Title: Highspeed to love (4 / ???)
Fandom: Zeke; Casey; OMC (no pairings)
Disclaimer: of course, not mine
Author's notes: AU without Marybeth and Herrington High - Zeke is 23 years old in this story, living in Youngstown, Ohio - Casey, is 18 years old and ... yeah, we will see
Previous parts: one / two / three /
"How old are you?"
He didn't even look up.
The boy made a grimace.
"Eighteen ... in two month. Happy now? What does is actually matter?"
Zeke shook his head.
"Cheeky little bastard, huh? You sneak into my garage. You beg me not to call the police. But you don't want to tell me your name or why you are doing all this. What the hell shall I do with you now?"
Finally he looked up. Again Zeke felt attracted by his sparkling blue eyes. They made him special. Zeke was sure: The girls had to be crazy for him.
"Just let me go! I did nothing at all. It was raining and I searched for a place where I could hide for a few hours. I went into the backyard and I saw the open window and ... yeah."
"Yeah, I see," Zeke smirked.
"But it was not just once. You came back two days later!"
"The old couch in your office is more comfortable than a bench in the park," the boy admitted.
"Mhm, and the service is good. Obviously you like coffee!"
The boy rolled his eyes.
"Yes, I do! But your coffee tastes like shit. And you didn't even have sugar."
Zeke laughed out loud.
"Geez. You've a sweet tooth, huh?"
The boy gave him a dirty look.
"Are we ready now? Can I go? I promise, you will never see me again!"
Zeke got serious again.
"And what are you gonna do? They've announced bad weather for the next few days. You can't stay in the park!"
The boy shrugged.
"Why do you care? I will find a place!"
"You think so?"
Zeke looked at him thoughtfully. The boy was so determined to put on a brave face with his sharp tongue and tough behavior. But Zeke was sure there was more behind this shell. This boy was not used to be without shelter. He needed a home, people who cared about him ...
"It's not a breeze to live on the streets, you know? It can be dangerous what you're doing!"
The boy snorted.
"You don't have the faintest idea. Do you know, how it is like to visit a private school? For someone like me?"
"You went to a private school?"
"St. Andrew's Academy in Willoughby."
The mystery became even bigger. St. Andrew's - a place you only was supposed to visit if you had exceptionally rich parents or you were an exceptionally good athlete. A sportsman? Zeke glanced over to the slender boy and smirked. Not so much!
"Yeah. It's fun ... when you wear the right clothes or you're a fucking jock. I'm not! I was the punching-ball for nearly everyone. Even for the teachers. So don't tell me that living on the streets is more difficult, okay?"
So, no rich parents.
"But how did you get in there? I mean, it's St. Andrew's. You normally need a lot of references."
"My Dad ... I don't know what he has done. But he always gets what he wants. No matter if you like it or not."
But parents. At least a dad. Though it didn't sound as if he was a very affectionate father. Maybe he had more in common with this boy than it seemed at first sight. His own father had driven him down out the streets because he gave a shit about him. The dad of the boy had made too great demands. He had finally found his way. The boy was still struggling with his issues.
"What did he do to you that you decided to run away?"
The boy sighed slightly.
"I had a friend in St. Andrew's. Adam. He was there in the boarding school. His parents work in the diplomatic service and they are mostly not at home. He is different than the others.
He likes music. Classic, you know, Beethoven is one of his favorite composer. He wanted to go to a conservatoire after graduation ... I just hope he still can make it."
The boy kept quiet for a moment - maybe a bit too long. Finally he shrugged.
"My Dad ... he didn't like him. One morning he told me that I wouldn't go back to St. Andrew's but to a Military Academy in Memphis. Because it was about time for me to learn what discipline means."
Zeke looked at him stunned. He wasn't serious, was he? A school like St. Andrew's was one thing - a Military Academy quite another. No one with sanity and reason would expect that the boy could make a great career in the army. Not to mention the tough training.
"That night I put my stuff together and left. No matter what happens, I will never go back. I can't!"
Zeke could feel that there was even more. The boy was hiding something. But he decided not to bother him any longer. He had already told him more than expected.
"When did it happen," he asked.
"Two months ago!"
"And since then you're living on the streets?"
The boy shook the head.
"No, of course not. There was this motel ... you know, this kind of motel where no one asks for your identity card as long as you have money. I've had a small saving ...
Tried to find a job, but it's not easy. Most people ask too many questions. What's your name? Where do you come from? We need to talk to your parents first."
He looked up and smiled.
"You don't have a job for me by any chance, do you?"
Zeke smirked. As much as he would have liked to help him, it was impossible. The money was hardly enough for the running costs - and there was still Ben's paycheck.
"No, sorry. But you know what? What about breakfast?"
The boy blinked confused.
"It's nearly eight o'clock. You must be hungry. Nothing big. Just toast. Cornflakes. And I guess we will be able to find a bit sugar for you!"
"For your coffee," grinned Zeke.
It was great to hear his hearty chuckle. While they went upstairs to Zeke's little apartment the boy suddenly said:
"My name. Casey!"
go to part 5