The Lovecats - McLennon

Chapter 14

8th October 1862

!TW Very detailed murder!

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Paul gaped at John. „John is everything alright? Who is he?" Paul said with a small hint of concern in his voice.

„It's Richard, my childhood friend. I haven't seen him for like 7 years"

„Oh, do you want to go and say hello?"

„I guess." He shrugged and walked towards that man, Paul followed close behind.

That man stood up. „Oh my god John, is that... is that you?" His voice cracked.

„Richard, oh my god yes, yes it is." John felt so content because he saw his friend after such a long time.

The performance started and they sat up beside him. They were chatting quietly.

John was watching George and noticed that the lad was already loooking at the three of them.

When George saw them he looked so stressed and started to shake. The auburn haired boy glared at Paul whose eyes were wide, fixed on George with eyes full of concern because of his best mate's state. Why was that violinist shaking?

They were watching the performance for two remaining hours, George was shaking the whole time, but somehow managed to play his violin perfectly. The man always hit the right notes and played it with so much passion. It was mesmerising.

When the performance ended the three of them rushed to talk to George.

George's cheeks flamed up when he saw that the azure eyed boy was standing so close.

„Oh hello, I am Richard Starkey, friend of John's." He pulled out his hand for George to shake, the other gladly took it.

„I am George Harrison."

The two males were staring at eachother, grinning like birds with sparkles in their eyes.

Paul coughed, interrupted George's and Richard's moment. „George your performance was amazing, I don't understand why you were shaking like a bloody tree in a wind but anyways you were amazing as always."

„Thank you Paulie" George's answer was.

„Paul is right, you are bloody amazing mate. I love violin." John patted George's shoulder.

„Thank you, I appreciate it from ye John."

Richard gave George a smirk and said goodbye to Paul and John. He wanted to give the lads a space because he clearly knew that there was something going in between them. But also used it as opportunity to spend his time with that attractive George who caught his eye alone.

Paul understood it, took John's wrist and pulled him to leave the opera.

„What was that?" John laughed and asked his question.

„Well I wanted to get out of there before it turns out into a whole-ass bloody makeout session." The ebony haired boy snickered before he spoke up once again. „Let's go to your place yeah?"

„Alright." John smiled very sweetly at the man and they made their way to John's house.

~~9th October 1862 2am~~
( I reccomend listening to song „La ment" by The Cure for a better effect)

John walked out of his house with the image of the snorting night-haired boy still in his head. He was walking towards the teahouse they had date in technically yesteteday. He only hoped that he would find the man who was behaving so disgustingly flirtatious towards Paul. His jealousy couldn't handle that at all. John had fear of abandonment, everytime he grew attached to somebody like he did with Paul in this case, he had urges to kill everyone who would have tried to take that person away from him, the thought of losing Paul was driving him insane. How could he know that Paul wouldn't do this to him one day? His dad had left him and his mom died. He knew that Paul wouldn't leave him for that stupid waiter but he just wanted to feel better in himself and have that sense of control over the situation by killing him. John was trying to find him, as he walked closer to the teahouse, he saw the man and he was clearly leaving, closing the door behind himself. John felt lucky that he found him.

He expeditiously looked around to check if he could spot anyone around. Nobody. Only him and that waiter. John ran towards him quietly and smoothly, swiftly took the waiter's wrist, squished it breaking-bone tightly and dragged him behind the teahouse. Ignored the man's girly screams. They was the last thing he cared about. 'I am doing this because of Paul, because I love him and nobody is taking him away from me. He is mine and nobody else's.' He was repeating in his head then kicked the waiter's head. The man immediatly fell on the ground. Now probably unconscious. John knelt down to his feet, pulled out of his pocked his favourite shiny tool before he licked it. He wanted to be sure that the knife would slash smoothly. John tore up the waiters fancy clothing at first. Started at his tailcoat then waistcoat until he could see his bare chest and stomach. He threw the knife up, spinned it and catched it with his hand before he directed and positioned it to the man's chest. John had touched the waiter's chest gently with the tip of his knife when all of sudden, he buried it deep inside the waiter's chest to feel his ribs. The man didn't even have the chance to shout anymore, face turned pale immediately and eyes rolled to the back of his head. That was when John knew that he was dead. „I don't care that you are dead you little sucker. This is not changing my mind from making you suffer harder." And with that, he was slashing from his chest deeply into his stomach, blood flowed from the stomach like fountain. John was not even grinning anymore, this murder was not from satisfaction. The cut was really long. It went from his chest down further to his lower stomach. John stood up, jumped at the man's ribs, heard a cracking noise. He sat back up and gathered the broken ribs before he put them aside. The serial killer was staring at the waiter's lungs along with his heart. He pulled the heart out from his chest and held it in his palms. He took hold of the knife on the ground, then cut the heart into two halves and rested one half on the floor and put the second one into a medium sized spell jar. The heart was still bleeding. John felt that the man didn't suffer enough. That made him clasp his knife again. John made four deep slashes on the waiter's neck.

He didn't want to look at the fucker anymore, even though the resemblence of his dead body was more pleasant than if he was alive. John pulled out a paper from his pocket along with a pen with black ink. The black ink color reminded him of hair of the perosn he was doing this for.

'You will never find me.' That's what he wrote on the paper.

John knew that Paul was actually the detective who was finding him. His paranoia made him rip the paper and take out a new piece of one. On that one he wrote 'As deserved' and John opened the corpse's mouth so he could put the paper inside of it.

John carried the heart-filled spell jar in his hands while he was walking back home. He hoped that the beautiful man haven't woken up yet.

And he left that body here, on the ground behind the teahouse with nobody around. Triumphant smile was plastered on his face indeed.