The Treehouse [BxB]

twenty seven

River let Marly off the lead, and as she bounced between the concrete slopes of the deserted skatepark, Mickey attempted to teach River how to skate. The only issue was, he could barely remember how to do it himself.

"I'm really not the best person to teach you." Mickey admitted, hopping on his old board, and gliding across the smooth ground. He was shaky at first, trying to regain his balance months after retiring from skating.

"But you're the only person I would want to learn from." River shrugged.

"Why do you wanna learn anyway? You always made fun of me for skating." Mickey argued, stepping off the board and using his foot to push it towards River.

"I don't know." River replied earnestly, "I need some sort of hobby to keep me occupied."

Mickey took both of River's hands in his, and helped him step onto the board, "I'll keep you occupied."

River laughed, "Yeah, until you go back to uni."

"Your front foot needs to be straight on the board." Mickey directed, his hand gripping River's, "And you can visit me at uni." He added, glancing up into River's crystal eyes.

"Yeah." River hummed in agreement, his eyes focussed on the board below him, his curls dipping into his face.

"You just gotta focus on balance first." Mickey told him, "That's the best place to start."

Mickey spent the next hour teaching River the basics, holding his hand, and then standing back, ready to catch him if he fell. When it started to rain, Mickey told him it was time to stop, because skating in the rain was never a good idea — he had scars to prove it.

River did as he was told, hopping off the board, before grabbing onto Mickey's collar, and pulling him in for a long hard kiss, the rain sprinkling them in its icy spray. He could feel Mickey smiling into his lips as he placed a hand on the back of River's neck, and another on his hip.

Marly's barking forced them apart and River turned around to clip her leash back onto her collar. He leant down to run his fingers through her damp fur, scratching her under her chin, "Okay, okay, we're going." He murmured to his dog, "No need to be rude about it."

Mickey laughed, tucking his skateboard under his arm, and pulling his hood up to shield his hair from the rain, "Now can we go home and watch movies?"

"Yeah." River nodded, "But let's go to my house today."

"Sure."

So, that's what they did. Curled up beneath River's duvet, his laptop sitting between them, a trashy film playing on the screen. An hour in, River fell asleep, his head resting on Mickey's chest, hair sprawled out around him like a halo. Mickey took River's glasses off for him, placing them on his nightstand, before turning the volume down on the laptop so River wouldn't be woken up. Mickey finished the movie, his fingers absentmindedly stroking through River's silky locks, listening to the sound of his soft breathing.

As Mickey watched River sleep, he felt that familiar surge of protectiveness overcome him. He thought back to the night Casey had raped River, and how Mickey stayed awake for the rest of the night, watching his best friend sleep. He was terrified of taking his eyes off of him, because if he did, the world might hurt him again.

And now, sixteen months later, he was still scared to look away. Because River looked so peaceful when he slept. And Mickey would do anything to preserve that peace. He had gone through so much, he needed a chance to finally rest.

When the movie credits started to roll, Mickey closed the laptop, and set it aside, readjusting himself as River snuggled closer into his side. Mickey looked down at him, admiring the boy's soft features. The curve of his nose, his jaw, his eyebrows. His freckles, his dimples, his flushed cheeks. His pink lips, and the little creases on either side of his nose, left behind by his glasses.