(no subject)
Still a part of the: First Class Ticket To Nowhere (Title Patent: theladychia) saga.
Notes: Thanks to i_l0ve_my_az for beta-reading my work. For this story, I wanted to focus more on Zeke and Cy but seeing as they're not exactly my forte, I decided to craft a story that would best suit my interests.
To Right a Wrong
He woke up sprawled on the couch, greeted by the scent of freshly brewed coffee-that, and a motherfucking headache.
The light from the television momentarily blinded him and he blinked furiously to clear his eyesight.
“Take some of this.”
He snapped his head up, trying in vain not to wince at the stabbing pain in his head. He stared at the blurry sight of a proffered hand; he honestly didn’t know what to make of it. He was groggy, tired, and clueless-dying would’ve honestly been a better option.
He stifled a yawn and leaned against the armrest, eyes drooping slightly.
A huge sigh, “It’s Codeine and an Advil; it’ll do you good.”
His brows furrowed slightly as he tried to make out the pills. A hand shot out and deposited a capsule and a pill into his upstretched palm. He sighed gratefully as he popped the pills into his mouth, wondering whatever possessed him to finish that entire bottle of vodka.
He shifted gradually, biting his lip as his entire vision spun in an array of dizzying colors. He shut his eyes tightly and returned to his previous position, hoping to God he wouldn’t throw up on his carpeted living room.
“What time is it?” His voice cracked; his mouth and throat were as dry as cotton balls-and if he weren’t mistaken, stank of stale liquor.
“It’s two pm.”
“Shit.” He’d missed an important lunch date with Celine and her parents.
“Shit doesn’t cover it-get up, you and I need to talk.”
He cracked his left eye open-a bright blond thing invaded his vision.
Oh Shit.
He let out a muffled groan and closed his eyes once again. He was in deep shit if they sent Damien, among all people, to see him. Damien was great, he was sweet and he was cute, and he loved the boy dearly like a brother but noting the tone he was using, Damien was currently growing scales and sharpening his claws.
“Zeke, I said, we need to talk.”
Zeke sighed deeply and cradled his head. “Not today Damien.”
And he meant it. He had too much for one week, with all these preposterous issues piling up. He didn’t want to deal with just about anything as of the moment-didn’t have time to, didn’t have the will, either.
“Would you like some bagels?” The blond asked patronizingly. Zeke opened his eyes and stared at the package from Starbucks. He didn’t feel like eating-in fact, he’d really rather throw up.
He shook his head gently, resting his cheek against the sofa’s cool vinyl coverlet.
“Zeke, why don’t we talk about Cy?”
“I don’t need a psychiatrist.” He bit out softly, not wanting to recall the succeeding dramas in his life. He scrutinized the blond as he bit onto his bagel primly, looking unfazed and uncaring as he sipped coffee from the Styrofoam cup.
“Of course not.” Damien licked his lips as he pushed an extra cup in Zeke’s direction. “It’s Green Coffee, it’ll make your head feel better.”
Zeke nodded as he took a quick. The coffee was rich and delectable; although scalding by nature, it proved to be a good distraction from his throbbing migraine.
“I want to get my words in quick and precise,” Damien brushed the crumbs off of his black pea coat. “Get back together with Cy.”
Zeke spat the coffee back into the cup-the coffee was definitely bland. “Fuck you.”
Damien grinned and settled both his hands on his hips, “Stop being delusional Zeke-you’re pathetic. You threw Cy away like he was some used condom just ‘cause you think you want to give pussy a shot. News flash, it’s not going to work.”
He growled furiously. “Who are you, the fucking Dalai Lama?”
“I represent the voice of a million people who didn’t have the balls to express their opinion.” Damien glared, “I mean, Celine-I would’ve thought you to have better taste.”
“This is none of your concern.”
“Oh yes, this is very much my concern.”
But of course!
This was only his business because word got around that Az fucked Cy. The whole idea must’ve threatened his whimsical fantasies of gold bands, white picket fences, and Azrael Mortensen.
Damien snapped his fingers sharply, “Hey! Would you honestly have someone who can’t tell Mozart from Iggy Pop? Someone who’d rather go to a PETA meeting than be at a rock concert?”
Zeke scowled, “There is more to life than rock music.”
“Then clearly you know nothing of life.” Damien set the cup gently on the table, “For someone like you, music is an important aspect-it’s your passion. All your life, you’ve been playing the guitar, preaching information about rock legends.”
“People change.”
Damien looked at him coldly. “You think you can throw away music like you threw away Cy?”
Zeke crossed his arms and proceeded to glare at the coffee table.
“You’re lucky to have someone like Cy, someone who understands your passion-someone who practically shares your passion. Unlike Celine, Cy is more than just a commodity, he’s your fucking soul mate.”
Zeke shook his head, “Soul mates don’t exist in real life Damien,” He looked up and smiled wryly, “You’re seventeen, you don’t know shit.”
“I sure know better than you, if that’s what you mean. You have this history with Cy-and a future that’s been written out. It’s rare and it’s one of a kind, a lot of people would kill to have what you both have. It’s right in front of you, how can you be so blind as to not take it?”
He honestly didn’t know what to say.
“Zeke,” Damien’s tone softened. “You’re a mess-the sooner you get back to him, the better.”
The thin line between sanity just snapped, “He seems to be getting along just fine without me!”
“If you call a drunken mess, fine, then hell yeah, sure.”
“What does he need me for? He’s got Az.”
“Yes, ‘cause Az is so perfect, so morally upright, so handsome-Az doesn’t give a shit about Cy, not like you do!”
Zeke shook his head in utter defeat.
“It’s not worth it Zeke, if you let him go now, you’ll surely regret it someday.”
Zeke nodded in slight apprehension and submission. He knew Damien was right, knew he was wrong from the start-he’s not entirely stupid. He knew he had dug his own grave and knew well enough the consequences of his mistakes; however, to hear it from someone else? It was just mortifying.
Well, it sure did snap him back to reality.
He raised his eyes to meet Damien’s, “So… what do you get out of this?”
Damien tried to suppress a smirk. For the longest time, they stared at each other. Damien shook his head and strode towards Zeke, kissing him full on the lips.
“I’m doing this for me.”
Notes: Thanks to i_l0ve_my_az for beta-reading my work. For this story, I wanted to focus more on Zeke and Cy but seeing as they're not exactly my forte, I decided to craft a story that would best suit my interests.
To Right a Wrong
He woke up sprawled on the couch, greeted by the scent of freshly brewed coffee-that, and a motherfucking headache.
The light from the television momentarily blinded him and he blinked furiously to clear his eyesight.
“Take some of this.”
He snapped his head up, trying in vain not to wince at the stabbing pain in his head. He stared at the blurry sight of a proffered hand; he honestly didn’t know what to make of it. He was groggy, tired, and clueless-dying would’ve honestly been a better option.
He stifled a yawn and leaned against the armrest, eyes drooping slightly.
A huge sigh, “It’s Codeine and an Advil; it’ll do you good.”
His brows furrowed slightly as he tried to make out the pills. A hand shot out and deposited a capsule and a pill into his upstretched palm. He sighed gratefully as he popped the pills into his mouth, wondering whatever possessed him to finish that entire bottle of vodka.
He shifted gradually, biting his lip as his entire vision spun in an array of dizzying colors. He shut his eyes tightly and returned to his previous position, hoping to God he wouldn’t throw up on his carpeted living room.
“What time is it?” His voice cracked; his mouth and throat were as dry as cotton balls-and if he weren’t mistaken, stank of stale liquor.
“It’s two pm.”
“Shit.” He’d missed an important lunch date with Celine and her parents.
“Shit doesn’t cover it-get up, you and I need to talk.”
He cracked his left eye open-a bright blond thing invaded his vision.
Oh Shit.
He let out a muffled groan and closed his eyes once again. He was in deep shit if they sent Damien, among all people, to see him. Damien was great, he was sweet and he was cute, and he loved the boy dearly like a brother but noting the tone he was using, Damien was currently growing scales and sharpening his claws.
“Zeke, I said, we need to talk.”
Zeke sighed deeply and cradled his head. “Not today Damien.”
And he meant it. He had too much for one week, with all these preposterous issues piling up. He didn’t want to deal with just about anything as of the moment-didn’t have time to, didn’t have the will, either.
“Would you like some bagels?” The blond asked patronizingly. Zeke opened his eyes and stared at the package from Starbucks. He didn’t feel like eating-in fact, he’d really rather throw up.
He shook his head gently, resting his cheek against the sofa’s cool vinyl coverlet.
“Zeke, why don’t we talk about Cy?”
“I don’t need a psychiatrist.” He bit out softly, not wanting to recall the succeeding dramas in his life. He scrutinized the blond as he bit onto his bagel primly, looking unfazed and uncaring as he sipped coffee from the Styrofoam cup.
“Of course not.” Damien licked his lips as he pushed an extra cup in Zeke’s direction. “It’s Green Coffee, it’ll make your head feel better.”
Zeke nodded as he took a quick. The coffee was rich and delectable; although scalding by nature, it proved to be a good distraction from his throbbing migraine.
“I want to get my words in quick and precise,” Damien brushed the crumbs off of his black pea coat. “Get back together with Cy.”
Zeke spat the coffee back into the cup-the coffee was definitely bland. “Fuck you.”
Damien grinned and settled both his hands on his hips, “Stop being delusional Zeke-you’re pathetic. You threw Cy away like he was some used condom just ‘cause you think you want to give pussy a shot. News flash, it’s not going to work.”
He growled furiously. “Who are you, the fucking Dalai Lama?”
“I represent the voice of a million people who didn’t have the balls to express their opinion.” Damien glared, “I mean, Celine-I would’ve thought you to have better taste.”
“This is none of your concern.”
“Oh yes, this is very much my concern.”
But of course!
This was only his business because word got around that Az fucked Cy. The whole idea must’ve threatened his whimsical fantasies of gold bands, white picket fences, and Azrael Mortensen.
Damien snapped his fingers sharply, “Hey! Would you honestly have someone who can’t tell Mozart from Iggy Pop? Someone who’d rather go to a PETA meeting than be at a rock concert?”
Zeke scowled, “There is more to life than rock music.”
“Then clearly you know nothing of life.” Damien set the cup gently on the table, “For someone like you, music is an important aspect-it’s your passion. All your life, you’ve been playing the guitar, preaching information about rock legends.”
“People change.”
Damien looked at him coldly. “You think you can throw away music like you threw away Cy?”
Zeke crossed his arms and proceeded to glare at the coffee table.
“You’re lucky to have someone like Cy, someone who understands your passion-someone who practically shares your passion. Unlike Celine, Cy is more than just a commodity, he’s your fucking soul mate.”
Zeke shook his head, “Soul mates don’t exist in real life Damien,” He looked up and smiled wryly, “You’re seventeen, you don’t know shit.”
“I sure know better than you, if that’s what you mean. You have this history with Cy-and a future that’s been written out. It’s rare and it’s one of a kind, a lot of people would kill to have what you both have. It’s right in front of you, how can you be so blind as to not take it?”
He honestly didn’t know what to say.
“Zeke,” Damien’s tone softened. “You’re a mess-the sooner you get back to him, the better.”
The thin line between sanity just snapped, “He seems to be getting along just fine without me!”
“If you call a drunken mess, fine, then hell yeah, sure.”
“What does he need me for? He’s got Az.”
“Yes, ‘cause Az is so perfect, so morally upright, so handsome-Az doesn’t give a shit about Cy, not like you do!”
Zeke shook his head in utter defeat.
“It’s not worth it Zeke, if you let him go now, you’ll surely regret it someday.”
Zeke nodded in slight apprehension and submission. He knew Damien was right, knew he was wrong from the start-he’s not entirely stupid. He knew he had dug his own grave and knew well enough the consequences of his mistakes; however, to hear it from someone else? It was just mortifying.
Well, it sure did snap him back to reality.
He raised his eyes to meet Damien’s, “So… what do you get out of this?”
Damien tried to suppress a smirk. For the longest time, they stared at each other. Damien shook his head and strode towards Zeke, kissing him full on the lips.
“I’m doing this for me.”