"I love you Mickey"

Part 11

Mickey's pov:

Five days after the one-week trip, it was the weekend, and I returned home with Anthony's Porsche Cayenne. As I parked the car and opened the door, a familiar voice called my name, causing my heart to race. I turned around to find my mother. She had spent a year in jail for drug possession. Despite not excelling as a mother to me and Max, she had been a great friend. I confided in her about my problems, trusting her with my feelings, if not my secrets or belongings.

Overwhelmed with emotions, I ran up to her, embracing her tightly and refusing to let go. She seemed smaller and thinner now. Despite her release, I knew she was still an addict, and it was unlikely she would ever stop. She had been using drugs since my birth, and my own challenges surpassed the struggle of having a drug-dependent mother. Deciding it was best to spend time with her, I took her out to eat, courtesy of the salary Anthony paid me, more than enough to treat her today. She didn't inquire about the expensive car, possibly assuming it was stolen, and, unsurprisingly, she didn't mind her son being involved in theft.

We grabbed breakfast and sat at a public park, enjoying our meal. My mother shared her experiences from jail, and in return, I opened up about Klas. To my relief, she wasn't homophobic at all; she accepted me for who I am. It was moments like these that made me cherish her more than my father.

"You can still change your life, Mickey. Change it, as long as you can," she encouraged, and I nodded in agreement. Despite not viewing me as her child but more as a friend, I didn't mind. Sometimes, I yearned for maternal love, wondering what it would feel like, but I had accepted that it wasn't part of my reality. I got her some clothes and provided some money, making her promise not to use it for drugs. She made the promise, but deep down, I knew it might not hold once I left.

On the way back home, I discussed my feelings for Klas, and she assured me it was love. She emphasized the importance of disregarding my past to build a strong relationship with Klas. Understanding that I grew up not knowing what love was, she reminded me of the challenges I faced with her constant arguments with my father throughout my childhood.

I received a text from Klas urgently asking for a paintbrush, and sensing his need, I left the house, leaving my mum behind. It took me two hours to secure the brush, sent it to Klas, and then returned home. Upon entering, I called out to my mum, but there was no response, no sound. "Mum?" I spoke again, growing worried. As I walked into the kitchen, I discovered blood on the floor, a sight that sent a shiver down my spine.

In the midst of the quiet, I heard arguing, and Max's voice rang out, upset and saying, "You did it, not me." Intrigued and alarmed, I opened the back door leading to the backyard. To my shock, I found Max and my dad shoveling the ground, and my mother lay lifeless, her head bleeding. "What did you do!?" I hissed at my father, certain he was responsible. "I saw the money in her back pocket, and she decided not to share," he spat. Enraged, I rushed at my father, delivering numerous punches until he fell. My anger unrestrained, I got up, kicking his back and chest, unwilling to stop until Max intervened. My father lay unconscious on the ground, and tears streamed down my cheeks as I looked at my lifeless mother.

Max guided me to my room, where I sat on the bed, unable to control my emotions. I hugged Max, sobbing uncontrollably. It shocked him, as he had never seen me cry, but he didn't pull away. Despite our hatred and betrayal towards each other, we were still brothers. We had grown up together, navigating a troubled childhood, and he understood me better than anyone.

I didn't want to stay there, so I got up and decided to drown the night in alcohol. I headed to my car and drove to a nearby bar, ordering the strongest drink available. I'd been drinking since I was 14, and handling it came naturally. Carrying a bottle, I stumbled back to my car, and somehow managed to drive to Klas's mansion. Parking was a challenge, but I made it.

Clutching the bottle, I wandered to the pool. Sitting by the water, I drank and sobbed openly, oblivious to the volume. The pain was unbearable, and I couldn't contain myself. Having just reunited with my mother, only to have my father take her away, was a cruelty I couldn't fathom. Draining the bottle, I threw it into the water with all my might. Stripping off my shirt, I felt the cold wind on my skin, numbing me further. Stumbling around the pool, I dropped to my knees and rose again in a blurry haze of drunkenness.

Feeling the need for something reckless, I turned my back to the pool and allowed my body to free-fall into the water. The cold engulfed me, rendering my limbs weak. Unable to move my arms and legs, I succumbed to the darkness, and that was the last thing I remembered before everything went black.

klas's pov:

Late at night, feeling thirsty, I headed to the kitchen and grabbed a tea packet, placing it in a cup and adding hot water. As I waited for it to cool down, I gazed through the window, which provided a view of the pool. The night was beautiful, but my tranquility was shattered when I jumped in shock at the sight of a figure floating in the pool.

Rushing outside, I discovered Mickey. Frantically calling out to him yielded no response. Panic set in as I leaped into the pool and struggled to pull him out. He was heavy, but I managed. Crying out for Mickey to wake up, I noticed his pale face, and his weak pulse heightened my concern. The scent of alcohol lingered, and I spotted a bottle floating in the pool. It became evident that he had gotten drunk and fallen in.

Summoning help, my parents quickly arrived. My father called our private doctor and other guards, and together, they transported Mickey to the at-home hospital. My mother embraced me tightly, recognizing my worry for Mickey.

I spent the entire night awake, consumed by worry for Mickey. Various unsettling possibilities raced through my mind; the mere thought of losing him was unbearable as I relied on him more than anything. As my alarm buzzed, I hurried downstairs to check on Mickey. Fortunately, the doctor assured me that Mickey was fine and simply needed plenty of rest. When I reached him, he was peacefully asleep. Tenderly, I kissed his forehead, whispering, "Please be okay, Mickey. You're strong; I know it." Aware there would be no immediate response, I sighed and quietly exited the room, deciding it was best to let him rest.

Mickey's pov:

I woke up feeling dizzy but found myself on a comfortable and warm bed, realizing I was at Klas's mansion. Deciding to rest, the door clicked open, revealing Mary. She appeared concerned upon seeing me, and I weakly smiled. Taking a seat beside me, she held my hand and asked, "How are you, dear?" I managed a muttered "good."

Concerned, she softly inquired, "Do you want to talk about what happened?" As I tried to recall and the realization hit me, tears streamed down my cheeks. Overwhelmed and too tired to speak, I finally managed to say, "I lost my mum." Mary stood up, crying, and embraced me, a gesture I couldn't reciprocate due to my weakness.

"Don't worry, you can stay here as long as you want. And remember, if you ever need a motherly talk or comfort, I'm here, my son," she cooed, bringing warmth to my heart. It marked the first time I ever felt loved by a mother figure, an incredibly comforting feeling that left me craving for more.

FEEL FREE TO VOTE AND COMMENT