Chapter 379: The Du Pont Puppy on the Bench (part 2)
After half an hour of struggling inwardly, Micah sat in the bed, legs dangling over the edge, chest rising and falling unevenly as he tried to hold back his groaning. Darcy was asleep, or at least close enough, with his deep breathing. Micah pressed his lips together, holding his breath as if even that might disturb him.
A sharp ache flared at his side when he shifted. The broken rib sent pain shooting down his back. He winced, teeth digging into his lower lip. Slowly, he set his feet on the ground and stood. He sucked in another quiet breath and paused. After the pain subsided, he reached for the spare blanket at the corner of the bed and draped it over his arm. Moving with exaggerated caution, he walked across the room. Pulling out the handle, Micah opened the door quietly and looked outside.
He immediately noticed Clyde slouched against the wall. His head leaned back, his posture heavy.
Micah walked toward him and stood in front of the man. He stared at the worn-out face. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath his eyes. His blond hair hung in dishevelled strands, and his once crisp shirt was wrinkled and untidy. He looked fragile.
Micah stood there longer than he meant to, lips pressing together. Finally, unable to help himself, he reached out. His fingers brushed gently through the strands of Clyde’s hair, sweeping them away from his forehead in a soft motion.
The touch was brief until Clyde’s hand shot up and caught his wrist.
Clyde opened his eyes, dark and sharp. There was no sleepiness in them, no haze. It was as if he had been waiting, awake all along.
Micah stared at him. "Why didn’t you just leave?"
"How could I?" Clyde replied. His tone was quiet but carried weight, like something simple yet undeniable.
"Ha! That’s rich coming from you." Micah sneered. He pulled his hand back slightly, but Clyde didn’t let go. "Who was the one running away from me?"
"I wasn’t..." Clyde began, but his voice faltered under the accusation.
"Yeah, who are you kidding? All I got from you last week were dry, lifeless text messages. Then you showed up for five minutes, acting as my driver, dropping me off at my home, and fled. I might have believed your business trip excuse if my dad hadn’t told me it was you who pushed to change the dorm rules." His tone sharpened, each word like a blade. "Who would fight to keep me close only to disappear for a week later? If you were that busy, you wouldn’t even have the time to see me on weekends."
Clyde’s grip on Micah’s wrist softened. His fingers slid down before letting go entirely. "I’m sorry..."
Micah looked at him, waiting.
"I got cold feet. I was going to bring you to my place... but something happened," Clyde said, lowering his gaze.
"What?"
Clyde lifted his eyes again, and for once the calm mask cracked. "I can’t sleep these days. Nightmares. Not the ordinary kind. I became violent in them. I feared hurting you..."
Micah’s expression shifted. "Nightmares?" he repeated. "What are they about? Does it have something to do with those scars on your back?"
Clyde shook his head. "I don’t remember the details. Just fragments. But I am sure it’s not related to that. I am always searching for something, someone. And I never find it."
Micah pursed his lips. "Have you... Lost something or someone important in reality? Or thinking you would?"
Micah bit his cracked lips. Didn’t they say these kinds of dreams were conjured from reality? That their subconscious project them in their dreams? What did Clyde fear losing?
"I don’t think so..." Clyde said. "Not while I have you with me."
The words caught Micah off guard. His breath hitched. "You!" Micah snapped, trying to cover the sudden heat in his chest with irritation. "Seriously, could you not just tell me the truth? Why are you always deciding things on your own?"
"You’re right," Clyde admitted after a moment, his voice heavy with sincerity. "I was always alone. Decided everything by myself since I can remember. It is because of that... I am not used to sharing, not used to discussing...." Slowly, deliberately, he reached forward again and squeezed Micah’s hand. His palm was warm, steady. "Can you...forgive me? I promise I’ll do better from now on."
Micah shifted his weight, lips parting, a small sound caught in his throat. "Umm."
The corner of Clyde’s lips curled upward, then he studied him for a second. "What happened today? Except for my stupidity, I mean."
"I saw Aidan Wilson at the party," Micah replied. "Not alone, either. He was with Gu Feifei, Willow’s fiancée’s sister."
"He was there?" Clyde asked in surprise.
"Yeah," Micah’s voice hardened. "And it was not the first time I learned he’s been sniffing around me. He’s contacted people close to me before. Even used my so-called friends to scam me."
Clyde stood suddenly, the movement sharp. His hands clenched at his sides. "Is that why.... Don’t tell me, you had an attack?"
Micah shook his head. "No. Just some symptoms. But alcohol numbed them."
Clyde’s chest tightened. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I’m sorry Micah. So sorry I wasn’t there. I was in flight when you called."
Micah’s lip curved faintly in something between a smirk and a sigh. "I know I acted stupidly. How could you answer me when you had no way?"
Clyde’s heart trembled. Carefully, he lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against the bruise on Micah’s cheek. "Don’t do that again," he murmured, voice rough. "If you can’t get to me, just call someone else. Your family, Darcy, anyone. They all can help you, at least somewhat."
"No." Micah’s voice was small but firm. He lowered his eyes. "They can’t. They don’t know the truth. They will look at me like I’ve lost my mind."
Clyde’s throat worked. His hand lingered against Micah’s cheek, thumb brushing lightly. "Fine," he whispered. "Then I’ll stay by your side." He leaned in, so close that Micah could feel his breath. His lips pressed softly to the bruise, a tender kiss that made Micah’s heart pound violently against his ribs.
Micah froze. The sweet words, the tender touch made his heart swell.
Neither of them noticed the door at first.
Darcy stood at the threshold, his hand on the knob, his body stiff. He had woken up when Micah slipped out of bed. He was worried something might happen, so he had waited for his return. But when minutes stretched and Micah didn’t return, he stood up and opened the door.
And now... now he stood frozen, the scene, the intimacy pierced his heart. His hands trembled. Yet he didn’t move.
Clyde straightened and stroked Micah’s hair. "Go to sleep."
Darcy closed the door quietly, careful not to draw attention. He went back to the couch, lay down, and turned to his side. His eyes stayed open, unfocused on the wall. He tried to even his breathing, pretending to be asleep.
But his mind couldn’t lie or make up excuses for him. The image clung to him. Micah had really allowed that man to get close in...
Darcy closed his eyes tightly. His heart twisted with a question he didn’t want to voice.
Had he ever had a chance?