Chapter 315: The Day Clyde Lost All Feeling (In His Leg, Obviously)
Micah stirred, his cheek pressed against something firm that didn’t quite feel like a pillow. His brows knitted, body wriggling slightly as if he could burrow deeper into the cushion and make it softer. But the "pillow" refused to yield, too uncomfortably solid. A faint sound rumbled above him, and then a hand came down, steadying his head before it slid further.
The touch wasn’t rough...no, just large, warm, and careful. It jolted his half-sleep mind awake. Micah’s lashes fluttered, brushing against the inside of Clyde’s palm. He blinked up, eyes hazy with sleep.
"What are you doing?" Micah’s voice came out rough, still thick with drowsiness.
Clyde looked down, his expression unreadable, though there was a dangerous glint in his eyes as if Micah had wandered somewhere he shouldn’t. His thigh had long since gone numb under the boy’s weight, but he hadn’t dared move for fear of waking him. Now, face-to-face, Clyde’s patience was clearly at its limit.
"You drooled on my pants," Clyde said flatly.
Micah’s brain short-circuited. Then he jolted upright, almost knocking into Clyde’s chest. His hand flew to his mouth, wiping furiously, but his fingertips came away dry. His frown deepened. "You liar," he said, smacking Clyde’s thigh in retaliation, not quite thinking about the fact that it was already numb.
A low groan escaped Clyde’s throat, and he pinched the bridge of his nose.
Micah froze, guilt flickering over his face. "Ah, I didn’t hit that hard."
"Yes," Clyde said, his tone dry as dust. "Just... I can’t feel my leg anymore."
Micah narrowed his eyes at him, suspicious of the teasing undertone. Then, with a sudden spark, he leaned forward, his silver hair brushing close to Clyde’s shoulder. "Oh? Want me to fix it for you?"
Clyde instinctively flinched, his large hand catching Micah’s wrists before they reached his leg. His grip was firm, almost too quick, as if he had just stopped a disaster. "That’s not necessary."
A mischievous grin spread over Micah’s face. The devil in him had woken fully now, stretching its limbs. "Why not? I’m really good at it."
"Micah," Clyde warned, his voice low, but that only made it more fun.
Micah raised an eyebrow, tilting his head like a cat preparing to pounce. "Wasn’t my fault you got like this? Why the reluctance? Are you... perhaps ticklish?"
The sheer audacity made Clyde’s jaw tighten. He really wanted to pry open Micah’s head and inspect the wiring inside. Did the boy not understand how inappropriate this looked? Or worse...Had he done it before, casually, with others?
The thought sank like a stone. His voice came out taut. "Who else have you done that for?"
Micah blinked, caught off guard by the seriousness. "My mum’s always had this stiff shoulder, and she likes me to give her a massage. There was my dad and grandma too... Why?"
Clyde let out a long sigh. He released Micah’s wrists, straightening his back. "Nothing. Forget it. Let’s go. My leg is fine now."
Clyde stood abruptly, his tall frame stretched with elegant ease, though his movements carried a stiffness that betrayed lingering tension. Without another glance, he strode for the door, each step clipped, as if he could outpace the heat crawling under his skin, as if he were running away from an enchanter.
Left behind on the couch, Micah’s lips quirked into a sly smile. He slid his hands casually into his pockets, rocking lazily to his feet. Clyde could walk as fast as he liked, but Micah wasn’t about to let him cool off so easily. He had been irritated since morning. Why should he be the one to dream about a kiss like some horny teenager, but Clyde hadn’t been affected by him at all?
For god’s sake...It had been three times that they slept next to each other. It wasn’t fair. Did he not have any charm?
Micah’s lips curved stubbornly. No, this was a matter of pride now. He had to get under Clyde’s skin one way or another. Yeah. He had to see the man flustered, too.
He whistled under his breath, following after the man with a bounce in his step.
Clyde’s long strides carried him down the hall, but he slowed slightly at the staircase landing that opened to the grand living room. Micah was just about to say something, some teasing words to needle him with, when a faint sound drifted up from below, the creak of the front door, muffled voices, the shuffle of feet carrying something heavy.
Four figures froze mid-motion.
Dean, Jacklin, and Emile stood near the doorway, a basket of fruit and a cooler bag between them. The trio looked like they had been caught red-handed, though they were the ones who had just walked in.
Micah halted instinctively, mortified, his eyes darting between them and the polished marble floor. Should he flee upstairs? Pretend he hadn’t seen them? Or run down and leave the mansion before they could ask anything?
Clyde, of course, didn’t falter. He continued down the stairs with steady strides, his presence filling the room as if nothing at all was unusual.
"You’re early," he said calmly.
Dean’s head rotated, his gaze ping-ponged between Micah and Clyde several times. His mouth opened, but the words got stuck, leaving only a dry swallow.
Jacklin wasn’t faring better. Her sharp eye landed on Micah, then widened slightly. Tousled silver hair, cheeks faintly pink, clothes loose as if he had just rolled out of bed. The sight was far too intimate for someone who wasn’t supposed to belong here. She quickly averted her eyes, frightened by what she thought. She swallowed hard. It was like it was his home.
Emile, on the other hand, looked entirely too amused. He tilted his head, the corner of his lips stretching up. "Hello, Little Uncle. We brought back fish and some fruit. Did we perhaps... come at a bad time?" he said, eyes flicking deliberately toward Micah, sparkling with mischief.
It was an obvious hint. What else did Little Uncle bring Micah here for?
Emile’s smile deepened.
So they all got it wrong. Instead of Asena, the girl he hadn’t seen until now, being brought into the heart of their home by Little Uncle, was the boy standing awkwardly at the top of the stairs with ruffled hair and a flushed face. Yeah, it was Micah.
Little Uncle wasn’t interested in Asena at all, but in his roommate, Micah.