Klas's pov:
Mickailo Ruslanov, the rude, mean, and annoying man I ever met. In his neighborhood, people despised him, an uncommon sentiment towards him. Yet, I love Mickey more than anything. He is my sun, my guardian, and just as the moon shares th...
Exhausted from the events of the previous day, I faced the reality of having to attend class today, forcing me to wake up early. Harvey was still asleep, clearly too drained from the encounter with Mickey to go to work. After a quick bathroom routine, I dressed and noticed the books on my shelf neatly arranged by size - a classic Mickey move. At breakfast, I persuaded my father to let me drive to class alone for some much-needed solitude. Though reluctant, he agreed. I bid my parents farewell with a kiss and headed off to college, meeting friends to tackle our assignments.
Klas's outfit:
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During lunch, a craving for cold matcha coffee and delightful pastries led me to a nearby cafe. As I strolled down the parking lot to my car, an eerie sensation of being followed crept over me. When I turned around, there was nothing out of the ordinary, just the bustling early crowd. Undeterred, I drove to the cafe and indulged in my desired treats.
Inside, I noticed a mysterious figure, cloaked in a black hat, a mask, and a hoodie, pacing around. His presence felt foreboding, like a harbinger of something more ominous. Completing my order, I observed him taking a seat, and, dismissing my unease, I headed back to my car. Glancing behind me, the enigmatic man had vanished into thin air.
The class had adjourned, but I had a lot more work to tackle, and Harvey, had given each of us spare keys for late-night study sessions. Alone in the classroom after my friends departed, I lost track of time amidst my assignments. When I finally wrapped up around 9 pm, I was taken aback by how late it had become. Realizing my phone was on the verge of dying, I rushed to pack my belongings and descended to the parking lot.
As I fumbled through my bag for the car key, a distant laughter echoed, sending a chill down my spine. The surroundings were dark and desolate, no one in sight. A husky voice pierced the silence, questioning my presence. I turned around, discovering not one but three guys-two tall and lanky, the other more robust and equally my height. Stuttering, I asked what they wanted, only to have one of them gesture toward my Porsche Taycan. Regret immediately washed over me for driving such an attention-grabbing car today. Clearly, it had attracted unwanted attention from these men.
They approached me, scrutinizing my car, and fear rooted me to the spot. When the taller man seized my bag, I attempted a futile punch, only fueling their wrath. They easily overpowered me, wresting my bag away, and the apparent leader landed a punch that shattered my nose. As pain radiated through me, he gripped my jaw, intensifying my agony. Suddenly, a disapproving voice disrupted the assault, accompanied by a sinister laugh. The figure remained obscured in the darkness, making identification impossible.
"Move; it's none of your business," the taller guy retorted. The unknown intervener declared, "The boy you're beating up is my business. You have a problem with him; you have a problem with me." Fear surged as the three assailants scoffed, shoving me aside to confront the mysterious man.
"Do you want to play?" the man, revealed to be Mickey, chuckled eerily. I knew that voice all too well "Go fuck off before we beat the shit out of you," warned the one who had punched me. Mickey continued with a disturbing rhyme, "Do you want a knife, or perhaps a gun, little ones? Shall I hammer in the dark, or carve a wicked spark? Choose, my dears, as shadows embark. Hush now, as fear takes flight, the choices I offer, a chilling delight." The trio recoiled in fear.
They lunged at Mickey, only to halt when he brandished his hammer. In a swift assault, Mickey incapacitated them with punches, sparing the use of the hammer. After subduing them, he approached me, blindfolded my eyes, and whispered, "It'll be too much violence for you, love," with a chilling giggle. Subsequently, I could only discern Mickey's footsteps, accompanied by the unsettling sounds of bones cracking and the assailants screaming in agony. I felt a liquid splatter on me, unsure of its origin, but the unmistakable scent of blood hung in the air. The cacophony of screams and bone-cracking persisted for about an hour before abruptly ceasing.
"Mickey...?" I uttered, fear evident as tears streamed down my cheeks. Footsteps approached in the darkness, and a hand firmly gripped my arm. Torn between fight and flight, I halted upon hearing Mickey's reassurance, "It's me." Relieved, I let him guide me into the car, where the engine roared to life, signaling our departure. Removing the blindfold, I glanced at Mickey, his jacket stained with the attackers' blood, yet his face remained untouched. The rain began to fall, casting a somber ambiance outside. "Did you follow me?" I inquired, to which he nodded. "Next time, bring a bodyguard; you can't expect me to save you every time," he admonished sternly. Crossing my arms in defiance, I regretted my words when Mickey glanced at me before focusing back on the road. "You don't need to," I retorted, but his penetrating gaze lingered. "If you want me to stop loving you, I can, Klas. And if you think I'm saving you because I love you, you're wrong. Your father helped me a lot, and I'm merely expressing gratitude by saving his fucking damn stubborn son," he asserted, leaving me with a furrowed brow. As we reached my house, we stepped out into the pouring rain. Ignoring the downpour, I ran after Mickey, calling his name as he walked away without looking back.
Mickey's pov:
Klas rushed to me, tears streaming down his face as he pleaded, "Mickey, you love me, please." In that moment, I realized my love for him was unwavering, yet I knew he could find happiness elsewhere. Holding him close, I embraced the warmth of the hug, savoring the connection we shared. "I love you, motherfuker, I do," I affirmed, feeling his shivers from the cold rain. He questioned, "Then, why did you say you don't earlier?" My reply was a painful truth, "Because we can't be together, and you need to understand and face this reality." His sobs intensified, and we heard Mary's worried voice calling us. "Go inside; you'll get cold," I urged, but he resisted, holding me tighter. "Come in with me, Mickey, please, I'm begging you," he cried, kicking as I lifted him onto my shoulder. As we entered the house, Anthony, Mary, and Harvey awaited. I exchanged a glance with Anthony, who signaled to Harvey to take care of Klas. Despite Harvey's efforts, Klas refused comfort, running back to me. A silent agreement passed between Anthony and me as both Harvey and Anthony grabbed Klas pulling him away from me, and with a heavy heart, I nodded at Mary. Exiting the house, I ran into the pouring rain, tears mingling with the downpour.
Alone in the chilly park, rain pouring down, I unzipped my jacket, revealing the rainbow-colored shirt Klas had given me. Chuckling at the memories, I reflected on our first meeting, the twist of fate that led me to choose his father's car to rob. He fell in love first, but my love for him deepened over time. Across dimensions, worlds, and planets, I knew my love for him would endure. He was my world, brightening my days, bringing smiles when no one else could, and warming my heart. Most importantly, he made me realize that I was either capable of love or simply in love with him, unable to love anyone else.
The shirt:
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