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...
My friends at college called, wanting to go to the amusement park yesterday, and of course, I agreed. As much as I wanted to be with Mickey, I knew the importance of maintaining friendships. I decided not to be that friend who brings their partner to show off and opted to go alone. That evening, after showering and getting dressed, I decided to inform Mickey first. He picked up immediately. Before we started dating, Mickey used to ignore my phone calls, but now he picked up promptly, except when he was busy.
"Mickey," I said, smiling. "What?" he responded in his usual grumpy tone, prompting a giggle from me. "I'm going out with friends; they invited me," I explained. "What time?" he inquired. "7 pm?" I suggested, and he replied with a simple "Okay, take care." "I love you, Mickey," I added, hearing a chuckle before he hung up. While Mickey was comfortable expressing love privately, he wasn't fond of public displays of affection. Nevertheless, I knew he still loved me.
I picked up my friend, Anastasia, at her house since she needed a ride. Upon our arrival, my other friends were already waiting, and we obtained our tickets. Personally, I disliked high rides; the notion of heights made me uneasy. Despite my reservations, the amusement park proved to be a lot of fun. I ventured on some other rides, and we all enjoyed dinner together at a nearby restaurant because I preferred to avoid foods wrapped in tin foil. It wasn't about being picky; rather, I harbored a lingering paranoia from a childhood incident. At the age of nine, I watched the news with my father, and a story about someone dying after eating street food stuck with me.
My friends were well aware of Mickey being my boyfriend, and they often teased me about him. Mentioning Mickey would cause an involuntary blush, turning my cheeks a shade of red. During the outing, I sent Mickey some of the pictures I took to keep him updated. True to his nature, he left the messages on read. I had grown accustomed to Mickey's aversion to romance. While I knew he loved me, he preferred not to express it overtly.
the pictures Klas took for Mickey:
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We stayed until 10 pm, bidding goodbyes to my friends as I clutched a giant tiger plush I had bought for Mickey. As we headed to the parking lot, the urge to pee struck suddenly. "Ana, I need to pee. I'll be back," I said, handing her the car key and my plush, rushing to find a toilet.
Upon finishing, I returned to my car only to find the door ajar. My initial thought was that Ana might be smoking, but to my surprise, she was nowhere to be found. "Ana?" I called out, growing increasingly worried. Five minutes passed with no sign of her. "Ana, this isn't funny!" I attempted to laugh, but anxiety crept in. A sense of fear enveloped me, sensing someone or something watching. Filled with trepidation, I reached for my phone to call Mickey, but before I could dial, a towel covered my nose and mouth. Soon, a drowsiness overcame me, and everything went dark.
Mickey's pov:
"He's gonna be fine, Mick," Max reassured me as I paced around, consumed by worry for my boyfriend. It had been 30 minutes since he last texted, an unusual silence from the typically communicative Klas. Trying to reach him by phone proved futile; there was no answer.
"Come on, Max, we're fucking going," I declared, my anxiety urging immediate action. Max raised his brows, questioning, "Where? To ruin Klas's fun with his friends?" My frustration boiled over. "I don't fucking care if you don't want to, just get the fuck up and follow me" I yelled, rushing to my room to retrieve a box from under the bed. Grabbing a gun and a hammer, my favorite things in the world, I stormed into Willow's room, where Natalie and Millie were.
"Stay here, don't do anything shitty," I instructed, then turned to Max, who was ready outside. Getting into my car, I drove, realizing that tracing Klas's phone location would be necessary at a time like this.
Klas's phone location led us to an old warehouse. His beauty and wealth seemed to attract trouble, prompting Max and me to rush inside. "Send the money now!" a male voice yelled, accompanied by Klas's cries. It unsettled me, and the situation appeared dire for Klas. Nothing irked me more than seeing Klas in pain, and I was prepared to eliminate any threat to his well-being.
Approaching stealthily, I witnessed Klas tied to a chair beside another girl, surrounded by four skinny and tall assailants. My anger surged, and I approached them, brandishing my gun. "Oh, you. I know your mother!" I declared, forcing a smile as I pointed at one of the guys. "What the hell are you doing here?," another guy demanded.
"hmm? My footsteps leave imprints on the graves of those who dared challenge me. Lucky for you, I enjoy playing, but my boyfriend looks cold," I retorted, their eyes widening in fear. "Oh, the homosexual hero?" they scoffed, fueling my anger. "No, I'm not, but my boyfriend is," I smirked, shooting at two of them, causing them to collapse. "But I suck him sometimes," I added, shooting at the other guy. "And most importantly, I love him," the last guy crumbled as my final bullet hit its mark.
"Mickey!" Klas cried, tears streaming down his face. I hurried to him, swiftly untying and lifting him up, while Max did the same for the other girl.
We drove the girl back to her home and then headed to Klas's mansion. I lifted him up, his legs wrapping around my waist, his distress still evident. Entering the house without knocking, I found his worried parents in the living room. "Oh, dear, Klas, what happened?" Mary inquired, her concern palpable.
"I don't think he wants to talk, but I'll fill you in later," I reassured her, excusing myself to Klas's room. Gently laying him on the bed, he clung tightly to me. "Mickey, don't leave, please," he pleaded, and I nodded, offering a comforting smile as I stroked his head. "I'll stay," I assured him, climbing onto the bed and embracing him as he rested his head on my chest. I waited for him to drift off to sleep, then went downstairs to update Mary and Anthony on the situation before stepping outside to call Max.
"Are they ready?" I asked, and he simply affirmed. I smirked, anticipating that this would be an interesting turn of events.
I targeted the earlier assailants with a strategic assault using gun, causing them to scream in pain. My plan was meticulous; when I shoot at them, I aimed for their knees, rendering them immobile. Now, these adversaries were securely tied to chairs. Assertively, I conveyed, "You don't touch my boyfriend; he's my everything, and I'd do anything for him." I scratched my brow, signaling my intense displeasure.
An idea struck me, and I looked at Max with a mischievous smirk. Together, we inverted the guys, tying them upside down. "Ever played hangman?" I inquired, casting an evil grin. Max laughed and nodded in agreement. "Every time you pick the wrong letter, these boys will move closer and closer, eventually dunking into a pool of boiling water," I explained.
"Alright, you go first. The first word clue is a guy; he's Russian, the worst father of all time, and the word has 7 letters," Max suggested, smirking. I laughed, realizing it was my father, Anatoly. "B," I declared, and the guys screamed as Max released the rope, moving them closer to the boiling water. "S," I continued, laughing, and the rope released further, plunging the guys deeper.
Throughout the game, I intentionally chose letters that weren't part of my father's name, leading to the inevitable dunking of the guys into the water, where they screamed as the hot water brought them pain and drowning them.
I knelt down with a smirk, asserting, "You don't fight with Ruslanov." Winking, I patted Max on the shoulder before swiftly driving away from a random people's house where we had surreptitiously filled their pool with water.
