From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)
Chapter 162: Not Kind, Just Guilty

Chapter 162: Not Kind, Just Guilty

Inside the apartment, Micah stared at the chaos, clothes scattered all over the floor. A pair of thigh-high socks hung halfway off the couch, and the jean skirt from last night was sitting crumpled right by the door like evidence left at a crime scene.

He scratched his cheek and let out a chuckle. "Oh man," he muttered. "If he saw this, how could I explain it? My sister changes clothes in the middle of the living room?! Won’t he think we are a bunch of perverts?! Or worse he’ll suspect I was crossdressing?!"

Shaking his head, Micah crouched down and hurriedly scooped up everything into his arms, the skirt, the baggy t-shirt and those horrible breast pads. He stuffed them into the nearest closet with zero ceremony and shoved the door shut with his hip. He kicked the flat shoes under the couch, grabbed his bag from the table, and checked the room quickly to make sure nothing else betrayed his last night’s crossdressing.

Once the mess was out of sight, he took a deep breath and opened the door again. "Sorry..." he said, forcing a casual smile as he stepped aside to let Clyde in.

Clyde raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. There was a flicker of amusement on his face. Of course, his eyes had caught the sight of the jean skirt on the ground before Micah shut the door.

"Come in. I’ll just grab my bag and we can go. I won’t come back here again." Micah said.

Clyde stepped inside, glancing briefly around the apartment, then looked at Micah. "Going back to the dorm?"

"No," Micah said, heading toward his room without looking back. "I thought I could crash at your place again."

Clyde was taken aback. "What?"

Micah turned his head halfway, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Why are you surprised?"

"Huh?" Clyde blinked. Of course, he was surprised. He had to drag the boy to his house last night. Now, he was suggesting going there himself?!

"I’m hiding from my family, obviously," Micah said, walking back toward the living room with his backpack and sketches in hand. "And it’s all your fault, you know. Your stupid appearance at uni made headlines and now my family wants to know who you are."

He let the bag drop to the floor with a thud onto the arm of the couch, arms crossed. "They keep asking me how I met you, what kind of relationship we have... Like I am some naive girl caught up with a mysterious rich guy... they are overreacting." Micah huffed, running a hand through his hair. "Yesterday morning, they teased and interrogated me until I had to flee. I am not going back to the dorm, either. My roommates are worse!"

Micah shot a pointed glance at Clyde. "Shouldn’t you take some responsibility?"

Clyde stared at him for a second, unsure whether to laugh or frown. Micah looked like a spoiled child having a tantrum. His cheeks were a little flushed from talking too fast, his lips in a pout.

Truthfully, Micah hadn’t planned it all that much. He had stepped into his cold apartment earlier and remembered how easily he had fallen asleep at Clyde’s house the night before. No tossing, no racing thoughts, just warmth and quiet. It was weird. Peaceful. Kind of addictive.

He also realised he didn’t have half the basics at home. His only towel was still lying on the ground from yesterday. The thought of takeout or going out to eat again made him groan internally. At Clyde’s place, he could at least expect home-cooked food, even delicious ones. That, and, Micah didn’t want to admit it, but the house felt safe.

Still, remembering the girly clothes on the floor made him grimace again. Clyde’s earlier fake girlfriend suggestion flashed in his head, and for some reason, it annoyed him. Even though the skirt was his, even though he wore it, even though he was the girl Clyde had suggested to... it still irritated him.

He decided to make trouble for Clyde instead.

Micah picked up his bag and headed toward the door, tossing a "let’s go," over his shoulder, not caring about Clyde’s opinion.

******

Back at Clyde’s house, Micah walked through the front door like he owned the place and slumped onto the couch unceremoniously. He stretched his legs out and let his head drop against the cushion, letting out an exhausted sigh.

Clyde followed after him slowly, watching the performance with a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth. He closed the door behind him and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Micah’s brain circuit was hard to understand. One moment, he was bouncing with energy, even cozying up to him. The next, he was behaving like an overlord, ordering him around.

Micah reminded him more and more of a cat. Moody, sharp-tongued and unpredictable!

But he didn’t mind it. He even liked it when Micah showed his claws a little. At least it meant he wasn’t avoiding him...

Micah glanced at Clyde. The man just rubbed the bridge of his nose and then without a word disappeared into his room. A minute later, he came back with more comfortable clothes, holding a laptop under one arm. He sat down on the couch not far from Micah and opened the screen. The soft click of keys filled the quiet space.

Micah’s eyes widened. The man totally ignored him. Micah huffed and turned his back to the man.

He grabbed his phone and opened his messages. His family had left a trail of teasing texts, plus a couple more serious ones scolding him for running away. Micah sighed and tapped out a few replies just to let them know he was alive. He knew they weren’t actually mad, just worried.

Then he checked the next batch of messages, his roommates had joined the chaos.

Heroes of 306:

GourmetGuru: Hey heartthrob, where the hell are you?! @RogueOverLord

FastTrackChamp: Come back, we swear we won’t tease you this time.

GourmetGuru: No way! Are you really curled up in your boyfriend’s lap crying right now?!

PeppyPanda: Wait...are you dating that guy? What happened to Darcy?!

FastTrackChamp: What does this have to do with Darcy?

PeppyPanda: Haha... nothing...👀

GourmetGuru: You still owe us a fancy dinner! Come back! I swear I won’t talk about the post. Seriously, I can’t stomach instant noodles or street food anymore!

Micah clicked his tongue and typed.

RogueOverlord: Back tomorrow. Pick a restaurant.

With that, he exited the chat group and scrolled down until he saw a name he cared about.

Darcy.

DescendantoftheDarkOne: My mum and Nora were asking about you. Want to come over?

RogueOverlord: Sorry, I just saw this. I am stuck somewhere. Maybe later this week.

Micah’s expression turned quiet, eyes drooping just slightly. He hadn’t figured out how to deal with Flora yet. He wanted to help. But how? What was the right method? Risking his own life?

He sighed, loudly.

"What is it?" Clyde asked, without looking up from his laptop.

Micah glanced at him, hesitating. "I want to talk to someone at La Riviere Pharmaceutical," he said, voice casual but eyes sharp, watching for any reaction. "But I don’t think they would meet me all of a sudden..."

Micah feigned ignorance. He knew Clyde was from the Du Pont family. Surely he could introduce him to someone from there.

Clyde paused his typing. "Why? What’s the problem??"

Micah shifted a bit. "My friend’s mother has MS. They introduced a new drug. My friend wants to know how it works. If it’s safe. Stuff like that."

"Friend?" Clyde asked, voice turning cold slightly.

Micah nodded. "Umm, he’s had a rough life. I want to help him if I can."

There was a pause. Clyde closed his laptop gently, then said, "I know someone working there. I’ll try to get you in touch with one of their directors. You can meet them and ask directly."

Micah’s eyes lit up. "Really?" he said, grinning. "Cool!"

Without another word, he turned his back on Clyde and started typing again.

RogueOverlord: Did your mother start the new drug yet? If not, I am planning to head to La Riviere Pharmaceutical to ask questions. I am not sure when they are available though. Want to come with me?

Darcy replied instantly.

DescendantoftheDarkOne: That would be great. We are still not sure about it. Honestly, you’ve helped us so much. I don’t know how to thank you.

Micah pursed his lips reading the text. It wasn’t kindness...

It was guilt.

Clyde watched Micah’s expression turning from beaming to a sad one. His interest in that friend peaked. Who was he? Why did he have such an influence on Micah?