Chapter 399: Dragon Uncle and His Treasure
Clyde watched as Micah’s face flushed with anger, frustration shimmering beneath the surface. Yet, he didn’t think much of it, assuming it was one of his weird thought processes he could hardly fathom.
He sighed softly and reached out. Tentatively, he touched Micah’s cheek. "Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you, did he?"
Micah puffed out his cheek, exhaling sharply before plopping down on the chair beside the bed. "No..." he mumbled. "He didn’t even realise I was a man. Tsk. He was delusional. Kept spouting nonsense. He tried to ask me about you and my online account. Then shoved a phone at me and let me go."
Clyde’s fingers slid through his hair gently, caressing his head. "Good... I was terrified when you disappeared." His voice was heavy with guilt. "Sorry. I should have been more alert. You told me they were crazy, but to this extent... I underestimated them."
"It wasn’t your fault. It was mine. I played with fire... without realising how dangerous it was." Micah mumbled, leaning onto the warmth of Clyde’s hand like a cat enjoying being patted.
"I was so scared seeing you bleeding," Micah continued, voice trembling. "Promise me you’ll be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt because of me ever again."
"It wasn’t because of you," Clyde replied firmly. "I was just distracted. It could have happened anytime."
Micah stared at him, lips parting, but chose not to argue with him. His eyes lowered instead. "Should I call a doctor?"
"No, I am fine. You are the one who’s tired. Go home and rest."
"Hah?" Micah blinked, then snapped upright.
"You had a long day." Clyde insisted. His gaze flickered to the uncomfortable chair Micah had clearly been dozing off. "And the pull-out couch is not comfortable."
"No way. I am not leaving you." Micah’s tone was absolute.
"Your family is probably worried." Clyde tried again. He could see how worn-out Micah looked.
"No. My mum and dad were here." Micah said, shaking his head stubbornly. "They know I am fine."
"Your parents?"
"Mm," Micah nodded. "Dean called them."
"Did they scold you?"
"No, why would they?" Micah muttered, frowning. "They were just worried. Kept nagging me to take care of myself."
"Why? Are you injured? You told me you are fine." Clyde’s eyes filled with worry.
"Oh.. I just had a fever. That’s all. It’s gone now." Micah said, lifting his arm, showing the small band-aid where an IV had been inserted.
Clyde sighed deeply, his eyes lingering on the faint mark. He knew without asking, Micah had not left his side. He had probably fussed, refusing to rest, until his body finally gave in.
"Come here," he said at last, patting the space beside him.
Micah hesitated. "It will be cramped."
"No, I can’t let you sleep like that on a chair. Aren’t your ribs bothering you?"
Micah bit his lower lip, then reluctantly climbed onto the bed. He shifted closer until he buried himself in Clyde’s side. Within seconds, his breathing slowed, his body went limp, and he fell asleep.
Clyde lowered his gaze, staring at the young man. His lashes fluttered faintly, his lips parted, his whole body sagging with fatigue. He was so exhausted that the moment his head touched the pillow, sleep swallowed him whole.
Clyde brushed once more through the strands of silver hair; his chest ached with unspoken emotions as he closed his eyes.
******
The morning came quickly, soft rays of sunlight filtering through the blinds, painting strips across the floor. The door creaked open, and Dean stepped in with a food container in his hand. But the sight that greeted him nearly made him drop it straight to the ground. His grip faltered, his whole body jerked as his eyes went wide.
On the bed, Little Uncle, the man who had always been a figure of icy composure and strict dignity, was lying tangled up with Micah in his arms.
Dean’s jaw hit the floor, and a choked sound nearly slipped out before he caught himself.
Panic gripped his chest, and he quickly backed out, closing the door instantly. He pressed his back against it and looked both ways down the hall. Thankfully, the Ramsy family wasn’t there yet. He clutched his chest and sighed in relief.
He leaned against the wall, muttering under his breath. "Thank god!"
He stood, guarding at the door, praying no one would come. The good news was that it seemed Clyde had woken up. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have wrapped his hands around Micah like a dragon protecting its treasure.
Dean rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. His stone-cold uncle had suddenly turned into the clingy type. He shivered. Poor Micah. He didn’t even want to imagine what his uncle would be like in that regard if he were already holding him like that. Extreme. Terrifyingly extreme.
Dean was deep in thought when a soft, unfamiliar voice suddenly cut through.
"Excuse me?"
Dean jolted like he had been electrocuted, his head snapping up.
A girl stood before him, her head tilted slightly in curiosity. She looked no older than her late teens or early twenties. She had a short bob haircut that framed her small face neatly. Her skin was pale with a natural flush, a cute dimple on her cheek, eyes large, almond-shaped, and dark brown. She looked at him with curiosity and a touch of mischief.
Her outfit screamed casual comfort: an oversized hoodie hung loosely from her shoulders, sleeves half swallowing her hands, paired with fitted leggings and sneakers. She seemed like a happy-go-lucky girl.
Dean, who was still recovering from his shock, froze. His mouth went dry.
"Hello? Excuse me?" the girl repeated, tilting her head.
Dean found his voice finally. "Yes?"
"Could you move?" the girl asked matter-of-factly, her tone polite but firm.
"Huh?" Dean blinked, dumbfounded.
"You are blocking my way," she said, eyebrow arching slightly.
Dean’s mind lagged behind, gears turning sluggishly. "I think you’ve got the wrong room."
She stared at him, not budging.
"My brother is in there. Please step aside."
Dean’s breath hitched audibly. No way. No, no, no. Could she be Micah’s sister? His palms grew sweaty. Fuck! He was doomed.