A Killer's Lover

20

A/N: OKAY I like Imaginary Parties and Future Friends and Vacation a lot, and Sexy Ladies has the BEST lyrics I s2g I could die happy

Anyways this chapter is bad but I'll post the next one (the last one, not including the epilogue) pretty fast after this

ps there may be spelling errors whoops

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Mitch wept quietly in the back of the car, curled up into a tight ball of limbs and tears. His body ached all over, but he couldn't bring it upon himself to care. His mind was still exploding with questions without answers, and he hated it.

"We went through his old house," Kaplan said later, after their talk in the hospital room. Mitch was dancing along the lines of sleep, his eyelids too heavy to keep up. He was exhausted from the drugs in his system, as well as the grief after the initial shock of news.

"We went through, and found something peculiar."

"I don't really care for much else of what you have to say," Mitch mumbled groggily, eyes locked shut. They weren't going to budge, even if he wanted them to.

"Well you're gonna have to, if you don't want to do any jail time. If you don't help us bring him in, and if he doesn't come willingly, both of you may suffer more consequence." Kaplan paced by the foot of the bed, seemingly troubled.

"You don't want anybody else to die from his doing, do you?" This man didn't know Scott.

But then again, neither did he, apparently. Mitch felt the need to roll his eyes, but they wouldn't cooperate, so he huffed instead.

"Get to your stupid point."

Kaplan shook his head, stopping his movement for a second so he could stare at the kid. He pulled out a crumpled piece of thin paper.

"This is a receipt for two tickets to the Santa Monica Pier in California," he said, reading off the top of the ticket with a thick annoyance.

"This is from last week, actually. Please, tell me why he would purposely leave you this. A sign, perhaps?"

"How do you know that he left it there as a sign?" Mitch was desperately pleading for sleep to take him away. He didn't want to talk, for the officer's voice was no longer calm and refreshing.

"Ah, my poor, ignorant child," he heard from somewhere to his left.

"Everything in that house is covered in a thick layer of dust. Our professionals matched your prints to a picture frame inside the house, and his to the receipt itself. We know you were with him, and we know that you know the significance of Santa Monica."

The cop took his place again by the bed, and he leaned down close to Mitch's ear. The boy felt his hot breath, and he began a weak attempt at pulling his head away. However, he ran out of space to go, and suddenly the chill down his aching spine was enough to make him yelp out in pain.

"I would make this easy on your man toy, if I were you."

So a week later, when Mitch could feel his legs again, he was placed in a car with Kaplan and another familiar face, Doctor Kevin sitting up front. They drove in a thick silence for almost all of the trip, with the exception of the bathroom breaks, and the two times when the men traded off the wheel. Mitch regretted those times, because he could barely walk in and out on his own. Kevin had to escort him to his humble throne every single time, and he had to awkwardly wait outside the gas station bathroom door until the kid was finished. Mitch was sure that they were keeping a close eye on him because they needed him, not because they cared about his health.

Mitch didn't find the clue that hard to decipher. Scott couldn't hide at the pier; it was like hiding in plain sight. However, they had made one more stop before coming back home.

The hotel in which they'd ended their date night. The time in which all of the red flags were there, but he couldn't bring it upon himself to notice them because he simply loved the feeling of being desired by a boy. A man.

That made it worse.

"Alright. We're going to follow you into the building, and we'll stand by the elevator on the floor. You're going to talk to him alone. Lure him out, if he's here." Officer Kaplan stopped the car to let Mitch out, making the situation more real. Mitch could ignore his action, and his agreement while they were getting to this point. But now that they were here, he knew he couldn't deny the fact that he was about to come face to face with a man who had given him everything; with a talent to take it all away.

Scott, the murder with a heart. He broke every rule that Mitch had learned from shows and movies. He was his own type of man, sexy and gentle, mysterious and yet honest in the way he looked at everything. Mitch's heart ached, worse than his back ever could. He was either saying goodbye, or turning him in.

And there was no way around it.

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