The Treehouse [BxB]

part 2. thirteen

PART TWO:
DESCENT

It was three AM when Mickey was stirred from his slumber by the sound of his phone buzzing on his nightstand. At first, he rolled over, buried his face into his pillow, and ignored it. But it didn't stop ringing. And finally, groaning in annoyance, he picked it up, glanced at the caller ID, and answered.

"River?" He grumbled, his voice slow and sleepy as he pressed his phone to his ear and rubbed the exhaustion from his eyes, "It's the middle of the night; why are you calling me?"

There was silence on the other end. And then, heavy breathing, and the sound of crying, "M-Mickey." River stuttered, "C-Can you c-come and p-pick me up?"

Mickey frowned, sitting bolt upright. Suddenly, he was wide awake. "What's wrong? What happened?" He was already stumbling out of bed, and rummaging through his cupboard for a pair of jeans, tripping over as he tried to hastily pull them on.

River was sobbing on the other end of the phone, "I-I just need you to come. P-Please." His voice cracked, and with it, so did Mickey's heart.

"Where are you?" After tugging on a jumper, Mickey grabbed his skateboard, and crept down the shadowed staircase as quietly as he could.

"I-I-I don't know."

Mickey froze as he leant down to tie his shoelace, "What do you mean you don't know?"

River was crying softly into the phone, his breathing ragged and sharp, "Uh..." There was a moment of silence, "Th-This sign says Orchard Street."

Mickey slipped his coat on, and left, "I know where that is." He told River, throwing his board to the ground and jumping on. The streets were dim and deserted, the warm glow of street lamps lighting the way as his wheels glided across the asphalt, "Why are you on Orchard Street? I thought Casey was taking you clubbing."

"H-He was." River sniffled, "He lives on this road."

"Casey does?" Mickey frowned, his feet beating against the road as dull anger throbbed in his brain. River was upset, and whoever was responsible was going to pay. "Are you with Casey now?"

"N-No." River replied quietly, "H-How long till you get here?"

"About ten minutes." Mickey said, "Are you hurt?"

"I-I..." River gulped, "I'll see you in t-ten minutes." And then he hung up.

Mickey cursed under his breath, and tucked his phone into his pocket. His head was spinning, and his mind felt fuzzy with fear. There were thousands of possibilities surfacing in his brain, and he couldn't entertain a single one of them, because if he did, he would get a twisting feeling in his stomach, and a sudden urge to throw up.

Please let him be okay. Please.

He wasn't sure who he was praying to. Or whether he was even praying at all.

Hoping, perhaps.

All he knew was that if River even had a scratch on him, Mickey would need to find someone to punch. Because they wouldn't get away with hurting his best friend. No one was allowed to touch him, ever.

And as he skated, he felt his hands balling into fists, and had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. 'I'm sure it's nothing', he told himself. Maybe River was just too drunk to get home by himself. Maybe he got lost and scared and needed to see Mickey. Maybe he was upset about Declan.

River was angry at Declan for something he didn't do. Something that Mickey had lied about to protect River. Mickey still didn't know whether he did the right thing or not. Probably not. Mickey was never good at making difficult decisions; that's why he usually had River make them for him.