A/N: Was it too soon? Sorry, I fail at momentum.
Fix You
Chapter Two: So Darkness I Became
Riley assists the stumbling boy to a stool, and props him onto it. There, Zane rests his head and breathes out a muffled thank you. The young bartender makes sure the intoxicated actor is stable, and only has the smallest amount of chances of falling before he returns behind the bar. The place is pretty much dead, but he's still obliged to stay the rest of his hours. There's only one or two patrons, but he resists closing up early.
"You have a friend you can call for a ride home, buddy?"
Zane groans, and his voice is trembling from exhaustion when he replies. "Don't...know...any...one...here..." He shifts so that now the left side of his face is flat against the wooden counter. Riley bites his lip while contemplating a possible option. It was slightly unwise, but it was better than having the young boy out on the streets, drunk out of his mind and at risk of every possible danger of being alone in an unfamiliar city. He debated with himself on the subject for the longest time. Re-filling drinks, cleaning glasses, and wiping tables while doing so. It was a habit of his, but his boss wasn't complaining.
Time flew by, and before he knew it, Riley was ushering the nearly unconscious boy out the door, and locking it behind them.
As they reached the sidewalk, he realized how this must look to the late-night passersby. A fully sober man practically carrying a sleeping drunk into a cab. It screamed two things: possible rape, or just a friend helping another in the time of need. He hoped to death that the latter out shone the former.
As Zane easily slid into the seat of the taxi, Riley whispered words to soothe the actor, but knew they were mostly for himself. "It's okay, you'll be fine. In the morning you won't know what happened, and I'll just be a strange person who decided to look after you."
He gets into the vehicle, and shuts the door, trying hard not to shiver as Zane's breath reaches his neck. "Please don't kill me," he adds, referring to when the two would wake up in the hours to follow. He really hopes that this guy is really appreciative as much as he is lonely.
He takes the harsh thought back. It may just be the sensitive part of him, but Riley wants to believe - more than anything - that he's wrong.
- x -
While Zane's body rests against his own, he digs into the pockets of his jeans and pulls out the key to his residence. He has trouble opening the door, seeing as he's trying very hard to keep the teenager in his arm from falling, but succeeds within a acceptable amount of time.
He pushes it open, and repeats when he had done with the bar's door.
"C'mon, buddy," he grunts, and continues to lugg Zane around. Surprisingly, he was light. A lot lighter than how he looked. The former jock shakes his head to breal himself out of the trance he's caught in when he inhales the scent of a foreign cologne. It almost makes him weak in the knees, and he doesn't need that.
He finishes hauling Zane to his room, and sets him gently down on his bed. A moan of relief comes from the half-unconscious body. "Hmmh..."
Not long after, he uncomfortably takes off the screen performer's shoes, and places his shades on the night stand beside the mattress.
Riley takes it upon himself to make sure that he's covered with a thick, velvet comforter, and prays to God that when he wakes up, Zane won't be calling the cops, or attempting murder. He shuts the light and leaves the room.
And since his apartment is a one bedroom only, he retrieves a blanket from a closet, and settles down onto the couch.
Nothing's audible in the quiet, dark den except for the beating of the curly haired boy's frantic heart, and the snores emanating from his room.
"I hope you're worth the worry, Zane Park," he hears himself mumble before he voluntarilty greets more darkness.
- x -
Riley's waiting for the sleeping boy to wake up. It's past 11 AM, and he's really puzzled as to why he's up so early. Usually after his long hours, he'd still be in bed. But he woke up to the sound of quiet, and found that he contained the energy to stay awake. So he got up, and silently cooked breakfast (enough for both him and Zane - in case he wanted to stay, but he seriously doubted that) and lounged about for the longest time.
He read the sports section of the newspaper, but football season was months away, so he didn't find anything interesting in there. He flipped to 'Entertainment' and saw nothing in that, either. He just tore the page that contained the comics on it, and read that. When he was done, he observed the clock's ticking.
Finally, he heard a strangled groan come from within the hallway. He bit his lip nervously. How would Zane take to his surroundings? Would he remember anything about last night? Or would he assume that somebody had taken advantage of him?
Again, Riley's worrisome thoughts brought him to a nauseaus standstill. He had done something right, so why should he have to feel so ashamed?
Footsteps slowly became less and less faint. It seemed like the boy didn't feel the need to rush out right anyway. He eventually reached the kitchen, after a few minutes of glancing around quizzically, and Riley all but held his breath.
Zane's hair was a mess, granted he just got out of - Riley's - bed, and his clothes were crumpled and twisted. He seemed confused as to where he was; his dark, chocolate brown eyes fell on the sight of the awaiting bartender. Riley stood up almost instantly, his cheeks turning almost as red as a fire engine.
"I'm Riley Stavros," he said quickly, wanting to explain how he had came to be in his apartment, "And last night you came to the bar I work at, and... I took you here because you were drunk and I-"
His nervous blabble was interrupted by a sudden inquiry. "Aren't you too young to be working at a bar?"
Riley was a bit taken back, but countered nonetheless. "Aren't you too young to be drinking?"
He was examined for a moment before Zane registered his remark. "Point taken."
The former quarterback's breath was a bit shaky, but he went on with what he wanted to say, anyways. "I apologize if this bothers you. I just wanted to keep you from the streets-"
Again, he was cut off by an interjection from Zane, only this one surprised him more than the last. "It doesn't at all," his voice was small, and he looked suddenly shy, "it beats waking up next to a dumpster. So thanks... alot."
Every word he had in mind then caught in his throat. How could such a genuine, innocent-looking person evolve into a walking disaster every night? By what he had heard from Michael, he was even worse than how the media made him out to be, but with how he was seeing him now, it gave the curly-haired young adult a different perspective.
The bright light seeped in through the drawn blinds, hitting Zane directly. The illumination livened up his face, and made his eyes shine. Riley swore, at that moment, that his heart nearly faltered and was close to failing. That voice he was fairly fond of briskly snapped him from his musings.
"I'm Zane Park, by the way."
"I-I know."
He grinned in response, not because Riley had known he was, but because he hadn't broughten anything typical up after that. He hadn't asked for anything in return. He wasn't in the least, starstruck. He felt a bit of a possible bond brewing, even if had didn't know anything about him. Except for the fact that he served drinks in a pub, and kept his house in the cleanliest of order.
That was not usual for a male, or the ones he knew anyways. Zane motioned to the chair across from Riley. "May I?"
The temporary host nodded. "Of course." He got up to tend to the eggs on the stove. "Want anything?"
The view of him from behind intrigued Zane, even made him quirk his eyebrows in interest. He was handsome, and muscular. A sight to be seen. But what he was seeing left him with a feeling of wanting more.
"You," he whispered, but it went unnoticed, and he spoke up louder to give another answer. "Yes, please...If you'd have it."
Riley smiled to himself as he turned back to the appliance. With that expression on Zane's face, how could he - or anyone - say no?
