Chapter 420: When Hope Became Dangerous
The beach glowed in the soft morning light, and the rising sun brightened all the surroundings in gold and pink. Waves rolled steadily to shore, gulls cried in circles above, and in the glow of the new day, two boys faced one another.
Micah stood barefoot in the sand, his chest bare, rising and falling with uneven breaths. Loose shorts hung low on his hips. His hazel eyes shimmered in the sunlight, exhausted and full of sorrow.
Across from him stood Darcy, dressed in a thin singlet clinging to his damp skin and jeans streaked with sand.
Darcy’s hand, trembling but firm, remained cupped against Micah’s jaw, his own eyes blazing with intensity.
Darcy’s lips curled in a bitter half-smile. His voice was hoarse. "I was really angry at you," he began, his fingers tightening slightly as if holding Micah in place. "I felt betrayed when I found out you knew the truth but still didn’t tell me. I thought you didn’t trust me enough. That I wasn’t worth the honesty." His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and a low, humourless laugh escaped him. "Then came darker thoughts. I wondered if you were just... playing with me, putting me in debt to you, painting yourself as this good, kind boy, so I let you off easily. So you’d get away without giving me anything in return."
Micah flinched at the words, his lashes lowering to shield the sting in his eyes. That exact fear had crossed his own mind more than once. That Darcy might misinterpret his actions as manipulation. Hearing it out loud now was like a knife turning in his chest. He opened his mouth to protest, to explain, but before he could, Darcy’s index finger pressed softly against his lips.
"Shush," Darcy said. "I am not finished."
Micah’s breath caught. His lips were trembling under Darcy’s touch, but he nodded faintly.
Darcy’s thumb moved, tracing the line of his chin, rubbing gently. "But then... I remembered every second we spent together. Every moment. You could have exploited me so easily, like with that little trick you pulled in that contract. But you didn’t. Instead, you were genuinely worried about me. You cared about me." His throat tightened, and his jaw clenched before he forced the words out. "Maybe like a friend. Or a brother..."
Darcy paused. He watched as Micah’s rigid posture eased visibly, relief flickering across his expression.
Darcy’s voice lowered further, as though confessing a secret. "And when I saw you today, the way you looked like..." he hesitated, his eyes lingering in the fatigue etched across Micah’s face, the hollowness in his eyes. "It made me sure. Sure of what I thought. At first, I believed you were like this because of guilt. Maybe you felt so guilty it was eating you alive." he shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "But...You see... even someone who accidentally kills a person in a car crash wouldn’t look like the way you do from the guilt. Not like this. Not when it wasn’t even your fault. You had no control over your fate. So tell me..."
His voice dropped into a whisper, almost trembling. "Was it really just guilt? That you lived a better life than me? Is it why you look like this? Society pressure? No. You don’t care about that. They called you the worst heir in high society, but you’ve never flinched. Family then? No. Because from where I stand, your family cares about you so much that they pushed their biological son, me, aside."
Darcy leaned closer, his breath warm against Micah’s cheek. "So tell me... what’s the real reason? Or am I free to interpret however I want?" His lips curved into a smile both fragile and dangerous. "Like maybe you too... You like me..."
Before Micah could react, Darcy leaned down and brushed his lips against his.
Micah jolted in shock. His hazel eyes turned round. For an instant, his mind went blank, all sound around him swallowed up by the suddenness of the contact. He always felt there was a deeper meaning to Darcy’s look, to Darcy’s words... but he never thought it was true. His body froze.
The kiss was fleeting, just a peck, but it was enough to shatter every wall he had tried to hold up.
Darcy didn’t linger, didn’t deepen the kiss. He held Micah’s jaw steady, tilting his head upward, studying the way those pupils trembled. And when Micah didn’t push him, didn’t hit him, didn’t move at all, Darcy’s chest filled with a dangerous, hopeful ache.
A small chuckle escaped Darcy’s lips, rough and low. He leaned forward again, his eyes dark with resolve. He didn’t care if Clyde had gotten close, didn’t care about the weights of names or families. Until Micah said stop with his own lips, Darcy wouldn’t hold himself back. What was left for him to lose? His identity? Already gone. His parents? Sister? The definition of who he was? His name? He had lost all of them already. He wanted to have something for himself. He wanted to fight for it. He had thrown out all his precautionary thoughts. Losing Micah?
With the way their fates tangled together, he would never lose him. His heart filled with dark thoughts. He leaned down to kiss Micah properly this time,
Micah swallowed hard, panic rushing like lightning through his veins.
His mind throbbed. It wasn’t like he returned Darcy’s feelings, or that he was leading him on. He was absolutely shocked by Darcy’s act. Why did he kiss him all of a sudden? What should he do? Push him? Slap him? He didn’t know. His mind screamed at him Don’t hurt him more than you already have. Yet his heart wailed, telling him Don’t let him touch you. It’s cheating! How could you do this to Clyde?
His hands trembled at his sides. His breath grew shallow. He stared at Darcy with eyes full of panic until his vision blurred.
And then, like a candle burning out, Micah’s strength gave way. His body went limp, and his knees buckled under him.
Darcy stopped himself and instantly caught him, arms wrapping around his collapsing frame, Micah’s head falling against Darcy’s chest.
He noticed the boy had fainted, as though the weight of everything had finally overwhelmed him. He let out a sigh and hugged Micah tightly against his chest.
A fragile hope sparked in Darcy’s chest. If he mattered this much to Micah, then maybe...he still had a chance, didn’t he?