The Treehouse [BxB]

part 1. one

PART ONE:
SERENITY

It was raining when Mickey returned home from the skatepark, his board tucked under his arm, and beanie pulled down to his eyebrows. He was drenched, his t-shirt clinging to his dark skin, and hands trembling from the sudden drop in temperature. As he rummaged through his pockets in search of his keys, a familiar voice caught his attention.

"Oi! Mickey!"

It was River. It was always River.

Mickey chuckled, tilting his head up to face the sky, raindrops kissing his rosy cheeks. And there he was, his best friend, sitting on the ledge of the treehouse, his legs dangling down, a cigarette hanging from between his lips. Mickey wordlessly dropped his skateboard and started climbing up the wonky planks of wood that were nailed into the tree's trunk as a makeshift ladder. "What you doing up here? It's pissing it down." Mickey grumbled as he reached the top, tearing off his beanie, and shaking the raindrops from his frizzy brown hair.

River smiled at him, slipping a cigarette between his soft pink lips and taking a long drag, his crystal eyes distantly foggy as he looked down at the quiet suburban neighbourhood that stretched out beneath them. The sky was turning inky pink as the clouds swirled above them, showering them in an icy spray. It was the type of rain you only experienced during British summertime. On those warm evenings as May crept into June, and the smell of wet asphalt hung thick in the air. "I love this time of year." River hummed to himself, handing the cigarette to his friend.

Mickey took it from him and placed it between his lips, leaning over to ruffle River's blond locks playfully. He did that a lot. "You okay?" He queried. There was something off with him, that much was clear.

"Yeah." River nudged him away, a grin tugging at his lips. His glasses were in his lap, though they had left behind a little crease on either side of his freckled nose.

"So, what are you doing up here? Don't you have homework to be doing?" Mickey asked.

River turned to face Mickey with raised brows, "Don't you?"

"Yeah, but unlike you, I never do mine." Mickey winked.

"I came out to my parents last night." River blurted out.

Mickey almost missed what River had said - he was watching a squirrel in a nearby tree scurrying along a branch as the rain ripped through the leaves like bullets. And then he turned to his best friend, smiling that wonky smile of his, "I'm proud of you." He hummed.

River beamed back at him. All teeth and sparkles. "Thanks, Mickey."

"Did they take it okay?"

River shrugged, running his fingers through his dishevelled blond curls, "They didn't say much. I think they already knew."

"No shit." Mickey scoffed.

River shoved him jokingly, "Fuck you."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, you fucking wish." River rolled his eyes, "You finished my fag, you twat." He added, noticing the cigarette had burnt away into nothing.

Mickey laughed in amusement as he flicked the cigarette butt out of the treehouse, watching it land in a puddle in his back garden, "Just light another one then."

"That was my last one."

"Then quite smoking."

River rolled his eyes again. He had a habit of doing that.

Up in the little wooden house, nestled between the branches, this was Mickey's favourite view in the whole world. With their legs dangling beneath them, and rows of houses stretching out before them, it felt like they were on top of the world, the sun setting between the clouds, now painted inky shades of lilac. Mickey's Father had built the treehouse when the boys were seven years old, and as it turned out, as his last parting gift to his son before running off to start a new family with his blonde receptionist.