Chapter 251: Five Cans To the Truth
Darcy slowly lifted the lid of the velvet box. Inside, a pendant gleamed softly under the moonlight. Two dragons. One white and one black. Coiled tightly around each other in a delicate, balanced circle. Their bodies were fluid and detailed, their eyes made of tiny glinting stones, their tails wrapped around one another in perfect symmetry. It was the kind of piece someone could stare at for a long time and keep feeling amazed.
Darcy stared at it, breath catching. Ah... it was beautiful. Elegant. Really expensive, no doubt...the material shimmered in a way that only real gemstones could. But it wasn’t the cost that struck him. Nor the breathtaking shape. It was the design. The symbolism. Opposites intertwined. It felt... intentional.
Like the concept he had used it for his gift...
He laughed, almost in disbelief.
Micah stared at Darcy’s reaction, frowning. "Why are you laughing? Is it ugly?"
Darcy shook his head, still smiling. "Nah...not at all. It’s beautiful." He reached out and gently ran a finger over the pendant. "Can you help me put it on?"
Micah stood, a little unsteady, and stepped behind him. He took the necklace, carefully brushing aside the collar of Darcy’s shirt. His fingers fumbled once, his movements not quite as precise as usual. He fastened the clasp, the chain settling cold against Darcy’s neck. His skin was soft where Micah’s knuckles brushed it, and Darcy tensed slightly but didn’t move.
"There," Micah said, stepping back to admire it. The two dragons nestled perfectly against Darcy’s skin, just below the collarbone.
Darcy’s gaze flickered to him, then to the necklace. "Thank you. I will wear it all the time," he said softly.
Micah scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. He sat down again with a grunt, grabbing another beer. His face was a little flushed, but he blamed the alcohol.
The two sat like that for a while, side by side on the bench, the breeze ruffling their hair. The only sounds were the soft him of distant traffic, the buzz of insects, and the occasional rustle of leaves.
Darcy sat with perfect composure. A can of beer didn’t faze him. He could feel the weight of the necklace in his skin, the delicate press of metal against his pulse. He shouldn’t read into it. But part of him wanted to believe, just for tonight, that Micah had given him something more than a gift. Something that quietly said: You belong to me.