Title: Samantha - part 4
Fandom: Zeke & Casey
Rating: PG13 with a touch of R
Author's note: AU - The boys have great future plans ...
Disclaimer: of course, not mine
previous parts: here
- four -
When Casey came back, he was still sitting at his desk, the small golden ring with the red stone in his hand. He felt numb. Again and again he had read the letter, had hoped he would wake up and everything would turn out to be just a nightmare. Blind with rage and panic he had finally tore it to pieces and burned it. A useless act, he knew it.
Casey noticed the ring in the moment he entered the room. He put his arms around Zeke's shoulders.
"Hey, baby, you okay?"
Zeke hesitated. Could he ... should he tell him? Would it be easier when he did? Would it change anything? No, he decided. This time Casey would not be able to help him. This was his problem. He was used to it to keep his problems for himself, wasn't he? He had done this before. He would have to learn to live with it, but he would not burden Casey with this.
"She has kept it all the time," he finally said and stretched out the hand with the ring on it.
"I guess that's a good sign."
Casey smiled and put his chin onto Zeke's shoulder.
"She was not angry at you. Otherwise she would have flushed it down the toilette."
He didn't expect an answer. Grabbed his hand and pulled him up, right into the bathroom.
"I know what you need now," he said and turned on the tab. Hot water was flowing into the bathtub. Steam covered the mirror. Casey added a lot of bath essence, the heavy scent spread in the air.
Zeke preferred to shower but always when he came home from college, stressed and tensed, Casey forced him to have a bath. He slowly stripped him and when Zeke settled down into the hot water he would sit behind him onto the edge of the tub and he would start to massage his neck, his shoulders. Needless to say, that it would not end here.
Zeke took a deep breath and leaned back into Casey's hands ...
About one week later. Weekend in Herrington.
"Casey? Everything okay with you two?"
His mother looked at him with this inquiring eyes; she had always been able to see through him. And of course she had noticed Zeke's hasty leaving.
Casey had been sitting in his father's office, they had talked about the photos for the exhibition of the museum. It didn't happen often that his father was interested in his 'hobby'. But even he already heard about the Museum of Modern Art in San Francisco. Many popular photographer and artists had started their career there.
"Think, you can sell them," he asked.
"I don't know, dad!"
"Sometimes it happens that a private collector shows interest in a work. But much more important is that people come and see you. Art critics, journalists, you know. When they talk about you people will remember your name next time."
His father turned back to his newspaper, but Casey knew that this time he had been able to impress him. He just wished there would have been a bit more time to enjoy this little triumph
But in this moment Zeke had interrupted them.
"Case, I need to go," he said.
"Just got a call!"
"The dinner. My mom makes her green bean casserole. We wanted to celebrate a bit."
"Tell her I'm sorry."
He didn't sound like this. Casey knew him well enough. He knew this call was just a flimsy excuse. Zeke never was crazy about it to come here. He always felt uncomfortable because he knew the Connors would love to see someone else at Casey's side. But he did his best ... he did it for Casey. This time ... something was wrong with him. Since he had gotten this letter. He couldn't let it go.
Of course, it was sad what had happened to this girl. Anne Catherine. And it was low what Zeke had done to her years ago. Casey really wished the letter would have arrived in time and they had been able to talk at least once again.
But it was past. He should be able to move on. But he didn't. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep for days now. Casey got the feeling that he didn't know him anymore. Zeke was moody, almost aggressive They argued. Of course they did fight before now and then, but this was different. He remembered last Wednesday when he had tried to talk to him once again.
"Will you shut the fuck up, Casey," Zeke had yelled.
"I can't stand this any longer!"
Then he had grabbed his keys for the GTO and off he was. He came back in the early morning, smelled of cigarettes and beer. Without a word he crashed onto his bed, without even taking his shoes off.
Casey felt tears pricking in his eyes and blinked them away before Zeke would notice. He followed him to the GTO. Only then Zeke turned back to him. He looked exhausted.
"I'm sorry, Case," he murmured.
"But I need some time for myself. There are some things I need to think through."
Casey wanted to protest.
'Talk to me,' he wanted to cry.
'Together we will find a way. We always did!'
But he kept quiet.
"See you on Sunday," Zeke said and got into the car.
"I'm gonna come and pick you up!"
No kiss. No goodbye. Just: See you on Sunday
"Don't bother," Casey answered.
"I can take the bus."
Since they were together he had never felt that alone.
He felt his mother's hand on his arm.
"Come with me into the kitchen," she said.
"You can help me with the beans!"
Casey faked a smile.
He knew she would ask questions - questions he couldn't answer.
go to part five