From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL) Chapter 556: Hold Me Until It Stops

Micah planted his hands on the floor and vomited so hard his vision blacked out for a second.

A pair of hands reached for him.

He panicked instantly. "Get away from !" he shouted, shoving wildly. "Don’t touch !"

The hands withdrew imdiately.

Micah braced himself on his palms and knees, breathing in sharp, uneven gasps. His stomach lurched again, and he retched even though nothing was left inside him. His throat burned. His eyes watered. The nightmare replayed rcilessly in his head like a cursed loop.

Aidan. The bed. His hand.

That was impossible. Like hell he would ever end up with Aidan in sothing that disgusting. He wanted to scream. Or punch sothing. Or punch Aidan. Or punch himself.

His thoughts scattered, frantic. When did Aidan kidnap him? Why couldn’t he rember? Where was he before all this?

Micah’s mind raced. He squeezed his eyes shut. Focus! he told himself. Just breathe. Calm down. You need to have the strength to beat the crap out of him.

But his stomach lurched again. He heaved dryly until his ribs hurt.

The room stayed silent except for his shaky breaths.

At least Aidan didn’t pester him again.

Micah wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and blinked several tis. When the vision solidified, he saw an unfamiliar room.

Micah gritted his teeth and turned his head. "You son of a bitch! You really did kid..." His words died.

It wasn’t Aidan standing there. It was Clyde.

Clyde stood a distance away, barefoot and dressed in loose sleepwear, his expression drawn tight with concern.

Micah blinked rapidly, as if still unsure of reality.

"What happened? Where does it hurt?" Clyde asked, voice shaky.

Micah swallowed hard. His throat felt raw. "Where am I?"

"In one of my apartnts," Clyde said gently. "Don’t you rember?"

Micah sat on the floor. "No..."

"Is it your stomach again?" Clyde asked, unsure.

"No..." Micah rubbed his forehead. His voice was small and tired. "I had a nightmare..." he lifted a shaky hand. "Can you...give a hand? I feel dizzy."

Clyde imdiately moved forward carefully and slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal. He helped Micah up and guided him to sit on the bed. Clyde’s hands hesitated before touching the soiled pyjama top.

Micah stared forward blankly, in a trance. The scene in his dream was too real. Too scary.

Clyde unfastened the buttons gently after seeing that Micah didn’t object.

Clyde took off the top, but the pants and Micah’s hair were dirty too. He sighed. "Let’s go to the bathroom."

Micah nodded numbly and leaned into Clyde, letting him support his weight.

The walk to the bathroom felt like an eternity, done in total silence. Micah’s mind replayed pieces of the nightmare in flickers, Aidan’s voice and his smirk. His skin prickled in disgust. Then the last scene... what Aidan was trying to say?

Inside the bathroom, he hovered at the sink. The mirror showed a pale, shaken version of himself. His eyes were wide, pupils still blown from panic.

Micah scrubbed his hands under hot water. Once. Twice. Again. And again. He washed so hard his skin turned red, but he couldn’t stop. His stomach twisted, the ghost sensation of that nightmare touch crawling up his arms.

He scrubbed until the soap ran out.

Outside, Clyde cleaned the floor silently. Every now and then, he paused, listening to the water running and Micah’s uneven breaths. He frowned, worry tightening his jaw.

Why had Micah reacted like that? What had he dread about? Why did he push him away so fiercely? Why did he throw up?

For a mont, Clyde had thought Micah was rejecting him, rejecting his touch, rejecting him personally. But then Micah had asked for help, leaned into him willingly. So Micah was okay with him?

Which ant the nightmare was bad. Really bad. And probably about the past.

Clyde was worried. Micah’s behaviour was too strange. The episode of confusion had increased. What if Micah had really dread about the past?

Why was this happening? Why should Micah rember the past? It was better that he never recall those awful mories.

How could he stop it?

His hands shook as he mopped the floor.

Micah eventually stepped out, damp hair clinging to his forehead. Clyde handed him a hoodie and a pair of pants and quietly left the room.

Micah quickly dressed up, pulling the hoodie on with trembling hands. When he stepped outside, Clyde stood up instantly. "Should I call the family doctor?"

"Nah. I am fine," Micah said, scratching the back of his neck. "Sorry about earlier."

Clyde shook his head. "You don’t need to apologise."

But he stayed still. He didn’t reach for Micah. Didn’t touch him. Didn’t step closer. His eyes flickered with hesitation as if he was afraid Micah would flinch again.

Micah noticed. He frowned, stepped forward, and hugged the man firmly. "Why are you hesitating?"

Clyde blinked, caught off guard. Then he wrapped his arms around him. "I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable."

Micah pressed his face into Clyde’s chest. "Idiot. You never will. Rember, you can always hug . I never reject you."

Clyde’s expression softened instantly, lting into sothing warm and relieved. "Okay."

Micah smiled, squeezing him tighter. "Can you make a honey water? My stomach hurts."

Clyde’s hand moved automatically to rub Micah’s stomach in slow circles. "Alright."

He tried to step away, but Micah clung stubbornly onto him like a koala.

Clyde chuckled under his breath and walked toward the kitchen with Micah still attached to him.

Clyde boiled water, mixed honey into it, and lifted the mug to Micah’s lips. "Here."

Micah took a sip, his arms still wrapped around Clyde’s waist.

Clyde fed him slowly, brushing his fingers over Micah’s cheek each ti he lowered the mug.

When Micah finished, Clyde leaned in and kissed him softly.

"Won’t you tell what it was about?" he whispered against Micah’s lips.

Micah shuddered lightly. "Awful dream. I don’t want to talk about it."

Clyde did not push him. He nodded, pulled Micah into his lap, and sat down on a chair with Micah curled against him. He rubbed the young man’s back and kissed his head and face, trying to soothe him.

Micah finally exhaled, burying himself deeper into Clyde’s arms, desperately wishing to erase that nightmare.