The Treehouse [BxB]

part 4. twenty one

PART FOUR:
RECONCILE

When Mickey stepped off the plane, and into the Italian sunshine, his heart began to beat uncontrollably at the thought of seeing River again after all this time. And as he made his way through airport security, his headphones plugged in, and hands trembling nervously, he wondered; what if River was a different person now?

When he climbed into a taxi, and read out the address from River's postcard, the driver nodded understandably, and started the engine. Beautiful scenery rolled by the windows; cobbled villages, crooked fruit stands, Italian flags hanging from terracotta roofed houses. Through the gaps between the sunny villas, he caught occasional glimpses of the lake that bordered the small town, the October sun glistening off the surface of the still blue water. Mountains towered all around, draped in greenery, and poking into the fluffy clouds above.

The driver pulled up at a narrow road, caged by apartment blocks, pointing to a yellow pastel building and murmuring something in Italian. Mickey nodded understandingly, gave him a handful of euros, and stepped out of the vehicle.

Once he reached the double oak doors, he noticed that it was an old building, with no security system, and so, he just walked straight through. There was no lift, either, and as he climbed the creaky stairwell, one hand holding the postcard, the other wrapped around the strap of his backpack, he contemplated just turning back altogether. Maybe he could stay in a hotel, see a few sights, and fly back to England tomorrow. Maybe River didn't want to see him.

But his legs kept moving, and before he knew it, he was stood in front of apartment 201. He glanced down at the postcard again. 201. This was it.

He didn't knock for a minute. He just stood there, frozen, terrified. Just a few days ago, he was sitting in a lecture hall at university, his wrist aching from taking so many notes. And now he was in Italy.

Finally, he built up the courage to knock, and a few moments later, he heard footsteps approaching the door.

A girl appeared; long dark hair and hazel eyes. "Ciao." She scanned him up and down, and frowned in confusion, "Tu chi sei?"

"Uh..." Mickey scratched the back of his neck bashfully, "Sorry, I don't speak Italian."

"Ah." She nodded, "English?"

"Yeah." He replied, "Is there someone living here called River?"

"Ah, si." She turned around, her silky hair flicking across her shoulder, "River!" She called, then turned back to Mickey, "Come." She ushered him inside and shut the door behind them.

The apartment was small but full of light, sunlight streaming through a large window, and plants sitting on every shelf. It was an open floor plan, with a cluttered kitchen in one corner, and a couple of sofas pushed up against the other.

And then he appeared. And Mickey's heart almost exploded. "River."

River's eyes widened, and he ran into Mickey's arms, accidentally tackling him to the wall. He wrapped his arms around Mickey's waist, burying his cheek into his chest, and pulling him impossibly close. "Mickey." He murmured softly.

Mickey squeezed him back, breathing in the smell of River's soft blond hair, his arms holding the smaller boy to his chest, never wanting to let go again. Because if he did, River might leave him again. "I can't believe it's really you." Mickey's voice was muffled by River's hair, and he noticed that he smelt different.

Finally, they pulled away, and River had tears in his eyes, "I'm so fucking sorry, Mickey."

Mickey sighed, cupping River's cheek with his hand, "Let me see you." He tilted his head to the side, examining the other boy's appearance. He looked so different, and yet, so familiar. His hair was a little longer, his skin more tanned, the freckles kissing his nose and cheeks more prominent. And he was wearing different glasses. Of course he was wearing different glasses — Mickey had his old ones on his desk at university. "God, I missed you so fucking much." He pulled him in again, feeling that same flare of possessiveness rise up in him — he hadn't felt that in a long time.