Chapter 770: Post-nut Anxiety

They finished not long after, and the intensity of the moment gradually turned into breathless stillness like the calm after a passing storm. Clyde, despite everything that had stirred within him earlier, did not allow himself to be carried away too far. Even in that heated state, he remained mindful, holding back just enough so that Micah would not be overwhelmed. It was not in his nature to indulge recklessly when it came to something that involved Micah’s comfort, and that restraint showed clearly in the way he slowed things down the second time, ensuring that nothing crossed the line into excess.

Once everything was over, Clyde did not simply collapse into rest as someone else might have done. Instead, he shifted immediately into taking care of Micah, his movements steady and deliberate, like this part mattered just as much, if not more. He carefully lifted him into his arms, supporting him with a gentle firmness that spoke of both strength and attentiveness, before carrying him back into the bathroom. The warm water ran softly as Clyde cleaned him up, his touch cautious, almost reverent, making sure not to cause any discomfort.

There was something undeniably tender in the way he worked, from the way his fingers lingered just long enough to ensure everything was properly taken care of, to the quiet focus in his expression as though nothing else in the world held importance at that moment. When he was done, he dried Micah carefully, dressed him, and brought him back to bed without a single wasted movement.

Once they were settled, Clyde lay down behind him and pulled him close, wrapping an arm securely around his waist. The embrace was firm but gentle, the kind that carried warmth and reassurance rather than possession. He rested there, content in a way that was quiet but deeply felt, his breathing gradually evening out as the tension left his body.

Micah, however, was the complete opposite. Unlike before, when exhaustion would have taken over almost immediately, this time his mind remained fully awake, sharp and alert. There was no trace of drowsiness clouding his thoughts. Instead, everything felt heightened, as though his senses had been turned up far beyond their usual limits.

He lay there in silence, his gaze drifting slightly as he replayed Clyde’s actions in his mind. The way Clyde had handled him, the care, the gentleness, the attention to detail... it all lingered vividly. His hazel eyes glimmered faintly in the dimness, carrying a look that was almost feline, like a cat that had just been pampered and groomed, basking in quiet satisfaction.

When the lights were turned off and the room was swallowed by darkness, the stillness only made things more pronounced.

Micah could not sleep. His body felt strangely energised, as though something inside him refused to settle down. His heartbeat had not fully calmed, and there was a lingering sense of alertness that kept him suspended between rest and wakefulness. It was not discomfort, nor was it pain. It was something else entirely... something restless and intangible.

His gaze shifted toward the nightstand. There, faintly illuminated by the minimal light filtering through the room, sat the two pieces of yellow jade. They caught what little light there was and reflected it softly, glowing in the darkness like quiet, watchful eyes.

He stared at them, unmoving.

Behind him, Clyde stirred slightly. It did not take long for him to notice.

Clyde had always been perceptive, especially when it came to Micah. Even the smallest change in breathing or tension did not escape him. After a brief moment, he shifted, propping himself up on one elbow as he leaned slightly forward, concern already evident in his voice before he even fully spoke.

"What is wrong?" he asked, his tone laced with worry. "Does it still hurt? I was careful, and I applied medicine afterwards. I checked as well, and there was no injury, no tearing, nothing unusual."

His words came out quickly, one after another, the agitation in them impossible to miss. "But if something feels off, we shouldn’t ignore it. Perhaps we should go to the hospital just to be safe."

His words came out quickly, one after another, the agitation in them impossible to miss.

Micah’s lips twitched faintly. "Stop," he said flatly. "I’m perfectly fine."

The calmness in his tone did not have the effect Clyde had hoped for.

Instead of easing his concern, it made it worse. Clyde paused, his brows drawing together slightly as he looked down at him, though the darkness made it impossible to clearly see Micah’s expression. Still, something about the way he spoke felt... off. Too calm. Too detached.

A faint unease crept into his chest. For a brief moment, Georgina’s voice echoed in his mind, uninvited and unwelcome, whispering doubts that he had not fully buried.

He hesitated before speaking again, this time more quietly. "...Is it my performance?" he asked, his voice lower, almost uncertain. "Wasn’t it good enough? Are you... unsatisfied?"

That did it. Micah’s temper flared almost instantly. "Cut it out," he snapped, irritation clear in his voice. "I’m not angry. I’m not hurt. I’m not disappointed, and I am definitely not displeased."

The firmness in his words left no room for misinterpretation.

Clyde fell silent. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Micah let out a soft sigh, the earlier edge in his tone easing slightly. "I’m just... too high," he admitted.

"High?" Clyde repeated, confusion slipping into his voice. "We didn’t have coffee or chocolate .... Nothing that would cause that."

Micah huffed quietly. "That’s not what I mean," he said. "I mean I’m feeling too much right now. Everything is... elevated. I feel happy, excited, and content, like everything has aligned perfectly. It feels like I have checked off every single thing I wanted, and you..." he paused briefly before continuing, "you passed all of it with flying colours."

There was a faint smile on his lips as he spoke, even though it could not be clearly seen. "When I think about it," he continued softly, "meeting you might be the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Silence followed, heavy but calm.

Clyde’s chest, which had been tight with unease just moments ago, finally loosened. Relief washed over him, followed by something warmer... and perhaps even a hint of pride. But it did not last long.

"But..." Micah added.

The single word was enough to pull Clyde’s attention back instantly.

"But I’m starting to wonder," Micah continued, his voice softer now, more uncertain, "what if I’ve already used up all my luck? What if something bad happens next?"

Without hesitation, Clyde tightened his hold around him, pulling him closer. "No," he said firmly. "I won’t allow that."

"I know," Micah replied. "You’ve already done so much. We’ve handled everything so far. Every major event, every situation that we knew about... we managed to get through all of it."

He paused, his fingers curling slightly against the sheets.

"But that’s exactly what worries me," he continued. "Everything we dealt with before... we already knew about it. We had an idea of what was coming. Now... we don’t. From this point onward, everything is unknown. And what if I make a mistake? What if I mess everything up again? I don’t trust myself enough."

There was a quiet vulnerability in his words that had not been there before.

Clyde felt it immediately. His chest tightened, and without thinking, he pulled Micah even closer, his voice softening.

"You’re not alone anymore," he said gently. "You have me. You have the Du Pont family. You have Darcy, and your own family as well. There are so many people around you who care, who are willing to help."

He paused briefly before continuing.

"Even if you make a mistake, it doesn’t mean everything will fall apart. It just means we fix it together. That’s what people do. Mistakes aren’t something to fear so much that they stop you from living. They are part of being human."

His voice grew quieter, more thoughtful.

"We’re not perfect. We’re not machines that can calculate every outcome. We feel, we misunderstand, and we make decisions that are not always right. That is normal. Fear is not a bad thing, but when it becomes too much, it starts to control you."

He shifted slightly, his forehead resting lightly against Micah’s shoulder.

"Isn’t that why you hid things from Ilyas?" he added softly. "Because you knew that living in constant fear would eventually break you?"

Micah did not respond immediately.

Clyde continued, his tone even gentler now. "You are... special," he said. "You’re brave, and kind, and you care about people in a way that most don’t. Not many people would walk away from power and wealth the way you did. That takes strength."

His fingers tightened slightly against him.

"You have a good heart. And I want you to live freely, without being trapped by things that might not even happen."

Micah’s eyes stung. He sniffed quietly, the emotions swelling in his chest almost overwhelming.

No one had ever spoken about him like that before. Not in such a sincere, unwavering way. And hearing it from Clyde made it feel even more real. His eyes shimmered faintly in the darkness, like distant stars.

Clyde spoke again, softer now. "Look at it another way," he murmured. "The future isn’t something to fear. It’s full of possibilities. We can take our time, figure things out step by step. There is no need to rush or to burden yourself with what has already passed."

Micah listened in silence. Slowly, the tension in his chest began to ease.

Yes. They were young. They were alive. They had people who cared about them.

And most importantly... they had each other.

There was no need to ruin the present by worrying endlessly about what might or might not happen in the future.

Micah’s breathing gradually evened out. His mind, once filled with concern, now settled into something lighter, something peaceful. Before long, sleep finally took him.