From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 222: Flustered Boys and Flashy Uncles (part 1)

Micah quickly tidied the apartment: snack wrappers into the trash bin, clothes off the floor. He picked up his phone from the couch, already tapping open the food delivery app. Even after munching on snacks at the gaming venue and finishing the breakfast Archie bought earlier, he still wasn’t full.

He glanced toward the bathroom. The light was still on. The sound of running water had stopped a while ago.

Micah frowned. "What’s taking him so long?"

Darcy had been in there way too long.

Did he eat something bad? That thought made Micah’s frown deepen. It was probably Archie’s fault. That guy had definitely bought a bunch of cheap snacks. What if they were spoiled?

Micah quickly walked toward the bathroom.

"Darcy?" he called, but there was no answer.

In panic, he lifted his hand to knock on the door.

But before he could touch the door, it swung open with a jolt.

"Whoa!"

His hand, instead of tapping against the doorframe, landed squarely against something warm and firm. Micah blinked, momentarily stunned to realise his hand pressed against Darcy’s chest.

"Ouch," Darcy said, grabbing Micah’s hand. "Why are you attacking your guest?"

Micah jerked his hand back. "Sorry. I...I wasn’t! I just...you startled me!"

Darcy lowered his head, hiding the smirk tugging at his lips. He stepped out and gently closed the bathroom door behind him. His black hair was slightly damp, curling at the ends.

Micah cleared his throat. "Are you okay? Do you have a stomachache or something? Should we go to the hospital?"

"What? Are you talking about yourself?"

"Huh? No," Micah scratched his cheek, flustered. "You were stuck there for ages. I thought that damn Archie had given us something spoiled."

Darcy chuckled. "No, I was just hot. I stuck my head under cold water for a bit."

"Hot? You should’ve said something."

Micah spun around and walked toward the wall, pressing buttons to set the temperature lower.

"Right. What do you wanna eat? I was about to order something..."

"I can cook..." Darcy cut in, following him.

Micah tilted his head and gave him a look. "Nah, I don’t even have ingredients here. And you are the guest. Why would you cook?"

Darcy ran a hand through his dark hair, speaking softly. "You’ve been eating too much outside food. I thought maybe a homemade meal would be better for your stomach..." Darcy paused, pressing his lips together. "And with everything happening tonight, I figured you might be too stressed... You know, just in case your stomach acts up again."

Micah froze. Then slowly, he rubbed his forehead, feeling touched and a bit guilty. "Ah, you’re such a strange guy..." he mumbled.

He looked at Darcy again and sighed. "Alright. I’ll order some..."

"No," Darcy interrupted. "Let’s just go get the stuff ourselves."

Micah looked at Darcy like he had grown horns. "What’s with you? You’re not the impulsive type like me. Why the sudden urge to shop?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to see what a luxury supermarket here looks like." Darcy said casually.

"Hey, tell me the truth. I won’t fall for that crap."

Darcy hesitated, exhaled, and glanced at the floor. "Fine. I also wanted to bake a birthday cake."

Truthfully, he was panicking a little. Being alone in Micah’s place was dangerous for his self-control. His heart beating had only just settled, but then Micah touched his chest... If he didn’t keep busy, his mind would wander into dangerous territory. Baking was safer. Productive. And he could make something good for Micah.

"You!" Micah sighed in exasperation. "We can just buy one online. Aren’t you tired?"

"No. This is different. Before, I wanted to bake, but we were stuck in a dorm. Now I can. What? Haven’t you eaten my cooking before? Don’t worry, my baking is also good." Darcy said.

Micah gave in. "Fine. Let’s go then."

But he grumbled as he headed for the door. "Still, why the hell didn’t you say anything earlier? We could just have bought them on our way..."

Micah didn’t like the idea of him working hard just to bake a cake... but then... It felt kind of nice. Someone cared enough to bake a birthday cake for him?

Had anyone done that before? Nope. Not that he could remember. His family always ordered from the city’s top bakeries.

Ah, he was such a spoiled brat! And now he was being greedy for homemade cake?

A grand banquet and the real young master baking him a cake?

Anyone would call him a villain.

Ah.. That novel was not far off the truth apparently! He thought in dismay.

Micah opened the door, lost in thought.

Darcy followed closely behind. He was at his wits’ end. Coming here unprepared was a really bad move. His heart couldn’t handle being alone with Micah in the apartment. Next time, he should be more thorough.

The supermarket was a short walk from the complex. As they entered, the automatic doors whooshed shut behind them.

"Do you have any cooking essentials?" Darcy asked, looking around.

"Yeah," Micah replied, pushing a cart. "My mum set everything up."

"She knew you can’t cook, and still did all that?" Darcy asked, surprised.

"She said, one day I’d be desperate enough to try boiling an egg..." Micah shrugged.

Darcy nodded. "Smart move. Even if you blow up the kitchen, you’ll be the one cleaning. That way, you might learn a thing or two."

Micah shot him a look. "Now, you understand how my mum’s brain works?"

"That’s not hard to guess."

"Yeah. Of course. Mother and son must think alike," he mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

They moved into the fresh produce aisle, picking up eggs, meat, fruit and some vegetables. Darcy reached for a carton of milk while Micah wandered toward a shelf of brightly coloured snack bags.

Darcy shook his head in helplessness. "Micah, no snacks."

Micah’s hand halted in mid-air. Before he could protest, a voice called out across the aisle.

"Micah? What are you doing here?"

Hearing the voice, Micah’s face twisted in immediate dread. "Damn it," he muttered.

Darcy looked up from the shopping cart, eyes searching.

A flashy man in his mid-twenties came striding toward them. His clothes were eye-catching: a shiny black jacket with gold stripes, tight black pants, and chunky designer sneakers, which were so flashy that they hurt the eyes even from a distance. His brown hair was slicked back with enough gel to drown a small animal, and he wore oversized sunglasses indoors like it was normal.

The man reached them and grinned. "Micah! Long time no see." He reached out, hand aiming for Micah’s shoulder.

Micah dodged in a flash. His expression turned annoyed. "Uncle Edmund," he said flatly.

"What’s with your attitude, little punk? I am older than you." Edmund Palmer said, trying again to pat Micah.

"Yeah, yeah. You are." Micah stepped aside once again, grabbing a snack from the nearby shelves. He tossed it into the cart.

However, Darcy quickly reached in and pulled it back out, placing it back on the shelves. "Nice try," he whispered to Micah.

"Tsk," Micah clicked his tongue.

Edmund stood there in confusion. He lowered his sunglasses slightly and peered at Darcy. "Who is this?"

Micah glanced at him. He really didn’t want to answer. Of all people, why should they run into Edmund?! The infamous black sheep of the Palmer family?

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