Micah drifted in and out of consciousness, his body sluggish and uncooperative. A dull ache pulsed through him, each movement sending a throb of pain through his arm. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear voices, muffled at first, then gradually becoming clear.
"Nora, why did you go out this late?"
The voice was smooth and pleasant but edged with worry.
"Brother… I am sorry…" Nora said apologetically.
"Today was Mum's birthday.., and I completely forgot…
I went to the pharmacy to buy her a gift… I didn't think…"
Nora's voice choked up.
A sigh followed.
Micah became aware of something solid and warm beneath his chest moved, it was similar to the rise and fall of breath….
His fingers twitched against the fabric, soft but slightly damp with sweat. His brows furrowed, and with great effort, he forced his heavy eyelids open.
Dark hair, thick and slightly wavy, fluttered before his eyes. Blinking groggily, he looked down, taking in the silhouette of a strong slightly sun-kissed neck. His mind wasn't clear at all. He couldn't comprehend where he was.
The conversation was still ongoing.
"You should have called me. I would have gotten it for you. Do you know I nearly had a heart attack seeing you in that alley?! Bloody and dishevelled?!"
The man's voice spoke again.
"That wasn't my blood!"
Nora exclaimed. Then, after a pause, she murmured,
"It won't happen again, brother… I learned my lesson…if this handsome boy hadn't shown up, I…"
Suddenly the fog that surrounded Micah's mind cleared. His eyes regained focus, and he found himself lying on the back of a man, walking down the street.
He was being carried.
He could guess who he was…
His throat tightened. He felt a strange nervousness engulf him.
He cursed his weak body. These past few days, ever since he discovered that his world was just a book, his mind had taken a hit. His appetite had withered, and sleep had become restless. Now, after just fighting some thugs and sustaining a wound on his arm, he had collapsed like a fool.
Micah's mind raced. How could he justify his presence here?!
He felt really stupid. Why had he been so reckless?
Why did he have to go alone? Couldn't he have brought a bodyguard to protect Nora? Or just tolerate a bit more and escape before he fainted in front of them?
Now, he had dug a pit for himself.
A gasp broke through his thoughts.
"Hey! You are awake!"
Nora shouted, relief filled her face as she turned to look at him.
Micah felt awkward and helpless. She was his little sister… but their first meeting was like this, her escaping a disaster, and him fainting after a little fight… too different from what he had imagined it would be.
Not to mention, he had sworn with confidence that he would protect the real young master and be a big brother to him. Now, he was being carried by him instead!
He buried his face on Darcy's back in embarrassment.
Darcy slowed his steps. His grip on Micah instinctively adjusted, ensuring he wouldn't slip. Then, he tilted his head and asked.
"Are you alright?"
Micah knew he couldn't play dead anymore. He shifted slightly, gripping onto Darcy's shoulder for balance, and said.
"Put me down, please."
"No way! You lost too much blood to even black out. We are taking you to the hospital."
Nora cut in immediately.
"No! I am okay! I was just hospitalised two days ago! I am just a bit weak, that's all."
Micah refused.
Was he fed up with life?
Going hospital with the real young master of the Ramsy family and worse, with his wounded arm and bruised body?
Was he itching to announce to all that he was guilty? Knowing the truth all along and picking up a fight with Darcy?!
No, thank you!
Darcy paused, noticing the unwillingness in the young man's voice.
"Okay. Be careful."
With surprising gentleness, he crouched down, letting Micah slide off his back. His hand gripped the boy's waist, supporting him, fearing he would fall again.
He still couldn't shake the image of the young man kicking the thug and protecting his sister.
He had been walking home from his part-time job, exhausted, worrying about how to scrape together enough for next month's rent when the sound of fighting caught his attention.
He just glanced in curiosity, this was something common in this neighbourhood.
Coincidentally, He caught the glint of metal under the dim streetlight. And then, Nora's familiar cry.
He stood rooted in fear. By the time he could move, the fight was already over.
He watched as his sister, shaken but unharmed, tugged at the wounded young man's shirt, pulling him toward the entrance.
Nora spotted him and cried out, "Brother."
Darcy barely had time to react before the stranger's legs buckled. Instinct took over. He lunged forward, stretching his hands to catch the young man before he hit the ground.
Looking down, he saw the stranger had lost consciousness.
The boy in his arm had fair skin, almost unnaturally so, and his features were striking, with sharp cheekbones, delicate yet refined.
Even with his clothes torn and stained with blood, the fine fabric told Darcy everything he needed to know. The young man was not from around here.
As Darcy carried him on his back, Nora hurried beside him, breathless as she recounted everything that had happened.
Hearing the full story, his blood ran cold.
If the young man has not been there…
Darcy's grip subconsciously tightened around him.
Even though he had spotted his sister coincidentally, he could guess that by the time he could help her, it would have been too late. Nora surely would have suffered some trauma or psychological shock.
The street they were on was narrow, barely wide enough for a bicycle, let alone a car. He had to walk to reach the main road to hail a taxi.
But the young man had woken up now and refused to go to hospital.
Micah straightened up and winced. His gaze turned to his arm, now wrapped tightly with a piece of cloth. Upon close inspection, he saw it was a black shirt.
Micah's eyes flickered up to Darcy. The young man now stood beside him, dressed simply in a black singlet, his gaze fixated on him.
Even though Micah had seen photos of Darcy before, on social media after achieving a top-tier score, he still felt amazed.
The young man was taller than him by a few inches, his broad shoulders and strong frame exuding a sense of reliability. His natural wavy black hair framed his angular face. His eyes had a slight almond shape, probably the result of the genes from Albert's wife, his Chinese mixed-race grandmother.
His black eyes had a hue that captivated you to just look at them. His skin, slightly tanned from the sun, carried a warmth that was absent in Micah's own pale complexion.
Then, unexpectedly, Darcy smiled.
It wasn't polite. No. It was warm and genuine. The kind of smile that melted Micah's heart.
He didn't want to admit it but he could see the young man had a resemblance to his parents.
Yeah. He looked like them.
Micah's chest ached.
He didn't deserve that smile.