Title: A Simple Thing
Author: Annie Oates
Fandom: The Faculty
Pairing: Casey|Zeke, Casey's POV
Rating: PG-13
Archive: ATW, Ask.
Notes: For the 'nequient' challenge.
Disclaimers: Not mine, I'm a nasty little law-breaker.
Warnings: bleeding!Casey, dealing!Zeke
Summery: Casey is weightless.
Timeline: Pre-Mary Beth.
Feedback: Is welcome.
It would be such a simple thing.
Casey stuffs another rolled strip of single-ply up his nostril, letting the previous one drop between his legs. It unwinds as it hits the water, emitting a cloud of miniature clots. He shifts on the seat, trying to bleed in silence.
On the other side of the stall Zeke finishes his transaction, thanking the tweakers for their business in a carefully weighed voice. He's a pro at this, at selling what people want. Casey knows this, sees it when he watches Zeke watching everyone else. The way his eyes weigh the option and the need in those around him.
Zeke has never weighed Casey.
Casey thinks this might be for the best.
The door shuts behind the 'customers', the wood sticking slightly as the springs force it back into the frame. Casey's stomach twists when he hears a rubber scuff on the tile. He doesn't look up when Zeke's frame fills the doorless entry to the stall, just stares at leather and tries not to listen to the part of him that wonders why Zeke would wear something so worn. Another part of him supplies the phrase, "broken in" in lieu. Casey shuts out the words inside and pinches a finger to his nose, feeling the pain blossom and a thick taste at the back of his throat. Zeke is quiet, but Casey hears the breath he forces out of his nose. Nothing so easily defined as a snort, nothing so open as a chuckle. But Casey can feel his lack of weight.
Zeke doesn't think he has anything Casey would buy. Needless, little nerd. Casey knows this, and he knows the wrong of it. If Zeke knew the right... Casey doesn't think he has what it takes to pay that price.
Such a simple thing. Casey's life has always been simple. But not easy.
Never easy.
End.