Mischief

Chapter Three

This fic has some quite heavy topics like mental health, panic attacks, violence, murder, drugs, sex, human trafficking and r*pe (not described, only referenced/insinuated and talked about), so MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING.

-Monday 10:55 pm - Derek 

I'm on my sofa, just about to open a beer when my phone vibrates. I sigh and reluctantly pick it up, seeing that it's not a number I recognise. 

Regardless, I answer. It's really only because there's this sliver of a though in the back of my mind. Is this Mischief?

"Hello? This is Derek Hale."

"Hey deputy."

I sit up straight. "Mischief?" 

"The one and only." His speech is tight, almost as though he can't breathe. Which immediately gets my attention. Mischief doesn't sound like he's doing well.

"Did something happen?"

"No!" he scoffs, laughing, albeit unconvincingly. "Just wanted to have a fun call with you. Do I need a reason?" 

"I suppose not." Despite this, I can't help but be on edge. There's something off about Mischief calling me. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Silence answers me with the occasional break from Mischief's laboured breathing.

With a sigh I run my hand down my face. I hate this, I know Mischief called me for a reason. 

"Mischief," I say calmly and I get a small hum in response. "please. Tell me what's wrong. I want to help you." 

A choked sob sounds through the speakers. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so, so sorry," he cries. "It was me. I made the call. Theo knows. He knows and he's gonna kill me."

The rest of the conversation is a blur. I'm in action instantly and I manage to get Mischief's address between his heartbreaking pleas to save him. 

Every second it takes for me to get to Mischief's apartment kills me. It's unbearable, especially because when he was begging to come get him, he mentioned how Theo was probably listening in. 

There's not much time, but I'm determined to get there before Theo. I have to.

The drive altogether takes about ten minutes and as soon as I arrive at Mischief's apartment complex I sprint in. 

His apartment is on the fourth floor, so I'm thankful for my stamina since there isn't an elevator. I sprint past a man on the third floor, the only other person in the corridor. Normally I would greet people as I pass them, but I'm hyper-focused on getting to Mischief. 

I get to his apartment quickly and knock on his door. Mischief immediately opens the door and falls into my chest and I wrap my arms around him, resting my head on top of his. 

His hair is damp and he smells sweet, no doubt from a shower he had earlier in the evening. But, he's shaking like a leaf. 

"It's okay," I soothe, "it's okay. I've got you."

He nods, pulling away to let me in and close the door and locking it. "What happens now?" he asks me. 

"Well, you'll have to leave you apartment and job at The Gallery," I explain. "Let's calm you down first though." 

Mischief sits down on the small and dingy couch in the minuscule living space, wrapping his arms around himself. "That makes sense," he mutters. "I honestly don't know if I was going to be alive to go to work tomorrow. But... you... what about now now?"