CHAPTER 557: DAMN OVERBEARING? HIM? PLEASE.

Morning light slid through the passenger-side window, soft but cold, casting a pale grey glow over the world outside that made everything look slightly washed-out: buildings, sidewalks, and even the students wandering toward the campus with backpacks slung over their shoulders.

Micah stared out at them as if he were looking through a thick pane of glass instead of a car window. His breath fogged faintly against the glass. He sighed, long and slow, shoulders sagging.

Clyde glanced sideways from the driver’s seat. "Should I turn around? Wouldn’t it be better if you rested a bit more?" he said, voice low, trying to sound casual, but the worry had already slipped through every word.

Micah didn’t look at him. "No. I already took too many days off." He shifted his bag in his lap and pressed his fingers against the strap. "If I miss more, they won’t let me take the final exam."

Clyde’s brows knitted together. "But you still look pale."

"I’m fine," Micah replied, though his tone held none of his usual bite or sarcasm. It was simply tired. "I prefer to keep my mind busy right now."

The answer made Clyde’s jaw tighten. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel once, thinking. "Text me when you finish classes," he said finally. "I’ll drop you off at the set."

"Alright." Micah nodded.

But that didn’t soothe Clyde’s worry at all. If anything, something inside him twisted even tighter. Because neither Micah’s nod nor words had their usual playful and lively tone. They were monotone and stiff. Like he was trying to convince himself he was okay.

Clyde pressed his lips together. He was dying from curiosity, from fear, from everything he had seen in Micah’s expression when he woke up shaking and vomiting earlier. He wanted to know what Micah had dreamed. He wanted to help him. He wanted to carry all of it for him so Micah wouldn’t have to. But Micah didn’t want to talk about it. And Clyde didn’t want to push. Not when Micah had looked so brittle this morning, and Clyde had feared pushing him would only make things much worse.

Instead, Micah insisted on going to campus, pushing through like nothing was wrong, acting as if the nightmare hadn’t shaken him to the core.

Clyde tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he drove through the traffic. He was worried enough that he had already texted his nephew, telling him to stick with Micah today, keep an eye on him, and not leave him alone.

After crawling through the traffic, they finally arrived at the west gate, where students were chatting and waving at each other. Clyde pulled into a nearby spot and parked the car.

Micah grabbed his bag and reached for the door. "I’m off then."

Before he could escape, Clyde reached and caught his wrist. "Wait."

Micah paused halfway out of the seat and turned his head. "Hmm?"

"Promise me you’ll be careful."

Micah blinked, then snorted lightly. "I’m not going to war. Just a class with a dozen students."

"You know what I mean." Clyde’s voice dropped, the concern no longer masked. "Don’t be rash. And... Let’s talk. The three of us, okay?"

Micah raised an eyebrow at him, something dry flickering in his expression. "Now you are willing to be upfront with me?"

Clyde shut his eyes briefly. "Sorry. I was scared..." He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. "But I don’t want you to feel alone in this. You have me. You have your family and... Even Darcy."

Micah’s expression softened. He smiled faintly, the corner of his mouth curling just a bit. "I know. Don’t worry." He lifted a hand and gave a small wave. "See you later."

Then he shut the car door and walked off, backpack hanging loosely on one shoulder.

Clyde watched the young man’s lonely back retreat into the crowd. His chest ached painfully.

He knew he had been stupid. He had acted all righteous, wanting to protect Micah, shielding him, controlling the situation, but instead, he had ended up hurting the young man’s feelings. Hurting his trust. Disturbing the fragile sanctuary he had built for Micah.

Micah did not and would not confide in him anymore.

Clyde dropped his head, shoulders slumping forward as he gripped the steering wheel with both hands. His knuckles whitened.

He needed to fix this. To make it up to Micah. Now that Micah already knew what had happened to him, how he had died in their past lives, why was he still hesitating? What was the reason for him to keep hiding it so tightly?

Perhaps it was not necessary to tell Micah that he had lived countless times. Maybe he could just say it was a long dream. Then figure out, together, how exactly Micah wanted to deal with them.

Yes. That way, he might still have a chance to gain Micah’s trust again.

******

Micah walked across the campus courtyard, the crisp wind brushing against his cheeks. He shivered and drew his jacket tighter around himself. Students hurried past him, laughter echoing faintly between buildings, but Micah drifted through it like a ghost, his mind still fogged from the morning.

As he neared the entrance to his building, he spotted a familiar figure leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression already annoyed.

"Hey," Micah called, one eyebrow rising. "What are you doing here?"

Emile gave him a deadpan look. "Funny you ask," he said. "Of course, I was summoned for guard duty."

Micah couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped out. "Ah. That explains it. I thought it was strange that your uncle let me go easily." He patted Emile’s shoulder in sympathy. "My condolences, buddy."

Emile scowled. "And you are fine with that? I don’t get why you let him be so damn overbearing with you."

Emile omitted the rest of what he wanted to say: How can my Little uncle act like a jackass, screwing around with a girl while also monitoring Micah like a hawk? But he couldn’t just drop this bomb without evidence. So he swallowed it.

Micah paused and threw a look at him over his shoulder. "Come again?"

How the hell did Emile conclude that in their relationship, Clyde was the dominant one?

Hmph! He was the one who had the final say in everything.