MICKEY
Ian stomps towards me angrily, a paper in his hand being aggressively tattered by the wind. Dust flies all around as I take a piss, it's so dry here that it practically disintegrates after hitting the ground. I can see the lust in Ian's eyes as my heart starts to beat faster and I become more intimidated the closer he gets.
He comes to a halt and holds a flyer in front of my face. After focusing my vision, I can easily read, 'Call 312-746-6000 if you have seen this man, Mikhailo Aleksander Milkovich.' A big WANTED lingers above a freakishly accurate sketch of me, and Ian's eyebrows furrow in anger.
"What the fuck?!" He shouts, spit flying on my face as his normally alienated, pale skin turns beet red. He softens his voice, asking, "What'd you do?" His tone is sad and desperate for answers, which makes me agitated.
"That's why I didn't want you to fucking come!" I shout in response, pulling on my hair as I grunt loudly in frustration.
"Because you have a fucking ransom! Why didn't you tell me, Mickey?" He looks me deep in the eye and I can barely hear the intoned mumble that escapes his lips. "We're supposed to trust each other."
I'm not sure what about that lights my fire, but I go off on a tangent. "So what, I'm wanted in the whole fucking country! That's why I'm leaving!" I yell, throwing my hands up in exasperation. "I'm always in trouble, it's what I do! I was born gay just like I was born a jailbird!" I take a deep breath and a tear threatens to spill over my cheek as I scream, "I'm fucking broken, Ian!"
Ian looks down at the ground, clears his throats and looks back up at me. I can see the gears in his mind shifting, trying to come up with a conclusion to my insanity. That's when it hits him. He shakes his head vigorously, and reaches for my shirt collar. "You fucking killed him, Mickey. You fucking murdered him!" His words pin me to the wall more than his grip, which is intimidatingly fierce.
My face reddens, my ears getting fiery hot and a flame ignites in my chest as I grab Ian's throat. I grip and tense my hands around his neck until my knuckles are as white as a ghost. His feet continue to kick and his body squirms under my tight hold, my breathing intensifying as his becomes scarce. He gasps for air and I continue to squeeze until my brain ticks, a little switch being flicked. I release my hand, looking down at it as Ian falls to the ground.
Shouldn't have let go, she tells me and I swat at the air.
"Get out of my brain!" I scream, my breathing heavy and my knees becoming weak.
I open my mouth to say something else but all I get are salty tears that spill over my cheeks and fall onto my tongue. I wheeze and struggle to get air but my body refuses to let me overcome this. I almost killed Ian. The love of my life just almost died in my vicious hands.
Ian stares at me in shock, saying he looks confused is an understatement. He's fucking disoriented. My shoulders shake and my muscles tense and relax as I silently sob in my hands. Falling onto my knees, I throw my head onto the ground and beat it with my fist, still struggling to get air into my drained lungs.
"Mick." Ian hushes out, rushing over to me and rubbing my back. I grab onto his forearm, gripping onto it with the small amount of life that is left in my fragile physical state. I choke on the tears escaping my eyes until, finally, I can't cry anymore. Ian lends me a hand, offering to help me up, but I refuse it.
I push myself upward and Ian follows me as I point to the road ahead, a big gate with police offers surrounding it. Cars drive in and out and Ian looks at me, glancing somberly. "That's where I'm going." I gesture for the backpack that Ian is holding as he looks at me suspiciously. "Jesus fuck, Ian. It's not a glock it's a fucking dress and a wig from Ross." He hesitantly hands the bag over and I pull out a frilly floral dress, ripping off my tank top and throwing it on. The wind rustles the skirt and I feel naked with my bare legs showing. I put on some shit heels and, to complete the look, I whip out some dangling earrings.
"Here." I call as I toss the tank top to Ian. "Remember it as the day a psychotic, insane sociopath almost killed you." I hiss out, tears glimmering in my eyes as I struggle to get the fake earring on. "Remember me as the sanity-
breaking murderer who claims to love you but only hurts you."
The way he looks at me, mouth twitching as he struggles to hold back a sob, breaks me internally. Of course I hold my power, refusing to let even a single tear escape. I reach down and pull off my jeans, staring at them until giving my attention back to Ian. He looks more pale than ever, maybe because this is the last time we'll ever see each other. Everything is blue. His heart, his tears, his emotions. Both of our jeans are blue, my pair darker than his. Everything is just so fuckin' blue. My eyes, my life, and our matching tattoos.
I forgot about the tattoos.
I walk towards him and grab his wrist, sadly examining the scribbled 'berry' that he absent-mindedly got inked into his skin. "The blue to my berry." He whispers and I look up into his green eyes as they swallow me whole like a Xanax. I stroke his cheek, letting my finger gently run along his jawline and down his neck.
How the fuck will I be able to do this? Be without him? I ask myself as he grips onto my bicep, causing me to pull him close. He holds onto me with all of his strength, grasping onto my back as if his life depends on it.
I'm doing this for him, I remind myself. I need to protect Ian.
I close my eyes and Ian unexpectedly crashes his lips into mine like a strong tide caresses the shore. I bite at him with a non-aggressive attitude and he groans, his tongue exploring the depths of my mouth, searching for hidden treasure that lies about.
The only hidden treasure that I have is my mysterious past and my haunting future, and he knows that those are two things that can never be found.
I pull back, taking a breath, and examine my surroundings. I sigh, releasing my hand from Ian's cheek and as I begin to walk away, he follows.
"Ian." I put my hand out in restraint and he looks at me in befuddlement.
"What's the issue, Mickey?" He asks in a hush, sending chills down my spine.
"You-" You can't come, my brain screams, but of course I can't say it. The words refuse to leave my mouth and I instead say what I have been thinking all along. "I don't want to leave you." I insinuate , rushing back to him and pulling him into my chest. He grabs onto my shirt, pulling on it as I hold him closely. My arms are supposed to be his barrier and I his haven. But now my arms are the claws of monsters, my haven turned into an asylum for the doomed.
If Ian stays, he is the doomed.
"You-" My voice cuts off and I clear my throat, pinching the bridge of my nose. "You have to stay here."
"Mickey. Please." He pleads. His eyes are sad and desperate for my love as he furrows his brows. "I won't let them hurt me."
"Jesus, Ian. It's not them I'm worried about!" I groan in irritation.
"Who is it then, Mickey? Fucking God, himself?! If you don't want me to come then all you have to say-"
"Ian." I cut him off as he takes a deep inhale. "It's me. I just almost killed you a few minutes ago. Ever since the whole court thing, I've been feeling different. She talks to me in my head. Makes me do things."
"Who's she?" Ian asks, an understandable fear in his voice.
"Maria." I intone. His eyes grow wider and he shakes his head in disbelief.
"She's alive?" He asks in shock. I simply nod.
"That's why I'm going to Mexico. This whole fucking country wants me for killing him, she called me and told me that I can escape with her." This all hits Ian like the Titanic hit that damn iceberg, but I'm the one sinking. "It's all just really fucked up and I need you to stay here. Please." I beg, getting choked up as I cautiously take steps away from him.
"It doesn't have to be this way." He pleads, and with every step I take back he takes one towards me.
"Fuck." I murmur. "Yes it does. I don't want to end up fucking killing you!" I scream, my voice cracking as my heart grows heavier. "I can't let you die because of me. I'm insane. A fucking psychopath!" The words sting both of us as tears threaten to fall over his cheeks. "I'm a serial killer, Ian."
I stare menacingly into his green forests that he calls eyes before making the move to turn my head and walk off. I place on the brown, clearly fake wig and begin to pick up my pace.
Are you seriously leaving him there? Just like that? I hear her voice in my head and I bat it away, growling in anger. I fight my need to turn back and look at him so hard, to the point where I begin running back to the car. I run as fast as my feet will take me, my tears flying in the wind.
I approach Colin who has green Volkswagen, stolen of course, ready. As I open the door and am about to step in, he places a firm hand on my shoulder and sternly says, "If you need anything, you know my number and where to find me." I nod, pulling him into a tight embrace. He pats my back and I get into the car. It smells like flowers and pineapples thanks to one of those hanging air fresheners.
That's where I'm headed; Mexico. The beach. The ocean. Margarita in one hand, carnitas in another. The ocean would be better with Ian, but instead I'll have it there to remind me of him. The waves will push out and pull back in, just like me and him. We leave but we always find a way back to each other.
I approach a tall man with a German Shepherd who searches my car. I show him my ID, Mikayla something-or-other, as he nods and lets me pass through. I let out the gasp I was holding in and as I drive through the border I can't help but think about how I did the right thing for Ian. He had a life before me, before I came back. He's an EMT, getting his whole future back on track. If he came with me, I would've ruined that. Not only by ripping him away from his family and loved ones, but making him live in constant wonder. Wondering who I'm going to kill today. Wondering if it will be him.
As I drive off, my phone buzzes and I hesitate at first, but decide to answer it. "Hello?" I ask. Deep breathing is heard before I hear her.
"39610 Acapulco Gro." She hisses before hanging up. I blink a few times, rolling my eyes at her bluntness. Cool, I could be about to get my head chopped off and wouldn't even know, I think. But I do know that being without Ian feels 100 times worse than being headless, because now I feel heartless. too. I have an empty void inside of me that only he can fill. I consider calling him, hearing his voice, but I can't bring myself to do it. It'll hurt too much if I do.
So for now, I'll be blue without him, just like my tattoo. And maybe in the future, blue can have a new meaning, one that isn't the sadness or heartbreak that I've caused myself. But for the time being, I'm blue and he's my berry, and maybe someday we can be a blueberry.