From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)
Chapter 53: Golden Light, Heavy Heart

Chapter 53: Golden Light, Heavy Heart

The beach was quiet, except for the gentle lull of waves brushing against the shore. The late afternoon sun cast a golden hue over the fine sands. Darcy spotted the familiar white hair before he saw the boy’s full figure. Micah was crouched near the waterline, his arms hugging his knees tightly. He was too still, too small against the endless horizon.

Panicked, Darcy slammed the car door shut and jogged toward him, sand crunching beneath him.

But then he heard sniffing, and he stopped.

"Micah..." he called gently, his voice was filled with uncertainty.

The boy was startled by the sound. Micah flinched, his body losing balance. With legs that gone numb from sitting too long in one position, he fell back into the sand. His palm hit the ground beside him to break the fall, sand clinging to his skin.

Darcy, seeing his reaction, didn’t move. But when Micah raised the same hand to wipe his face, he bolted toward him.

"Don’t!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing? You’ll get sand in your eyes."

Darcy knelt in front of him, reaching out to grab Micah’s hands.

Micah froze at the touch. His whole body tensed, and he jerked his head away, hiding his face from Darcy.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried in front of others. He, the almighty young master of the Ramsy family, had become a pile of mush. He swallowed hard. What right did he even have to cry? What was worse was the real young master had to console him and care about his feelings. His ears burned. Even the back of his neck turned red with shame.

Darcy, still crouched, gently released Micah’s hand and fumbled through his pockets. After a moment, he pulled out a neatly folded tissue. He reached toward Micah’s face, only to pause when the boy shrank back.

He didn’t push it. Instead, he took Micah’s sand-covered hand and carefully began wiping it clean.

"There is a tap near the car. It’s better to wash your face... and your eyes too." Darcy said while working slowly, making sure no grains were left in the creases of his palm. His gaze lingered on Micah’s fingers, pale, slender with smooth skin, marvelling at how this mischievous boy could have such hands. They looked like they belonged to a pianist... it was surprising that someone this reckless could have hands so... Untouched?!

Darcy’s gaze shifted to his own hand. Rough, and callused, the skin along the knuckles hardened from long hours working part-time jobs. His hands told a different story.

Micah flinched again when Darcy’s rough fingers gently wrapped around his wrists. But this time, he didn’t pull away.

"Can you stand?" Darcy asked, voice low.

Micah gave a small shake of his head, eyes still averted. "My legs... they are numb."

Darcy paused, then moved forward, without much warning, he slipped one arm behind Micah’s back and the other around his waist.

"Ehhh... what are you doing?" Micah yelped, face flushing.

Darcy lifted him effortlessly and leaned him into his body.

"We can’t stay here any longer. The sun had already burned your nap and arms. Haven’t you heard about UV rays? This time of day’s the worst."

Micah opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a weak huff. He couldn’t say it wasn’t because of the sun that he was red, but rather from embarrassment... Not to mention, he wasn’t some frail delicate young girl to care about tanning. Standing on his shaky feet, Micah was half dragged and half walked to the parking area.

Darcy didn’t let go of his hold on Micah and leaned forward to turn on the tap.

Being this close to Darcy made Micah feel uncomfortable. He tested his legs, they were starting to regain some feeling.

"I can do it myself," Micah uttered, hobbling sideways. He splashed cold water over his face, rubbing vigorously in an attempt to erase the puffiness and redness around his eyes.

"Stop!" Darcy scolded, stepping forward. "If you keep rubbing like that, they’ll get worse."

Micah paused and straightened slowly.

Darcy watched him for a moment before asking. "Can you drive? Or should we wait for the shuffle bus?"

Micah belatedly realised he had driven here without asking Darcy’s work schedule.

"Yeah, I can. Do you need to go somewhere?" Micah said with a strained voice, not meeting Darcy’s eyes.

"No, I cancelled during the ride over." Darcy looked away, scratching the back of his neck. "I am not in the right mind to deal with rude customers."

He almost asked why Micah had been crying but held back. Knowing how thin-skinned Micah could be, he feared the boy would freak out again.

Still, now that they were attending the same university, Darcy figured he had more chances to watch and figure him out. Maybe Micag was just overly sensitive or maybe a total crybaby?

But that didn’t quite add up. Even with a stab wound, the boy hadn’t teared up and had held his straight posture with stubborn pride. The impression Micah gave off was an arrogant, prideful young man, with too much energy to spend, not at all delicate or hypersensitive.

Meanwhile, Micah went back to the car silently, His thoughts racing. He felt he had given himself away. His reaction to Darcy’s words was far from normal, rather too emotional. When someone like him, a blunt spoiled rich kid, heard the sad experiences of others, he wasn’t supposed to feel moved by them. He should have scoffed or brushed it off with a dumb joke. Instead, he had cried.

How could he have the passion to sympathize with the poor?!

Fear filled his mind. The more time he spent around Darcy, the harder it was to keep everything hidden. He didn’t want the truth to come out yet.

The ride back was quiet, the only sound coming from the soft music playing on the radio. No one spoke.

By the time they pulled up to the narrow alley near Darcy’s neighbourhood, the sun had moved low.

"Thank you," Darcy said as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "If it wasn’t for your help today, I wouldn’t have been able to get my mother’s medicine."

Micah nodded slightly, unable to find his voice.

Darcy stepped out. "See you next time," he added, giving a small wave before disappearing into the alley.

Micah watched him go, the figure slowly swallowed by shadows.

"It won’t be next time..." Micah whispered to himself. His hands gripped the steering wheel again before he reversed the car and pressed on the gas pedal hard.

He drove to Ramsy Estate. He realised he had gotten too close. Yeah, he wanted to help Darcy and gain his trust. But he understood that with every step, every contact, the truth became harder to carry. Learning about Darcy’s life, and his struggles, only made Micah’s role in this cruel twist of fate feel more like that of a heartless bastard.

No, he needed to hurry. Yes, He should prepare everything quickly. If he dealt with the four gongs sooner, then Darcy also could go back to Ramsy’s family where he belonged more quickly.

And he would be free from all these burdens.