Chapter 281: Sir, This Is a Medical Exam
Clyde moved swiftly across the room. He pulled open the closet doors and rummaged inside until he found something soft and comfortable, a loose t-shirt, a warm hoodie, and lounge pants in pale grey, clean and freshly folded. He laid them carefully on the table near the bathroom, smoothing out the creases slowly.
His hand hesitated above the clothes for a second before he turned and retrieved the first aid kit from a nearby drawer. The latch clicked open as he placed it on the table, its contents rattling faintly. Bandages, ointments, gauze, and antiseptics, all neatly arranged and ready.
Clyde changed his riding outfit to something more comfortable. Then he sat down on a chair by the wall, letting everything that had happened sink in. His body leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. His fingers clasped together, then unclasped again, restless.
Micah...
He stared blankly at the opposite wall. It felt strange, absurd even, to realise it like this. But there was no denying it anymore.
That boy, Micah, really had feelings for him.
Those nosy idiots, they had teased him, thrown hints, poked fun, but damn it, they weren’t wrong.
A slow smile spread across his face. It felt foreign, unnatural, like his face was stretching in ways it never had before. His cheeks ached, his expression almost goofy.
He never thought happiness would come to him like this. Well, he didn’t even know how it felt until now.
Clyde let out a low laugh and quickly raised both hands to his face, burying them in his palms.
"God," he muttered into his hands, "what the hell is this feeling?"
He knew he probably looked ridiculous right now. His stiff facial muscles weren’t used to stretching like this. He hadn’t smiled widely this much, hadn’t felt so much, in years.
Biting his bottom lip, Clyde fought to keep himself from laughing louder. He couldn’t appear like a maniac. What if Micah heard it?
He tried to compose himself, but the warmth in his chest wouldn’t go away. It wasn’t just about being on the receiving end of affection for the first time, no, it was something deeper, something gentler.
Clyde had never known this kind of warmth from people. Not from his mother, whose hugs he couldn’t remember. Not from his father, who might as well have been a ghost. His older siblings, sure, they meant well, but they were always too busy, too distant, never home long enough for their comfort to last. As he grew older, he’d just... stopped expecting it. After fifteen, he couldn’t stand it. The brush of some stranger’s arm, the casual tap on a shoulder, it all made his skin crawl. Except for his family and friends, no one could get a bit touchy with him.
He never knew the touch of another person could feel this comforting.
But then Micah came along.
He was exceptional from the start. The moment he collapsed at the gate and Clyde caught him, something shifted. Clyde didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. It was the first time in years he hadn’t felt uncomfortable from the stranger’s touch.
And somehow, since then, carrying Micah had become second nature. It wasn’t just a matter of necessity. It was instinct.
Clyde dropped his hands from his face and shook his head, trying to pull his thoughts back under control. "Get a grip," he murmured to himself.
As if summoned by his voice, the bathroom door swung open.
Micah stepped out, a soft, towel robe wrapped around his frame. He had tied it tightly at the front with a knot. Beads of water clung to the ends of his hair, trailing down the side of his neck. His cheeks were pink, though Clyde couldn’t tell if it was from the heat of the water or something else entirely.
Micah’s eyes avoided him completely. They darted to the floor, the walls, the beds, anywhere except on Clyde’s face.
"The clothes are there," Clyde said, nodding toward the folded garments on the table. "But before you put them on, come here."
Micah stiffened, his eyes bulging in surprise. "Huh?"
"I said Come here." Clyde’s tone was calm but firm.
Micah took a step forward hesitantly. Clyde was staring at him, waiting.
He walked up to him until he was standing right in front of the man.
"Now strip," Clyde said.
"What the fuck?" Micah yelled, clutching the robe tighter around himself. "Damn it! I never thought you were such a pervert!"
Clyde looked at him, unimpressed. He would never tell Micah that he was teasing him. His choice of words was intentional. Instead, he said flatly. "Don’t flatter yourself. You were hurt. Remember? I want to check for bruises and scratches. And I’m not sure how bad the bruising is down there..."
Micah felt his body was changing colour like a chameleon. First blue, then red. Anger and embarrassment filled his mind.
Clyde raised an eyebrow. "I’m waiting."
"Shut up! Tsk. I can check myself in the mirror. Who the hell needs your help?" Micah said, his voice full of irritation. He grabbed the clothes with a quick, jerky movement and turned on his heel, stomping back to the bathroom. The door slammed shut with a loud bang.
Clyde chuckled under his breath. So dramatic. So easily frustrated.
Still smiling, he grabbed the anti-bruise and pain relief gel from the first aid kit and walked over to the bathroom. He knocked on the door. "Micah, open up."
The door creaked open just an inch. Micah’s damp head peeked out, one suspicious eye narrowed. "What?"
"Here." Clyde handed the ointments. "Use these."
Micah snatched them from his hand like a raccoon stealing food and slammed the door shut again without a word.
Inside, Micah fumed. His cheeks were still burning. That jerk! He was still a damn annoying man!
He huffed and looked down at his legs. The inner muscles of his thighs throbbed, riding had taken more out of him than he thought. It had been ages since he had sat on a horse, let alone sprinted one at full speed. With a grumble, he applied the ointment to the sore spots, wincing slightly as the cold gel hit his skin.
His shoulder, too, ached fully. He rubbed the ointment in with slow, careful strokes, muttering curses under his breath the whole time.
Then, his gaze landed on the underwear folded among the clothes. His already flushed face turned even redder. Did Clyde fold that? Did he touch it? Did he...?
"Fuck... fuck.. Fuck..." he muttered, feeling flustered, thinking Clyde had selected that for him.
He took several deep breaths until his heartbeat slowed down.
Finally, he slipped into the clothes Clyde had set out. The fabric was soft, loose against his skin. He let out a long sigh in exasperation.