Chapter 426: Spy Mission Failed: Clyde in a Hawaiian Shirt
Micah held his stomach, laughing. Clyde, of all people, stood there on the beach in a ridiculous get-up: a flowery shirt unbuttoned halfway, casual shorts hanging a little too loose, cheap flip-flops slapping against the sand. His blond hair, usually neat and commanding, was tousled by the salty sea breeze. His cap had been knocked off when the volleyball smacked his face, and his sunglasses sat crookedly on the bridge of his nose.
"Wow!" Micah wiped the tears forming in his eyes. "You dressed up like this just to surprise me? I’m flattered." His grin was sharp, eyes glinting with teasing. "Or...are you here to spy on me? Because honestly, you look ridiculous. The only reason I can think you’d dress like this is if you were up to something shady."
Clyde adjusted his sunglasses quickly, hiding the dangerous gleam that flashed in his eyes. His jaw tightened, but his expression otherwise remained calm. He straightened his posture, trying to salvage some dignity.
Before he could answer, some kids crowded around Micah’s side. The group of kids from earlier had rushed over, their bare feet kicking up sand.
"Big brother, is he okay?" one of them asked timidly, tugging at Micah’s damp shirt.
"Yeah, don’t worry about him," Micah said, ruffling the boy’s hair with his palm, his grin softening. "Go on, keep playing. I’m going home anyway."
The kids nodded, relieved, and scrambled off with a wave. Their laughter and chatter picked up as they rejoined the game.
Micah turned his face toward Clyde with a serious look. "Come on." Without waiting for an answer, he started walking toward a quieter side of the beach, away from the villa and away from curious eyes. His steps were casual, the swing of his arms relaxed but sharp enough to show he was annoyed.
Clyde trailed after him in silence, his gaze never wavering from the young man ahead. Every flick of his hand, every restless shift in his walk, told Clyde how annoyed he was, and rightfully so. But Clyde couldn’t stop watching him, memorising every detail of his movements as though afraid he might vanish if he blinked.
Micah finally snapped, spinning halfway toward him, his eyes flashing. "Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I literally talked to you last night." His tone was sharp.
Clyde’s lips parted, then pressed back into a thin line before he finally answered in a low, flat voice. "I thought I might be a nuisance to you."
"Huh!" Micah scoffed loudly. "A nuisance? So your grand idea was... what? lurking around in secret instead?" His arms flew up in exasperation. "Where is the logic in that? All I see is cowardice."
"Yes. I am a coward." Clyde admitted without hesitation. His head lowered slightly.
Micah frowned. He had expected denial, a retort, but instead, Clyde’s honesty hit heavier than any argument.
Clyde’s hand twitched at his side before curling into a fist. "If I showed up openly...What if your grandfather forces you to never see me again?"
"What? Why would he? Are you a criminal? A killer? My grandpa is not that unreasonable." He shook his head, baffled. "And besides, he is not even here. It was just me and my grandma."
But Clyde did not look relieved. "Micah... even the possibility was too much for me to bear."
Micah froze, eyes widening. Something in Clyde’s voice was different; it was trembling, stripped of the confidence he once radiated. Gone was the self-assured man who always seemed untouchable, who carried himself like no one could make him bow. Instead, standing before him now was a man weighed down by invisible chains.
Perhaps at the hospital, when Albert Ramsy dragged him away...maybe that had given Clyde a scare.
Without thinking, he leaned forward, closing the distance, and wrapped his arms around Clyde’s tense frame. His cheek pressed against Clyde’s chest, and he whispered against the steady beat of his heart. "I will never leave you."
Clyde’s arms went rigid for a beat before one of them slid around Micah’s back, clutching him close. His head lowered, lips brushing against Micah’s hair as he whispered, "Promise?"
Micah squeezed him tighter. "Mm, promise," he mumbled, then his voice turned into a whiny complaint. "I missed you so much. Why didn’t you come sooner?"
Clyde’s jaw flexed. His eyes burned with something he couldn’t name. "I’m sorry... I just couldn’t..."
"You don’t have to explain." Micah’s voice was muffled against his shirt, but steady. His arms squeezed tighter. Micah inhaled deeply, breathing in that familiar sandalwood scent. "Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to pretend with me. You don’t have to put on a mask. You can always be yourself. You can tell me your fears, and I’ll show you my resolve."
Clyde’s chest ached. He couldn’t tell Micah the truth. That his fear wasn’t about Albert Ramsy at all, but about himself. He had stayed hidden, dreading that the emotions he had suppressed for a lifetime would erupt like a volcano and devour Micah. He chose to lie, trying hard to appease the young man.
Meanwhile, Micah’s thoughts had gone astray, far from the truth. He believed Clyde’s words, remembering the scars on his back. He knew, deep down, that Clyde carried demons he never spoke of. Perhaps those demons from his past had come hunting him. Being abused by his father... being left alone by his siblings...was not something that anyone could easily forget. Those kinds of scars didn’t fade; they lingered, remaining for a lifetime.
And now, after that kidnapping, after Micah was forced to come here, being away because of the swap case, Clyde probably could not bring himself to voice his struggles, his fear of being abandoned or losing his love. He did not want to add to Micah’s burdens.
Micah’s chest tightened painfully at the thought.
The beach around them had grown quieter. The children’s shouts had faded into the distance. The horizon bled into shades of amber and violet as the sun dipped low.
One by one, the streetlamps began to light up, casting a soft glow across the road.
Still, neither of them moved, savouring the shared warmth and intimacy both were in need of.