CHAPTER 324: SLEEPING BEAUTY, BUT MAKE IT ANNOYED

The next morning began with chaos. A sharp, panicked yell split the quiet of the apartment.

"Why didn’t you wake me up? I’m late!"

The voice, unmistakably Micah’s, carried from the bedroom.

Clyde, who was sitting calmly at the dining table with a mug of steaming coffee in hand, didn’t flinch. He only lifted his gaze toward the hallway, the corner of his mouth twitching as though he couldn’t decide between amusement and betrayal. His pale blue eyes followed the frantic sound of footsteps as Micah scrambled out of bed.

Micah’s hair was sticking in every direction, his pyjama top twisted around his torso from having slept in it. He stumbled toward the guest room, muttering under his breath while kicking the door open. Clothes rustled as he yanked open drawers and hurriedly searched for something halfway presentable to wear.

Clyde slowly took another sip from his coffee, leaning back in his chair, and exhaled through his nose. He had tried, really, he had, to wake the boy up. But what did he get for his efforts? Micah had only groaned, rolled over, buried his face deeper into the blanket, and at one point even lifted a lazy foot to kick at him like an annoyed cat swatting away a nuisance.

For a second, Clyde had thought of other ways to wake Micah up. He pictured leaning down and pressing his lips against Micah’s enough to startle him awake. Or even more daring, scooping him up in his arms and carrying him straight into the bathroom, setting him down in front of the sink, whether he liked it or not.

Clyde’s hand tightened around the warm mug. He had quickly dismissed the thought. That kind of closeness...no. Their relationship was still new, fragile, and undefined. Doing something like that would make things awkward between them.

So he let the boy sleep, rationalising to himself that missing one class wouldn’t affect him that badly. But apparently, the universe had punished him for his restraint. Because now Micah was stomping around, blaming him with all the audacity in the world.

The sound of rushing water came from the guest bathroom. Drawers slammed. The floor creaked under hurried footsteps.

Inside, Micah was frantically washing up, splashing cold water against his face.

Sleeping in Clyde’s bed had been too comfortable. Too soft. Too warm. Too much like a trap. He had sunk into the mattress like it belonged to him, like leaving it would’ve been a crime.

But then he remembered. Today he had class with her. Georgina Malleti, the dean of their faculty. Clyde’s friend.

Micah had shot to his feet in panic.

He couldn’t be late. Not today. Not with her watching. He could already imagine her look, sharp, mocking, and far too knowing. Especially after that whole scene at the condo. Not after getting jealous of her... his impulsive decision to sit down between Clyde and her. Sticking to Clyde like glue all day...

Micah swallowed hard, his face turning crimson as he yanked his hoodie over his head. If he walked in late or did not attend at all today, she would absolutely assume the worst. Like if they had done something indecent...

He shook his head quickly, muttering to himself as if that would make the thought vanish. No. He couldn’t let her think he was fooling around.

Taking a deep breath, Micah picked up the small vase on the table near the bed. The Jasmine flowers inside were still fresh. Clutching it carefully in both hands, he stepped out of the guest room.

"Hey," he said, a little breathless as he walked toward Clyde. "I want to keep these from wilting." He tilted the vase forward.

Clyde, still seated with his coffee, raised his eyes. The coldness in his expression softened at once. "Alright. I’ll have my assistant handle it."

Micah put the vase down on the table. "Thanks," he said before crouching in the entryway to lace his sneakers. "And... give him a bonus or something. The man didn’t even get a weekend because of us."

That made Clyde pause. "You didn’t even meet him. Yet you care that much?"

Micah snorted, tugging his laces tight. "He is competent. You don’t want to lose someone like that. Otherwise, who would be around to help me?"

A small smirk curved Clyde’s lips. "Ah. So it’s not about him... it’s about you."

Micah shot him a glare as he stood, tugging at his hoodie. "Yeah? What else would it be?"

"Nothing. I just thought your noble chivalrous side had woken up again." Clyde chuckled.

"Yeah. Well, I am not a holy knight." Micah huffed. He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked toward the door. "Come on. I’ll be late."

Clyde finally set his cup down on the table. He stood up and reached over to pick two sleek black lunch boxes from the counter. With a casual air, he walked over and held them out. "Here. Lunch," he said.

Micah blinked in confusion. His brows furrowed as he accepted the boxes. "Why are there two?" he asked slowly. "Emile?" His tone turned accusing, suspicion flickering in his eyes. "Don’t tell me you suddenly turned into the caring Uncle overnight?"

"Nope. Still the cold, scary one. The extra is for Darcy." Clyde replied.

Micah nearly dropped the boxes. He choked on his own saliva, coughing violently before managing to rasp. "What?!" His eyes went wide in pure disbelief.

"Why so shocked?" Clyde asked, his tone infuriatingly calm. He adjusted his cuffs like nothing about this conversation was unusual. "It’s an apology. For how I acted at the hospital. I thought a few empty words wouldn’t be enough to mend things with him. Not after you insisted I treat him better."

Micah stared at him, speechless for several long seconds. "No..." he finally admitted. "But... did you actually make it yourself?" Micah felt a bitter taste in his mouth. Something unpleasant flooded his heart.

Clyde’s lips curled into a sly smile. "No. Where would I find time to cook when I was busy coaxing an ancestor out of bed?" His gaze sharpened, watching Micah’s reaction with deliberate interest. "They are store-bought. From a famous restaurant. Why?" He tilted his head slightly. "What’s wrong? I thought you wanted the best for Darcy?"

"Shut up." Micah’s face burned, his jaw tightening. "Yes. I want the best for him." He shoved the lunch boxes into his bag with a huff and left the apartment in irritation.

Stupid Clyde!

He was just teasing him, messing with his head.

Micah pursed his lips as he yanked the door open. Why was he even jealous? Ridiculous! Clyde had no interest in Darcy. But then, why did it feel so strange?