"I love you Mickey"

Part 6

Klas's pov:

Three agonizing months had passed since I last visited or encountered Mickey. The ache of missing him consumed me, yet I convinced myself it was best to steer clear of his neighborhood. Regret lingered after I deleted his number, realizing that my connection with Mickey had unraveled. The pain was unbearable, a constant reminder of a love that slipped through my fingers.

Seeking refuge in the living room, I lost myself in the melody of a piano until my father entered, a glass of wine in hand. Unwilling to engage with him, I sighed, resentment bubbling beneath the surface. He remained oblivious to the turmoil caused by the argument that drove Mickey away, casually discussing work. Though most of his words escaped me, I caught snippets about the company's growth and his pride in my achievements.

"Why not let me find someone I love instead of arranging it for me?" I queried, annoyance evident in my tone. My father shook his head, refusing to acknowledge my plea. The ensuing argument highlighted his unwillingness to accept my sexual orientation, clinging to the misconception that I was bisexual and not gay.

That night, overwhelmed by the relentless ache of missing Mickey, I sought solace in the numbing embrace of alcohol. Determined to drown out his memory, I ventured to a bar with the intent of getting lost in the depths of intoxication. Opting for the most extravagant drink the bar had to offer, it didn't take long before the edges of sobriety blurred, and I succumbed to the inebriating embrace, allowing the intoxication to momentarily eclipse the persistent echoes of Mickey in my mind.

Mickey's pov:

Relentlessly, I unleashed a barrage of punches and kicks upon the man, ignoring to his pained screams. Surveying the onlookers, I glared at them until they dispersed, leaving me to my volatile actions. After Klas left, even the slightest actions earned my wrath, and this man, merely caught in the wrong place, bore the brunt of my anger for daring to stare.

Over the past few months, my life had spiraled into a relentless cycle of violence and thievery. Once sources of satisfaction, these activities now failed to provide the same enjoyment. as much as I hated to admit, I miss the rich kid.

"Mickey!" my father's voice echoed from a distance. Sweating from the exertion of the beating I had just delivered, I sighed, realizing my father had been released from jail. Annoyed, I asked, "What do you want?"

"Keep this man in the backyard. You can continue later; I need your help," he said, casting a glance at the bloodied figure I had just battered. "Help?" I frowned.

"Yes, a guy named Diego owes me cash. I need you to get that money by tonight," he instructed, handing me a paper with an address before heading into the house. I hoisted the half-dead man, carrying him to the backyard and dropping him unceremoniously on the ground. The prospect of obtaining some cash from this job intrigued me - perhaps a way to ease my financial troubles by liberating a portion of the money Diego owed. He was an old guy he probably wouldn't remember the exact amount Diego owed.

That night, I entered the club my father had directed me to, navigating through the chaotic scene of half-naked dancers, raucous patrons, and clinking glasses. My quest to locate Diego led me through the pulsating crowd until, unexpectedly, I grabbed the shoulder of a man whose back was turned to me. As I drew close, I was stunned to find Klas, his face flushed and breath reeking of alcohol. He winced in pain when I tightened my grip and, realizing he was inebriated, I released him.

"Mickeyyyyyyy," he slurred, leaving me convinced of his drunken state. Advising him to wait, I prioritised finding Diego and retrieving my father's money. After a persistent search, I located Diego, harboring a sense of frustration at the delay. A swift beating ensued, and I claimed the money from him.

Returning to find Klas missing, panic gripped me as I desperately searched for him in the frenetic atmosphere of the club. The thought of leaving him vulnerable crossed my mind, but my conscience wouldn't allow it - I couldn't abandon him in potential danger. Racing to the back door, my fears materialized as I witnessed Klas pinned against the wall, confronted by a menacing figure. My yell prompted the assailant to flee, leaving me to catch Klas just before he could faceplant.

Determined to ensure his safety, I carried him to a nearby abandoned house I knew well, a journey that took an exhausting hour. Laying him gently on a bed, I found myself beside him, utterly fatigued from the events of the day. Despite weariness, my heart raced as I gazed at the captivating figure before me.

"What were you thinking, huh?" I chuckled softly, tenderly tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear.

It was hot here, so I took my shirt off leaving me with my shorts. I closed my eyes slowly falling in deep sleep.

Klas's pov:

Seated on my bed, I was summoned downstairs by my father. In the living room, confusion enveloped me as I found my parents waiting."I found a match for you, son" my father started. My attempt to protest was abruptly halted when Mickey walked in, a smile adorning his face. Positioned near my father, Mickey's presence carried a weighty revelation.

"This is him, you're marrying him, son," my father declared, and I hastily nodded in agreement. The prospect of marrying Mickey, the one I longed for, was an unequivocal yes. Yet, the moment shattered when my father, with a malevolent twist, brandished a gun, pointing it at Mickey's head. Horror struck me as I screamed, witnessing Mickey collapse onto the floor, lifeless.

Begging him to wake up, I cradled Mickey's lifeless form, and then the unimaginable happened-Mickey's head jerked up, and he leaped towards me, prompting a horrified scream to escape my lips.

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