Reconnecting (1/1)

[ibonekoen]

Title:  Reconnecting

Rating:  PG-13, some mild swearing, mention of boy touching

Disclaimer:  Nope, sorry, don't own the boys.  Wish I did.  You could sue me but all you'd get is my DVD copy of The Faculty and my computer, then I'd have to cry.

Summary:  Zeke misses Casey.  Set five years after the events in the movie.

Author's note:  I made a poster for this.  It can be found in my livejournal.

Author's note 2:  Thanks to redkitty for the title and betaing this.  Mwah!

 

Zeke frantically paces the length of his living room in his apartment as he chain smokes his way through a pack of cigarettes. He can’t believe this is happening. Why now? It had been five years since he’d left Herrington. He’d actually managed to graduate (though he figured it must’ve had something to do with the fact that he’d helped save the school from aliens; he sure as hell hadn’t TRIED to graduate). He’d hung around for the summer, spending most of it sleeping with Casey behind Delilah’s back.

He’d known from the beginning that he and Casey wouldn’t last. Casey’d had plans to go to Harvard in the fall. Zeke hadn’t cared much about anything beyond getting the hell out of Herrington. He hadn’t known how to react when Casey asked him to go to Massachusetts with him. He hadn’t thought it was that serious between them. A small part of him that he hadn’t liked admitting existed had dared to hope, but the rest of him, the cynical part, mostly, had caused him to ignore that hopeful bit. Besides, a large majority of him hadn’t even been sure he’d wanted a serious relationship. Those were complicated.

He’d told Casey no, that he couldn’t go to Massachusetts. Casey had snapped back with “Can’t or won’t?” Then he’d asked Zeke if he loved him.

Zeke had panicked at the mention of the “L” word. He’d informed Casey that he couldn’t go to Massachusetts, and what was the big deal anyway? It was just a stupid fling that wouldn’t make it past the summer anyway, so why’d he have to go and ruin it?

He’d regretted those words immediately after speaking them as Casey’s wonderfully blue eyes had welled up with tears. But it was too late to take the words back. The damage had been done.

Zeke had left town the next day. He’s spent the last five years trying to forget the hurt look on Casey’s face. The alcohol does little to erase the memory of the tears spilling down Casey’s cheek or the pang he’d felt when the first tear had fallen.

He hadn’t expected to see Casey again after that. Imagine his surprise then, when he walked into his favorite coffee shop and saw Casey sitting at a table near the door.

Zeke had done a double take, thinking that perhaps he’d conjured the Casey phantom out of wishful thinking. He hadn’t even realized he was walking toward the table until he’d found himself standing beside it, staring at the Casey phantom. It wasn’t until the Casey phantom glanced up from his cappuccino and stared back that Zeke even considered the possibility that it was the real Casey in front of him. After all, in all of his daydreams about a moment like this, Casey hadn’t stared at him. No, he’d have done something more along the lines of launching himself into Zeke’s arms and kissing him passionately.

Casey had recovered from his shock first and licked his lips. “Zeke. I was hoping to run into you.”

Zeke hadn’t intended to sit down, but that had shocked him so badly that his only choices were to sit down in the chair across from Casey or on the floor. . .and the chair was by far more comfortable. Deciding that sitting down in the chair would cause less of a scene, he did, albeit heavily.

“Where’s Delilah?” he’d asked dumbly, not quite sure how to respond to Casey’s comment.

Casey had shrugged. “Haven’t seen her since I left Herrington.”

“Oh.” Zeke had said, blinking. “I thought she would’ve gone with you to Harvard.”

“We broke up.” Casey had responded. He’d paused to take a sip of his cappuccino. “Not long after you left town.”

Zeke had blinked again. “Oh.” He’d licked his lips. He’d felt awkward, unsure why Casey had magically appeared just when he’d started regretting ever walking away from him.

“So, um, what brings you to the Big Apple?” he’d asked, trying to make conversation.

“I’ve got a job here now.” Casey’d replied. “As a photographer. I’ve been here about a month.”

“Wow.” Zeke had said. “Always knew you’d do something with your photography.”

They’d fallen into an awkward silence after that, Zeke drumming his fingers against the table and Casey noisily sipping at his cappuccino.

Then Casey had suddenly said, “Have dinner with me.”

Zeke had stared at him in shock, then gulped. “Okay.” he’d said. “When?”

Casey had glanced at his watch, then cursed. “I’m late for a shoot.” he’d said apologetically as he’d dug around in the messenger bag on the table. “How about tomorrow?”

Zeke had watched Casey pull a pen out of his bag, then grab a napkin. “Um, yeah, sure.” he’d said as Casey had scribbled something on the napkin then handed it to him.

“That’s my number.” Casey had said, smiling. “Call me. We’ll talk about tomorrow.”

Then he’d grabbed his bag and left, but not before giving Zeke a wink. Zeke had remained sitting at the table for a few moments, simply staring at the spot where Casey had been sitting. He’d pinched himself a couple of times to make sure he hadn’t been dreaming.

Now it’s 5 AM and he should really be sleeping. Unfortunately, he’s wide awake, chain smoking in his living room, wearing nothing but his boxers. He’d put in a CD earlier, Lifehouse. He’d heard one of their songs on the radio and had immediately thought of Casey. They seemed like a band that Casey would like, so, completely on a whim, he’d picked up the CD the next time he had been in a music store. He’d quickly discovered that he liked them.

And now, as the song Somewhere in Between begins to play, he realizes it fit him perfectly.

I can’t be

Losing sleep over this

No, I can’t

And now I cannot stop pacing

Give me a few hours

I’ll have this all sorted out

If my mind would just stop racing

Zeke groans and scrubs a hand over his face. He’d tried to lay down but sleep had eluded him. He’d even tried counting sheep but his mind kept conjuring up images of Casey. He’d given up around 4 AM and has spent the last hour smoking, pacing and trying to figure out what Casey’s dinner invitation means. He still isn’t tired and is no closer to deciphering the invitation. The only thing he’s managed to accomplish is smoking the better half of a pack of cigarettes in one hour.

He glances at the phone setting on the small round table at the end of his couch. The napkin Casey wrote his number on is sitting next to the phone, and Zeke is tempted to call. He wonders if Casey is still awake, pacing his living room in his boxers.

All of Zeke’s breath rushes out of his lungs at the mental image of a half-naked Casey. He can vividly picture the pale whiteness of Casey’s skin. No matter how many times Casey laid out in the sun, he never managed to tan. Burn, oh hell yes. Zeke can recall many a time that Casey resembled a lobster.

Zeke swallows, forcing his mind away from half-naked Casey images before he gets himself into trouble. He figures he’s got enough on his mind as it is without fantasizing about his. . .friend? Former lover?

He groans again and drops down onto his couch. He slouches down and props his feet up on the coffee table. He closes his eyes, letting the words of the song wash over him.

This is over my head

But underneath my feet

‘Cause by tomorrow morning I’ll have this thing beat

And everything will be back to the way that it was

I wish that it was just that easy

Except that Zeke isn’t sure he WANTS things to go back to the way they were before he saw Casey in the coffee shop. He hasn’t really acknowledged it but he’s been lonely since he left Herrington. He’s had many lovers -- both male and female -- in the last five years, but none of them could match Casey. The sex had been great physically, but he’s never been satisfied mentally.

‘Cause I’m waiting for tonight

Been waiting for tomorrow

I’m somewhere in between

What is real and

Just a dream

Zeke has little hope that Casey will give him a second chance. He’s not exactly sure what Casey’s ulterior motive is for asking him to dinner, but he learned a long time ago to keep his expectations low. He’s found it’s a good way to keep from being disappointed.

But some part of his heart, some tiny piece he stubbornly refuses to acknowledge exists, is hoping, one could almost say desperately, that Casey wants to get back together. Because the little part of his heart that remains a romantic idealist knows that Casey is his soulmate. Knows it with such passion, such certainty that everything he remembers walking away from Casey, his heart aches with the pain of a thousand razor-sharp blades being thrust into him simultaneously.

Zeke worries about tomorrow -- rather, tonight -- because he still loves Casey with every part of his heart, every piece of his soul. He’s unable to sleep because his mind’s bombarding him with possibly scenarios of how the dinner date could end. He isn’t sure if Casey intends for it to be a date, but that’s how his mind is referring to it.

He wants to tell Casey that he knows now what a mistake he made, that he should’ve gone to Massachusetts. He especially wants to tell Casey that he loves him, that he always had and always will until the end of infinity.

Zeke is afraid he won’t tell Casey everything he needs to, everything he ought to because he’s afraid of what Casey will say. For all his projected toughness, his careful aloofness, the one thing that scares Zeke more than a gazillion aliens attacking and him being out of scat is rejection.

For years Zeke had led others to believe that he doesn’t care the least bit that his parents abandoned him. Sometimes he believes he has himself fooled. There are random moments when his guard slips and the illusion falls away, forcing him to concede that yes, it does hurt that his parents didn’t care enough about him to stick around.

He doesn’t want to tell Casey how he really feels because he doesn’t think he can handle Casey rejecting him. He knows he probably deserves it after the way he hurt Casey, but he just doesn’t think he could deal. He wishes he knew how to erase all the pain he’d caused Casey. He’d give anything to have a time machine.

Would you catch me if I fall out of what I fell in?

Don’t be surprised if I collapse down at your feet again

I don’t want to run away from this

I know that I just don’t need this

Zeke snorts. “Except that I do need this.” he says to the empty room. “I need Casey like I need to breathe.” His face screws up in a grimace. “Fuck, that sounded cheesy out loud.”

He gets up from the couch and wanders over to his bookcase, which is setting against the wall opposite the couch. He picks up a framed picture from one of the shelves. It’s one of the only pictures he has of Casey. Stokely had taken his camera from him and Zeke had enveloped him in a bear hug, keeping him immobile long enough for her to snap the picture. She’d caught Casey in mid-struggle, his face scrunched up from the effort of trying to break free of Zeke’s hold.

The picture isn’t the best one of Casey Zeke has seen, but it’s the only one he’s got, plus it makes him smile nevertheless. He runs his thumb lovingly over the glass, across Casey’s face. Then he feels a lump form in his throat and he quickly sets the picture back on its shelf, then scurries back to the safety of the couch.

He glances at the end table, at the phone setting there silently. His eyes drift to the napkin and he again feels the temptation to call. He stares at the phone, psyching himself up to just pick up the receiver and dial Casey’s number.

He’s startled as a shrill beep cuts through what had been a silent room moments ago. Zeke blinks, having not noticed the song ended, but he realizes it now, just as the opening chords of the next song begin to play.

He blinks again, staring at the phone as it continues to ring. Pick it up, dumbass! he tells himself. It might be Casey!

He shakily reaches out and grabs the receiver. He ends up fumbling and drops the receiver on the end table with a clunk. He winces and hurriedly picks the receiver up then holds it to his ear.

“Hello?” he says. His voice comes out a lot shakier and high-pitched than he’d intended. He clears his throat and tries again, the second attempt more masculine-sounding.

“Zeke?” he hears a familiar soft voice say on the other end of the line. He’s pretty sure his heart skips a beat.

“Case?” he says. “Um. . .hi.”

“Hi.” Casey says. There’s silence on the line, then Zeke hears him say, “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No.” Zeke says quickly. “I can’t sleep. How’d you get this number?”

He doesn’t recall giving it to Casey at the coffee shop. . .but he’d been so shocked, he might’ve and forgotten it.

He hears Casey chuckle. “I called information. Lucky for me you’ve got a listed phone number.”

“Oh.” Zeke says. “Yeah.”

He falls silent, not really sure what to say. He hadn’t really given it much thought as he hadn’t actually expected to call Casey. He’d figured he’d just keep chickening out.

“So. . .”

Casey’s voice startles Zeke out of the hypnotic daze he’d fallen into, and he sits up straighter. God, had he really almost fallen asleep to the rhythmic sound of Casey breathing?

“Fuck, that REALLY sounds cheesy.” he mutters.

“What?”

He hears the confusion in Casey’s voice and realizes he must’ve said that aloud. Crap. “Um, nothing.” he says as he rubs a hand vigorously over his face.

There’s another stretch of silence and then Casey says, “You never answered my question.”

Zeke blinks. Casey had asked him a question? When? “Um. . .I didn’t hear you.”

He hears a sigh, followed by “I asked why you couldn’t sleep.”

Zeke hesitates, not sure how to respond to that. Does he pull his usual bullshit routine or does he actually tell Casey the truth?

“I’m not really tired.” he says. He almost immediately winces. Apparently his brain decided to kick in with the bullshit.

“Oh.”

Zeke isn’t sure if he’s just imagining things, but he thinks he hears a slight tinge of disappointment in Casey’s voice? He sighs exasperatedly and rubbed a hand over his hair, making it stand up on end. “Casey, what do you want from me?” he demands. “Why are you calling?”

“Because I can’t sleep and I can’t stop thinking about you and I thought maybe, just maybe you were having the same problem!” Casey snaps.

Zeke hears the catch in Casey’s voice and immediately regrets his outburst. “Casey-”

“I guess I was wrong.” Casey says. “Maybe we should just forget about dinner.”

“Casey, no-”

There’s a click on the other end of the line and Zeke pulls the receiver away from his ear. He stares at it blankly for a moment and then puts it back to his ear, says pleadingly “Casey? Baby, I’m sorry.”

The only response is the buzz of the disconnected line.

He slams the receiver down into the cradle, then hurriedly picks it back up and frantically dials Casey’s number. He punches the wrong number twice and has to start over, but he finally gets a connection. His heart hammers against his chest as he listens to the line ring three, five, seven times. On the eighth ring, he hears someone pick up and a tentative “Hello?”

“Casey, I’m sorry.” he says. “I didn’t mean to yell. . .I’m just. . .” He pauses, sighs and rubs his forehead. He hesitates a moment, then licks his lips. “You. . .um. . .you were right, Case. I am having the same problem. I can’t sleep because I can’t stop thinking about you.” He tries to swallow against the lump that has suddenly formed in his throat.

He hears a tiny sniffle on the other end of the line and feels another knife blade being jabbed into his hand. “How about. . .instead of dinner, we get together for breakfast?” he hears Casey say softly.

Zeke feels a smile start to form on his lips. “Um. . .yeah. Sure. Sounds great.”

The End