Chapter 279: When the Forest Went Silent(part 2)
Micah stood rooted in front of Clyde, his mind racing with too many chaotic thoughts. Clyde’s words echoed in his head, and his heart yearned to believe there was more meaning behind them than what appeared on the surface.
His hazel pupils trembled.
He didn’t want to rely on Clyde, his family name, his influence, and his power. He didn’t want a carefully arranged future out of obligation. He didn’t want a shield made of borrowed strength.
He wanted Clyde.
And more than that, he wanted to keep Clyde as he was now. Not as a Du Pont, not as a symbol of protection and power, but as the person who looked at him with quiet eyes and held him like he mattered.
As someone who had seen all his flaws, his recklessness, arrogance, sharp tongue, and short temper, yet still regarded him as a treasure.
If everything else fell apart, if his plans failed, if everything came crashing down, at the last resort, he could still turn to Dean for help. After all, they would be family someday through Aria. And for her sake, he wouldn’t turn him down. He would try to protect them.
But Micah didn’t want to lose Clyde over that. He had already planned everything. There was no need to make Clyde think he had gotten close to him because of Du Pont’s power.
Perhaps he should wait until the chaos settled before telling Clyde about it...
But how badly he wanted to confess everything, to lay it all bare and be free from the burden he carried day and night. To look Clyde in the eyes and say, ’This is me. Will you still stay?’
Honestly, he had succumbed to temptation earlier. He had already made a fool of himself, rambling like a child, acting on impulse. He had lost his mind after knowing Clyde had stood against Darcy, the protagonist, worrying about him, wanting to shield him. He had let his guard down, clung to hope like an idiot.
And what had it gotten him? Probably nothing more than pity.
Didn’t Dean say Clyde knew him from the start? Knew he was Emile’s roommate? Was it all his imagination? Mistaken kindness, pity, and obligation as something else?
Clyde was so mature, grounded. A man who had lived through things Micah couldn’t begin to understand, who had earned his place as the Du Pont Patriarch. And Micah... was just a boy, wet from the waterfall, trembling in borrowed warmth, full of naive ideas and unresolved feelings.
Clyde would never take him seriously, not like that. He would see it all as a childish crush. A fleeting whim. Something to be kindly ignored. Wasn’t that hesitation because of that?
Micah blinked, trying to hold it together, but his eyes stung. Moisture welled at the corners. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to hold his tears back.
He didn’t notice Clyde staring at him, not at first. But Clyde saw everything: the silent shaking of his shoulders, the way his lips trembled slightly though he didn’t speak.
And something inside Clyde broke.
His throat tightened. He knew... he knew what Micah wanted to say. What he didn’t dare voice.
And he hated himself for hesitating. For letting his own fear get to him, hurting Micah with his silence. Clyde had thought he was protecting Micah by holding back, by not overwhelming him with feelings he thought were too much, too soon.
Micah had his own fair share of insecurities. And he was only adding to it. He was supposed to be the stable one. The mature adult.
Instead, he had made Micah feel small. Unsure. Alone.
Without a word, Clyde pulled him into his arms.
No resistance. No explanation. Just warmth.
Micah tensed in surprise, his breath catching as his cheek pressed against Clyde’s chest. But almost instantly, he relaxed.
Clyde held him tight, his hand cradling the back of Micah’s head, the other resting across his back like a shield.
Clyde didn’t speak at first. There were no perfect words. No promises that wouldn’t sound hollow. And he couldn’t be the one to cross that line. Micah didn’t need another burden named Clyde Du Pont. He needed an archer, a pillar to lean on. "You have me," he mumbled.
Not Du Pont. Not power. Not status. Just him. Clyde.
Micah inhaled slowly. The scent of sandalwood surrounded him, familiar and bitter. He clutched Clyde’s clothes, returning the hug. He knew he had chickened out at the last second. But still, Clyde had guessed something and responded to it.
Micah’s heartbeat slowed against Clyde’s steady rhythm. Yeah. This was what he yearned for.
They stood like that for a long time. Micah’s damp clothes pressed against Clyde’s body, but neither of them moved to break the contact.
Eventually, Clyde pulled back just enough to look at him. "Come on," he said quietly. "You’re still wet."
Micah couldn’t meet his eyes. "Okay," he muttered, looking at the ground.
Clyde watched him, feeling his heart melt.
He grabbed Micah’s hand and walked toward Onyx. He lifted him easily onto the saddle. Then he climbed up behind him, settling into the seat. He gathered both reins in on hand, tying the second horse’s lead to his grip. The other one wrapped around Micah’s waist, securing him in place.
As the horses began their slow stroll back toward the range, Micah’s tense body relaxed, and he leaned back, letting himself rest against Clyde’s chest. He felt the steady rise and fall of Clyde’s breathing, the warmth of his arm around him, and the familiar sandalwood scent.
His eyes fluttered shut.
He wanted to stay like this a little longer. Without worrying about the future. About his two families. About Darcy. About those four original male leads.
This was the one place he could be free, free from all those shackles, all those heartbreaking truths, and just be Micah. A boy full of mischief. Full of flaws. Full of hope for the future. A young man quietly experiencing his first love. Even if his cowardice kept him from saying it aloud, Micah was content with this moment.