"I love you Mickey"

Part 19

Mickey's pov:

I managed to keep my distance from Klas, even though I missed him. One morning, my sleep was interrupted by my buzzing phone. It was Anthony on the line, sounding upset. Groaning, I answered, "What?" He asked if we could meet somewhere, and I teased him about being straight. Despite my remark, we agreed to meet at a cafe, and he sent me the location.

I entered the cafe, found Anthony, and joined him. I ordered a hot black coffee with sugar, though a beer seemed more appealing at that moment. "So, what's up?" I inquired, and Anthony sighed. "I need you to get rid of Harvey," he said. I was shocked; he had accepted the relationship, but now he wanted Harvey gone. "Why?" I questioned, and he replied, "I want my son with a girl, not his art teacher, and obviously not with a man." He offered to pay me handsomely. Considering the situation, torn between not wanting to hurt Klas and disliking the relationship, I accepted. "I want a car, your Jeep Wrangler," I stated, reaching out my hand, and Anthony shook it without hesitation.

Anthony had generously contributed funds to support my mission, and I gratefully accepted. The financial assistance allowed me to retain almost half for myself. I knew some guy who was illegally selling guns and everything so I went to him and got myself a sniper. This wasn't my first time doing it and knowing my town, nobody cared about missing people and or murders here. That evening, I trailed Harvey from the college to his home. While I anticipated the inevitable police investigation into his demise, I ensured meticulous planning to avoid leaving any traces.

Positioning myself strategically, I observed Harvey engrossed in cooking. I refrained from acting immediately, as I needed to be cautious about the stove. With my sniper at the ready, I bided my time. Once he switched off the stove and settled in his living room to eat, I prepared for action. Closing my right eye for precision, I smoothly pulled the trigger. The bullet went through Harvey's head, and he slumped onto the couch.

Easy.

Klas's pov:

"I was engrossed in sketching on a canvas in the tranquil living room, accompanied by the soothing melody of my mother playing the piano. The atmosphere was serenely quiet, enveloped in a comfortable silence. Our creative moment, however, was abruptly interrupted by my father, whose demeanor radiated shock.

Approaching him, my mother and I inquired about the cause of his distress. As he settled onto the couch, attempting to regain composure, he posed a question that would shatter the tranquility, 'Did you watch the news?' Perplexed, I shook my head. 'It's Harvey; he was found dead in his house,' my father revealed, sending shockwaves through my senses. Stunned, I abandoned my artistic endeavor and joined him.

In an attempt to comprehend the unfathomable news, I retreated to my room and dialed Harvey's number, only to be met with silence. The void of response left me grappling to process the reality. Harvey, a kind soul, couldn't have succumbed to sinister deeds. Perhaps illness was the culprit. Then, a realization struck me-Mickey! I urgently called Mickey, yet received no reply. Where could he be?"

I drove to Mickey's house, convinced it was his doing. Parking the car, I knocked loudly on the door until Mickey opened it, bewildered by my presence. "What did you do?" I questioned, and he merely shrugged. Frowning, I pulled him outside.

"To Harvey-what did you do?" I raised my voice, seeking answers. Mickey attempted to console me, but I rejected his attempts. "Mickey, you better tell me," I persisted, and with reluctance, he hesitantly confessed. In my frustration, I slapped him, prompting him to grab my arm before I could strike again and ushering me inside.

"Shut up, Klas," he demanded, and I was left upset, grappling with the realization that he had gone to such lengths. Our heated exchange continued until Mickey's father intervened, visibly displeased with the disturbance. Natalie, standing behind him, hastily putting on her bra, and a sudden understanding dawned on me. However, that wasn't the pressing issue.

"Mickey killed my boyfriend!" I exclaimed, and Mickey quickly corrected, "girlfriend." Mickey's father, seemingly unperturbed, asked, "So, what's wrong with it?" I furrowed my brow in confusion. Overwhelmed with emotion, I began to strike Mickey, and though he wanted me to stop, he made no move to intervene as his father and Natalie observed the tumultuous scene. I couldn't bring myself to cease the onslaught, unwilling and unable to relent.

Mickey's pov:
"Don't let the rich kid beat you, son, give him what he deserves," my father said, taking a swig of his beer. I shook my head, reluctant to inflict further harm on Klas. "Beat him!!!" my father bellowed, prompting Klas to stop flinching. "I'd be happy to show you, son," my father declared, rising with the intention of hitting Klas. I intervened, saying, "Alright, alright, I'll do it," glancing over at Klas, who pleaded with his eyes. I had no choice; I had to act, preventing my father from laying hands on Klas.

I swiftly delivered a punch to Klas's nose, causing him to fall, and continued with a barrage of punches and kicks to his back and knees. The ordeal lasted about three hours before my father exited. I immediately ceased, kneeling down to check on Klas, who was weakened with cuts and bruises. Gathering him up, I drove him back to his mansion, barging in with Klas in my arms.

His parents, in a panic, witnessed Klas's condition, and nurses and a doctor rushed in to attend to him. Guilt-ridden, I sat in the living room. Anthony arrived, and despite expecting retribution, all he said was, "Find George and get rid of him." Confused, I realized Klas had misled them about his assailant. He concealed the fact that I had beaten him, not George-I hadn't even known George existed.

I nodded in agreement, and Anthony extended an invitation to dinner later that evening, understanding my reluctance to face my father. The dinner was just Anthony and me, as Klas needed rest and Mary, understandably, had no appetite given her son's condition. We savored mashed potatoes, green beans, and stew-a delicious meal, yet my mind remained preoccupied with worry for Klas.

Anthony offered me to stay for the night. In the quiet of the evening, I discreetly entered Klas's room, finding it empty. Opting to sleep in his bed, I yearned to immerse myself in the lingering traces of his scent. The absence of that beautiful boy weighed heavily on my heart, and I missed him terribly.

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