CHAPTER 255: THE MAN, THE BOY, AND THE DRUNK

Clyde finally managed to peel Micah off, gently set him into the backseat, right beside Darcy. It took effort. Micah clung to him like a sleepy toddler, mumbling nonsense into his shirt, arms hooked around his neck with surprising strength for someone so intoxicated.

"Micah, let go. You’ll be more comfortable in the back," Clyde coaxed, easing his grip and lowering him into the seat.

"Nooo, you smell so nice," Micah whined, blinking up at him.

Clyde pressed his lips together, gently guiding Micah’s legs into the car. As soon as his body hit the leather seat, Micah, the troublemaker, flopped onto Darcy, seemingly forgetting he was even there. "So warm," Micah mumbled, nuzzling his cheek into Darcy’s shoulder like a sleepy cat seeking warmth.

Darcy tensed. His whole body stiffened at the contact. He glanced sideways and checked the man’s reaction.

Clyde just let out a sigh and closed the door with a soft click. He circled around to the front and slid into the driver’s seat.

"Have you fastened your seatbelt?" Clyde asked, glancing at Darcy through the rearview mirror. His tone was even, no hint of contempt or anger.

Darcy gave a small nod, feeling like the man was treating him like a child.

Clyde turned the engine on. "What about Micah?"

Darcy opened his mouth to say he had done it, but just then, a loud click echoed in the backseat. Micah had triggered the belt lock. The car seatbelt alarm went off.

"Wha..what’s this?" Micah slurred, staring at the belt across his chest in confusion. "Are you trying to tie me down?"

Darcy sighed heavily. Of course. He had forgotten just how difficult Micah could be when he was drunk.

He leaned over, trying to straighten the belt, but Micah squirmed like a restless puppy, limbs flopping everywhere.

"No...Ow, ow... let go!" Micah whined, shoving at Darcy’s face with one hand while the other pulled weakly at the belt. "You’re strangling me..."

Darcy hissed through gritted teeth, grabbing both of Micah’s arms and holding him down.

Micah finally stilled.

Darcy tugged the seatbelt across Micah’s torso and snapped it into place quickly.

Micah’s head slipped into the crook of Darcy’s neck, cheeks resting against his skin, breath warm and sticky from alcohol. His whole body leaned halfway across the seat, half on top of Darcy. The seatbelt strained under the pressure.

Darcy didn’t move. He barely breathed.

He glanced up and caught Clyde’s gaze in the mirror. Those eyes, sharp, unreadable and intense, met his for a long second.

Then they turned away.

Clyde said nothing. He shifted into drive and began pulling away from the hilltop, the car rolling smoothly down the narrow road.

"Where is your home?" Clyde asked after a beat. "I’ll drop you off first."

Darcy’s eyes flickered to intoxicated Micah, who nestled against him. He was asleep now, his breath slow, his lashes trembled behind his glasses. A faint smile played on his lips.

Could he really leave Micah alone? With a man he had only just met? Even if Micah trusted him... Darcy didn’t. What if something happened? A knot twisted in his gut.

Seconds stretched out, but Darcy didn’t speak.

Clyde caught the hesitation through the rearview mirror. Something subtle shifted in his expression, his brow smoothed slightly. "Are you worried about him?" he asked, quieter this time.

Darcy flinched. "Yeah..." he said softly, his voice hoarse. It was the first word he had spoken to the man directly.

"I understand," Clyde said. His hands tightened on the wheel, knuckles faintly whitening. Then, after a pause, he added. "Did you guys hear it too?"

Clyde had meant the gossip circling Micah at the banquet.

However, Darcy misunderstood. He thought Clyde was referring to Zhou Ruyan’s illness. That she didn’t have long left...

Darcy paused. His gaze darted toward Micah’s sleeping face again. His grandmother... was such a sweet, elegant old lady. And he could see how much she loved Micah.

"Yeah... he cried and got drunk because of it..."

A beat of silence.

Clyde’s jaw clenched. His grip on the steering wheel grew visibly tighter, tendons flexing along the backs of his hands. His breath left him in a slow, shaky exhale.

Micah...cried?

Why? That prideful boy? Stubborn, arrogant, and sharp-tongued, and yet he had cried. Because of them.

An old, violent kind of rage stirred in his chest, rage he hadn’t felt in years. Not since those nightmares subsided. He wanted to rip Ramsy’s family to pieces. How could they hurt his Micah? The one he loved?

Darcy, in the backseat, felt the shift in atmosphere, like the air around the man had dropped a few degrees. A chill ran down his spine. Why was he angry all of a sudden?!

Clyde’s eyes flickered toward the rearview mirror, glancing at the dark-haired boy. He was grateful that Micah was not alone at that time. That this boy was sensible enough to accompany him. He exhaled sharply. "Thank you for being with him...," he murmured, his voice tight with emotion.

Darcy was taken aback. That wasn’t what he had expected. No accusation. No jealousy. No sarcasm. He had braced himself for a territorial biting remark. Something cruel or mocking. That’s what he would have done if their roles were reversed. He was prepared to hear things like: why had he let Micah hear the news? Why had he let him drink so much? Why had he gone with Micah to the hilltop instead of staying at the banquet? Who the hell did he think he was, sticking so closely to Ramsy’s young master?

But instead...he had been thanked.

"It was... the only thing I could do..." Darcy said quietly, dropping his head. He stared at the way Micah’s fingers wrapped around his waist. His grip was light but persistent, like even in sleep, he didn’t want to let go.

Clyde nodded. "That was enough."

Silence settled over the car again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was sad.

Clyde drove through the city with a familiar turn and no questions asked. After twenty minutes, they pulled into a private garage beneath a residential building near the Royal Dragon Pavilion. The car lights cut out. And the garage was left in a dim hush of concrete and stillness.

Darcy was puzzled, looking around. Where had this man taken them?

Clyde stepped out and opened the back door. "Let’s go."

Darcy stared at him.

Clyde met his eyes directly. "You’re coming with us," he said. Then, after a pause, "He needs you, too."

His words were filled with such a matter-of-fact tone that Darcy hesitated.

"Isn’t that what you wanted? Otherwise, you would have told me where to drop you," Clyde said calmly.

Darcy fumbled with the seatbelt and unclicked it.

Micah stirred but didn’t wake up.

Clyde reached out and lifted him again, strong arms cradling the boy like it was nothing.

Darcy followed behind in silence.

Something inside him felt small, quiet, and ashamed. Compared to this man, he felt

inferior in every way.

He kept looking at Clyde, wondering how a man like him, tall, composed, wealthy, could look at Micah with such unshakable care. And not chase him out. Not control Micah. Not destroy everyone who dared stay close.

If it were him, he would never let anyone else in. He would have gotten rid of any competitor. He would have clung to Micah. Wanting to have all to himself. Love him selfishly.

He was sure Clyde had seen through his feelings for Micah. But still, he tolerated him. Even brought him to his place. All because of Micah.

Because this man thought Micah needed him, too.

Darcy lowered his gaze, reaching up to touch the necklace. He took a deep breath. He should be more mature, too. If he wanted to stay by Micah’s side.