Chapter 447: The Distance of a Breath (part 1)
Micah hadn’t slept a wink the night before. He had tossed and turned beneath the covers, staring at the faint glow of moonlight that filtered through the curtains. Even after he knew Darcy was okay and had fallen asleep under the infusion, Micah’s heart had been in turmoil. Every time he closed his eyes, his mind dragged him back to Darcy’s pale, sickly face and the sound of those two cruel words.
By the time dawn broke, he gave up. His eyes were ringed with dark circles, his face was full of exhaustion, but he forced himself out of bed and walked down to the kitchen.
"Morning, young master," the butler greeted, but Micah barely heard. He poured himself a glass of milk with sluggish hands, grabbed a slice of toast, and chewed mechanically.
Clyde had left for Isatis City. And Darcy had decided he wanted nothing to do with him...
He had no spirit left in him; his heart was in tatters. But the sea, at least, might be enough to drown out the noise in his head and the pain in his chest.
He really needed something to take his mind off things, otherwise he thought he would go crazy.
"Grandpa Sunny, I am heading out," he muttered half to himself, half to the butler.
But just as he stepped out of the kitchen, he stopped short. Darcy was there, blocking his way. Micah flinched before he could stop himself. His instinct was to avert his eyes, and he did, looking anywhere but at him. But he forced himself to appear as usual. "Morning," he mumbled quickly, moving to slip past.
A hand shot out and closed firmly around his arm.
Micah’s body went stiff under the grip. He glanced sideways, hazel eyes wary.
"Where are you going?" Darcy’s voice was low.
"Diving," Micah answered after a beat, his voice quieter than intended.
He finally let himself look at him properly. Darcy’s expression had regained some colour. It wasn’t deathly pale like last night. His eyes were dark and intense, no longer red-rimmed.
Darcy’s grip tightened around his arm. "Wait for me. I’ll come too."
Micah was taken aback. He swallowed, then hummed in response, gaze darting away.
Darcy released him, turned into the kitchen without another word, and returned moments later with a toast in one hand and a banana in the other.
He ate in silence as they left the villa together.
Micah felt suffocated. The walk to the dock stretched longer than it should; every step felt like torture. He couldn’t fathom why Darcy had tagged along. Especially after the way everything went south between them...
He pursed his lips, fighting the swell of emotions.
At the diving section, the guide brightened when he saw Micah.
"Hey, handsome man! You came early." His grin faltered as his eyes shifted to Darcy. "Oh? Is this the friend you mentioned before? I thought you said there would be two?"
Micah returned his smile. "Yeah. One left yesterday. I just wanted to try it again with my friend before going home."
"Got it. I’ve prepared the wetsuits for you guys. Come in," the guide said.
Micah stepped in with Darcy. They changed their clothes in complete silence. Micah was the first to come out. He couldn’t stand Darcy’s behaviour any longer. Throughout the process, Micah could feel the young man’s stare lingering on his back. But every time he turned, Darcy had lowered his head, ignoring him.
He screamed inwardly, wanting to leave. Yet he had no choice but to stay, pretending he was okay.
On the boat, they took off to the new designated place while the guide chatted like before, but Micah was not in the mood and replied to him absentmindedly. He fiddled with the straps of his oxygen tank, staring out at the vast stretch of glittering blue water.
When the time came, he tightened his mask, secured the flippers on his feet, and was the first to plunge into the sea.
The shock of cool water enveloped him instantly. His body adjusted to the rhythm of his breathing through the regulator, inhale, exhale, bubbles floating upward in a silver chain.
This time, they had come to a new site, one known for its unique ecosystem. Sunlight streamed through the surface, breaking into clusters of corals and swaying kelp. The sea was alive with colour and motion.
But Micah had lost all his enthusiasm that he had shown yesterday. His mind was too blank, too muddled from lack of sleep and Darcy’s change of attitude.
Swimming in between towering strands of seaweeds, Micah felt something snag his ankle.
He frowned behind the mask, jerking his leg instinctively. The tug tightened. His flipper had caught in the thick strands of kelp near the seabed.
Micah bent down, trying to release his foot, but it was futile. The plant clung stubbornly, its grip tightening the more he struggled. He twisted his foot harder. Still nothing.
A spike of panic shot through him. His breaths quickened, bubbles streaming wildly from his mask. The faster he inhaled, the more precious oxygen drained from his tank.
He yanked his foot again, frustration increasing. The kelp didn’t tear. It felt like iron cables binding him to the sea floor.
His chest ached, his lungs suffocating. He turned his head, searching desperately, but there was no sign of Darcy or the guide.
All he saw was water. Endless empty water.
He was stunned by how easily he got lost.
Micah clawed at the kelp with trembling fingers, nails scraping its rubbery surface. Each tug only made it constrict more tightly, digging into his skin through the fabric. It wouldn’t budge. It was as though the ocean itself had reached out to hold him down.
His lungs burned, begging for air. The edge of his vision began to shimmer with a dark, suffocating haze. His heart hammered frantically as the terror shot through his mind.
Was he really going to die? Was this how it would end? Here, of all places? Alone, silent, in the endless blue?
Wasn’t it similar to how he died in the novel? Without anyone knowing? Was it his destiny?
His mind flashed. No... he didn’t want to...Clyde...his family... even Darcy? Faces flickered before him. His mother’s stern but steady gaze, his father’s warm smile. Aria’s laughing, Willow arching an eyebrow in amusement...Darcy’s patient dark eyes...
And Clyde... Clyde with those pale blue eyes full of love for him...
No. He couldn’t die. He didn’t want to die.