I know it's a buys easter weekend for most of you but I wanted to post the next chapter Highspeed to love before going to work today. Have fun with it.
Title: Highspeed to love (11/ ???)
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 loves ... cooking. Or what do you think ? ;)
Previous parts: one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten /
Zeke nearly jumped when he suddenly noticed Casey standing in front of him.
"Sorry," said the boy.
"I've knocked for a few times, but you didn't answer!"
Zeke stared at him, feeling dizzy. He tried hard to understand.
Casey looked at the side table. The bottle of whisky was nearly empty, a small rest was still in Zeke's glass.
"I'm just coming to tell you that I'm leaving now," he murmured.
And Zeke realized his outworn denim jacket and the much too heavy backpack over his shoulder.
"What the hell," he yelled.
"I'm not gonna wait that you kick me out," he explained with slightly trembling voice.
Zeke narrowed his eyes.
"What ... d'you sink I am," he growled.
"A homo ... homophobic prick? Thank you, Casey, than you so musch!"
He tried to get up ... and sank back onto the couch groaning. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so worn out.
"Guess, you're a little bit drunk, huh?"
"An ... what? I can ... my ga ... garage!"
"Sure. But I think you've had enough for today. Come on. Take some rest!"
And Zeke just let it happen that he forced him down onto the couch. He already started to drift off but nonetheless he realized Casey's scent and nearness when he put the blanket around him. With bleary eyes he stared at him.
"Don't ..." he sighed.
" 'm shorry!"
"It's okay, Zeke," Casey reassured him.
"Not you fault!"
"Don't," Zeke repeated.
"Don't ... go!"
He tried to open his eyes. The glaring sunlight hurt. Slowly the memories came back. What a mess. And the whisky he had had yesterday didn't help in the slightest. He had always been proud of how hard drinking he was. Others complained about sickness and headache next morning. He had always laughed about them. But like so much in his life also this seemed to have changed. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut again.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow was Monday. He would go down into his garage, he would do his job and the life would go on. But not today. Today he just wanted to pull the cover over his head and sleep away the day. Block out the world. Stop thinking about yesterday, about anything.
The voice sounded slightly teasing.
"Fuck you," he murmured.
Then he realized it. Casey! Casey? What was he still doing here? He forced himself to open his eyes again. And there he was. Sitting in the comfortable lovechair beside the couch. Zeke blinked.
"Thought you wanted to go last night!"
He almost cringed. Geez, this sounded harsh. He really needed to get a grip on himself. But Casey only smirked.
"Couldn't leave you alone in your state. Are you okay?"
"Fucking headache," he groaned.
"It's gonna kill me. Sorry!"
"Is okay. Here, take that."
Casey pushed over two pills and a glass of water.
"Think, you can stand up and have a shower? In the meantime I'm gonna make you a light breakfast. It will help!"
Though the mere thought of eating made his stomach turn he finally dragged himself up from the couch and into the bathroom. The cold water helped to clear up his mind a bit. Then he was sitting at the table, a mug with black coffee and a plate with toast and scrambled eggs in front of him. While he eagerly grabbed for the coffee he looked skeptically at the food. Casey chuckled slightly.
"C'mon, give it a try. It will make you feel better, promise!"
Zeke made a grimace.
"What do you know about the aftereffects of too much booze, huh?"
"I was about twelve. My grandma had done some cooking for a charity bazaar in town."
As ever when he talked about his grandma his voice was calm and a little bit sad. And Zeke knew that he still missed her. No wonder, she had been the only one who had ever cared about him. What a lonely boy he was. He really needed a place where he could feel like home again.
"She let me try everything, except the nut-liqueur and the peppermint-schnapps, of course. In the night before the bazaar I sneaked into the pantry ...
... yeah, that was it. I was sick as a dog. My grammy found me on the floor in front of the toilet. She dragged me into the shower and afterward she made me breakfast. Toast and scrambled eggs. You know what? It worked wonder. Half an hour later I was back into the pantry to clean up the mess I've made."
Zeke chuckled slightly.
"Sounds like she was cool."
"Oh yes, she was!"
"There was not much what could gross her out. So, you think, you can give it a try now?"
Finally Zeke reached for the toast. After the first few bites he had to admit that he really started to feel better. Though he couldn't say if it was because of the food. It just felt good, sitting here, together with someone who cared for him, no matter what he had done. No probing questions, no volley of reproaches. Until his eyes spotted the old backpack beside the door. The lump in his throat was back in an instant.
"Thank you for staying here last night," he said.
"Nothing big. I owe you!"
"You don't need to go, you know! Stay as long as you want!"
"Thanks, Zeke," Casey said and smiled.
"But I guess Ben won't agree with that. He ..."
Zeke pulled the face.
"He's history. I kicked him out," he interrupted him.
"You ... what?"
Casey looked at him surprised.
"Oh Zeke, no! You shouldn't have done this. He is just ..."
Zeke shook his head unwillingly. No, he didn't want to discuss this with Casey or whomever else.
"I was ready to give him chance, but he is just a stubborn prick. All this bullshit he says ... it is so low. I'm done with him."
"Don't say that, Zeke!"
Casey sighed sadly.
"You like him. And he needs you. As a friend. As a mentor.
Believe me, his stupid shit can't hurt me. You don't wanna know what my dad called me when he found out."
go to part 12