From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 661: Unpaid Therapist, Unwilling Witness

Micah and Darcy stayed like that for a while, shoulders touching, voices gone quiet, the earlier teasing fading into something softer. The room felt warmer than before, the air heavy with the low hum of the heater and the steady rhythm of Clyde’s breathing.

Micah had just started to relax when a hoarse voice drifted across the room.

"So," Clyde murmured, "how long was I asleep for you to forget I exist?"

Both of them froze. Micah jolted like he’d been caught doing something wrong. He shoved Darcy away on instinct and shot to his feet too fast, pain flaring up in his injured ankle.

"Ah!" He sucked in a breath but ignored it, already leaning over the bed. "You’re up!" His hand went straight to Clyde’s forehead, fingers gentle as he checked for a fever. "How do you feel? Dizzy? Headache still there?"

Clyde looked up at him through sleepy eyes, lips curved faintly. "No, just chest pain..."

Micah’s heart jumped to his throat. "What?" He stammered in panic. "Where did you say it hurt?

Clyde pointed to his heart. "Here. For a second it felt like I had left this world, trapped just watching you cuddle someone else."

Micah blinked. "Huh??"

Clyde saw the fright in Micah’s eyes, a pang of guilt stabbed his chest, regretting his words. "I’m joking," Clyde added, voice dry. "Could you fetch me some water? I’m thirsty."

Micah didn’t argue. He hurried to pour water, the glass clinking lightly as his hands moved faster than usual. He came back and slid an arm behind Clyde’s shoulders, helping him sit up.

"Slowly," Micah murmured. "Don’t rush."

Clyde took a sip, then another, eyes never leaving Micah’s face. But after a moment, his gaze shifted past him.

Darcy had straightened in the chair, posture suddenly stiff. He gave Clyde a small, subtle OK sign near his leg where Micah couldn’t see.

Clyde’s eyes sharpened for a second in understanding before he looked back at Micah.

"Did I interrupt you two?" he asked mildly.

Micah squinted at him, then reached over and pinched his cheek. "Your brain still buffering?"

Clyde caught Micah’s wrist before he could pull away. His hand was warm, grip gentle but firm.

"Am I not your boyfriend?" he asked quietly. "I’m sick, defenceless, tragically fragile... and you’re out here being affectionate with another man."

Darcy choked.

Micah stared at Clyde, then broke into a grin. "Wow! Are you jealous now? Isn’t it a bit late?"

Clyde hesitated just enough to be obvious. "Would that be... a problem? You wouldn’t like me anymore?"

Micah’s expression melted. "Who in their right mind wouldn’t like that?"

He cupped Clyde’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks. Up close, Clyde looked unfairly soft, and endearing like this, hair messy, eyes warm, voice still rough with sleep. If Darcy weren’t in the room, Micah would’ve kissed him already.

Darcy gagged loudly. "Okay, nope. I can physically feel my lifespan shortening. Please stop. I’m going to throw up my breakfast."

"By all means feel free to leave. The door is that way," Clyde pointed toward the exit.

Micah looked at the two men, totally lost. "What’s with you?" he asked Darcy. "What’s wrong? Why are you acting so childish?"

Darcy clicked his tongue. "Take off the rose-colored glasses once in a while. Who is childish in here?" he muttered, turning around, "whatever... I’m out of here. Adios lovebirds," he said, giving a lazy wave, then shoving it into his pocket before leaving the room.

The door clicked shut.

Micah stared after him. "What just happened?"

Clyde tugged lightly on his hand. Micah turned back. "Hm?"

"Leave him," Clyde said. "Probably late-onset puberty."

Micah huffed a laugh. Then his expression softened as he noticed Clyde watching him closely.

"Why are you still standing?" Clyde added. "Your ankle isn’t healed." He pulled on his wrist, making him sit down at the edge of the bed.

Micah shrugged. "Look at us. You’re sick, me half-broken. We’re a disaster couple." He sighed dramatically. "I should’ve scattered salt at the doors last night. Clearly, jealous people sent evil spirits after our love."

Clyde chuckled, the sound low and warm. "They thought you were a girl."

"And your point?" Micah raised an eyebrow. "Our love is real."

Clyde reached out and stroked Micah’s face. "Mmm," he hummed in agreement. "Did you rest? Want to sleep? See? I am fine."

Micah yawned right on cue.

Clyde smiled. "That answers it."

"I was watching you," Micah muttered, rubbing his eyes. "You scared me."

Clyde’s fingers tightened slightly against his cheek. "I’m okay now."

Micah nodded, already half-losing the fight with exhaustion. He carefully shifted and curled up beside Clyde, resting his head near his shoulder.

"Wake me if you feel worse," he mumbled.

"Alright," Clyde said softly.

Within minutes, Micah’s breathing evened out.

Clyde lay still, waiting until he was sure Micah was asleep. Then he slowly reached for his phone on the bedside table. Clyde unlocked the screen, noticing missed calls from his assistants and work stuff. He dismissed them and texted Darcy first.

RiverBridge: Who showed up?

DescendantOfTheDarkOne: Just like you predicted. Silas.

RiverBridge: Did he approach Micah directly?

DescendantOfTheDarkOne: No. Your man gave me a heads up when they couldn’t reach you. It was dealt with. He left the hospital.

RiverBridge: Thank you.

DescendantOfTheDarkOne: I did it for Micah. Not you.

RiverBridge: I know.

Clyde locked the screen. He had asked Darcy to be cautious, not letting those four get close to Micah.

Darcy’s "OK" sign earlier hadn’t been random. He had stayed to make sure Micah wasn’t alone, or going outside, especially with Silas nearby.

Clyde exhaled slowly. He would delay that meeting as long as he could.

Right now, Micah was vulnerable, trapped in a closed space as Zhou Ruyan had been hospitalised. Those four could easily encounter Micah here. Even if Clyde hid him, it didn’t matter as they could use force or bribery to locate him.

Clyde worried Micah’s emotional state was too unstable to handle those four. What if he softened toward them?

And worst of all... Micah still wasn’t fully his.

Clyde looked down at the sleeping figure curled against him, silver hair spilling across the blanket, hand loosely gripping his shirt even in sleep.

The fear of losing him was still sitting in Clyde’s chest... quiet, constant, and alive.