serai

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Lifeline
by Serai

Casey's in shock, staring at his lover. Zeke’s face is half obscured by the red kerchief he holds up to it. Red? Or is it blood? That’s blood on his t-shirt, Casey thinks, feeling sick. A drop of it hovers and falls onto the white cotton. Zeke’s face is tear-stained and swollen, but he glares at Casey with barely contained rage.

"Go," he whispers, a half-second before the other voice bellows his name, "ZEKE!" Casey jumps, then looks in panic at the dark eyes that have gone flat and distant. "Now," Zeke says, and pushes the front door shut as quietly as he can. At the same time, Casey hears heavy footsteps along the wood flooring, and he darts across the porch out of eyeline of the windows. The early December cold frosts his breath, and he covers his mouth with one hand to keep it in.

"Who the fuck was that?" roars the voice, male, not quite as deep as Zeke’s.

"Nobody," he snaps back. "I thought I heard a knock."

"Bullshit! You expect me to believe that? Who’ve you got coming over here? Fucking druggie, you a whore too?" There’s a thump and then a slam, sounds of fighting or – something else. Zeke cries out at one point, and Casey presses his hand tight over his lips, tears held back in his clenched eyes.

Then there’s another sound, a very small sound - Casey almost thinks he imagined it - and the movements cease. "FUCK YOU!" Zeke shouts, his voice ragged with pain. "Who the fuck do you think you are? You think because you're fucking my mother that you can come here and fuck with me too? This is not your house, you fucking prick, and I am not your son!"

There's a pause, and then a slow, infuriating laugh. "Put it down, you pussy," and Casey realizes with horror that the sound he heard was Zeke cocking a gun. "You’re not shooting me."

"Oh yeah?" Zeke’s voice is soft and suddenly dangerous, and the shot rings loud. Casey’s heart seizes up, until "Fuck!" the man’s voice sounds.

"Get out of my house," Zeke says, his voice barely audible from the porch. The tiny sound, again. Casey waits, listening. The silence stretches out, and then he hears the steps approaching the door. He dives under the porch to watch from the shadows. A tall figure, dark haired and thick-set, strides from the front door to the car parked out front. As he opens the driver’s side door, Casey gets a glimpse of the face – hard and handsome, with a cruel set to the mouth that very likely is only there when he looks at his stepson. Everyone else probably thinks he’s a great guy, thinks Casey bitterly. When the car is gone, Casey comes up from under the porch. He listens for a moment, then moves over near the window, looking in to see what he can.

Zeke is sitting on the stairs inside, his head down and arm wrapped over his neck. The gun droops from that hand; it makes little motions back and forth. Casey can’t see if his shoulders are shaking, but he feels sure they are. What should I do? he asks himself. He doesn’t know what Zeke would want, but he knows he can't just stand here.

The door is as silent as always, and Casey sits on the step above Zeke, as if it’s lunchtime on the bleachers at school. He settles his elbows on his knees and waits, looking out the window at the gathering gloom. After a while, Zeke lifts his head and looks over at him. Casey tries not to react, but he can’t help biting his lip at the thick purple flesh surrounding his lover’s eye, the swollen cheekbone.

"He shows up now and then," Zeke murmurs. "Says it’s to check on the house, but it’s mainly to make me feel like shit. Like it’s my fucking fault, any of it." His face breaks inward and he looks away. Casey slides his arms around him, and Zeke turns his face into Casey’s side, letting himself be held.

"Does your mom know he does this?" Casey asks.

Zeke shakes his head and takes in a wet breath. "Hell no," he says. "I’m not laying this shit on her. This is between him and me." Then his shoulders clench, and he starts to sob. "He thinks that- that because she lov-loves him, he can-" and he can’t go on, just shakes silently. Casey holds him tight, rocking him, until Zeke pulls away, rubbing the tears from his uninjured eye. "Fuck it." He chokes and then breathes again, a harsh sound. "Won't be that much longer." Casey holds his breath - what does he mean? - but Zeke folds his arms over his knees and lowers his head, obscuring his face and any explanation.

"Hey," Casey whispers, touching his lover tentatively, "I’m here." Zeke reaches out an arm blindly, pulling him close, and his kiss is a scream of loneliness. Casey takes him in, opening his heart to that cry, as the first snow falls outside the window, winter returning to Ohio.

This fic leaped at me out of that Flaunt cover.

Chapter 22 of High Contrast
Chapter 23