CHAPTER 320: HAZEL DEFIANCE, PALE BLUE FIRE (PART 1)

Micah was leaning casually against the reception desk, his shoulder relaxed, his voice carrying the rhythm of someone who belonged anywhere he stepped into. The clinic staff were laughing with him, drawn into the warmth of his grin, the boy’s energy spilling over and brightening the quiet environment.

Clyde returned at last, steps deliberate, his mood weighted down by the endless lecture Uncle Lin had bestowed upon him. The corner of his mouth twitched as he took in the sight before him. Micah, animated, glowing eyes bright with mischief, looked completely opposite of what Uncle Lin had just described.

This was the same boy who, according to Lin, sulked, brooded, and acted like he was annoyed by him, ready to run away.

He stepped closer, and the quiet authority of his presence filled the space like a gust of cold wind. It was subtle but immediate; the laughter faded, the warmth vanished. Every staff member stiffened and straightened, their polite, professional smiles snapping right back into place.

Micah noticed instantly. He turned his head, silver hair sliding down across his forehead in a careless sweep. Without his glasses, his eyes sparkled with amusement, lips curled into a smug smile. "Why did you take so long?"

Clyde didn’t answer right away. He merely stared, his pale eyes unreadable, until his shoulder slumped with a quiet sigh. What would be the point of arguing with him? He would let the boy get his way anyway. Besides, tonight would be the last evening they spent together until next weekend. No sense wasting it in petty squabbles.

Clyde gave the staff a small nod and turned, striding toward the exit.

Micah chuckled under his breath, the soft, knowing laugh that irritated and amused Clyde at the same time. He waved the staff goodbye, his cheer still lingering, before jogging after him.

Outside, the air was cooler, carrying the smell of fresh rain. Clyde’s long strides were slowed to an almost casual pace, but his silence spoke volumes. Micah easily caught up, practically bouncing on his heels.

"Hey," Micah teased, leaning forward, trying to peek at Clyde’s expression. "Are you sulking?" His silver hair fell like silk across his cheekbones as he tilted his head, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Clyde’s face remained impassive, a perfect mask, betraying nothing. His jawline was sharp, lips were clamped shut.

Micah’s interest only grew. "Wow! Don’t tell me it was your first time? How did it feel?"

Still no answer.

Micah’s eyes widened, as though he had discovered a great secret. "Come on! Lighten up! Getting scolded was practically my daily routine." Micah laughed, stretching his hand over Clyde’s shoulder, leaning against him like a coat. "It’s not that bad. You’ll get used to it."

Clyde opened the car door without a word, sliding into the driver’s seat, ignoring Micah. His hand gripped the wheel a shade tighter than necessary, the muscle in his jaw flexing once before stilling again.

Micah looked at his new empty hand, his excitement only growing. He liked this version of Clyde, brooding, refusing to indulge him. Gone was the usual teasing, the lecturing, that faint glimmer of amusement in his icy eyes. It was the side Micah hadn’t seen before. This Clyde, who shut him out and let irritation spill through his composure, was far more entertaining. Thrilling, even. Micah itched to push his buttons more.

Micah slid into the passenger seat in a good mood. He filled the silence as Clyde drove, telling stories of his past escapades, recounting every scolding he had endured as if they were grand adventures. He gestured animatedly, his voice rising and falling, his laughter filling the car. Clyde gave no reply, but his eyes flicked sideways once, brief as lightning, before fixing back on the road.

But then the car slowed, pulling to a stop. Micah paused and looked out the window. His brows knit together. "Why are we here?"

They were parked outside his apartment, the one near the university. The same one he had once brought Darcy to.

"I thought you couldn’t stand me. So this is where I leave you... Go on." Clyde said flatly, voice too calm.

Micah stared at him. Then, suddenly barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. "You’re actually showing your temper. What a surprise."

Clyde tilted his head slightly, his pale blue eyes narrowing. "I’m serious."

Micah pressed his lips together to smother another laugh, but his shoulder shook. Finally, he sighed, rubbing at the corner of his eye where a tear from laughter threatened to spill. "I know, I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t think Grandpa Lin actually scolded you. I was just annoyed earlier, that’s all."

Micah’s voice softened, his smile gentler now. "You know he considers himself your elder. He only preached because he cares. So, don’t sulk like a grumpy old man, alright?"

Clyde pursed his lips. "Again with the old man?"

Micah leaned in, lifting a finger, and smoothed the crease on Clyde’s forehead. "See? You will be if you keep frowning like that." His finger rubbed lightly at the skin, playful and tender at the same time.

Clyde caught Micah’s wrist in an instant, his cool grip tightening just enough to hold him still. "And why do you think I do that so often?"

"I don’t know, why?" Micah blinked, feigning ignorance.

Clyde’s eyes locked into his, sharp and unflinching. "Because of a stray cat I picked up one day. He’s been giving me quite a headache every single day since."

Micah’s eyebrow twitched. His nonchalant expression couldn’t be maintained anymore. "Oh? Where is it then? Why haven’t I seen them?"

"He doesn’t stay still. Always running around, always making trouble," Clyde replied, his gaze unyielding.

"Well, you could always give it to someone else. There are plenty of cat lovers out there who’d take..." Micah couldn’t finish. His words were cut short when Clyde yanked the already gripped wrist forward.

In sudden motion, Micah was pulled into Clyde’s arms, his chest pressed against him, his face inches from Clyde’s neck. His breath caught, his heart stumbled, every nerve on edge.

"I don’t think anyone could put up with his antics like I do," Clyde murmured, his voice low, velvety, carrying that quiet danger Micah both hated and craved.

Micah froze, heat rushing to his ears. Something in Clyde’s tone, it was too steady, too assured, made his pride flare, made his pulse stumble between thrill and humiliation. Did Clyde really think he could hold him like a tamed thing? That thought alone snapped the last of Micah’s composure. "You think so?" His eyes challenged him, hazel flickering with defiance.

"But maybe you are right," Clyde continued, his tone deliberately thoughtful. "I should let him go."

Micah’s temper exploded like sparks to dry tinder. "You dare!" His voice rose, sharp, fierce. He lunged forward, his teeth sinking into the base of Clyde’s neck without hesitation.

"You should take responsibility! Who said you can just play with them then let go as you please?" Micah whispered in Clyde’s ear.

Clyde winced, a faint hiss escaping his throat, though his grip never loosened. His eyes darkened, heat pooling in their depth. "I think I’ve been too lenient," he muttered, his voice a shade deeper. "Now he even bites."

Micah glared at him, lips brushing the skin he had just marked. "Be careful. He might scratch you too." His voice was edged with challenge.

Their eyes met. Hazel defiance locked with pale blue intensity, neither willing to look away.

And then Clyde chuckled, a deep sound that resonated in Micah’s chest. "What can I say? I am starting to look forward to it."

Micah’s blood boiled at that, irritation sparking anew. Why wasn’t this man afraid of him? Why did he always twist things back around, leaving Micah the one unsettled? His fingers twitched, and for a tempting moment, he really did want to take his nails across Clyde’s perfect, unbothered face.