Chapter 419: The Sea Creature That Third-Wheeled
Micah froze, his head snapping back to look at Darcy in surprise, warm, damp sand clinging to his legs and back. His wide eyes were fixed on the young man behind him. For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating, but no, the boy clutching him was very real.
Micah blinked, staring at dishevelled Darcy. His black hair stuck up wildly, damp with sweat, stray strands plastered against his forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, his pale face filled with panic. His shirt and jeans were covered with wet sand. The sight was a mess, chaotic, out of place for the humid air of the coast.
Micah’s bare back pressed against Darcy’s chest. Their Legs tangled in the wet sand.
Their meeting was a disaster. Micah never thought the first time he would see Darcy after the truth might be known would be like this.
"Are you crazy? Why did you do this?" Darcy burst out. His chest heaved, his fists still clutching Micah’s arms as if letting go meant losing him forever.
Micah’s mouth formed an O shape. "Huh?"
The confusion in his eyes was almost childlike. He tilted his head, shoulders shifting uneasily. "Is it... is it that dangerous?" he asked, pointing toward the shoreline. "I just wanted to help it get back to the sea..."
Darcy followed the line of Micah’s finger pointing, and finally saw that a stingray fish had gotten stranded on the wet sand. Its body flapped weakly, its gills moved as though begging for breath.
His frantic pulse slowed, his breathing easing as relief washed over him. His mind finally put together what Micah was doing. He sighed loudly. "Yes, it is." he lied smoothly.
"Oh..." Micah pressed his lips together. His eyes flickered toward the young man’s arms around himself. "Why did you come?" he stammered. "How did you even know I was here?"
Darcy didn’t answer. Instead, he moved closer, hands sliding up to Micah’s shoulders before pulling him into a desperate embrace from behind. His forehead pressed into the crook of Micah’s neck, lips brushing against his damp skin as he inhaled, grounding himself in the faint fruity scent clinging to Micah’s body. His arms locked tightly around him, trembling.
Micah stiffened, caught off guard by the sudden closeness. But as the seconds stretched, he felt the tremor in Darcy’s body, the fear that still lingered in his touch. He patted Darcy’s hand gently. "Hey... what’s the matter?" his voice softened.
"I thought..." Darcy whispered, then he swallowed hard. "Nothing... let me stay like this for a while."
Micah didn’t move. Their bodies pressed together so that they could even feel their body temperature. Micah noticed how cold Darcy was, his arms chilled against his bare skin. Slowly, he rubbed Darcy’s forearms, trying to share his own heat, trying to soothe him without words.
Meanwhile, questions filled his mind. Why was Darcy like this? Why was he here? Who had told him his whereabouts? Did he know about the switch babies?
Yet his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, glued to the roof. He couldn’t bring himself to ask. So he let Darcy hold him, and he stared at the stranded fish flapping helplessly in the sand.
"Hey... let me get it back into the water," Micah whispered after a while.
Darcy lifted his head, reluctant, his dark eyes following Micah’s gaze. He stared at the dying fish. His jaw tightened. Without another word, he pulled away, stripping off his shirt in one swift motion. He walked toward it and crouched carefully, spreading the fabric on the sand just behind the creature, cautious to avoid its tail. With steady hands, he let it move on to the shirt. Then he dragged the fabric until the fish reached the shallow water.
The fish flapped its wings and vanished into the ocean.
Darcy straightened, shirt limp in his hands. The first light of dawn had spread across the horizon completely, bathing the beach in warm hues of pink and gold. The glow caught the shape of his figure, highlighting the curve of his shoulders, the sharp set of his jaw.
Micah’s eyes lingered. In that light, Darcy looked older, more resolute, yet fragile. His gaze drifted lower and caught on something glinting around Darcy’s neck. A pendant. Two dragons, one white, one black, intertwined. That was his. Hadn’t he given it to Darcy for their birthday? Hoping that when Darcy learned the truth, he would understand... he would know Micah always meant to stay by his side?
Gathering what courage he had left, Micah rose to his feet. His voice cracked as he asked. "Why are you here?"
Darcy’s grip tightened around the shirt in his hand. He turned his head and met Micah’s eyes.
They weren’t the same eyes Micah remembered. Gentle, calm, and endlessly patient. No, now they held a storm. Full of fear, insecurity, and the unknown. His lips curled bitterly. "Oh, you know."
Darcy stepped forward, sand crunching under his shoes. He stopped in front of Micah, gaze piercing. "Yeah... but I want to know.., Why should I have to hear from others? Am I a stranger to you now? Do I mean so little that you would rather hide behind them than tell me yourself?"
Micah shook his head, smile fading. "No. You are perfect. It’s just me... I am the coward."
Darcy’s face twisted, his voice rising with emotion. "No! Don’t use that word as a shield. You are not a coward. Stop lying to me...Tell me the truth."
"I..." Micah ran a hand through his silver hair. "I didn’t want to be the one to break it to you. Or to anyone in the family, if that matters. I couldn’t stand the thought of you looking at me with shock in your eyes. With betrayal in your eyes, with suspicion, and with hurt. I was selfish. I am selfish. I don’t want you or my family to see my face and only remember the day you discovered the truth. The day everything turned upside down."
"Really?" Darcy stared, eyes held a softness that Micah had never seen. "Selfish? You? Have you even looked at yourself lately?"
Before Micah could answer, Darcy raised his hand, brushing his fingers against Micah’s cheek. His touch was feather-light but trembling. "You are like a man half-dying. Micah. Why are you punishing yourself like this? Why do you think it was your fault?"
Micah’s breath hitched. His heart slammed against his ribs.
Darcy’s hand slid up, brushing the silver strands of hair away from his face, tucking them gently behind his ear. His dark eyes searched his, desperate, vulnerable. "Am I that unreasonable to you? That resentful? That you couldn’t trust me with this?"
Micah shook his head, voice stuck. Darcy’s voice, his gaze, the raw ache in every word...it was all too much.