CHAPTER 490: CLYDE’S ABS AND MICAH’S DOWNFALL (PART ONE)

Micah woke up with the worst headache of his life and a stabbing pain in his stomach that made him wince the moment he tried to breathe. His face scrunched, a soft grunt slipping out as he buried himself deeper into a pillow in protest.

Except... the pillow wasn’t soft. It was solid. His brows furrowed. That wasn’t right.

Micah rubbed his cheek against it, confused when, instead of the usual cottony bounce, there was a firm, warm surface. His hands lazily searched around for the missing pillow, fingers dragging across the strange texture until...

A low groan echoed beside him. Micah froze. For a few seconds, his brain went blank. Then, like an ancient machine sputtering back to life, the gears in his head started turning, slowly and rustily.

He remembered drinking. He remembered dragging Darcy back to his apartment, desperate to forget the chaos of yesterday. From the awkward meeting in the airport to chasing after Darcy to the restroom, then meeting Flora and Nora, the argument with Darcy on the staircase, then Elina’s breakdown in Ramsy Empire, one by one, had broken him down.

Micah just wanted to stop thinking. Just for one night. He wanted to feel normal, like a college student getting hammered, not a boy suffocating under guilt.

But after a few drinks, Micah’s memory blurred. What had happened then? Wait... had he done something stupid? Did he end up sleeping with Darcy?

The thought made his blood run cold. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs. Slowly, carefully, he cracked one eye open and looked toward the warm, solid thing beside him.

His gaze landed on skin. Bare skin.

Yep. It was a chest. A naked one. Oh shit! What had he done? Did he really molest Darcy? Was he that pent-up that he would lay his hands on the protagonist?

Micah felt his soul leaving his body from fright. His brain refused to accept it. No way. No way in hell. He squeezed shut his eyes immediately, face burning.

This was a dream. Yep. It had to be. He was still asleep. The second time he opened his eyes, he should be alone in bed, with no evidence of his apparent crime.

So he stayed still, feigning sleep. Motionless. Barely breathing.

A long, tense silence filled the room.

Clyde looked down at the boy sprawled over him, who had made his life miserable last night, and his eyelids twitched. Micah had the gall to play dead with him.

His patience snapped. Clyde’s hands darted out and grabbed Micah’s waist, fingers digging into the smooth skin with a sharp pinch.

Micah jolted up with a startled yelp. "God damn it, Darcy! I’m sorry I..." Micah’s voice got stuck when his eyes landed on the person beneath him.

Not Darcy.

God... it was Clyde. Not the gentle one. Not the amused one either. His sharp eyes glinted with suppressed fury, his expression dark and unreadable.

Micah gulped loudly.

"Whose name did you just say?" Clyde asked through gritted teeth.

"Huh? I- wait, why... why are you here?" Micah stammered.

"Oh?" Clyde’s tone dropped lower, more dangerous. "Disappointed to see me? Hoping it was Darcy instead?"

Micah shook his head so fast his hair flew into his face. "No! No, of course not. Who? Him? Nah..."

He pressed his palms against Clyde’s bare chest in panic; the heat beneath it made his pulse jump.

"I just...uh... I didn’t remember you being here last night with us..." he mumbled weakly, the pounding in his head making it hard to think straight. His temple throbbed, and he lifted one hand to massage it, wincing. The other one stayed where it was, pressing deeper against Clyde’s chest.

He could feel the muscle under his hand tense. Micah swallowed hard. He shifted his legs slightly to move away, only for his thigh to brush against something firm beneath the blanket.

The sensation made him freeze. Every thought in his head evaporated. His eyes widened.

He looked down inch by inch, slow as a snail crawling, terrified to confirm what he already suspected.

And there it was. Skin. Legs. His own bare limbs entangled with Clyde’s. He was naked. Completely naked.

His mouth went dry. Panic shot through him like electricity. He clutched at the blanket, dragging it up to his chest, his face turning crimson.

Fuck! What had he done last night?

Micah clenched his cheeks from fright. No pain or discomfort. Okay. Okay. So they didn’t actually do the deed? No cherry popping, right?

Then why was Clyde’s hand on his waist? No, why were they both naked? Micah’s eyes darted down again, following the line of Clyde’s chest until he saw the underwear.

Oh... they weren’t completely naked.

He should’ve been relieved... So why did he feel disappointment?

Meanwhile, Clyde couldn’t take it anymore.

Micah’s hungry gaze kept flicking up and down his body, his face openly betraying every thought running through his small head....

The sight was unbearable.

Clyde growled, voice strained. "You’re seriously killing me right now."

Before Micah could react, Clyde grabbed his waist with both hands and pushed him down onto the mattress, flipping their positions in one swift move.

Micah hit the bed with a muffled thud. The air rushed out of his lungs in a sound that was more of a gasp, high-pitched and breathy. It didn’t sound pained. It sounded wrong. Suggestive even.

Both of them stiffened. Micah’s face burned hotter. He clapped his hands over his eyes, embarrassed. "My head is splitting...." he mumbled miserably, wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

Clyde exhaled through his nose, trying to suppress the frustration under his skin. He ran a hand through his hair, jaw tight.

This was bad.

He turned away sharply, standing up from the bed. The blanket slipped from his waist as he bent down to pick up his clothes, crumpled in a pile on the floor. His shirt was wrinkled beyond saving, and his pants were halfway across the room.

He lifted the shirt with two fingers and sighed. There was no way he could put this shirt, reeking of alcohol, back on.

Micah peeked through his fingers as Clyde stood there, bare-chested, the morning light cutting across his back and shoulders. The muscles there flexed slightly as he moved.

Micah’s already throbbing headache somehow managed to worsen. He bit his bottom lip, stifling a groan.

Clyde walked toward the bathroom. He thought about taking a cold shower, because with the way Micah’s gaze lingered on him, he wasn’t sure he could control himself.

Even now, Micah’s sweet, husky voice replayed in his mind nonstop, driving him insane.

The door was shut when Micah lowered his hands completely and let out a long sigh. Oh god! This was too awkward and embarrassing.