#zeath

Heath had no idea where Zane was, and he couldn’t have cared less. The only regret he had about the possibility of Zane currently being eaten by a bear was that he wasn’t there to vlog it.

He didn’t give a fuck about these trees. They looked exactly like the ones they’d seen yesterday on their hike. From his spot at a stragegically placed picnic table, he watched person after person look up at the canopy, their mouths slightly open, like they were having a spiritual experience. It wasn’t that Heath didn’t understand the power of nature- he’d had plenty of his own zen moments on the river, a fishing pole in one hand and a beer in the other. He just didn’t have the brain power to entertain all of the thoughts he was currently having and contemplate the beauty of existence. Or whatever.

Jesus, Zane was such a prick. Didn’t he understand how hard this was for him?

He realized that coming to terms with one’s sexuality was not an uncommon experience, and that some people had the added burden of the threat of being kicked out of their homes, beaten, or worse. But fuck, Zane expected him to quit smoking and deal with all this shit between them with a smile on his face and a perky attitude? Expected him to run up mountains, holding hands and skipping? And the worst, expected him to pass up the comfort of flirting with a hot girl, something familiar and easy, when he felt like shit in every other way?

Fuck that.

The rational part of his brain knew that Zane was trying to help- was doing his damnedest, in fact. But he didn’t want help right now. He wanted to go back to this time last year, when he chain-smoked blissfully and did not have to struggle with romantic feelings for his best friend, when his biggest problem was accidentally puking up Stolichnaya in the bathtub instead of the toilet.  

When Zane finally appeared again thirty minutes later, Heath had been stewing in his thoughts for so long that he was even more irritable than he’d been before. Physically, he’d seemed to have passed one hurdle at least- his head hurt less and his stomach had settled- but mentally, he was fucked. 

Heath expected to get chewed out, told that he was lazy, a terrible friend, wasting their time and money and ruining all of Zane’s carefully laid plans. And he was ready for a fight. But Zane’s face was neutral when he approached the picnic table, and Heath wondered if it was the sequoias or Xanax that had unclenched his jaw. Either way, it made Heath even angrier. Since when had Zane been so level-headed?

“Ready to go?” Zane asked evenly. He dropped his phone in his pocket and looked towards the trail back to the parking lot. 

“I’ve been ready since we got here,” Heath answered, and even he was impressed at how bitchy he sounded.

Zane didn’t reply. Heath followed him down the trail, itching for Zane to stop and yell at him, or something. But when they got to the truck, Zane tossed him the keys and climbed into the passenger seat, resting his head against the window.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll drive us through the window of a 7-11 and orchestrate a Marlboro heist?” Heath asked, slamming his door a bit too loudly.

RANDOM ZEATH MOMENTS: 1/?

     SOMETHING WE NEED TO TELL YOU

1) Zane is T H I C C as all hell

B) Heath is cute as a button