Chapter 299: An Arm’s Length Away

Chapter 299: An Arm’s Length Away


Micah felt the faint pressure of Clyde’s lips against his forehead, a touch so soft it almost didn’t feel real. Yet the impact it had was immediate and brutal. His heart gave a sharp tremor, pounding against his ribs as if startled. His eyes went wide, and his lips parted automatically, ready to spill out something sharp, something mockingly. His fingers twitched, curling inward, as if to push Clyde away.


But he didn’t. He couldn’t.


The look in Clyde’s eyes held him there, pinned in place. They weren’t the eyes of a man playing a game or wearing a mask. There was no sly curve to his mouth, no hungry gleam, no smugness. Just pure, unyielding fondness, fierce in its honesty, yet chaste to the point of aching.


It wasn’t the gaze of a parent doting on a child, nor the heated stare of someone fueled by lust. No. There was something else entirely. Something Micah had never experienced, never been prepared for.


Micah didn’t move, his breath trapped in his chest. His pulse roared in his ears, and his legs felt oddly weak, as if he had been running hard, not just standing here.


Clyde stepped back, his hands leaving Micah’s face as though he were reluctant to let go. But his gaze didn’t waver for a second. It stayed locked on Micah, patient, searching, like he could see the exact moment the boy understood the meaning behind his feelings.


Micah cleared his throat, trying to find his voice. "I...you..." he stammered. Then he took a deep breath and changed the subject. "Your hands are freezing. Go. Take a shower to warm up."


He turned away before Clyde could say anything. The heat burning across his cheek wasn’t something he wanted the other man to see.


Clyde caught the blush anyway, his lips curling faintly into a smile, small, genuine, and fleeting. He didn’t comment, just turned toward the bathroom, his footsteps quiet against the floor. The sound of the door closing was soft, followed by the distant rush of water.


Micah jumped onto the bed and yanked the blanket over himself, burying his face in the fabric like a child hiding from the world.


What the hell was wrong with him? Had he never been kissed on the forehead before? Why was his heart jumping out of his chest? Why did he lose his cool over it?


Slowly, almost hesitantly, his hand raised and touched the spot where Clyde’s lips had been. His fingertips pressed lightly, as if testing whether any trace remained. Nothing, no heat, no dampness. Just skin.


What was he thinking? He frowned, rubbing his forehead in annoyance.


"Sleep. Let’s just sleep," Micah mumbled to himself.


But sleep refused to come. His mind was a mess, too much stimulation, too many thoughts. His emotions shifted too quickly, going up and down like he was riding a rollercoaster. His chest still felt tight, and his stomach fluttered.


The sound of the bathroom door opening made him more jittery.


Clyde stepped out properly dressed in a comfortable jumper and loose pants, towelling his damp hair with slow motions. His movements were unhurried, but his eyes flicked toward the bed almost instantly. The blanket shifted as Micah squirmed around.


Clyde’s lips stretched upward. "Can’t sleep? Why didn’t you turn off the lights?"


A reply came muffled from under the covers. "It was for you."


Clyde set the towel aside, switching off the overhead light until a dim light remained. "Thanks," he said casually, before heading toward the door.


Micah’s head shot up in bed, hearing the sound of the door opening. "Where are you going?"


Clyde paused. "Downstairs."


"Why?"


"You told me."


"Ahh, you... Are you doing it on purpose?" Micah grumbled, his voice carrying a mix of irritation and something he didn’t want to name. "Just sleep here. I have already been dramatic enough in front of your friends for one day. Finding you in the living room again..." his voice trailed off.


Clyde closed the door and turned. Not toward the bed, but toward the adjoining room.


"Where are you going now?" Micah demanded.


Clyde met his gaze in silence, his expression unreadable.


"I can’t sleep," Micah muttered, softer this time, almost sulky.


A faint sigh escaped Clyde before he crossed the room. He sat on the edge of the bed. "Want me to sing you a lullaby?"


"Shut up!" Micah kicked Clyde’s side with his bare foot.


Clyde chuckled. He caught Micah’s foot easily, holding it in place before tucking it back under the blanket.


"What do you want me to do?" Clyde asked, watching him closely.


Micah’s lips pressed into a pout. He was sure this jerk was doing it on purpose. He knew exactly what he wanted, but he was trying to force him to say it out loud. Not happening.


"Nothing," Micah huffed, rolling onto his side to face away from him. "You can sleep in that room."


Clyde lingered there for a moment, his eyes studying the stubborn set of Micah’s shoulders. He stood up and switched off the last bit of light. The room sank into the darkness, save for the faint glow spilling in from the moonlight through the cracked curtains.


He knew he should leave. But something about the way Micah’s back curved away from him felt wrong, like distance that had no right to exist.


He exhaled quietly and lowered himself onto the bed beside him.


Micah’s ears caught every shift of the mattress. The moment Clyde’s footsteps had paused, he had assumed the man would walk away. His chest filled with disappointment. But then, the mattress sank beside him.


His heart pounded in his chest.


Neither of them moved. The space between them felt deliberate, like an invisible line neither dared to cross.


Micah stared into the darkness, his jaw tight. He hated the distance, hated knowing Clyde was right there but holding himself back. And yet, his pride kept him from turning around, from bridging the gap himself.


So he stayed where he was, teeth gritted, wishing the man would just... close the distance. He longed for that hug, the warmth, and the sandalwood scent he had felt earlier.


But he held his tongue and buried his face in the pillow. Yearning, he decided, was exhausting.


Author’s note:


The kiss on the forehead...


Sometimes, no words are needed. No grand gestures. Just a fleeting touch that stays with you for a lifetime.


What about you guys? Have you ever experienced a moment like that?