Casey's life perks up after the invasion. It gets pretty posh, actually, as far as high school class is concerned. Casey doesn't get poled anymore. People know his name. He can walk past a jock in the hallway completely unafraid and the world doesn't end if a cheerleader says 'hi' to him. He gets invited to Delilah's parties.
You think he'd be happy. His life got better, not worse, though he has to wonder how it could have gotten any worse. But it only makes him realize that high school is a bunch of bullshit. The only difference between now and then is he's on the other end of it, that's all.
The only good thing about it is Zeke. Zeke's still one of the coolest kids in school – maybe the coolest, considering he stabbed Mr. Furlong in the eye with a pen –and even though he joins the football team he doesn't leave Casey behind. That's the last thing he does, actually. Zeke drives him to school everyday and explains their physics homework – things like vectors and derivatives and centrifugal force. After Christmas Zeke drives the m to the mall so Casey can exchange all his clothes – his mother buys them too large, like one day he's going to mysteriously shoot up two feet and become a jock. Zeke and Casey watch movies at Zeke's house, and shoot hoops at Casey's, which Casey's father finds almost acceptable because at least it's a sport. When Casey develops his pictures Zeke is always there to tell him which ones are too dark and which ones are a little overexposed and which ones just suck. All biting sarcasm, but none of the sting, somehow.
It takes a while, but Casey finally realizes he doesn't want to be Zeke. He wants Zeke. And suddenly its like life is back to pre-invasion levels. Casey's trying to play outside his league again. Delilah was impossible enough. Zeke? Is like reaching for the fucking stars. Ridiculous. Hopeless. Never in a million years possible, not even in a world where aliens landed in Ohio.
For his 17th birthday, Zeke buys Casey a dozen rolls of film and takes him to the mountains a couple of hours away. Not really much as far as mountains go. More glorified hills than anything, but definitely a change from Herrington.
It's kind of sad that he ends up taking more pictures of Zeke than anything, but Zeke doesn't seem to notice. Zeke doesn't seem to notice a lot of things about Casey, but since he still notices more than anyone else, Casey can forgive him.
On the way back Zeke pulls into the school parking lot and shuts off the engine. Its shades of the night they defeated the Queen, to be truthful, and a shiver runs up Casey's back.
"C'mon."
"What?"
But Zeke is all ready out of the car and walking towards the school.
"What are you doing? Zeke?"
It only takes Casey a moment to see that Zeke is not, in fact, going to sit on the steps.
"You're breaking into the school?" Casey sputters.
Zeke throws a wayward grin over his shoulder. "It's not breaking in if you've got a legitimate reason to be there. And it's not like the school has an alarm anyway."
"But what are you doing?"
"You want to develop your pictures, right?"
"Well, yeah…"
"So let's do it. Weigh it, Casey."
Whenever Zeke says something like that, it just seems so easy. So matter-of-fact, like why wouldn't you?
"All right."
Casey's more or less powerless whenever Zeke does that.
"Ready?"
"Just about."
It's been two hours in the dark room, Casey discreetly separating all the pictures of Zeke from the ones of the mountains and forest.
"Here. Do your worst."
"No need to encourage me." Zeke pauses and hefts the pile of pictures. Once. Twice. "Cay-seeeee," he sings eerily. "This doesn't feel like twelve rolls."
"Um. Well, a lot of them just sucked. I misjudged the light."
"Lemme see."
"They're a waste of paper."
"You never let me not see before."
Motherfucker.
"Fine." He shoves the Zeke-pictures into a messy pile and pushes them at Zeke's chest. "I – I took five whole rolls. Just of you."
"Why?"
"Why?"
"I mean, you used to take pictures of Delilah like that."
Casey lets go of the photos, oddly satisfied in watching Zeke scramble to hold onto them. "Sometimes, Zeke, you are really fucking stupid."
"Casey."
"Forget it."
"No, I – " Zeke grabs Casey's arm. "Sometimes I am kinda stupid, okay?" And Zeke presses him up against the counter and Casey's brain explodes. Like little tentacles burrowing into every part of him that Zeke is touching, except he couldn't want it more.
There's a metallic clatter from behind them as Zeke slowly draws away.
"I really hope," he exhales, "That wasn't just acid."
Casey chuckled weakly. "It's the sink. Water."
"Good."
There's a long moment of silence that makes Casey wonder if he should un-leech himself from Zeke's body.
"How about you finish developing your photos and we blow this popsicle stand?"
"Sounds like a plan."
So. Maybe even in a world where aliens invaded Ohio.
