Chapter 384: Tying the Knot
Arriving at Clyde’s apartment, Micah darted toward the shopping bags at the entrance, browsing through their contents. He fished out a long skirt, examining it with interest.
Clyde stood, watching him for a moment. "What if you go as you are? She can’t recognise your face anyway."
Micah took out a complete set of makeup and said, "I don’t want them to know I am cross-dressing. Better safe than sorry. I have no idea what that woman is like. What if she stabs me in the back?"
Clyde’s expression softened. "Yeah. You’re right."
"Damn right I am," Micah flashed him a smug face. Combined with his swollen face, the expression made Micah look like a cartoon villain plotting evil plans.
Clyde pressed his tongue to the back of his teeth, trying to suppress his laugh.
Micah didn’t notice it, too busy sorting out the shopping bags. After checking everything he needed was there, he grabbed the bags and strode toward the guest room.
He changed his clothes slowly, tugged the breast pads into place, then adjusted the loose blouse so it sat evenly. A long skirt was added to it. He tested the fall of the wig in the mirror. The strands of white hair shimmered faintly under the light, covering his forehead and half of his cheeks. He wanted to look like a dormant girl, someone invisible, someone who feared the world outside and avoided eye contact.
Still, he stuck with the white wig, thinking the fan group members had already seen him like this. The chance of running into Aidan in a cafe was below zero anyway.
He gave himself one last glance, sighed, and pulled his mask halfway up, adding a black cap to it too.
When he came out of the room, he bent to tie his shoelaces and hissed in pain, his ribs protesting the motion. The hiss slipped out before he could bite it back.
Clyde was standing in the living room, arms loosely folded, but his eyes never strayed from Micah. He had been watching him since the door opened. The way the skirt swung around Micah’s pale ankles when he bent forward caught his attention. Clyde’s throat tightened, and he gulped down, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Micah’s charm didn’t disappear even when hidden under girls’ clothes. If anything, it shone more dangerously.
The sound of Micah’s hiss broke him out of his thoughts. Without hesitation, Clyde stepped forward. He crouched in front of him, steady hands reaching for the laces. His fingers moved with ease, tugging the knot tight and neat.
Micah froze, caught mid-breath. His gaze lowered, and from this angle, he could clearly see the clean hairline, the curve of Clyde’s jaw, and the muscles shifting subtly beneath his shirt as he tied the shoelaces. That fair neck, those taut shoulders... it was all too close.
Suddenly, a finger brushed accidentally against his bare ankle. The touch was fleeting, but it jolted through Micah like a current. He shivered before he could control it, startled by his own reaction. His body jerked forward, which only made his broken ribs flare in pain. A sharp wince twisted his features as he instinctively reached out, his hands clutching Clyde’s shoulders for balance.
The two of them remained motionless for a moment. Micah realised he was practically hugging Clyde’s head to his body. The closeness was suffocating, warm, intimate, and terrifying. An abrupt scene from those kinds of videos flashed in his mind, turning Micah into a boiled shrimp.
"Are you alright?" Clyde’s voice came out low, rougher than usual, muffled slightly against the fabric of Micah’s skirt.
Micah startled, snapping upright so fast that his broken ribs protested violently. A deep ache spread through his body, erasing any yellow thought from his mind. "Yeah." he forced, ears turning pink. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, finally clamping them against his sides, and he refused to meet Clyde’s eyes.
Clyde stood up, his tall figure hovering over him.
"Good," Clyde murmured. His hands reached out almost unconsciously, brushing against Micah’s sides, pausing at the narrow curve of his waist that women’s clothes highlighted.
"Don’t overdo it," he said quietly, his thumb lingering a second longer before he realised his improper move. He cleared his throat. "You can handle this another time."
Micah blinked rapidly, then shook his head. "No, she is too suspicious and careful. If I tell her it’s off, she might never agree to meet me again."
"Can I at least sit with you in the cafe?" Clyde asked, his voice had a subtle urgency.
"No. You attract too much attention. What if she has seen you with Jacklin? She would recognise you as your big sister’s uncle and ruin my plan." Micah refused.
"What about I sit in another place?"
"Do what you want!" Micah snapped. "Come on. Let’s go! I don’t have much time!"
Micah didn’t have the heart to refuse him again. By now, he had understood that Clyde had developed PTSD toward him, constantly fearing he wasn’t able to reach him, leading to another disaster.
They left the building together. Micah pulled his mask higher, covering half of his face. Standing beside Clyde, tall and composed, giving off CEO vibes from afar, Micah dressed as a girl, his features hidden, he looked like some celebrity trying to avoid scandal while standing beside her lover or sugar daddy.
They received looks from passers-by. Their stares bore holes through Micah’s back. He shrank toward Clyde, trying hard to minimise his presence. "Do I look strange?" he whispered.
Clyde’s lips curled up into a sly smile. "Yeah. They’re all thinking, ’Who is this ugly girl hiding her face and clinging to that handsome man?"
Micah’s eyes flashed, and he kicked Clyde’s shin unceremoniously. "If you don’t talk, people won’t say you are mute! Tsk. Narcissistic jerk."
Clyde’s smile widened. He didn’t dodge Micah’s sneak attack; instead, he leaned closer. "Oh, did I touch a nerve?"
"Zip it. I’m not in the mood to entertain you with my remarks." Micah hissed through clenched teeth.
Clyde chuckled under his breath but didn’t tease him anymore. They reached the car, slipped inside, and drove straight to the cafe. First Clyde entered. The little bell above the door chimed softly. He paused by the door, straightening his cuffs, and his gaze wandered around. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been in a cafe. He felt out of place even though he had dressed just in a white shirt and black trousers, not a bit similar to his usual business-like three-piece suit.
Micah stepped inside a beat later and sat at the table they had agreed on, waiting for the black fan.
Meanwhile, Clyde, despite trying not to draw attention to himself after receiving Micah’s lecture in the car, found himself in the middle of drama. Several people approached him, men and women alike, testing their luck, striking up conversation, obviously hitting on him.
Clyde felt helpless. His gaze flickered toward Micah, and he knew the boy had seen all of that.
Micah met Clyde’s eyes, thinking the man was bragging about his popularity. He gritted his teeth in irritation and turned his head away. If his face had not been injured, he was sure the situation would have been reversed. He would be the one surrounded by suitors, not Clyde.
Still, Micah glared under the brim of his cap at every person who walked to Clyde’s table. Even if he wanted to wipe the smugness off Clyde’s face, he was still his man, who gave them the right to flirt with him? He wished he could hang some yellow caution tape around Clyde, stating: DANGER! Do NOT APPROACH! He knew this would happen if Clyde followed him inside.
Then the bell above the door chimed again, and a woman walked in. She was dressed in baggy dark clothes, her black hair messy, eyes frantic.
Micah didn’t need confirmation. The moment he saw her, he just knew she was the one who he was supposed to meet.