Second entry here. :)
Title: Just Standing (Act Three, Part Two)
Pairing: C/Z
Rating PG-13 for language
Synopsis: Taking on some bad habits
Disclaimer- Don't know, don't own.
X-posted to honeyandvinegar and jacked_up
Previous Parts:
Act One- Standing Up
1:1
1:2
1:3
1:4
1:5
1:6
1:7
1:8
Act Two- Up Standing
2:1
2:2
2:3
2:4
2:5
2:6
2:7
2:8
Act Three- Just Standing
3:1
Casey wondered how everything had happened. He tried piecing the last twenty-four hours together without feeling insane. Logically, he was able to do this; getting ready, music, party, yelling, Delilah’s, here. Here in his new room- at Zeke’s. Still.
For a few minutes he sat upon one of his boxes, not quite ready to go anywhere near the mattress he’d sleep on in a few hours. He sniffled to himself, though he wasn’t crying. He felt loose, limp like a wet dishrag. The work of lugging everything upstairs was probably why, but…
The whole time he’d been doing it, Zeke had just sat in the living room, reading in dead silence. Casey tried to not add any noise to this new atmosphere; feeling like every step he took would rattle the whole house down. Zeke hadn’t looked up once; the tiny noises of flipping papers reaching Casey’s ears, sounding like bombs. Everything within him felt stretched, being held together by faulty twine ready to unravel.
Coming back here- no, he felt worse. His mind hung back to Delilah’s bed, feeling so warm and cozy. Looking to the bed he scowled; sheets, damn it.
Casey stood up and left the room, groaning as he climbed down the stairs. Zeke was still reading; he’d never cared this much for news. Casey stopped in the doorway and watched him a moment before speaking. “Anything going on?”
“Hmm?”
“The news… in the news,”
“Oh… no. Just doing a crossword puzzle.”
Casey frowned; he had no pencil in his hands. “Crossword?”
“Yea; in my head. It’s weird, I’ve always done them that way.” He replied. Casey nodded slowly.
“That’s… kinda cool,”
“Yea,” Zeke said, almost smiling as he shrugged. Casey turned to leave, feeling like that bed upstairs might be used earlier than he’d intended when Zeke cleared his throat. “Case?”
“Yea?”
“What do you like so much about me?”
Casey stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening. He turned back around, blinking. “Wha…?”
“Me- what is it?”
“Are… wait…” Casey said, shaking his head as if something were stuck in his ears. “Wait…”
“All I know about myself is that I’m an unsocial, stubborn prick. Just some asshole wandering around, waiting to find his way out, even if that meant flying through my windshield. What the fuck are you seeing that you like so much?”
“Zeke…” Casey murmured, shaking his head slower now. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I asked you a question, pretty simple.”
“No. No. It’s not… it’s NOT simple,”
“Casey, do you LIKE things complicated?”
“Huh?”
“You seem to want this doom and drama hovering over you- letting Gabe come to the party, what not. You want to just constantly carry this weight on you like you can never push it off yourself.” Zeke said. Casey felt lost, his face frowning hard.
“Why did you have me back here, at your place? Sympathy? Like, my parents won’t take me in, Stan’s with his parents and Del’s my ex? What?” Casey asked. “Stop fishing already, I have no clue what I see in you.”
Zeke sighed, sitting back and staring at that fucking crossword. “Just wondered, Casey. Don’t get your panties in a bind,”
“WHAT??” Casey suddenly yelled; Zeke’s eyes darted over to him, a frown creasing his forehead.
“It’s a fucking figure of speech,”
“Like HELL!”
“CASEY! I wasn’t trying to say that you’re WEARING panties…”
“Why NOT? I mean, now that you know that I’m some fucking ‘fairy princess’, you gotta wonder what ELSE I do!!” Casey bellowed. Zeke chewed the inside of his cheek not responding. Casey turned to the door and headed downstairs, fuming. Perhaps he’d taken this a bit too personally, but shit- Zeke did NOT use the best metaphors. Especially now; it was like pouring salt in Casey’s wounds, even if Zeke hadn’t meant it. It didn’t matter.
He all but tore the sheets from his old couch bed off and headed back upstairs. The door flew open with the force he used, slamming into the wall behind it, hard. He almost jumped at it; Zeke must have also.
“HEY!!” Zeke suddenly yelled. Casey whirled his head over, finding Zeke coming over. “LOOK, Casey. It’s either you calm the fuck DOWN or I start wondering why I wanted you back in the first place! I don’t need to spend the rest of my weekend spent patching up holes in my walls!!”
Casey’s eyes refused to blink. He stared at Zeke, feeling horrified. Zeke’s dark eyes blazed, looking at Casey so hard it hurt. Casey swallowed, opening his lips to speak. “Why did… why did you send Stan to come get me?” he asked. Zeke’s look softened, breaths slowing. Casey bit his lip, trying hard not to cry.
“Because… this is your home,” Zeke stated very simply. “It wasn’t my place to have you dragged off by Delilah,”
“You needed some time… to think, maybe- maybe you should have let me stay at Del’s a bit longer. Or maybe this just isn’t… just is-isn’t my home…” Casey stammered out; fuck, WHY this fucking crying, again…
“It’s your home.” Zeke stated again, more firm and convicted in the words.
*****
The next few days were blurry, really. There were only a few things Casey had accepted as truths.
Right now, he was at work, and it was Tuesday. Three days after moving his stuff upstairs to be a few steps away from Zeke’s bedroom. He was packing again; fruits, veggies, unwieldy packages of meat and various boxes. It was all one big blur, right now. He had to thank his lucky stars he wasn’t some surgeon, because the bodies would pile up like nobody’s business.
He and Zeke had barely talked. He’d worked Sunday and Monday, both days coming home and giving a small “hey” to Zeke before going into the kitchen, escaping through chores. There were always dishes to be done, even if the sink held just a few things. He’d spend a good amount of time getting every single inch of one coffee mug clean, scrubbing hard at coffee stains. Zeke’s floor had probably NEVER been so clean, as Casey had given it an all-out scrub down on Sunday, then a nice thorough mopping on Monday. It was his home, wasn’t it? Just wanted to take care of it… right?
Casey almost winced to himself as he stood packing up a few pounds of Easter candy into a bag. Whether Zeke’s place was Casey’s or not, deep down he couldn’t care less if the entire house was covered in grime. In the small space they’d greet each other upon Casey’s homecoming, Casey could barely stand Zeke’s eyes. They weren’t any different than before, really. Casey couldn’t stand them just the same.
The worst part of all this was that the pantry, cabinets and fridge were stocked chock full, the floors were immaculate, and there’d probably be a fork and one plate in the sink when he got home tonight; the next two days after this, he wasn’t working.
*****
“Hey,” Casey said, walking into the house and finding Zeke standing at the stairs. He nodded to Casey, looking morose.
“Hey. Why don’t you go downstairs or something, chill a bit,”
There’d been a car Casey didn’t recognize sitting in front of the house. He’d figured it was someone else’s. “She’s here, isn’t she,” Casey stated, voice low. Zeke nodded.
“Yea. With Gabe,”
Casey looked away, frustrated. “I’m not hiding in the fucking basement,” he said; he walked right into the living room and flipped on the television. Zeke watched with a stony look on his face.
“Casey, I know you’re-“
“There, just got the rest of my shit, asshole,” Gilda’s voice rang from the top of the stairs. Casey ignored this, hearing the heavy pair of footsteps now coming downstairs. “I’m not coming back, so don’t worry about-“
Casey knew why she hadn’t finished. Her cruel eyes had found him, sitting there watching some dumb sitcom he didn’t recognize. “There’s the faggot now,” she growled out.
“You got your shit, get out,”
Gabe’s chuckling came next. “She’ll be fine at my place, Tyler. Don’t fucking worry. You and your little boy-fuck can have the place to yourselves,”
“Ooh! You should tell Zeke about the paddle!” Gilda said, her voice too cheery to be real.
“Just get out of my house,”
“The paddle?” Casey piped up suddenly, staring at the TV still. Gabe chuckled again.
“S’right. The time we spanked your ass to Cleveland,”
Gilda snorted as Casey smiled wryly. “Yeeea, I remember that,” Casey said.
“You guys better shut up…” Zeke warned.
“Screamed like the girl he is. Little freak.”
“Yea, you WISHED I was a chick, didn’t you?” Casey said, now turning to look at Gabe with a fierce expression. Gabe scoffed.
“May as well be,”
“Then why didn’t you fuck me, Gabe?” Casey asked, standing up. “You’d SAID you were gonna. I couldn’t get away, your fucking cronies had me pinned to the lockers when you slapped my ass raw.”
Gabe’s nose twitched slightly. “Whatever, shitwad,”
“He tell you THAT part, Gilda? Hmm?” Casey asked, now standing in the doorway of the hall and living room. “How he got his dick out and everything? Told his friend to stop paddling me? Getting stopped by Stan before anything happened and getting the shit kicked outta him?”
Gilda’s breathing was growing in speed. Gabe took her arm and went to go down the rest of the steps. “C’mon, let’s get outta here,” he said.
“What?? You don’t want a second shot, Santora? Go on, I got a room upstairs we could use-“
“Shut UP, geek!”
“Wanna fuck my ass as raw as it looked, that’s what you said. Yea, I remember that.” Casey explained with a sigh. An evil little smile emerged on his lips. “Fuckin’ faggot,”
Gabe was damned near RUNNING to the door now, Zeke stepping aside to let him and Gilda leave. Once the door slammed Zeke turned to Casey wearing a deep frown. “What the fuck was that…?” he said. Casey rolled his eyes.
“Just some stupid fucking shit Gabe pulled-“
“You NEVER fucking told me this! The hell…”
“Don’t fucking worry about it, geez,” Casey groaned out, sitting back down on the couch. “I’m over it, believe me.”
“Fuck… that asshole…” Zeke said, staring at the door. Casey closed his eyes.
“For… GET… it,” he said. He knew Zeke watched him right now, but didn’t bother looking over. Zeke walked off and Casey sighed, opening his eyes to watch crappy television.
*****
It was later in the night now; Casey had barely moved from his spot on the couch, seeing as Zeke was busy upstairs watching television in his own room and resting, his painkillers making him drowsy. Besides his getting up for something to drink and a quick bathroom trip, Casey hadn’t wanted to make any noise; any sort of indication that he existed here.
The clock read 10:40; since Zeke had gone up around eight, Casey thought it was safe to head upstairs to bed himself. He’d grown accustomed to the earlier bedtimes to get up for work in the morning, leaking into his days off. He yawned his way upstairs, eager for rest. Before he could head to his room, he peered into Zeke’s through the crack in the door.
His TV was still on, but Zeke was sleeping, one arm over his head. Casey bit his lip; not only did he think Zeke would have a restless sleep with that danged thing on, but Casey could barely stand a TV being on anywhere when he went to bed. He bit his lip and walked into the room, taking careful, silent steps across it to get to the TV. He clicked it off, the room going into immediate darkness, the screen leaving behind staticy trails of light.
“Case?”
Casey sighed. “Sorry... if I woke you up,” he whispered. “Just turning your TV off,”
“S’ok,” Zeke mumbled. “But I like to leave it on when I go to bed,”
“Oh…” Casey said, flicking it on again. “Urm… do you mind if I put it on really low? I have trouble sleeping with TV’s on in the house,”
“Yea, go ahead. White noise works too,”
Casey nodded, turning the volume down to a miniscule amount of sound. Once this task was over, he made quick steps to the door.
“Why are you afraid of me, Casey?”
The sudden question coming from the bed stilled Casey mid-step. “Huh?”
“Why are you afraid of me?” Zeke repeated the question. Casey sighed, not sure on how to answer this.
“I’m not,”
“Yea, you are,”
“Look, Zeke- it’s been a pretty rough week for me so far. It’s been less than a week actually that I’ve had to deal with a lot of things. Haven’t even caught my breath yet,” Casey replied, one hand on the door while the other rubbed the back of his neck. “So just… lay off a bit, okay?”
Casey was surprised to hear Zeke make a wry chuckle. A lighter suddenly flared as Zeke sighed, smoke now reaching Casey’s nostrils. “Can’t even look at me when you talk.” Zeke mumbled. Casey closed his eyes a moment before turning around, opening them to look at Zeke. He could only make out shadowy patterns, seeing him now sitting up against the pillows behind him.
“Maybe you’re right, then. Maybe I AM fucking scared,”
“Why?”
Casey turned his head to the side, frowning hard. Looking back he held out his arms. “This… ALL of this. You’re sitting there, knowing how I fucking feel about…” God he couldn’t SAY it…”Everything… what am I supposed to do?”
Zeke inhaled a long hissing breath of smoke, bringing his hand to his side table to drag an ashtray into his lap. “C’mon,”
“C’mon what?”
“Have a smoke with me,”
Casey blinked profusely. “Wait- huh??” he blurted. “Zeke, I don’t- I don’t smoke, Zeke,”
“You should. Takes care of your nerves pretty fast. My painkillers ain’t got shit on these,” Zeke said, raising the hand holding his cigarette. Casey huffed indignantly.
“Yea, and you’ll be jacked up on them when you’re dying of emphysema,” Casey spat. He could see Zeke’s smile forming.
“Always the boy scout. Come the fuck on, Casey, a smoke with me. Smoking isn’t fun alone,”
Zeke’s logic was a bit confusing, but Casey sighed, going over to the bed. “Social smoker huh?” he muttered.
“Yea, kinda,” Zeke replied. Casey rolled his eyes and sat on the far end of the bed, patting his legs.
“Well, serve it up then,” he asked. He saw Zeke nod, bringing another cigarette to his lips.
“I’ll light it for ya,” he mumbled past the filter. Casey flinched a little, seeing the small flame burst in front of Zeke’s face. He didn’t want to but… yea, he was entranced, staring at the orange glow taking over the contours of Zeke’s face, dark eyes glittering with the reflection of fire. It lasted only a moment, but Casey had grown used to detail- TOO much detail, really. “Here,” Zeke said, leaning forward and handing Casey the smoke. “Take it slow, like… really slow.”
“Yup,” Casey said. He brought the foul smoky item to his lips and breathed it in… oh holy hell.
Zeke chuckled heartily as Casey began choking with coughs. “Fuck…” Casey irked out between gasps for air. “Fuckin’ do this… on purpose…”
“That we do, Casey,” Zeke said, taking a slow, languid puff. Casey punched his chest a few times, wanting the burn-tickle in his throat to subside.
“This is stupid.”
“Bet you’ll finish it, though.”
“Fuck no.”
“Uh huh,” Zeke teased, putting the ashtray closer to Casey along his legs. Casey cringed as he brought it to his mouth again, taking another experimental puff. He didn’t even know he’d gotten anything in him until another small titter of coughs arrived. Wasn’t as bad as the first, but still.
“So…” he managed to say. “Do you make it your life’s work to corrupt anyone that comes near you?”
“Misery loves company,” Zeke replied, shrugging.
“Why be so miserable then? Just stop your fucking dirty habit and get on with it,”
“Okay. I’ll do that.” Zeke said. Before Casey could even TRY to believe this, Zeke sat up further. “Stop being gay.”
Casey blinked, sitting straighter. “Huh? Wait, what?”
“It’d end your misery, wouldn’t it? You’d be normal, just like the rest of the world, fucking girls and liking it.” Zeke told him; this bewildered Casey.
“”Hold on, no; this isn’t the same, you weren’t BORN smoking,”
“Yea I was. My mom smoked two packs a day when I was in-utero. Kind of ‘set the stage’ for me.”
“Yea but… fuck, it’s different, Zeke, I KNOW I was born like this. It wasn’t my choice.”
“Yea, maybe. Still, it’d be a lot easier to try to go against genetic makeup and turn yourself into some normal hetero boy.”
“I was fucked up from the get-go,” Casey muttered, flicking ash into the tray. Zeke cocked his head along a pillow, looking to Casey.
“You’re not fucked up, Casey. The world may SEE you as fucked up, but you don’t have to.” Zeke told him. “Other guys, like you- gay guys, bi, whatever- do you think they’re all fucked up?”
“No!” Casey answered quickly.
“Why you, then?”
Casey stopped in thought. “Zeke…” he mumbled, feeling a tight knot grow in his stomach. “Guys I’ve met, like me- they’re realistic. They go to clubs, safe places to meet other guys and have fun. Or they go to group meetings on campus, working for gay rights and what not, meeting other guys, and so on. Me? I didn’t do that. Instead I decided it’d be WONDERFUL misery to have a crush on my best friend,”
Casey couldn’t believe he’d said that, really. Perhaps the cigarette was laced with something. It wouldn’t surprise him. If he couldn’t look at Zeke before, he most definitely couldn’t now…
“I’m your best friend?” Zeke asked, his voice light and almost… surprised?
“Of course,” Casey replied quietly, still looking at his lap. He unconsciously took a drag, not coughing this time.
“That’s so cool,”
Casey smiled a little, the first time he had in days. “What, you never thought of me as your best friend?”
“I guess so, just never came out and said it, like you just did. So we’re best friends. That’s way neat,”
“Well good. Only THIS best friend wants to fuck y-“ Oh, GOD, no, he hadn’t just… oh fucking hell from hell…
Now Zeke was chuckling. “I can’t blame you,”
“Shut up, I shouldn’t’ve said that.” Casey said, biting his lip harder.
“Why not? I KNOW you do already,” Zeke scoffed. Casey shook his head.
“So what,” Casey said, resigned. He took one more puff, realizing that he HAD in fact, smoked the whole thing. He stamped it out in the ashtray, groaning to himself. “I’m going to bed. I’m too tired to know what I’m saying.”
“I don’t think you are,”
“Think what you want. Goodnight.”
“’Night, Case.”
Casey stood up and left the room, anxious to just crawl in his bed and wither away. Once there he lay down, kicking his shoes off and not caring if he wore the proper attire for sleep. It didn’t come very quick, seeing as how the resounding hum from Zeke’s television distracted him from even closing his eyes.
Pairing: C/Z
Rating PG-13 for language
Synopsis: Taking on some bad habits
Disclaimer- Don't know, don't own.
X-posted to honeyandvinegar and jacked_up
Previous Parts:
Act One- Standing Up
1:1
1:2
1:3
1:4
1:5
1:6
1:7
1:8
Act Two- Up Standing
2:1
2:2
2:3
2:4
2:5
2:6
2:7
2:8
Act Three- Just Standing
3:1
Casey wondered how everything had happened. He tried piecing the last twenty-four hours together without feeling insane. Logically, he was able to do this; getting ready, music, party, yelling, Delilah’s, here. Here in his new room- at Zeke’s. Still.
For a few minutes he sat upon one of his boxes, not quite ready to go anywhere near the mattress he’d sleep on in a few hours. He sniffled to himself, though he wasn’t crying. He felt loose, limp like a wet dishrag. The work of lugging everything upstairs was probably why, but…
The whole time he’d been doing it, Zeke had just sat in the living room, reading in dead silence. Casey tried to not add any noise to this new atmosphere; feeling like every step he took would rattle the whole house down. Zeke hadn’t looked up once; the tiny noises of flipping papers reaching Casey’s ears, sounding like bombs. Everything within him felt stretched, being held together by faulty twine ready to unravel.
Coming back here- no, he felt worse. His mind hung back to Delilah’s bed, feeling so warm and cozy. Looking to the bed he scowled; sheets, damn it.
Casey stood up and left the room, groaning as he climbed down the stairs. Zeke was still reading; he’d never cared this much for news. Casey stopped in the doorway and watched him a moment before speaking. “Anything going on?”
“Hmm?”
“The news… in the news,”
“Oh… no. Just doing a crossword puzzle.”
Casey frowned; he had no pencil in his hands. “Crossword?”
“Yea; in my head. It’s weird, I’ve always done them that way.” He replied. Casey nodded slowly.
“That’s… kinda cool,”
“Yea,” Zeke said, almost smiling as he shrugged. Casey turned to leave, feeling like that bed upstairs might be used earlier than he’d intended when Zeke cleared his throat. “Case?”
“Yea?”
“What do you like so much about me?”
Casey stopped dead in his tracks, eyes widening. He turned back around, blinking. “Wha…?”
“Me- what is it?”
“Are… wait…” Casey said, shaking his head as if something were stuck in his ears. “Wait…”
“All I know about myself is that I’m an unsocial, stubborn prick. Just some asshole wandering around, waiting to find his way out, even if that meant flying through my windshield. What the fuck are you seeing that you like so much?”
“Zeke…” Casey murmured, shaking his head slower now. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
“I asked you a question, pretty simple.”
“No. No. It’s not… it’s NOT simple,”
“Casey, do you LIKE things complicated?”
“Huh?”
“You seem to want this doom and drama hovering over you- letting Gabe come to the party, what not. You want to just constantly carry this weight on you like you can never push it off yourself.” Zeke said. Casey felt lost, his face frowning hard.
“Why did you have me back here, at your place? Sympathy? Like, my parents won’t take me in, Stan’s with his parents and Del’s my ex? What?” Casey asked. “Stop fishing already, I have no clue what I see in you.”
Zeke sighed, sitting back and staring at that fucking crossword. “Just wondered, Casey. Don’t get your panties in a bind,”
“WHAT??” Casey suddenly yelled; Zeke’s eyes darted over to him, a frown creasing his forehead.
“It’s a fucking figure of speech,”
“Like HELL!”
“CASEY! I wasn’t trying to say that you’re WEARING panties…”
“Why NOT? I mean, now that you know that I’m some fucking ‘fairy princess’, you gotta wonder what ELSE I do!!” Casey bellowed. Zeke chewed the inside of his cheek not responding. Casey turned to the door and headed downstairs, fuming. Perhaps he’d taken this a bit too personally, but shit- Zeke did NOT use the best metaphors. Especially now; it was like pouring salt in Casey’s wounds, even if Zeke hadn’t meant it. It didn’t matter.
He all but tore the sheets from his old couch bed off and headed back upstairs. The door flew open with the force he used, slamming into the wall behind it, hard. He almost jumped at it; Zeke must have also.
“HEY!!” Zeke suddenly yelled. Casey whirled his head over, finding Zeke coming over. “LOOK, Casey. It’s either you calm the fuck DOWN or I start wondering why I wanted you back in the first place! I don’t need to spend the rest of my weekend spent patching up holes in my walls!!”
Casey’s eyes refused to blink. He stared at Zeke, feeling horrified. Zeke’s dark eyes blazed, looking at Casey so hard it hurt. Casey swallowed, opening his lips to speak. “Why did… why did you send Stan to come get me?” he asked. Zeke’s look softened, breaths slowing. Casey bit his lip, trying hard not to cry.
“Because… this is your home,” Zeke stated very simply. “It wasn’t my place to have you dragged off by Delilah,”
“You needed some time… to think, maybe- maybe you should have let me stay at Del’s a bit longer. Or maybe this just isn’t… just is-isn’t my home…” Casey stammered out; fuck, WHY this fucking crying, again…
“It’s your home.” Zeke stated again, more firm and convicted in the words.
*****
The next few days were blurry, really. There were only a few things Casey had accepted as truths.
Right now, he was at work, and it was Tuesday. Three days after moving his stuff upstairs to be a few steps away from Zeke’s bedroom. He was packing again; fruits, veggies, unwieldy packages of meat and various boxes. It was all one big blur, right now. He had to thank his lucky stars he wasn’t some surgeon, because the bodies would pile up like nobody’s business.
He and Zeke had barely talked. He’d worked Sunday and Monday, both days coming home and giving a small “hey” to Zeke before going into the kitchen, escaping through chores. There were always dishes to be done, even if the sink held just a few things. He’d spend a good amount of time getting every single inch of one coffee mug clean, scrubbing hard at coffee stains. Zeke’s floor had probably NEVER been so clean, as Casey had given it an all-out scrub down on Sunday, then a nice thorough mopping on Monday. It was his home, wasn’t it? Just wanted to take care of it… right?
Casey almost winced to himself as he stood packing up a few pounds of Easter candy into a bag. Whether Zeke’s place was Casey’s or not, deep down he couldn’t care less if the entire house was covered in grime. In the small space they’d greet each other upon Casey’s homecoming, Casey could barely stand Zeke’s eyes. They weren’t any different than before, really. Casey couldn’t stand them just the same.
The worst part of all this was that the pantry, cabinets and fridge were stocked chock full, the floors were immaculate, and there’d probably be a fork and one plate in the sink when he got home tonight; the next two days after this, he wasn’t working.
*****
“Hey,” Casey said, walking into the house and finding Zeke standing at the stairs. He nodded to Casey, looking morose.
“Hey. Why don’t you go downstairs or something, chill a bit,”
There’d been a car Casey didn’t recognize sitting in front of the house. He’d figured it was someone else’s. “She’s here, isn’t she,” Casey stated, voice low. Zeke nodded.
“Yea. With Gabe,”
Casey looked away, frustrated. “I’m not hiding in the fucking basement,” he said; he walked right into the living room and flipped on the television. Zeke watched with a stony look on his face.
“Casey, I know you’re-“
“There, just got the rest of my shit, asshole,” Gilda’s voice rang from the top of the stairs. Casey ignored this, hearing the heavy pair of footsteps now coming downstairs. “I’m not coming back, so don’t worry about-“
Casey knew why she hadn’t finished. Her cruel eyes had found him, sitting there watching some dumb sitcom he didn’t recognize. “There’s the faggot now,” she growled out.
“You got your shit, get out,”
Gabe’s chuckling came next. “She’ll be fine at my place, Tyler. Don’t fucking worry. You and your little boy-fuck can have the place to yourselves,”
“Ooh! You should tell Zeke about the paddle!” Gilda said, her voice too cheery to be real.
“Just get out of my house,”
“The paddle?” Casey piped up suddenly, staring at the TV still. Gabe chuckled again.
“S’right. The time we spanked your ass to Cleveland,”
Gilda snorted as Casey smiled wryly. “Yeeea, I remember that,” Casey said.
“You guys better shut up…” Zeke warned.
“Screamed like the girl he is. Little freak.”
“Yea, you WISHED I was a chick, didn’t you?” Casey said, now turning to look at Gabe with a fierce expression. Gabe scoffed.
“May as well be,”
“Then why didn’t you fuck me, Gabe?” Casey asked, standing up. “You’d SAID you were gonna. I couldn’t get away, your fucking cronies had me pinned to the lockers when you slapped my ass raw.”
Gabe’s nose twitched slightly. “Whatever, shitwad,”
“He tell you THAT part, Gilda? Hmm?” Casey asked, now standing in the doorway of the hall and living room. “How he got his dick out and everything? Told his friend to stop paddling me? Getting stopped by Stan before anything happened and getting the shit kicked outta him?”
Gilda’s breathing was growing in speed. Gabe took her arm and went to go down the rest of the steps. “C’mon, let’s get outta here,” he said.
“What?? You don’t want a second shot, Santora? Go on, I got a room upstairs we could use-“
“Shut UP, geek!”
“Wanna fuck my ass as raw as it looked, that’s what you said. Yea, I remember that.” Casey explained with a sigh. An evil little smile emerged on his lips. “Fuckin’ faggot,”
Gabe was damned near RUNNING to the door now, Zeke stepping aside to let him and Gilda leave. Once the door slammed Zeke turned to Casey wearing a deep frown. “What the fuck was that…?” he said. Casey rolled his eyes.
“Just some stupid fucking shit Gabe pulled-“
“You NEVER fucking told me this! The hell…”
“Don’t fucking worry about it, geez,” Casey groaned out, sitting back down on the couch. “I’m over it, believe me.”
“Fuck… that asshole…” Zeke said, staring at the door. Casey closed his eyes.
“For… GET… it,” he said. He knew Zeke watched him right now, but didn’t bother looking over. Zeke walked off and Casey sighed, opening his eyes to watch crappy television.
*****
It was later in the night now; Casey had barely moved from his spot on the couch, seeing as Zeke was busy upstairs watching television in his own room and resting, his painkillers making him drowsy. Besides his getting up for something to drink and a quick bathroom trip, Casey hadn’t wanted to make any noise; any sort of indication that he existed here.
The clock read 10:40; since Zeke had gone up around eight, Casey thought it was safe to head upstairs to bed himself. He’d grown accustomed to the earlier bedtimes to get up for work in the morning, leaking into his days off. He yawned his way upstairs, eager for rest. Before he could head to his room, he peered into Zeke’s through the crack in the door.
His TV was still on, but Zeke was sleeping, one arm over his head. Casey bit his lip; not only did he think Zeke would have a restless sleep with that danged thing on, but Casey could barely stand a TV being on anywhere when he went to bed. He bit his lip and walked into the room, taking careful, silent steps across it to get to the TV. He clicked it off, the room going into immediate darkness, the screen leaving behind staticy trails of light.
“Case?”
Casey sighed. “Sorry... if I woke you up,” he whispered. “Just turning your TV off,”
“S’ok,” Zeke mumbled. “But I like to leave it on when I go to bed,”
“Oh…” Casey said, flicking it on again. “Urm… do you mind if I put it on really low? I have trouble sleeping with TV’s on in the house,”
“Yea, go ahead. White noise works too,”
Casey nodded, turning the volume down to a miniscule amount of sound. Once this task was over, he made quick steps to the door.
“Why are you afraid of me, Casey?”
The sudden question coming from the bed stilled Casey mid-step. “Huh?”
“Why are you afraid of me?” Zeke repeated the question. Casey sighed, not sure on how to answer this.
“I’m not,”
“Yea, you are,”
“Look, Zeke- it’s been a pretty rough week for me so far. It’s been less than a week actually that I’ve had to deal with a lot of things. Haven’t even caught my breath yet,” Casey replied, one hand on the door while the other rubbed the back of his neck. “So just… lay off a bit, okay?”
Casey was surprised to hear Zeke make a wry chuckle. A lighter suddenly flared as Zeke sighed, smoke now reaching Casey’s nostrils. “Can’t even look at me when you talk.” Zeke mumbled. Casey closed his eyes a moment before turning around, opening them to look at Zeke. He could only make out shadowy patterns, seeing him now sitting up against the pillows behind him.
“Maybe you’re right, then. Maybe I AM fucking scared,”
“Why?”
Casey turned his head to the side, frowning hard. Looking back he held out his arms. “This… ALL of this. You’re sitting there, knowing how I fucking feel about…” God he couldn’t SAY it…”Everything… what am I supposed to do?”
Zeke inhaled a long hissing breath of smoke, bringing his hand to his side table to drag an ashtray into his lap. “C’mon,”
“C’mon what?”
“Have a smoke with me,”
Casey blinked profusely. “Wait- huh??” he blurted. “Zeke, I don’t- I don’t smoke, Zeke,”
“You should. Takes care of your nerves pretty fast. My painkillers ain’t got shit on these,” Zeke said, raising the hand holding his cigarette. Casey huffed indignantly.
“Yea, and you’ll be jacked up on them when you’re dying of emphysema,” Casey spat. He could see Zeke’s smile forming.
“Always the boy scout. Come the fuck on, Casey, a smoke with me. Smoking isn’t fun alone,”
Zeke’s logic was a bit confusing, but Casey sighed, going over to the bed. “Social smoker huh?” he muttered.
“Yea, kinda,” Zeke replied. Casey rolled his eyes and sat on the far end of the bed, patting his legs.
“Well, serve it up then,” he asked. He saw Zeke nod, bringing another cigarette to his lips.
“I’ll light it for ya,” he mumbled past the filter. Casey flinched a little, seeing the small flame burst in front of Zeke’s face. He didn’t want to but… yea, he was entranced, staring at the orange glow taking over the contours of Zeke’s face, dark eyes glittering with the reflection of fire. It lasted only a moment, but Casey had grown used to detail- TOO much detail, really. “Here,” Zeke said, leaning forward and handing Casey the smoke. “Take it slow, like… really slow.”
“Yup,” Casey said. He brought the foul smoky item to his lips and breathed it in… oh holy hell.
Zeke chuckled heartily as Casey began choking with coughs. “Fuck…” Casey irked out between gasps for air. “Fuckin’ do this… on purpose…”
“That we do, Casey,” Zeke said, taking a slow, languid puff. Casey punched his chest a few times, wanting the burn-tickle in his throat to subside.
“This is stupid.”
“Bet you’ll finish it, though.”
“Fuck no.”
“Uh huh,” Zeke teased, putting the ashtray closer to Casey along his legs. Casey cringed as he brought it to his mouth again, taking another experimental puff. He didn’t even know he’d gotten anything in him until another small titter of coughs arrived. Wasn’t as bad as the first, but still.
“So…” he managed to say. “Do you make it your life’s work to corrupt anyone that comes near you?”
“Misery loves company,” Zeke replied, shrugging.
“Why be so miserable then? Just stop your fucking dirty habit and get on with it,”
“Okay. I’ll do that.” Zeke said. Before Casey could even TRY to believe this, Zeke sat up further. “Stop being gay.”
Casey blinked, sitting straighter. “Huh? Wait, what?”
“It’d end your misery, wouldn’t it? You’d be normal, just like the rest of the world, fucking girls and liking it.” Zeke told him; this bewildered Casey.
“”Hold on, no; this isn’t the same, you weren’t BORN smoking,”
“Yea I was. My mom smoked two packs a day when I was in-utero. Kind of ‘set the stage’ for me.”
“Yea but… fuck, it’s different, Zeke, I KNOW I was born like this. It wasn’t my choice.”
“Yea, maybe. Still, it’d be a lot easier to try to go against genetic makeup and turn yourself into some normal hetero boy.”
“I was fucked up from the get-go,” Casey muttered, flicking ash into the tray. Zeke cocked his head along a pillow, looking to Casey.
“You’re not fucked up, Casey. The world may SEE you as fucked up, but you don’t have to.” Zeke told him. “Other guys, like you- gay guys, bi, whatever- do you think they’re all fucked up?”
“No!” Casey answered quickly.
“Why you, then?”
Casey stopped in thought. “Zeke…” he mumbled, feeling a tight knot grow in his stomach. “Guys I’ve met, like me- they’re realistic. They go to clubs, safe places to meet other guys and have fun. Or they go to group meetings on campus, working for gay rights and what not, meeting other guys, and so on. Me? I didn’t do that. Instead I decided it’d be WONDERFUL misery to have a crush on my best friend,”
Casey couldn’t believe he’d said that, really. Perhaps the cigarette was laced with something. It wouldn’t surprise him. If he couldn’t look at Zeke before, he most definitely couldn’t now…
“I’m your best friend?” Zeke asked, his voice light and almost… surprised?
“Of course,” Casey replied quietly, still looking at his lap. He unconsciously took a drag, not coughing this time.
“That’s so cool,”
Casey smiled a little, the first time he had in days. “What, you never thought of me as your best friend?”
“I guess so, just never came out and said it, like you just did. So we’re best friends. That’s way neat,”
“Well good. Only THIS best friend wants to fuck y-“ Oh, GOD, no, he hadn’t just… oh fucking hell from hell…
Now Zeke was chuckling. “I can’t blame you,”
“Shut up, I shouldn’t’ve said that.” Casey said, biting his lip harder.
“Why not? I KNOW you do already,” Zeke scoffed. Casey shook his head.
“So what,” Casey said, resigned. He took one more puff, realizing that he HAD in fact, smoked the whole thing. He stamped it out in the ashtray, groaning to himself. “I’m going to bed. I’m too tired to know what I’m saying.”
“I don’t think you are,”
“Think what you want. Goodnight.”
“’Night, Case.”
Casey stood up and left the room, anxious to just crawl in his bed and wither away. Once there he lay down, kicking his shoes off and not caring if he wore the proper attire for sleep. It didn’t come very quick, seeing as how the resounding hum from Zeke’s television distracted him from even closing his eyes.