CHAPTER 494: WHAT SHOULD NEVER BE REMEMBERED (PART TWO)

A few minutes later, the front door opened. Clyde guided two people inside, an older man with a calm expression and a younger assistant carrying a black medical bag. "Doctor Roger," Clyde greeted softly, his voice low but heavy with tension. "Thank you for coming so quickly."

The doctor nodded curtly. "What’s the situation?" he asked, his tone was calm, but his eyes were sharp.

"My partner’s not doing well...he’s having some kind of breakdown. And his brother...he’s burning up with a high fever, completely out of it," Clyde said dryly. He hesitated, glancing toward the closed door at the end of the hallway. "I think you might need to sedate him before you can examine the patient."

Dr. Roger’s eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he opened his bag and took out a syringe and a small vial, preparing a diazepam shot just in case.

Clyde swallowed hard, guilt twisting in his chest. It was despicable, he knew, to sedate Micah like this, but what choice did he have? He hated himself for resorting to something so unconventional. But he didn’t want to use force on Micah, and most importantly, he was worried Micah might do something drastic. He knew he was being selfish, but he put his hope on that maybe sleep would erase whatever painful memory had surfaced.

When they entered the room, Micah was still sitting on the edge of the bed, his body hunched protectively over Darcy’s frame. He clung to the dark-haired boy as if letting go would make him vanish. His silver hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his cheeks. His eyes were red and distant, his body trembling.

Clyde’s chest tightened at the sight. He approached first, kneeling beside him, careful not to startle him. "Micah," he whispered, "The doctor’s here. He’s going to help."

Micah seemed not to hear. His breathing was uneven, his whole body trembling as if from cold, though sweat beaded at his temples.

"Micah," Clyde tried again, reaching out, his tone coaxing.

Still, there was no recognition in Micah’s eyes. Only a hollow daze, like he was trapped somewhere inside his own mind. His grip around Darcy’s shoulders tightened further.

Clyde touched the boy’s forearm. "He’s burning up. He needs medication. Didn’t you see? He can’t even eat anything. Let the doctor take care of him."

Micah’s eyes were locked on Darcy, guarding him like a mother bear protecting her cub. His hold slightly loosened when he heard Clyde’s words.

Dr Roger studied the silver-haired young man for a moment before stepping forward, reaching out to Darcy. "I’ll just take a quick look at him."

But before his hand could reach, Micah’s entire body flinched. His head snapped up, eyes blazing suddenly with awareness.

"Don’t touch him," he hissed. "Stay away."

Clyde could see Micah’s whole body tense, trembling with agitation. The more anyone tried to come close, the tighter he held on. His body was alert, ready to fight.

"Micah, I’m me," Clyde said, reaching forward and pulling Micah into his arms, wrapping him in a firm embrace before he could resist. Micah struggled at first, his muscles tensed, breath sharp, but Clyde held him tighter, pressing him against his chest.

"It’s alright," Clyde whispered against his ear. "It’s me... I won’t hurt you."

For a moment, Micah relaxed, but before he could lean on Clyde, Dr Roger moved smoothly and gave a quick injection to Micah’s lower back.

Micah let out a startled yelp, twisting in Clyde’s arms. "W-what..." His protest broke into a soft whimper.

Clyde pressed his lips against Micah’s damp neck, whispering sweet words between the faint kisses. "Shh... It’s alright. It’s just medicine. You’ll feel better soon." His voice was tender, low, trembling with guilt.

He kissed the side of Micah’s face, his temple, then his eyelids. Soft, desperate touches that spoke both apology and comfort. "You’ve done enough," he murmured. "You don’t have to fight anymore."

Micah tried to protest, but his body was sensitive to Clyde’s touch, relaxing despite himself.

Micah’s breathing faltered. His body, still shaking moments ago, slowly began to lose its strength. His fingers, once clawed tightly into Clyde’s shirt, slipped weakly away. His eyes fluttered, the red rims softening as the sedative took hold.

After a few minutes, his body went limp against Clyde’s chest.

Clyde held him for a little longer, his heart pounding hard against his ribs. He brushed the damp strands of silver hair from Micah’s forehead and pressed a trembling kiss to his lashes. His chest ached so deeply it almost hurt to breathe.

Behind him, the doctor had already moved to Darcy’s side, checking his temperature, pulse, and breathing. The boy’s skin was flushed, his lips dry and cracked.

"He’s severely dehydrated," the doctor muttered to the assistant. "Prepare an IV."

The assistant quickly assembled the equipment, hanging the fluid bag beside the bed. The faint clink of glass and the soft hiss of the IV line filled the silence.

Clyde watched with a blank stare, his arms still wrapped protectively around Micah’s limp body.

When the doctor finished setting up the IV for Darcy, he turned briefly to Clyde. "He’ll need rest and fluids. Keep him cool and watch his temperature," he paused, looking at Micah. "The sedative will wear off in a few hours. But I recommend visiting a psychiatrist. He..."

Clyde cut him off. "Thank you, Dr Roger. I’ll consider it."

The doctor didn’t press further.

Clyde stood up and carried Micah out of the Darcys’ room. His movements were careful and slow. When he reached the door, he paused. "I’ll appreciate it if you could take care of him until his condition stabilises. As you can see, my hands are full. And..." he said, turning his head, looking at the doctor and assistant, eyes sharp. "Please keep today’s matter a secret from everyone."

The doctor nodded solemnly. Gossiping about patients was condemned in their field of work. Besides, no one was foolish enough to go against the patriarch of the Du Pont family or spread rumours about him.

Clyde turned his head and strode over to the other room.