From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 645: Lost in the Rain

The car circled slowly through the rain-soaked streets, windshield wipers moving back and forth in a steady rhythm. Water streaked across the glass, blurring the city lights into long, trembling lines. Neon signs reflected on the wet asphalt, stretching and breaking under the endless downpour. The sky was a deep, heavy grey, covering stars and the moon.

Micah leaned forward in his seat, one hand braced against the window, eyes searching desperately through the rain. His heart was beating too fast. Every passing shadow made him tense, every figure on the sidewalk made him lean closer.

"Slow down," he urged hoarsely. "Look carefully."

The bodyguard nodded and drove at a cautious pace, scanning both sides of the street.

Rain hammered against the roof of the car, loud and relentless. The streetlights flickered through the curtain of water, revealing empty bus stops, closed shops, and puddles that rippled under the heavy drops.

What if something had happened to him? Why was his phone turned off? What happened in the police station? Did Noas say something to him?

Micah pursed his lips. No, would Noas really risk exposing the system? Even if he did, would Clyde hear it? Would he believe him? Was that why Clyde had dismissed everyone? Why didn’t he come back to him? Demanding answers?

Micah’s head throbbed with worry, unable to make sense of Clyde’s behaviour.

Then a doubt sprouted in his head. What if... what if Clyde remembered his first life?

Colour drained from his face. Would Clyde find him dirty? Would Clyde be disgusted with him? Wanting to leave him?

The worry made Micah feel sick. He couldn’t let that happen!

He tried to focus, forcing his fear down.

Then Micah saw him.

A tall, familiar figure walked unsteadily along the sidewalk before turning into an alley, coat dark and heavy with rain, shoulders slightly hunched. His steps were slow, directionless, like someone who did not know where he was going.

Micah’s breath caught. His heart slammed violently against his ribs.

"Stop!" Micah shouted. "Stop the car!"

The bodyguard hit the brakes. Before the car had fully stopped, Micah pushed the door open.

"Young master!" the bodyguard called, but it was too late.

Micah jumped out into the rain. The cold water soaked him instantly. It ran down his hair, his face, his clothes. His slippers splashed into a shallow puddle, sending water up his legs. His ankle covered in a brace screamed in pain, sharp and hot. He ignored it.

"Clyde!" Micah shouted. His voice was nearly swallowed by the rain. He limped forward, half-running, half-stumbling toward the man ahead.

Clyde was walking slowly, as if he did not feel the rain at all. His hair clung to his face, darkened and dripping. Water ran down his coat, down his sleeves, off his fingertips. He looked lost.

"Clyde!" Micah called again, louder this time. He finally reached him and grabbed his arm.

Clyde stiffened.

The rain soaked Micah completely as he stood there, breathless, holding on as if afraid Clyde might vanish if he let go.

Clyde turned his head slightly, eyes meeting Micah’s for a brief second... then darting away.

That single movement hurt more than the rain, more than the pain in his ankle. Micah’s chest tightened. Why wouldn’t he look at him?

His heart ached painfully. Did he stop loving him? Was Clyde really that disappointed in him? Because of tonight’s plan? Because he remembered their first life? The one Micah had been with those four bastards?

Micah pressed his lips together, staring at Clyde’s silent profile. Water ran down Clyde’s face, but Micah could not tell if it was only rain. Clyde’s shoulders were tense. He lowered his head, avoiding Micah’s gaze completely. The sight made Micah’s throat burn.

"Why are you out in this weather? Can’t you see it’s raining cats and dogs?" Micah demanded, voice trembling despite himself. He squeezed Clyde’s cold, frozen fingers. "Why didn’t you take the car? Why are you just walking around? Are you out of your mind?"

Clyde said nothing.

Micah’s grip tightened. "You’re soaking wet," he said urgently. "You’ll get sick like this. You’ll catch a cold or worse. What were you thinking?"

He pulled on Clyde’s arm. "Come on, let’s go home."

Clyde did not resist, but he did not move properly either. He was stiff and heavy,

deadweight in Micah’s grip.

Micah struggled, his bad ankle slipping slightly on the wet pavement.

"Move, please," Micah said, panic rising. "Don’t be like this."

His chest felt tight. Could this be his fault? Was tonight really that unbearable for him? Did he push him too far? Or had he guessed right?

Rain splashed around their feet, the sound loud and endless. The street was nearly empty, only a few distant cars passing, their headlights cutting briefly through the grey curtain.

"If you’re pissed at me, then scold me!" Micah burst out. His voice shook. "Yell at me, blame me, do anything. But why are you wandering alone in the rain like this? If you want to leave me, just say it..."

His eyes stung. "I can’t stand seeing you like this. Why are you torturing yourself?"

Still, Clyde remained silent. The rain was the only sound between them. Then suddenly, Clyde reached out and caught Micah’s arm firmly.

Micah froze.

Clyde looked down at Micah’s feet, then at his face.

"You’re limping," Clyde said hoarsely. His voice sounded rough, like he had not spoken for a long time. "What’s with the brace..."

Micah blinked. "Huh? You were the one who dragged me to the hospital to get one..."

In that instant, something in Clyde seemed to wake up. The fog in his eyes cleared. Worry flooded his expression.

When Micah had first called out to him and grabbed him, Clyde had truly believed he was hallucinating. He had wanted to see Micah so badly that his exhausted mind had created an illusion.

It had taken several seconds, long, confusing seconds, for him to realise that the warmth of Micah’s hand, the sound of his voice, the rain soaking them both... It was real.

Micah was really here. Clyde pulled Micah closer without hesitation.

"Lean on me," Clyde said firmly. "Your foot will get worse if you stand like that."

Micah’s heart, which had been hanging in his throat, finally fell back into place. Relief washed over him so strongly that his knees almost went weak. He let out a shaky breath.

Clyde was still Clyde. He was still worried about him. He still talked to him so gently. Micah’s eyes filled with tears. Before he could stop himself, he stepped forward and threw himself into Clyde’s arms.

Clyde caught him, startled for a second by the sudden movement.

His body stiffened, then slowly relaxed. His expression melted. He wrapped his arms around Micah, holding him tightly against his chest.

"I’m sorry..." Clyde murmured into Micah’s wet hair.

The words were quiet, almost lost in the rain, but Micah heard them clearly. Micah buried his face into Clyde’s shoulder, gripping his coat. The familiar scent was faint under the rain, but it was still there.

His voice came out muffled. "Don’t disappear like that again. If you are angry, if you are disappointed in me, just say it to my face instead of brooding alone..."

Clyde closed his eyes briefly. "It’s not like that... I just needed to cool off. I was afraid that I hurt you with my angry words..."

"I’m sorry... I am to blame for doing something like that without telling you the reason first... I was just desperate. I wanted to deal with him and end it quickly..." Micah said, voice muffling in the rain. But Clyde heard every word with the sincerity and remorse in them.

"I understand. Let’s talk at home." Clyde said, voice low and steady.

Headlights approached. The bodyguards hurried over, one holding a large umbrella over them, trying to block the rain. The other helped guide them carefully back to the car.

Both Micah and Clyde were already soaked through, clothes heavy and cold against their skin.

They were silent on the way back, sitting close together. Rain continued to pour outside, blurring the world beyond the windows.

When they arrived at the apartment building, Emile and Dean were already waiting in the lobby, faces tight with worry. The moment they saw Micah and Clyde, both drenched and pale, Emile gasped. "What happened to you two?!"

He rushed forward and grabbed Micah’s hand.

Micah was still leaning against Clyde slightly.

Emile’s eyes dropped and froze on Micah’s ankle brace. "...Your foot."

Dean stepped in to support Clyde, who was also unsteady from the cold.

"Call the family doctor," Clyde ordered immediately, voice firm despite his condition.

Dean nodded. "I’ll do it now."

They guided them into the elevator. The ride up felt too slow. Back inside the apartment, warm air finally wrapped around them, but both Micah and Clyde were already shivering.

Emile quickly found some towels and draped them, trying to dry them.

Even then, Micah could not stop trembling. Clyde looked no better.

Micah pushed Clyde to the bathroom. "Go take a hot shower."

Clyde wanted to refuse, insisting on helping Micah first. But the silver-haired boy gave him a pleading look. Clyde pursed his lips and walked out.

Emile tried to help Micah to the bathroom.

"I can manage," Micah insisted, forcing a weak smile. He limped away alone.

In the living room, Emile and Dean exchanged quiet glances. Both of them had noticed. Micah’s ankle.

The brace.

It was in the exact same place as Asena’s injury earlier that day. Could it be just a coincidence?