The van cruised along the coastal road, the sun hovering lazily in the sky, casting a soft golden hue over the landscape. It was that time of year when summer reluctantly gave way to the cool embrace of autumn. The air was mild, with just a hint of a breeze, making it the perfect day for a beach outing. But Zeke wasn't enjoying the ride.
Seated a few rows back, Zeke's eyes kept straying to Eric, who sat by the window, his gaze locked on the passing scenery. There was something about the way Eric sat, so still, so detached, that gnawed at Zeke. He found himself staring at the back of Eric's head, wondering what thoughts were running through that impenetrable mind of his.
Mattias, the social butterfly, was seated next to Eric. He leaned over, trying to coax his colleague into conversation.
"Hey, Eric," Mattias began, his voice light and easy, "You ever surf? The waves out here are supposed to be amazing this time of year."
Eric turned slightly, his expression as unreadable as ever. "No, I don't surf."
Mattias chuckled, undeterred. "You should try it. It's a great way to clear your head. And hey, if you're as good at surfing as you are at—" He paused, searching for the right word, "—being allergic to humans, you might just be a natural."
Eric's lips twitched. "I'll pass," he said, turning back to the window.
Zeke's brow furrowed. It annoyed Zeke sometimes, how effortlessly Mattias could interact with anyone, even someone as closed off as Eric.
Eric's mind, however, was miles away, lost in a tangled web of thoughts. The day's earlier events played on a loop in his head, particularly the meeting with the Jonas brothers—an important business deal that had been abruptly canceled. The reason? Zeke.
Eric knew the kind of games Zeke liked to play. He wasn't stupid. Zeke had orchestrated the cancellation just to drag Eric to this beach party, to assert some twisted sense of control. It was infuriating, but also predictable. Zeke had always been like this—bored, restless, always looking for ways to stir things up, especially if it involved making Eric's life difficult.
But Eric wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. He sat, silent and still, letting the world pass by outside, his mind was a chaotic blend of abstract thoughts and the hard reality he couldn't escape.
When they finally arrived at the resort, the transition from the enclosed space of the van to the open, airy beauty of the beachfront was almost jarring. The resort was nestled against a backdrop of dunes and ocean, the waves gently kissing the shore in the distance. It was peaceful, a complete opposite to the tension that had been building inside Eric all day.
Austin, the enthusiastic ringleader of their little group, was the first to hop out. "Alright, guys! Let's get settled in, and then we can hit the beach later. I'll show you to your rooms," he called out, already heading towards the main entrance.
Eric followed the group. He didn't care much about where he'd be staying, but when Austin announced that he'd be sharing a room with Alex, Jade's foster brother, a small frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. He didn't know Alex well so he was a little hesitant.
Zeke, walking a few paces behind, felt a strange sense of unease at the thought of Eric sharing a room with someone else, especially someone as effortlessly charming as Alex. It shouldn't have mattered to him, but it did. The idea of Eric being around Alex, laughing, talking—things he rarely did with anyone else—left a sour taste in Zeke's mouth.
Mattias noticed Zeke's reaction but chose to keep his thoughts to himself. He wasn't close friends with Zeke, but he was perceptive enough to see the tension that always seemed to simmer just below the surface between Zeke and Eric. It was almost amusing, the way Zeke's mood seemed to darken whenever Eric was involved.
As the group dispersed to their respective rooms, the afternoon sun hung lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the resort. Eric's room was simple, with two single beds and a large window that offered a view of the beach in the distance. The sound of the waves was a constant, soothing presence, a soft murmur that seemed to whisper of faraway places.
Alex, true to his nature, was out cold within minutes of hitting the bed. His soft, even breathing was the only sound in the room besides the distant ocean. Eric, however, found no such peace. His mind was still buzzing with thoughts, too restless to allow for sleep.
With a sigh, he pulled out his laptop, intending to lose himself in work, but the lack of internet put an end to that plan. Frustrated, he set the laptop aside and lay back on the bed, his eyes closing as he listened to the rhythmic crash of the waves. Slowly, the tension in his body began to ebb away, and he drifted into a light, uneasy slumber.
In the next room , Zeke was anything but relaxed. The room was comfortable enough, with the same two single beds and a view of the beach, but Zeke couldn't shake the irritation that gnawed at him.
He glanced over at Mattias, who was sprawled out on his bed, already snoring softly. It was a strange pairing—him and Mattias. They weren't friends, not really, but Mattias was friendly to everyone. Too friendly, in Zeke's opinion.
Feeling the weight of the day's frustrations bearing down on him, Zeke decided a shower might help clear his head. But when he stepped into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, nothing happened. He stared at the showerhead in disbelief, then cursed under his breath.
"This place is supposed to be top-notch, and they can't even get the basics right," he muttered, grabbing his phone to call the resort's service desk. A few minutes later, a couple of staff members arrived. After fiddling with the pipes they went back while muttering apologies for not being able to fix it now with a promise to do so later.
Zeke flopped back onto his bed, more wound up than ever. He plugged in his headphones, blasting his usual rock and roll in an attempt to drown out his thoughts, but it was no use. The music only seemed to amplify the agitation that churned in his chest.
Just as he was beginning to drift into a restless doze, a sharp knock on the door jolted him awake.
"Zeke! Mattias! Lunch is ready!" Austin's voice rang out, followed by another knock. "Come on, don't keep everyone waiting!"
Zeke groaned, pulling off his headphones. He nudged Mattias, who groaned in response, rolling over and burying his face in his pillow.
"Mattias, get up," Zeke said, more insistently this time. "Lunch."
Mattias peeked out from under his arm, his eyes bleary. "Already? I swear we just got here."
"Yeah, well, time flies when you're unconscious. Let's go."
With a sigh, Mattias dragged himself out of bed, and they both made their way to the door. Zeke was about to step out when he froze, his eyes catching on a figure in the corridor.
Eric was standing there, leaning casually against a pillar, a small smile playing on his lips as he listened to something Alex was saying. Zeke's heart clenched at the sight—Eric, so distant and cold with everyone else, was actually smiling.
Something dark and bitter twisted in Zeke's chest. He hated that smile. He wanted to rip it off Eric's face, to make sure no one else ever saw it. The thought was irrational, violent, and it scared him a little, but he couldn't push it away.
"Zeke? You good?" Mattias's voice broke through his thoughts, his hand landing on Zeke's shoulder.
"Yeah," Zeke muttered, forcing his face into a neutral expression. "Let's go."
Mattias gave him a curious look but didn't press. Instead, he nudged Zeke forward, practically dragging him towards the dining hall. But Zeke's eyes remained locked on the man walking just ahead of them, his mind racing with thoughts he didn't dare voice.
The dining area of the resort was a sunlit expanse, offering a stunning view of the beach. The long wooden tables were adorned with colorful tablecloths, and the smell of fresh seafood mingled with the salty sea breeze. It was a vibrant, relaxed setting, perfect for the casual lunch that Austin had promised.
Mattias, Alex, and Eric settled at one of the tables. Mattias, with his characteristic warmth, was engaging in animated conversation with Alex. They laughed easily, their camaraderie evident as they shared stories about their lives and experiences.
Zeke, seated across from Eric, felt a gnawing irritation as he observed the scene. Eric, normally reserved and aloof, was surprisingly relaxed.
Alex was quick to offer Eric a plate of crab cakes. "Eric, you've got to try these. They're the best thing here."
Eric looked up, momentarily taken aback. "Thank you." He accepted the crab cakes from Alex with a subtle, almost begrudging smile. Zeke's eyes followed Eric's every movement with intense scrutiny.
The smile that touched Eric's lips made Zeke's stomach twitch. It was a smile that Zeke had rarely, if ever, witnessed in his presence. It was a smile that Zeke found infuriatingly out of place.
Without giving it a second thought, Zeke reached out and knocked over a glass of iced tea, sending the dark liquid cascading over Eric's plate. The drink spilled over the crab cakes and salad, transforming them into a soggy, unappetizing mess.
A hush fell over the table as the glass hit the plate, the sound of the liquid hitting the food was almost deafening. Eric's face was momentarily stunned. He pushed the ruined plate aside with a practiced calmness that only heightened Zeke's agitation.
"What the hell?" Mattias's voice cut through the silence, filled with shock and dismay.
Eric's gaze was cold and unyielding as he looked at Zeke. "It's fine. I'm not hungry anyway."
Zeke's heart raced, his mind became a whirlpool of confusion and anger. He couldn't understand why he had done it. Was he so consumed by his hatred for Eric that he couldn't allow him a simple pleasure of enjoying food? The questions pounded in his head, unanswered and unsettling.
Mattias glanced at Eric, concern etched into his features. "You okay, buddy?"
Eric nodded, his voice calm despite the irritation simmering beneath the surface. "Yeah. I'm going to rest for a bit."
Eric finished his drink, stood up, and walked away from the table. Mattias and Alex exchanged worried glances, clearly unsettled by the abrupt end to their lunch.
As Eric retreated to his room, Zeke's mind was a storm of conflicted emotions. What kind of upbringing led to someone as calm & unbothered as Eric?
Back in his room, Eric tried to unwind. He unpacked a pair of comfortable clothes—a dark, fitted Full sleeves T-shirt and loose Trousers—and made his way to the bathroom. The shower provided a brief respite, the water was soothing against his skin.
After taking the shower he grabbed a towel and began dressing in the bathroom. Just as he stepped out of the shower, the door of the room creaked open, and he froze, catching sight of Zeke standing in the doorway. Zeke's gaze locked on Eric who had droplets of water clung to his tousled blue-tipped hair, tracing a path down his neck and onto his partially buttoned shirt.
Eric's shirt was halfway on, one sleeve hanging loose while his other arm was still caught in the fabric. The sight of him—drenched was almost hypnotic. Zeke's eyes were drawn to the unexpected details of Eric's bare skin that was briefly exposed.
Zeke's gaze fell on the scars that marred the inside of Eric's arm. They were faint but unmistakable, a cluster of marks that seemed too precise to be accidental. Zeke's mind raced with possibilities—needle marks? His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, the dryness in his mouth stark against the sweat forming on his brow. Eric's face conveyed a clear, unspoken question: What are you doing here?
"Mattias gave me this," Zeke said, his voice tight and controlled. "My shower's not working. He told me I can use yours"
Eric's face betrayed a flicker of surprise but quickly settled into a mask of controlled irritation. "You are already here so, sure" he said, stepping aside. Zeke's eyes remained locked on Eric, following his every move with a mixture of curiosity and contempt.
As Zeke entered the bathroom, he was engulfed by the lingering warmth of Eric's presence. The steam and the faint scent of Eric's shampoo were like ghosts of a conversation that had never been. Under the cool spray, Zeke's thoughts were consumed with Eric's image—his pale skin, the scars hidden beneath his shirt, and the way he looked so effortlessly detached.
His rage and obsession intertwined in a chaotic storm. The sight of Eric, with his wet hair and barely concealed scars, triggered a disturbing mix of emotions in Zeke. He felt a twisted sense of satisfaction mingled with an almost primal desire to see Eric in discomfort.
When Zeke emerged from the bathroom, his mind was still a tempest of conflicting emotions. He found Eric sitting by the window, lost in thought. The view was serene, but the atmosphere in the room was tense.
Zeke walked towards Eric, stopping a few inches away. "What the hell was that at lunch?'' Zeke said, his voice rougher than he intended.
Eric didn't turn around. "What do you mean?" His tone was flat.
"You know exactly what I mean." Zeke stepped closer, his fists clenching at his sides. "You didn't even react. You just... walked away. Like you didn't care at all."
Eric finally turned to face him, his expression cold and unreadable. "Why should I have reacted? It was a childish act."
Zeke's jaw tightened, his frustration mounting. "Is that what you think this is?
"Isn't it?" Eric's eyes narrowed slightly, the barest hint of a challenge in his gaze. "You've been trying to get a rise out of me all week, and when it didn't work, you threw a tantrum. So yes, it's a childish act."
Zeke's face became cold. "You're quite the mystery, you know that?" he said, his voice laced with dark sarcasm. "How do you manage to pretend to be so detached?
Eric didn't turn to face him. "What's that to you?"
"You really have a way with people, don't you?" Zeke continued, his tone mocking. "Alex and Mattias, they seem to think you're this perfect, approachable guy. But I see through it. I see the real you."
Eric's silence was heavy, filled with a cold detachment that seemed to only fuel Zeke's anger further.
"You know," Zeke said, stepping closer, "it's fascinating how you manage to be so fake. How can you smile at them while you actually think they are just imbeciles?"
Eric's eyes remained fixed on the horizon, his expression unreadable. "I don't have time for this."
Zeke's lips curled into a sneer. "Of course you don't. Because dealing with someone like me—someone who sees through your disgusting façade—isn't worth your time, is it?"
Eric's gaze finally shifted to Zeke, his eyes cold and unyielding. "If you're done here, I suggest you leave."
Zeke's anger flared, but he forced himself to take a deep breath, stepping back from Eric. "Fine. I'll leave you to your little world of deceptions"
Zeke stormed out. Eric took a deep breath, unable to think of the time when he ruffled Zeke's fur. He was just a kid so he would soon be bored from picking on him or that's what Eric thought. Zeke returned to his room, his mind still reeling from the confrontation. Grabbing his sketchbook, he headed for the beach, hoping to find solace in drawing.
The evening sky was a canvas of muted oranges and purples as Zeke made his way to the beach. He found a quiet spot on the sand, far from the chatter of the party preparations, and settled himself with his sketchbook and pencils.
The waves lapped gently against the shore, their rhythmic motion was a soothing counterpoint to the storm raging in Zeke's mind. The setting sun cast a warm, golden light over the scene, its rays barely touching the sketchbook resting on his lap.
Zeke's hand moved with deliberate precision as he began to draw, his pencil gliding across the paper. Each stroke was a manifestation of his inner turmoil, a battle between his rage and a strange, obsessive fascination.
As he sketched, his mind replayed the earlier moments with Eric—the piercing gaze, the casual arrogance, the rare smile. The sketch began to take shape. When he finally completed the art and looked at the outcome, his breath caught in his throat. It was a sketch of Eric, sitting by the window, lost in thought—a moment that Zeke had witnessed earlier. The details were painstakingly precise—the curve of his lips, the way his hair fell in damp strands, the scars that were visible on Eric's arm.
As Zeke traced his fingers against the sketch, the process became almost ritualistic. His breaths grew shallow, each exhale releasing a bit of the tension that had coiled tightly in his chest. It was as if the image on the page was a physical manifestation of his twisted desire to understand, control, and ultimately destroy the object of his newly found obsession.
The shock of seeing his own emotions laid bare on paper was electrifying. He had never drawn anyone before, yet here was a portrait of his arch nemesis, captured with a disturbing precision.
As he contemplated tearing the sketch apart, Mattias's voice broke through his turmoil. "Hey, Zeke! We need help setting up the tables for tonight's party. Can you come over?"
Zeke nodded in response. He closed the sketchbook with a heavy heart, and stood up. His movements were slow as if he were waking from a disturbing dream.
The sky had deepened into twilight. The shadows had grown longer, and the chill in the air was more pronounced. As he walked back towards the party, the weight of his emotions felt unbearable, the image of Eric's face was lingering in his mind like a haunting specter.