ℍ𝕆𝕃𝕃𝕆𝕎 / 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽

          coaxing  a  reaction  out  of  caz  is  almost  satisfying  enough  to  melt  away  the  natural  annoyance  that  comes  whenever  a  zeckhauser  is  in  his  presence  .  almost  .  the  sight  of  him  alone  brings  back  a  plethora  of  memories  that  makes  his  fingers  twitch  ,  wanting  to  curl  into  a  fist  .  it’s  an  emotion  that’s  been  embedded  into  his  head  ,  a  bond  with  his  father  was  out  of  the  question  ,  their  differences  highly  outweighing  their  similarities  ;  but  if  it  was  one  thing  they  still  shared  –  it  was  a  dislike  towards  caz’s  family  .   and  maybe  that’s  why  he  still  takes  his  father’s  side  when  it  comes  to  them  ;  holding  onto  the  one  thing  that  they  can  still  agree  on  .  at  surface  level  ,  he  can’t  even  remember  the  reason  behind  it  all  and  he  rarely  ever  takes  the  time  to  think  about  it  –  but  he  knows  caz  himself  ,  has  nothing  to  do  with  it  -  and  neither  does  kieran  .

          “  i  prefer  GOD  ,  ”  he  shoots  back  without  a  beat  ,  the  words  come  out  dryly  but  their  hardly  sarcastic  .  he’d  been  called  the  american  god  back  at  yale  ,  his  destructive  behavior  and  balancing  on  the  edge  of  life  and  death  earning  him  a  reputation  that  the  boy  was  practically  immortal  .  he  stops  abruptly  ,  which  puts  a  halt  in  caz’s  steps  too  .  he  leans  forward  ,  dipping  his  head  down  slightly  –  only  holding  a  couple  inches  over  caz  ,  “  jesus  fucking  christ  -  ”  he  says  ,  the  words  wrapped  into  a  half  laugh  ,  “   somebody  get  this  guy  a  xanax  before  the  vein  in  his  forehead  fucking  EXPLODES  .  ”  it’s  directed  towards  the  students  walking  past  them  but  his  eyes  don’t  break  contact  with  caz’s  ,  “  —  or  do  you  need  me  to  PERSONALLY hire  someone  to  pry  that  stick  out  of  your  ass  ?  ”  he  lets  out  a  bark  of  a  laugh  ,  one  that’s  he  sure  is  infuriating  as  his  smirk  as  his  hand  springs  up  cupping  his  cheek  and  giving  it  a  few  light  taps  ,  “  lighten  the  fuck  up  caz  .  or  what’s  the  point  of  even  being  here  ?  ”  he  backs  up  ,  dropping  his   hand  and  sidestepping  him  ,  arm  swinging  out  and  gesturing  him  forward  –  now  out  of  his  way  .

.

-

         caz has known the halliday name to always be spoken with more than just a hint of disgust, a special kind reserved just for them — at least until caz had stepped outside his father's carefully drawn lines. now if asked, caz isn't sure why it still lingers ( more than LINGERS : hangs, always looming, always PRESENT like an unwanted stench ) ; instinct, emotional muscle memory, most likely. he's never known what it's like to feel anything but HATRED for kieran halliday, and it's easier to stay in that vein. kieran's obviously taken his father's hate and made it his own, why shouldn't he mirror that back ?? so maybe it feels NATURAL when caz's head tilts back slightly to keep defiant eye contact with kieran, jawline set in a tense line as he resists the urge to either step backward or shove kieran straight in the chest. they'd been the same height ONCE — until they settled at their respective heights and caz can't help but think he's always trying to compensate for those two impossible inches : that in a way kieran always quite literally has the high ground now.

Some best friends are made, others are found, Caz on the other hand…was NEITHER. To most Owen’s idea of friendship is heavily skewed, but in his defence he knows no better. The PERPETUAL loner was privy to clinging on to anyone who so much as knew his name. One of the many beauties of California was its weather, far strung from the BLEARY wetness of Portland, Halston was drenched in sunlight at every hour of the day. It wasn’t unusual to see the quad littered with students which is why he almost missed his best friend sitting alone at a picnic table (a feeling he knows all too well). He bounds over like a kid in a candy shop and drops himself in front of the other boy. Anyone wasn’t the wiser, would’ve thought Owen was some High School senior visiting his brother at College with the way in which Caz was nearly double his size. He beams back at his friend, ❝ Hey bud— you looked like you could use the company..❞ More so Owen could use the company but, he digresses. ❝ So what’s our plan for today? ❞

⟡

         his polite smile —fake as it may be— slips off his face as he stares for a moment across the table, face almost SUSPICIOUSLY blank, a brow ticking upwards in a near perceptible answer as he tries to process all the stupidity at once. in the end, caz doesn't bother to correct the largely incorrect judgement ( he was perfectly content being alone at the moment — physically at least, his phone still buzzes occasionally in his hand as new messages come in ). he's simply already comes to the conclusion that any subtle or even some not so subtle negative gestures go right over owen's head — or at least he pretends they do — and caz is unfortunately not in the business of being a BULLY no matter how mind dulling interactions with owen seem to be.     " don't remember saying we were hanging out, "     caz says finally. granted, he's probably NEVER said or texted such a thing ( now that he thinks about it, he's not even sure he has owen's number saved ).     " —i’m busy. "

          he’s uncharacteristically ALONE : his company of one of his teammates hurried off to his next class, caz with plans to return to billings to get a small meal in before practice later, but loathe to move from the sunny patch the picnic table he occupies sit in. it doesn’t take LONG for him to wish he’d just gotten a move on, gaze rising from his phone as the wooden table shakes a bit under the weight of new unwelcomed company. they had to go through media training with the usntdp ; often vastly DREADED seminars every year, but deemed a necessary evil ( they were going places, after all ). caz probably had more experience than most with putting on a facade anyway, media smile impeccably practiced to the point it felt natural — his own father hadn’t been able to tell the difference, not that was really surprising either. he slips into it almost reflexively at this point when faced with situations he’d love nothing more than to walk the other direction. so he suppresses the very overwhelming urge to sigh, one of his milder media smiles flicking on, though his tone still betrays the smallest hint of ANNOYANCE,     “ — can i help you ?? ”

         gray  sweatpants  hang  loose  on  his  hips  as  he  walks  into  the  kitchen  .  he  nods  his  head  at  caz  at  the counter  in  a  form  of  a greeting  ,  opening  up  a  cabinet  ,  before  immediately  closing  it  ,  and  moving  to  the  one  directly  beside  it  – still trying  to  familiarise  himself  with  the  house  .  he  pulls  out  a  glass  ,  leaning  his  bare  back  against  the  counter  as  he  turns  to  look  at  caz  ,  “  i’m  good  , ”  he  clears  his  throat  ,  voice  still  raspy  ,  “  thanks  though  ,  man  .  ”  he  moves  to  the  fridge  and  pulls  out  the  eggs  for  caz  ,  placing  them  out  by  the  stove  and  pulling  out  the  carton  of  almond  milk  for  himself  ,  about  to  make  himself  a  morning  smoothie  .  “  you’re  up  EARLY  .  got  practice  today  ?  ”  he  doesn’t  have  practice  but  he’s  got  to  prep  the  field  for  the  girl’s  soccer  team  this  morning  . 

-

         a grunt of thanks filters into the quiet morning air at the eggs being placed out for his use, a slightly unfocused gaze landing somewhere near roo's chin. an idle observation of roo's appreciable physique filters through caz's head, an unsurprising one and long made conclusion — more simple, harmless fact than anything. he tosses back the rest of the coffee in his mug in one go, finally moving from his seat at the island to shuffle slightly to roo's right where the coffee maker still sits with half a pot. as the coffee slips its way from the pot, he wonders not for the first time if he should just invest in a bigger mug. it's not until he's taken a sip of the fresh cup that a " nope " is finally uttered followed by another long pause as he goes in for a second.     " off-day, "     he offers in explanation, eyes blinking a little, but no doubt much more present.     " just couldn't sleep — what're you up to ?? "  

           his  textbook  sits  comfortably  closed  ,  hand  holding  it  against  his  frame  .  it’s  all  he’s  come  to  class  with  –  that  and  a  pen  ;   a  clear  contrast  to  his  classmates  who’ve  filtered  in  looking  like  turtles  with  their  backpacks  filled  with  notebooks  and  laptops  ,  highlighters  ,  pens  and  whatever  else  they  needed  to  help  the  lectures  stick  into  their  minds  .  he’s  hardly  opened  the  textbook  aside  from  flipping  through  a  couple  pages  when  he’d  first  got  it  .  he’s  in  the  middle  of  wrapping  up  a  conversation  with  a  blonde  -  a  promise  to  take  her  out  on  his  ducati  after  some  drinks  and  the  underlining  and  unspoken  promise  for  a  night  she  wouldn’t  forget  anytime  soon  .  the  voice  that  trickles  in  is  far  too  familiar  ,  the  tone  in  his  voice  shooting  syllables  up  his  backside  that  causes  his  usual  nonchalant  exterior  to  suddenly  tense  up  ;  not  used  to  having  to  deal  with  a  zeckhauser  during  the  school  year  .  his  presence  is  more  than  unwanted  – which  he’s  positive  is  a  mutual  feeling  .  he  waves  off  the  girl  ,  his  hand  lingering  on  her  backside  as  she slips away  from him  ,  before  he’s  turning  to  look  at  caz  .  “  fuck  off  ,  ”  he  says  ,   slipping  out  a  phrase  that  feels  like  it’s  reserved  just  for  him  .  he  starts  walking  backwards  out  of  the  room  ,  purposely  blocking  caz’s  way  still  ,  so  he  has  no  choice  to  mirror  the  slow  strides  he  makes  .  “  did  someone  get  their  dick  sucked  on  the  wrong  size  of  the  bed  this  morning  ?  ”  he  cocks  his  head  to  the  side  ,  feigning  concern  for  a  millisecond  before  his  shit  eating  grin  is  back  ,  patronising  him  .  “  caz  ,  you’re  such  a  little  bitch  boy  -  who  would  have  thought  you  lacked  manners  .  ”  he  says  ,  with  a  click  of  his  tongue  ,  “ —  and  they  all  say  i’m  the  one  raised  by  fucking  wolves  .  ”

-

         caz distantly catalogues the slowness of kieran's steps, the annoying cut of his smile, the dripping cadence of his tone : all of it adds up into the perfect cocktail to get under his skin ( and it works ; god, he hates that it works ). it seemed kieran halliday broke every single rule caz set for himself in the worst possible way. PRIDEFUL in his cool composure, he was hardly proud of the way kieran always seemed to get a rise out of him, especially when it always seemed to be with as little effort as breathing. but the particular brand of animosity reserved for kieran was always simmering just under the surface, begging to be tapped into and too easily found by the one it was for ( perhaps in a way, that made kieran special — mostly, it just made him enemy no. 2 ).

         caz is hardly the same now as he was sixteen and angry, but it's still evident enough : the faintest red marching up his neck, pale cheeks betraying the beginnings of a flush that might've been pretty if not attributed to brewing rage. his grip on the strap of his backpack tightens, knuckles near white. the two miles between the halliday and zeckhauser monterey estates had never felt like ENOUGH space, two households struggling to contain the enormity of their egos constantly bleeding into one another — but now caz would give anything to have those two meager miles back. ( wanting to punch kieran is hardly a new urge, just one he's never acted on because he's not so certain he'd WIN ). his rage burns hot but caz's eyes are cold, colorless grey in the florescent light of the classroom.      " what ?? you wanna hear you're a fucking saint ?? — just get out of my fucking way already if you want me to fuck off so bad. "

        he  makes  a  quick  move  to  transform  himself  into  someone  who  doesn’t  look  like  he’s  been  up  to  what  he  just  has,  clothes  flung  on  haphazardly.  unlike  caz,  he  doesn’t  bother  with  his  hair   ━━  the  unruly  curls  not  far  off  his  typical  appearance  anyway.  ❝   really  ?  it’s  been  a  while  since  i  was  wine  and  dined.  ❞   he  jokes,  finally  pushing  himself  off  the  bed.  he  steps  a  little  closer  to  caz,  fingers  adjusting  a  hair  that’s  remaining  stubborn  despite  all  his  efforts,  ❝    there  you  go.  better.  ❞   he  nods  with  a  small  grin.  (  he  prefers  the  more  rugged  look  on  him,  personally,  but  it  probably  isn’t  exactly  restaurant  appropriate  ).  he  reaches  behind  the  other  to  grab  the  door  handle,  unlocking  it  (  because  god  knows  nobody  in  this  house  has  learned  how  to  knock  ),    ❝  you  ready  ?    ❞

-

         caz freezes for an almost imperceptible second as malik's fingers brush somewhere above his ear, the motion barely felt yet somehow still unbalancing. it always feels the most GREY in the aftermath, still stuck somewhere between the sheets of malik's bed and just bros — and yet, he still doesn't run.     " wine's not in the budget, sorry — "     he says finally, a beat too late, but he soldiers on like nothing happened ; that is, after all, what they've proven they are impeccably good at time and time again. a step backward not only clears the path for the door, but carries him a step away from malik which feels like a GOOD idea right now. his hands find their way into his pockets, slipping into the perfect epitome of EASE. a playful smirk creeps back onto his face,     " — what a gentleman. "

he’s impossible to miss. he stands at the bottom of the cobblestone steps with the afternoon sun at his back, peeking out around the broadness of his shoulders, only highlighting his imposing height further. and unlike the majority of her classmates, he sports a smile that only grows when he catches her eye. she bounds down the steps, a grin brightening her features. she’s ready to throw her arms around him in greeting when she notices the coffees in his hands. she makes a small grateful noise and gives his arms a squeeze. “after my heart, aren’t you, caz.” she takes a long sip of her iced coffee, humming happily when the flavour hits her tongue. “mmm, you’re my favourite.” she lifts up on her tip toes and smacks a kiss to the hollow of his cheek. falling back onto her heels, she slips her arm through his and leans into his side. “good i think,” she hopes. her professor had seemed impressed with her designs but only her final grade would tell. “though, maybe i should have worn a lower cup top. you know, go in for the kill.” she teases, her voice mirthful.

-

         caz knows her TOO WELL at this point, the culmination of going from giggling under tables at fancy functions to knowing smirks when their parents weren't looking. it's more than memorized coffee orders and proclaiming FAVORITES : they owe each other a lot for not just peeking around the curtain but dragging each other behind it for company. there is HISTORY behind their current effortless comfort, && not from intimacy ( at least not the kind that strangers tend to erroneously label them more often than that ). but caz betrays none of that on his face, simply rolling his eyes good-naturedly, a light laugh escaping into the sunshine as he begins a slow stroll away from the building.     " just staying on your good side so you don't break out the embarrassing childhood stories at the next party, y'know ?? "     it's said in jest, but there's a seed of truth to the comment : comes with the territory of knowing someone for so long. his elbow digs playfully into her side,     " — and i KNOW you didn't need give any more incentive. it's OVER now ; no use stressing over it. "

             cheeks  still  flushed  as  he  regains  his  breath,  malik  lies  practically  sprawled  over  the  covers  ━━  fingers  blindly  searching  for  his  discarded  t-shirt  ( if  he’s  slightly  distracted  by  the  sight  before  him,  despite  the  time  they’ve  spent  together,  he  won’t  willingly  admit  it  ).  the  question  piques  his  interest,  reminding  him  that  he  hasn’t  actually  eaten  anything  since  breakfast.  ❝  you  paying  ?  ❞  he  grins  playfully  as  he  finally  pushes  himself  to  sit  up,  legs  swinging  to  ground  his  feet.   this  arrangement  they  have  probably  isn’t  helping  either  of  them,  the  sneaking  around,  but  there’s  a  sort  of  unspoken  understanding  between  the  two   ━━  it  works.  ❝  i  could  go  for  italian,  yeah.  beats  the  all-night  study  session  i  had  planned.  ❞

-

         an eyeroll is all malik gets in response to that before caz is moving across the room to retrieve his own shirt from the floor ( more for something to do so he doesn’t STARE and make things awkward ; the arrangement is simple & straightforward for a reason ). a gentle hum escapes him as he pulls out his phone again, the screen remaining dark as he uses the surface to fix his hair into a more reasonable state of neatness. he takes his time ; out of the corner of his eye he can tell malik needs another minute or else anyone with eyes will be able to figure out exactly what they've been up to. ( or perhaps not : people's proclivity to believe straightness is something he's been vastly grateful for on more occasions than he would like to admit ).     " i'll pay if you want — "     he says, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smile as he pockets the phone. it's not like an extra twelve dollars is going to even come close to breaking him.     " gotta eat. "

          logically, caz should not be awake right now. he should be peacefully slumbering on catching up on some much needed sleep, but somewhere down the line his biological clock had been set to perpetually wake him up at the same hour every day without fail and once he was awake, he had the great pleasure of not being able to fall back asleep — consider it a blessing and a curse. he’s currently two-thirds through coffee number two, so he’s tantalizingly close to being alive and not just awake by the time roo trails down to billings’ kitchen. he’s still sitting at the counter, both large hands clasp around the ceramic of his mug, eyes staring ahead at NOTHING as he gathers up enough motivation to make himself breakfast. company always seems to spur that on a bit more quickly, evident as he turns a tired gaze on roo, voice still a bit blurry,     “ — you want an omlet ?? ”     it feels like an out-of-place question, unless of course, you know caz.

          it’s not anything anyone who lives in billings and has the misfortune of being up this early hasn’t seen ; charlie moreso than anyone given her own affinity to be awake before the sun, though her reasons for doing so truly seem to be from pleasure and not because her body simply decided to wake up at the exact same time and never go back to sleep. she’s there in the billings kitchen already, of course, and caz pays her little attention, fully focused on the coffee maker sitting like the holy grail on the counter. he fumbles in a cupboard for a mug, then in the clean but still unemptied dishwasher when he doesn’t find one there. the coffee left in the pot fills his mug about halfway before it runs out — a devastating turn of events to a freshly awakened caz.      “ seriously ?? ”     it’s more mumble than words. but he’s raising the not-full mug to his lips anyway, gulping down most of the needed caffeine as he shuffles to the sink, still mumbling about,     “ no respect in this house. ”

          caz had already been dreading taking genetics ; as fascinating as the subject was, there was something CRUELY poetic about the whole thing — perhaps it was a good thing he wasn’t an english major because he’d never bothered to follow that train of thought all the way to its conclusion. and then on day one of class he had the great fortune of walking in and remembering that zoology was just a sub-branch of biology , as if it wasn’t enough for them to be neighbors. this particular lecture passes without incidence though, not wholly unsurprising at this point in the semester — a very uneasy truce between them within the neat rows of academic classrooms. but practice this morning had been brutal to say the least and he spent the last twenty minutes feeling the tenseness at the nape of his neck blossom into a full pounding headache. a nap might be a better cure than caffeine, but caz only has time for one and it doesn’t involve sleeping. he’s not going to even have time for the coffee either if kieran doesn’t stop blocking his way out with his ass while he chats up some chick or whatever the fuck he’s doing. anyone else would get a significantly kinder warning, but kieran’s always had a way of sapping all of his usual patience.     “ — get a fucking move on or get out of my way, halliday. ”

          caz stands at the foot of malik’s bed half-dressed, focus more on his phone and tending to the six notifications he’d gotten while they were doing their extra-curricular activities. but malik had been getting his FULL attention for the past twenty-five, so fair’s fair. he dismisses the last one, finally depositing his phone into his pocket in favor of running his hand through his hair in an attempt to neaten it from its mussed state ; he’s only slightly successful in that regard. his shirt is missing, still curled into a messy heap by the door, the absence of fabric revealing shifting muscle under skin and proving the beginning of the season has treated caz very well. ( perhaps the fact he isn’t scurrying to grab it and hurry out betrays the fact this hasn’t been the first time ). there are responsibilities to get back to, though fewer now on the other side of the mid-term week, and for once, caz is loathe to jump right back into them. he finally casts a casual glance over at malik, a low rumble of his stomach practically giving away the question he’s going to ask.     “ wanna grab some food ?? that italian place off main is never busy this time of night. ”

          MIDTERM season was finally drawing to a close ( for the semester, at least ), and caz is pretty sure his own brain has been fried to a very brunt crisp in the process — but at least he’s left with the satisfying feeling that his exams passed in another job well done ; just another checkbox to tick off in his list. blair isn’t a checkbox on his list, but he’s done for the week, and with the blazing sun rising higher in the sky with the promise of scorching heat reminiscent of summer beaches. it’s a not-unwelcomed reminder. twenty minutes later, caz is waiting for her outside the hall that houses blair’s midday class, a starbucks cup in one hand sweating in the the heat but still containing the full icy contents of her favorite drink. a blonde eyes him as she exits the building, but he hardly notices, gaze already wandering to that of the familiar brunette making her way down the stairs. the drink is bestowed up on her graciously when she arrives, hands returning to his shorts pockets as he gazes FONDLY down at her,     “ so — how’d it go ?? ”