutes, he returned with a mug of hot tea.
Micah took it quietly, fingers wrapped around the warmth. He took a sip. Then, finally, he broke the silence. "I found out two or three months ago... after being hospitalised... You know, because of the concussion."
Clyde sat in the nearby chair, listening.
"I had a dream. A ridiculous one. Or maybe a nightmare is more accurate." Micah laughed bitterly, staring down at his tea.
"I didn’t believe it at first. So I took a test. Can you imagine my shock? Can you imagine what that feels like?" His voice cracked.
Clyde felt a lump stuck in his throat, but he said nothing. He let Micah speak.
"I got scared. If that part of the dream came true...what if the rest did too? What if the worst part happened next? So I made a plan. Something to fight back. To counterattack. To be ready. That’s why I started cross-dressing. I had to keep things secret."
Clyde processed what he had heard. Many things clicked together now. But still the Ramsy family..,
"Are you talking about the Ramsy family? Did they kick you out in that dream?" Clyde asked.
"No. It was worse. My family was not spared either. They were all affected... devastated by the truth. I love my family, Clyde. I love them so much. And I don’t want to lose them. But at the same time, I am a fake. All of them belong to someone else..." Micah said, lips quivering.
Clyde stood up suddenly, his expression pale. His hands trembled at his side. "Don’t tell me..." he said, eyes wide, "Is it... Darcy?"
Micah looked up. For the first time, there was a sad smile on his face. "Oh. So it really was that obvious, huh?"
Clyde’s heart clenched. He now understood why Micah cared so much about Darcy. His sick mother. His sister.
Clyde felt his eyes moisten. He took a shaky step and reached out to Micah. The boy looked so small, so quiet. Alone. Depressed. He couldn’t stand it. He reached out and took Micah’s cold hand in his.
"You’ve been through hell," Clyde said hoarsely. "You have put up with enough. You didn’t let it get the best of you. That takes more strength than anyone realises. Be proud. Micah. Be proud of yourself."
Micah choked, his breath hitching. He looked at their hands, at Clyde’s eyes, and then suddenly, without a word, he turned and threw himself into Clyde’s arms.
He clung to Clyde tightly, sobs bursting from him while tears ran down his face. His shoulders shook violently. Clyde wrapped him up, strong and enveloping him.
Micah sobbed against him. But it wasn’t just pain.
It was relief.
Because there was someone who got him. His pain. His sadness.
He didn’t judge him. He didn’t scold him. Didn’t play it cool. No, he praised him. His enduring. For holding on.
And in that moment, Micah realised....
He didn’t have to carry it alone anymore.