From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 660: Brotherhood According to Someone Who Has No Brothers

Chapter 660: Brotherhood According to Someone Who Has No Brothers

Micah sat beside Clyde’s bed like a statue, already losing track of time.

The room was quiet except for the low hum of the heater and the soft, uneven sound of Clyde’s breathing. Sweat still clung to Clyde’s hairline, even after Micah had dried it earlier. His skin looked paler than usual against the white pillow, lashes resting quietly over closed eyes, expression peaceful, as if nothing had happened.

There was only silence. And his own spiralling thoughts.

Why did he go out into the rain? Micah leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers tangling into his silver hair until his scalp hurt.

Was it just because he remembered Micah had been with those four men in their first life? Because he’d handled things on his own again? Because he’d hidden his plan? Because Clyde had found out too late?

His chest tightened. Clyde had gotten sick because of him. That was a fact Micah couldn’t twist or soften.

Last night, through chattering teeth and soaked clothes, Clyde had still looked at him with that dark, wounded gaze and said, "You don’t trust me."

Micah bit his lower lip hard enough to taste iron.

What had he done? What had he missed? Wasn’t Clyde the one who knew the most about him? More than his family. More than anyone.

Yes, Micah had kept things from him, but at the time, he’d thought it was the right choice. To protect him. To avoid dragging him into danger.

Clyde had secrets too. So why did it feel like Micah was the one who had failed?

Micah slowly lifted his head and looked at Clyde’s sleeping face. Even sick, Clyde looked guarded. Distant. Like there was a wall Micah had just realised existed, and he had no idea when it had been built.

Micah drifted, procrastinating, deep in his own world. His thoughts tangled tighter and tighter, until he barely noticed the door opening. A shadow moved closer. Then a hand reached out and gently pressed between his brows.

Micah flinched.

"You keep frowning like that, you’re going to age ten years," a familiar voice murmured. "I thought celebrities were supposed to protect their faces like national treasures."

Micah blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. His eyes focused.

Darcy was leaning toward him, black hair falling over his eyes as he squinted critically at Micah’s face.

Micah exhaled slowly. "When did you get here?"

"Just now." Darcy dropped into the chair beside him, stretching his legs out. "I came to check on you." His gaze slid to the bed. "How is he doing?"

Micah looked back at Clyde, voice low. "Just a cold. Tests came back clear. No flu, no infection."

"That’s good." Darcy tilted his head. "So why do you look like someone just told you the world’s ending?"

Micah’s jaw tightened. "I don’t."

Darcy snorted. "Please. I’ve known you long enough to read that face. You look like you swallowed regret and it’s not going down." He paused. "Don’t tell me you two fought again?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

Micah shot him an annoyed look. "No, we are okay."

Darcy pressed further. "Then what is it? I’m already tired of babysitting you. Grow up!"

Micah threw a punch at his side. "I’m older, you jerk."

Darcy dodged it skillfully. "Come on, try something new. Even teasing you is starting to get boring! The same thing every time, resolving to violence..."

"Some people never learn, no matter how much I tell them off." Micah shot him a death glare. "What can I do except use my fists to put some sense into their heads?"

Darcy clicked his tongue. "Yeah? And is that your way of saying you’ve given up on using your brain?"

Micah groaned. "If you’re here to mock me, go away. I’m not in the mood."

He pushed at Darcy’s back, but Darcy planted his feet and didn’t budge.

"Nope. I don’t want to." He jerked his thumb toward the hallway. "Out there is chaos...They keep asking questions. ’How is he?’ ’What happened?’ ’Are they dating?’ I’m this close to faking a fainting spell just to escape."

Micah paused. "Are you sulking or something?"

Darcy leaned back on the chair, arms behind his head. "Can’t I?" he looked at the ceiling. "I thought you cared about me."

Micah stared at him, dumbfounded. "Where is this coming from? Since when did you become this mushy?" he rubbed his arms. "Ewww... goosebumps..."

Darcy straightened and threw a look at him full of disdain. "Cut the crap. I still haven’t settled the score with you for pushing me into that family interrogation. They grilled me like I was your personal spokesperson. Seriously! They drove me crazy. Tch... You knew that would happen and still sent me in there."

Micah’s lips twitched despite himself. "That’s what brothers are for."

Darcy squinted. "We’re not..."

Micah slung an arm around his shoulders and ruffled his hair aggressively. "Pranks. Suffering. Mutual betrayal. Deep loyalty. Classic brotherhood. We’ll experience all of them!"

Darcy’s expression went blank as Micah kept messing up his hair. "Whatever floats your boat, bro. Really...You have a very warped understanding of brotherhood."

"Maybe," Micah said softly, smile fading just a little. "But I always wanted something like this."

Darcy stopped trying to fix his hair. The teasing air shifted. After a moment, he said quietly, "You know... I heard brothers sometimes confide in each other too."

Micah stopped in his tracks. "Really?" 𝘧𝓇ℯ𝑒𝓌𝑒𝑏𝓃𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝒸ℴ𝓂

Darcy shrugged. "I guess I can try."

Micah stared at Clyde again. His voice dropped. "What should I do... to make him rely on me?"

Darcy didn’t answer right away.

Micah continued, words coming out rough. "He didn’t say a word about feeling sick. The doctor asked for symptoms and that’s when I realised he’d had a headache. Dizziness. Vision problems." His fingers tightened. "Why didn’t he tell me? Am I not someone he feels he can rely on?"

Darcy’s expression softened. He reached up and patted the arm Micah still had around him. "Have you tried putting yourself in his shoes? I am not close to Clyde, but I know enough. He grew up alone."

"Haiz, not alone, but under an abusive father." Micah cut in.

Darcy’s jaw tightened. "That’s even worse. That means the one person who should have cared didn’t. You think someone like that just magically learns how to lean on people?"

Micah’s throat felt tight.

"He probably learned that pain is something you deal with alone," Darcy said gently. "Because asking for help never worked."

Micah’s gaze dropped. The explanation hurt, but it made sense.

Darcy slowly straightened and, after a second of hesitation, awkwardly patted Micah’s head. "Stop sitting here torturing yourself," he said. "You’re overthinking again."

Micah didn’t move. "Then what should I do?"

Darcy met his eyes. "Talk to him. Not as someone trying to fix everything. Just... tell him you want to be there. And ask what he needs."

There was a pause."You know...Communication is the key to a relationship. Just ask him." Darcy added.

Micah leaned slightly into the touch, eyes stinging. He nodded quietly.