Ho there!
So no, I *havne't* forgotten the last one or two requests from my "Ask for fic!" Christmastime time. Time. Way late, I know, but hey... hitting another dry spot during some busy-busyness the last few weeks happens at times. :P So YES, prisca1960, you WILL get your request some time soon, hopefully! Tonight's a writing-bug night. :D
But while she didn't technically make a request, verangel HAD commented to my post. So I consider that an unspoken request. And since she's just one helluva-cool gal (and second-time grandma, yay!) she's getting the first of the belated set of ficness. And SINCE she always showed a heaping amount of <3 for my long-ago (and miraculously FINISHED WIP, a rarity in these parts) 'High Society', I decided to write from there... this time, from another's perspective. Oooh.
In case you barely remember it, the tag-archive for High Society be here. If you don't need a refresher, this little "new addition" takes place between Part 12 and Part 13, involving Casey's coming home after his secret day out with Cal, shaken, freezing, sick and depressed after being found out (and almost the receiver of an ass-kicking) by/from Zeke as to what he'd done. But it isn't as if because Casey was knocked out a couple days, all time stopped for everyone else. So in hitting the idea of, 'What DID Zeke go through when all of that went down?' last night while rereading High Society, I was compelled to expose that 'what did'. I hope it is enjoyedededed, if only for the "remember when I was always here, writing, reading and frolicking around in these crazy universes we'd come up with?!" nostalgia. ;)
Title: High Society: Points of View
Pairing/Characters: C&Z-UST, C/others, Casey/Cal, OMCs-all-the-hell-over
Rating: VERY light NC-17, if ya squint.
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Zeke doesn't care and he cares too damned much.
Though it was still the boys’ ‘free time’, no one was technically enjoying it. Henry and James had been in a heated competition at the billiards table, a close game that ended abruptly when Casey had finally arrived home. His passing out moments after entering, with Stephen and the servants going into panic-mode had emptied the common room, everyone wondering what had happened-everyone but Zeke, who remained on the couch, staring ahead at the group. He was still there, chainsmoking and eyes set on the pool table Henry played at; his game with James had been deserted, but he’d returned to the table a while later to knock the balls around by himself. The mood soured, he seemed to be doing it to pass the time… a distraction.
“Zeke?”
Zeke looked up to the archway leading to the bar, finding Stephen standing there looking at him. “Yeah?” he said in a croak.
“How is he?” Henry, unable to keep concerned curiosity at bay, asked of Stephen. The others scattered listlessly around the room sat up in attention as Stephen made a small nod and raised a hand.
“He’s resting. The nurse is still with him, trying to get his fever down. I’ll let you know how things are when she’s done, I promise,” he said. He turned Zeke’s way again and waved him over. “Come with me, Zeke, just for a quick talk.”
It didn’t matter if Zeke hadn’t done a damned thing wrong, besides keeping his mouth shut about what he’d discovered tonight. His hands began to tremble, so he stuffed them in his pockets as he got up and followed Stephen down the hall to the office. The man was insightful enough and knew the signs of anxiety in Zeke; even if he could easily explain it away with what had gone on, Zeke didn’t want any nervousness to show. Who knew what Casey possibly said in his state; Zeke could picture the little idiot crying out, ‘Zeke, no! Please! I’m sorry!’ in his delirium. Or worse, some bullshit involving Cal and their ‘secret day’ together. He wouldn’t know if he’d be able to lie convincingly enough to Stephen, should that be the case.
Stephen closed the door behind them and sighed his way over to his desk. Zeke sat in the chair provided and waited. ‘You fucking prick,’ he thought Casey’s way. Once again, he had to deal with yet another series of secrets, ones he hated keeping-especially from Stephen, the kind and giving man who’d saved his and so many others’ lives. Stephen didn’t deserve it, which made Zeke’s insides twist. Maybe he wouldn’t lie for that stupid, ungrateful bastard, if it came up…
“Like I said-Casey seems to be coming down. We’re still on-guard, however,” Stephen started as he sat down. His gaze was solid but soft on Zeke as he went on, “He had a few fits once we got him in his bed. His fever’s very high; God knows what that poor young man was doing out there, coming home in such a state.”
‘God, Cal and me,’ Zeke thought. “Okay,” Zeke said.
“Noah was hard to keep out of the room, I’ll say that. But out of everyone, he deserves to know what’s going on.” A muted smile crossed Stephen’s lips. “It’s been good to see that boy coming out of his shell as he has, and Casey’s a big part of that. That said, I asked Noah if it would be all right if he was to share his room with you for a night or two-at least until we know what’s going on with Casey. I don’t need TWO of my lads getting sick.”
“Oh,” Zeke muttered. Whether Stephen knew it or not, he was giving Zeke a gift; the last thing he wanted to do was remain in that room with Casey, for any amount of time. “Okay.”
“That’s okay with you? It may just be for one night, just to see how Casey gets through the night and after the doctor makes his visit tomorrow morning,” Stephen said.
“No, no, that’s fine. As long… as I can just grab a few things.”
“Of course, Zeke. ‘Course,” Stephen said. He then stood, groaning a little. “That’s all I wanted to let you know, and figured it’d be better in private. If you want, you can go in the common room and wait, or up to Noah’s. He’s there now, very tired, poor guy. Once the nurse is done, I’ll fetch you to get your things for the night.”
The choice was easy; between getting barraged by an eager-for-information group of chattering boys and closing himself off into a room with a sleepy deaf-mute, Zeke nodded, stood and said, “I’ll be upstairs.”
“Thank you, Zeke. I expected your understanding, even if I know you don’t like giving up your space,” Stephen told him, patting him on the shoulder as they exited the room together.
“S’okay,” Zeke mumbled, when really, he wanted to say, ‘I’d rather move my shit into Noah’s for good, if the kid don’t mind.’ He mused on these thoughts as he and Stephen ascended to the third floor together, anger swelling deep within him with every step. Before he could make a sharp left and continue down to the end where his temporary quarters were, his and Casey’s door opened. Helen and the nurse, their usual home-visitor Christine, stepped out into the hall together.
“Christine… how is he?” Stephen said. Zeke felt rooted to the spot, especially when he set his eyes on the cracked-open doorway. Though he couldn’t see Casey, the light coming through their windows was almost hypnotizing.
“He’s stable. Still hot to the touch, but Helen and myself managed to get some medicine into him. After a few rounds of cold cloths and giving a few droppers of water to him, it seems to be going down,” Christine said with a sigh. “Again, Doctor Barnes apologizes for not being able to join me. Another client’s child needed some emergency attention with the flu, poor mite. He said he’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
“Understood, and no worries. Thank you for hurrying over as you did,” Stephen said.
“I recommend he has Helen and anyone else willing to stick close to him, making bed-checks through the night. Even better would be someone stationed close-by, but not in the room itself-until the doctor is able to clear him of having anything communicable,” she explained. “I’ve left detailed instructions with Helen. But if I were to conclude anything, he should be fine. Whatever the poor thing had gotten himself into to be outside for so long on such a cold night, it’s probably just a solid shock to his system. But he escaped any frostbite-barely, and hopefully will be right as rain in a few days’ time.”
Good news… not that Zeke cared. Still, he stared past them all into the room, thinking on what to grab for himself tonight and how quick he’d make it. Stephen interrupted his thoughts in patting his shoulder again. “Zeke is Casey’s roommate; he’s just going to go in and grab a few things,” he said.
“Of course. If anything happens during the night, don’t hesitate to call,” Christine said.
“Zeke, you go on ahead. I’m going to walk Christine down and discuss things with Helen. Do try to get some rest,” Stephen, with his usual brand of fatherly kindness, said.
“Thanks,” Zeke muttered back. With the trio leaving him to his business, Zeke inhaled deeply, held it a moment then let it out as he entered the room. The promise he’d made to himself to not look over at Casey’s side was broken immediately, his eyes darting over as if on instinct.
‘I don’t care,’ he thought, not realizing that the ‘quick getaway’ plan had been aborted in favor of standing shock-still in the middle of the room, staring at the bed. Casey, dressed in a soft beige, linen nightshirt, was half-covered, arms out and still over the blankets. His head was turned to the side facing Zeke’s, eyes closed. Zeke kept staring as he reached the lamp on the shared bureau, flicking it on. The soft yellow glow illuminated the scene further, mixing with the moonlight-blue from outside. ‘I don’t care,’ he thought again with more force as he wrenched his eyes away to open his bureau and begin pulling nightclothes and toiletries out for himself. They were stuffed into a small, spare canvas bag without care for wrinkling or order.
He was about to turn away from the scene and make his way to the shower room when a soft sound came from the bed; the small gasp of ”Ha-hh…” from Casey’s parted lips then a small tremor coursing through his arms made a tiny spike of concern hit Zeke, causing him to stand still and stare the boy’s way. He was angry, frustrated and wanting nothing more than to go back to Stephen and let him know just what exactly had happened with Casey tonight-let the ungrateful, naïve and devious boy pay for his mistakes with packed bags and a door closing him out, for good. Once he was better, anyway. Even if Zeke was starting to fantasize about kicking him out himself the second the little bastard’s eyes opened, Stephen was too good a man to do that, no matter how he’d been betrayed.
But Casey deserved it. He deserved being ousted, perhaps without even getting to say goodbye to the others-those who followed Stephen’s rules, who knew better than to fall for a client’s colorful, sweet and wistful promises of love and affection. No matter how bad Zeke had had it, how horrible things had gotten for him, he’d never-not once-fallen for blurted-out ‘I love you!’ declarations, especially when the few he’d heard were made at the moment of climax. Abe had done it, once, and had spent the last few minutes with Zeke in the fuck-room blushing and keeping his eyes averted. Zeke had pretended it’d never happened at all, because technically, it hadn’t. There would be no love here, besides friendship and caring… things this young man, lying sick and beaten-down in his bed, mustn’t have valued at all, considering the stupid risks he’d taken tonight.
But in staring at Casey, Zeke’s anger flashed and went white-hot in another direction; instead of snarling at Casey and imagining him crying on the streets after Stephen dumped him there, Cal took his place now. Zeke darted his eyes to the window, which faced south toward Central Park. That’s where that rich, greedy fuck lived, his ‘weekend retreat’ more like a castle, undoubtedly full of luxuries Zeke, nor any of the boys here, could scarcely conceive ever being within their grasp. Every time Cal dared go ‘slumming’ here, he’d dance his way over to his favorite boy, the one he was supposed to take upstairs, fuck, give thanks and perhaps a hefty tip then leave. Instead, he showed possession and wanting for Casey, a dangerous want that he’d never have to answer for. It was Casey who’d pay dearly; Cal’s being the reason for an eviction handed to Casey didn’t mean it’d be Cal paying the price. Just Casey. And like hell all of those pretty promises he made to the boy he supposedly ‘loved’ would come to fruition…
Zeke didn’t realize he was walking over to Casey’s bed until he was sitting on its edge. The anger he felt toward him now mixed with a deep, dark sadness as he reimagined Casey’s plight in needing to find somewhere else to live… and of course he’d high-tail it back to that castle, banging on Cal’s door and begging to be let in. Zeke could envision the man’s face easily, his throwing the door open with an angry scowl, his asking, “What the hell are YOU doing here?” Every expectation and feeling of safety, help and love Casey harbored, all of it sinking right there in realizing the worst mistake he’d ever made. Would he drop to his knees, crying and begging, clawing at the man’s slacks in desperation?
”You said you loved me!” Casey’s voice came clearly to Zeke’s imagination here, making Zeke’s own eyes go hot and sting. He rubbed at them and tried forcing these visions away; they hurt, because he was angry, because fuck every I don’t care he’d given and thought tonight. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t hurt. There’d be no anger. Just his coming home in the early afternoon, wearing a satisfied smirk as he let Stephen know of Casey and Cal’s betrayal, all so Casey wouldn’t have come home at all, sick or not. He’d simply have packed Casey’s things himself then given them to Stephen before the man set off in his car and went to Cal’s to give Casey his walking papers, right there on the walk. Zeke would have returned to having his own room and been generous with the details the next morning over breakfast, letting everyone know what a lying, cheating scoundrel their newest ‘addition’ had been.
But Casey wasn’t any of that. All he was was a young, lost soul in the world-a soul who felt things deep, who wanted connection. Love. Safety. He had a man, just as lost and misguided in his own way, dressing up the client-whore arrangement as a romantic, real relationship when it wasn’t. If Cal loved him, he’d have never struck up what he had with Casey. He’d respect what Casey had chosen, no matter the conflict in wanting to be that someone more to the boy.
It was that contrast that let Zeke know that, despite the many angry, thorn-covered barriers he’d thrown up between he and nearly everyone he knew, that this deeply vulnerable yet surprisingly strong boy had gotten past all of that somehow and Zeke was in love, himself. In love with someone he wasn’t allowed to be in love with, and knew it. There’d be no secret tryst, no sneaking into each other’s sheets to express those feelings he couldn’t show. He’d never make a promise to this young man that involved anything more than their day-to-day, ho-hum lives, the same respect and courtesy he showed ALL of the boys. There’d never be a day when luck would find him, not like this; he was lucky enough. There’d be no sudden windfall of money in a well-placed bet, or a distant relative’s bequeathing Zeke an entire estate, all so he could grab Casey’s hand and lead him away from this dirty, miserable existence to finally live.
But if he could dredge up those awful fantasies he’d had already, full of despair, sadness and suffering… imagining some magical scenario full of love, togetherness and living-life was just as easy. They shared Ohio, they had roots there-the ‘Heartland’, chock full of farms and cozy places to live. Together. He and Casey, carving out plots of land on the acres they’d own, ensuring a full and secure harvest. They’d have the best farmstand in town, both raking in cash and having plenty to feast upon themselves. Their dinners would be full of mashed potatoes, corn… chicken. Eggs. They’d have a few coops, which Zeke in the present couldn’t help a smile in thinking about. He didn’t know if Casey had any experience raising ANY animal. Zeke sure didn’t. But they’d try, wouldn’t they? Envisioning Casey standing amongst hungry little beasts pecking around his feet as he scattered grain and corn to them, warm sunlight basking bared shoulders and chestnut hair… sunlight was different in the city, filtered through dust, grime and smoke. It was out in the country, surrounded by fresh air, earth and honest-to-God warmth that he’d truly see this boy shine.
None of it would happen, of course. Zeke made one last long sigh and stare at the boy’s face, pale as a ghost in some spots and splotched bright red in others then stood in a shot. He held his bag tightly and left, closing the door securely behind him before marching down the hall to Noah’s room, where he thankfully found his new, temporary roommate sleeping. He turned to the empty bed and found a slip of paper upon it. Curious, Zeke went over, sat down and brought it up to read.
Stephen said you might room with me. I’m deaf but feel stomping feet enough to wake me up. Other than that, sleep well.
Noah
Zeke lifted his eyes to Noah’s bed, the only sign it was him underneath the mound of blankets being a shock of his light blond hair sticking out at the top. He made two realizations at once; one, this was their first ever shared communication, however one-sided it was, and two, without Casey being here as a fast, loving friend to this young man-someone who’d been here longer than Zeke and hadn’t ever attempted to fight past the usual teasing and taunts he received from the others in order to FIND that friend-Zeke wondered if he’d ever have bothered trying to get to know Noah at all.
But he would, the next few days. He was able to promise that. Whether it was to try and switch rooms comfortably, or just to see if he’d been inspired enough to reach out past his own defenses to someone-someone clearly worthy of friendship, as Noah was-he wasn’t sure. At the moment, the only thing he wanted to do was throw his clothes off, redress in his pajama pants and pass out for the rest of the night, not bothering to wash up. He did so, finding sleep quicker than he thought he would.
But while she didn't technically make a request, verangel HAD commented to my post. So I consider that an unspoken request. And since she's just one helluva-cool gal (and second-time grandma, yay!) she's getting the first of the belated set of ficness. And SINCE she always showed a heaping amount of <3 for my long-ago (and miraculously FINISHED WIP, a rarity in these parts) 'High Society', I decided to write from there... this time, from another's perspective. Oooh.
In case you barely remember it, the tag-archive for High Society be here. If you don't need a refresher, this little "new addition" takes place between Part 12 and Part 13, involving Casey's coming home after his secret day out with Cal, shaken, freezing, sick and depressed after being found out (and almost the receiver of an ass-kicking) by/from Zeke as to what he'd done. But it isn't as if because Casey was knocked out a couple days, all time stopped for everyone else. So in hitting the idea of, 'What DID Zeke go through when all of that went down?' last night while rereading High Society, I was compelled to expose that 'what did'. I hope it is enjoyedededed, if only for the "remember when I was always here, writing, reading and frolicking around in these crazy universes we'd come up with?!" nostalgia. ;)
Title: High Society: Points of View
Pairing/Characters: C&Z-UST, C/others, Casey/Cal, OMCs-all-the-hell-over
Rating: VERY light NC-17, if ya squint.
Disclaimer: Don't own!
Synopsis: Zeke doesn't care and he cares too damned much.
Though it was still the boys’ ‘free time’, no one was technically enjoying it. Henry and James had been in a heated competition at the billiards table, a close game that ended abruptly when Casey had finally arrived home. His passing out moments after entering, with Stephen and the servants going into panic-mode had emptied the common room, everyone wondering what had happened-everyone but Zeke, who remained on the couch, staring ahead at the group. He was still there, chainsmoking and eyes set on the pool table Henry played at; his game with James had been deserted, but he’d returned to the table a while later to knock the balls around by himself. The mood soured, he seemed to be doing it to pass the time… a distraction.
“Zeke?”
Zeke looked up to the archway leading to the bar, finding Stephen standing there looking at him. “Yeah?” he said in a croak.
“How is he?” Henry, unable to keep concerned curiosity at bay, asked of Stephen. The others scattered listlessly around the room sat up in attention as Stephen made a small nod and raised a hand.
“He’s resting. The nurse is still with him, trying to get his fever down. I’ll let you know how things are when she’s done, I promise,” he said. He turned Zeke’s way again and waved him over. “Come with me, Zeke, just for a quick talk.”
It didn’t matter if Zeke hadn’t done a damned thing wrong, besides keeping his mouth shut about what he’d discovered tonight. His hands began to tremble, so he stuffed them in his pockets as he got up and followed Stephen down the hall to the office. The man was insightful enough and knew the signs of anxiety in Zeke; even if he could easily explain it away with what had gone on, Zeke didn’t want any nervousness to show. Who knew what Casey possibly said in his state; Zeke could picture the little idiot crying out, ‘Zeke, no! Please! I’m sorry!’ in his delirium. Or worse, some bullshit involving Cal and their ‘secret day’ together. He wouldn’t know if he’d be able to lie convincingly enough to Stephen, should that be the case.
Stephen closed the door behind them and sighed his way over to his desk. Zeke sat in the chair provided and waited. ‘You fucking prick,’ he thought Casey’s way. Once again, he had to deal with yet another series of secrets, ones he hated keeping-especially from Stephen, the kind and giving man who’d saved his and so many others’ lives. Stephen didn’t deserve it, which made Zeke’s insides twist. Maybe he wouldn’t lie for that stupid, ungrateful bastard, if it came up…
“Like I said-Casey seems to be coming down. We’re still on-guard, however,” Stephen started as he sat down. His gaze was solid but soft on Zeke as he went on, “He had a few fits once we got him in his bed. His fever’s very high; God knows what that poor young man was doing out there, coming home in such a state.”
‘God, Cal and me,’ Zeke thought. “Okay,” Zeke said.
“Noah was hard to keep out of the room, I’ll say that. But out of everyone, he deserves to know what’s going on.” A muted smile crossed Stephen’s lips. “It’s been good to see that boy coming out of his shell as he has, and Casey’s a big part of that. That said, I asked Noah if it would be all right if he was to share his room with you for a night or two-at least until we know what’s going on with Casey. I don’t need TWO of my lads getting sick.”
“Oh,” Zeke muttered. Whether Stephen knew it or not, he was giving Zeke a gift; the last thing he wanted to do was remain in that room with Casey, for any amount of time. “Okay.”
“That’s okay with you? It may just be for one night, just to see how Casey gets through the night and after the doctor makes his visit tomorrow morning,” Stephen said.
“No, no, that’s fine. As long… as I can just grab a few things.”
“Of course, Zeke. ‘Course,” Stephen said. He then stood, groaning a little. “That’s all I wanted to let you know, and figured it’d be better in private. If you want, you can go in the common room and wait, or up to Noah’s. He’s there now, very tired, poor guy. Once the nurse is done, I’ll fetch you to get your things for the night.”
The choice was easy; between getting barraged by an eager-for-information group of chattering boys and closing himself off into a room with a sleepy deaf-mute, Zeke nodded, stood and said, “I’ll be upstairs.”
“Thank you, Zeke. I expected your understanding, even if I know you don’t like giving up your space,” Stephen told him, patting him on the shoulder as they exited the room together.
“S’okay,” Zeke mumbled, when really, he wanted to say, ‘I’d rather move my shit into Noah’s for good, if the kid don’t mind.’ He mused on these thoughts as he and Stephen ascended to the third floor together, anger swelling deep within him with every step. Before he could make a sharp left and continue down to the end where his temporary quarters were, his and Casey’s door opened. Helen and the nurse, their usual home-visitor Christine, stepped out into the hall together.
“Christine… how is he?” Stephen said. Zeke felt rooted to the spot, especially when he set his eyes on the cracked-open doorway. Though he couldn’t see Casey, the light coming through their windows was almost hypnotizing.
“He’s stable. Still hot to the touch, but Helen and myself managed to get some medicine into him. After a few rounds of cold cloths and giving a few droppers of water to him, it seems to be going down,” Christine said with a sigh. “Again, Doctor Barnes apologizes for not being able to join me. Another client’s child needed some emergency attention with the flu, poor mite. He said he’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
“Understood, and no worries. Thank you for hurrying over as you did,” Stephen said.
“I recommend he has Helen and anyone else willing to stick close to him, making bed-checks through the night. Even better would be someone stationed close-by, but not in the room itself-until the doctor is able to clear him of having anything communicable,” she explained. “I’ve left detailed instructions with Helen. But if I were to conclude anything, he should be fine. Whatever the poor thing had gotten himself into to be outside for so long on such a cold night, it’s probably just a solid shock to his system. But he escaped any frostbite-barely, and hopefully will be right as rain in a few days’ time.”
Good news… not that Zeke cared. Still, he stared past them all into the room, thinking on what to grab for himself tonight and how quick he’d make it. Stephen interrupted his thoughts in patting his shoulder again. “Zeke is Casey’s roommate; he’s just going to go in and grab a few things,” he said.
“Of course. If anything happens during the night, don’t hesitate to call,” Christine said.
“Zeke, you go on ahead. I’m going to walk Christine down and discuss things with Helen. Do try to get some rest,” Stephen, with his usual brand of fatherly kindness, said.
“Thanks,” Zeke muttered back. With the trio leaving him to his business, Zeke inhaled deeply, held it a moment then let it out as he entered the room. The promise he’d made to himself to not look over at Casey’s side was broken immediately, his eyes darting over as if on instinct.
‘I don’t care,’ he thought, not realizing that the ‘quick getaway’ plan had been aborted in favor of standing shock-still in the middle of the room, staring at the bed. Casey, dressed in a soft beige, linen nightshirt, was half-covered, arms out and still over the blankets. His head was turned to the side facing Zeke’s, eyes closed. Zeke kept staring as he reached the lamp on the shared bureau, flicking it on. The soft yellow glow illuminated the scene further, mixing with the moonlight-blue from outside. ‘I don’t care,’ he thought again with more force as he wrenched his eyes away to open his bureau and begin pulling nightclothes and toiletries out for himself. They were stuffed into a small, spare canvas bag without care for wrinkling or order.
He was about to turn away from the scene and make his way to the shower room when a soft sound came from the bed; the small gasp of ”Ha-hh…” from Casey’s parted lips then a small tremor coursing through his arms made a tiny spike of concern hit Zeke, causing him to stand still and stare the boy’s way. He was angry, frustrated and wanting nothing more than to go back to Stephen and let him know just what exactly had happened with Casey tonight-let the ungrateful, naïve and devious boy pay for his mistakes with packed bags and a door closing him out, for good. Once he was better, anyway. Even if Zeke was starting to fantasize about kicking him out himself the second the little bastard’s eyes opened, Stephen was too good a man to do that, no matter how he’d been betrayed.
But Casey deserved it. He deserved being ousted, perhaps without even getting to say goodbye to the others-those who followed Stephen’s rules, who knew better than to fall for a client’s colorful, sweet and wistful promises of love and affection. No matter how bad Zeke had had it, how horrible things had gotten for him, he’d never-not once-fallen for blurted-out ‘I love you!’ declarations, especially when the few he’d heard were made at the moment of climax. Abe had done it, once, and had spent the last few minutes with Zeke in the fuck-room blushing and keeping his eyes averted. Zeke had pretended it’d never happened at all, because technically, it hadn’t. There would be no love here, besides friendship and caring… things this young man, lying sick and beaten-down in his bed, mustn’t have valued at all, considering the stupid risks he’d taken tonight.
But in staring at Casey, Zeke’s anger flashed and went white-hot in another direction; instead of snarling at Casey and imagining him crying on the streets after Stephen dumped him there, Cal took his place now. Zeke darted his eyes to the window, which faced south toward Central Park. That’s where that rich, greedy fuck lived, his ‘weekend retreat’ more like a castle, undoubtedly full of luxuries Zeke, nor any of the boys here, could scarcely conceive ever being within their grasp. Every time Cal dared go ‘slumming’ here, he’d dance his way over to his favorite boy, the one he was supposed to take upstairs, fuck, give thanks and perhaps a hefty tip then leave. Instead, he showed possession and wanting for Casey, a dangerous want that he’d never have to answer for. It was Casey who’d pay dearly; Cal’s being the reason for an eviction handed to Casey didn’t mean it’d be Cal paying the price. Just Casey. And like hell all of those pretty promises he made to the boy he supposedly ‘loved’ would come to fruition…
Zeke didn’t realize he was walking over to Casey’s bed until he was sitting on its edge. The anger he felt toward him now mixed with a deep, dark sadness as he reimagined Casey’s plight in needing to find somewhere else to live… and of course he’d high-tail it back to that castle, banging on Cal’s door and begging to be let in. Zeke could envision the man’s face easily, his throwing the door open with an angry scowl, his asking, “What the hell are YOU doing here?” Every expectation and feeling of safety, help and love Casey harbored, all of it sinking right there in realizing the worst mistake he’d ever made. Would he drop to his knees, crying and begging, clawing at the man’s slacks in desperation?
”You said you loved me!” Casey’s voice came clearly to Zeke’s imagination here, making Zeke’s own eyes go hot and sting. He rubbed at them and tried forcing these visions away; they hurt, because he was angry, because fuck every I don’t care he’d given and thought tonight. If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t hurt. There’d be no anger. Just his coming home in the early afternoon, wearing a satisfied smirk as he let Stephen know of Casey and Cal’s betrayal, all so Casey wouldn’t have come home at all, sick or not. He’d simply have packed Casey’s things himself then given them to Stephen before the man set off in his car and went to Cal’s to give Casey his walking papers, right there on the walk. Zeke would have returned to having his own room and been generous with the details the next morning over breakfast, letting everyone know what a lying, cheating scoundrel their newest ‘addition’ had been.
But Casey wasn’t any of that. All he was was a young, lost soul in the world-a soul who felt things deep, who wanted connection. Love. Safety. He had a man, just as lost and misguided in his own way, dressing up the client-whore arrangement as a romantic, real relationship when it wasn’t. If Cal loved him, he’d have never struck up what he had with Casey. He’d respect what Casey had chosen, no matter the conflict in wanting to be that someone more to the boy.
It was that contrast that let Zeke know that, despite the many angry, thorn-covered barriers he’d thrown up between he and nearly everyone he knew, that this deeply vulnerable yet surprisingly strong boy had gotten past all of that somehow and Zeke was in love, himself. In love with someone he wasn’t allowed to be in love with, and knew it. There’d be no secret tryst, no sneaking into each other’s sheets to express those feelings he couldn’t show. He’d never make a promise to this young man that involved anything more than their day-to-day, ho-hum lives, the same respect and courtesy he showed ALL of the boys. There’d never be a day when luck would find him, not like this; he was lucky enough. There’d be no sudden windfall of money in a well-placed bet, or a distant relative’s bequeathing Zeke an entire estate, all so he could grab Casey’s hand and lead him away from this dirty, miserable existence to finally live.
But if he could dredge up those awful fantasies he’d had already, full of despair, sadness and suffering… imagining some magical scenario full of love, togetherness and living-life was just as easy. They shared Ohio, they had roots there-the ‘Heartland’, chock full of farms and cozy places to live. Together. He and Casey, carving out plots of land on the acres they’d own, ensuring a full and secure harvest. They’d have the best farmstand in town, both raking in cash and having plenty to feast upon themselves. Their dinners would be full of mashed potatoes, corn… chicken. Eggs. They’d have a few coops, which Zeke in the present couldn’t help a smile in thinking about. He didn’t know if Casey had any experience raising ANY animal. Zeke sure didn’t. But they’d try, wouldn’t they? Envisioning Casey standing amongst hungry little beasts pecking around his feet as he scattered grain and corn to them, warm sunlight basking bared shoulders and chestnut hair… sunlight was different in the city, filtered through dust, grime and smoke. It was out in the country, surrounded by fresh air, earth and honest-to-God warmth that he’d truly see this boy shine.
None of it would happen, of course. Zeke made one last long sigh and stare at the boy’s face, pale as a ghost in some spots and splotched bright red in others then stood in a shot. He held his bag tightly and left, closing the door securely behind him before marching down the hall to Noah’s room, where he thankfully found his new, temporary roommate sleeping. He turned to the empty bed and found a slip of paper upon it. Curious, Zeke went over, sat down and brought it up to read.
Stephen said you might room with me. I’m deaf but feel stomping feet enough to wake me up. Other than that, sleep well.
Noah
Zeke lifted his eyes to Noah’s bed, the only sign it was him underneath the mound of blankets being a shock of his light blond hair sticking out at the top. He made two realizations at once; one, this was their first ever shared communication, however one-sided it was, and two, without Casey being here as a fast, loving friend to this young man-someone who’d been here longer than Zeke and hadn’t ever attempted to fight past the usual teasing and taunts he received from the others in order to FIND that friend-Zeke wondered if he’d ever have bothered trying to get to know Noah at all.
But he would, the next few days. He was able to promise that. Whether it was to try and switch rooms comfortably, or just to see if he’d been inspired enough to reach out past his own defenses to someone-someone clearly worthy of friendship, as Noah was-he wasn’t sure. At the moment, the only thing he wanted to do was throw his clothes off, redress in his pajama pants and pass out for the rest of the night, not bothering to wash up. He did so, finding sleep quicker than he thought he would.