Slash. Back away, if you must.

Casey had always been the outsider. That's what he was. He was the geeky little Stephen King kid, and while he didn't like it, he didn't have the energy to reinvent himself into a jock or something that would push him up a little higher in the social order. He was the creepy kid with the big eyes and the camera, the one who bleeds from at least two different places three times a day. That never used to bother him.

Not until lately. Now, now it felt wrong. And why now? Why did it feel like the Universe had zigged instead of zagged, like the cosmos had taken a wrong turn and forgotten to correct it? Everyday went on like it always had, and if he didn't think i too /i hard about it, Casey didn't really mind. It was only when he saw people walking around with extra-large sized water bottles, or those pens Zeke handed out. He didn't like how Mr. Furlong suddenly rubbed at his left eye all the time. And he doesn't like how he catches himself staring sometimes, staring at Stokely. He doesn't like that she stares back without her usual hostility.

Casey doesn't understand why he stares. He doesn't like her, although that would be just like him to fall in love with the school lesbian. He feels drawn to her. They've had a passable relationship, just two of the outsiders. When forced into group projects, he gravitated towards Stokely more often than not. Maybe because no one else wanted to spend time with then, even school related, but it doesn't matter. Stokely doesn't give him shit. He knows that, lesbian or not, the only thing Stokes wants is to be alone.

She's not the only one he watches though. He watches Delilah still, but now there's that new girl, Mary Beth. Not that he likes her either, he doesn't think. But then there's his new obsession with Stan, which he definitely couldn't just chalk up to hormones. Stan, for Christ's sakes. An ex-jock. Not one of the one's that made his life miserable, but one that certainly didn't help. And Zeke? The school's drug, porn, fake ID dealer and all around rebel. The guy who looked at life as though it was one big joke and he couldn't wait to spoil the punch line.

Why did Casey follow them behind his camera lens?

He doesn't know what possessed him to walk over to Zeke's car.

Zeke doesn't ask him what he needs. Casey Connor doesn't do drugs, and he wouldn't need a fake ID. Provided he ever worked up the nerve to buy porn, the jocks would have taken it from him by the end of the day.

Zeke leans up against his car and pulls out a cigarette. When he pulls his lighter out of his pocket, Casey notices how many pens he's carrying on him. Blue Bic pens. Zeke puts the lighter carefully back in his pocket, and Casey thinks about how Zeke's been dealing like a madman lately, throwing in pens with the IDs and the porn. Business in the bathroom has been booming while Casey bleeds.

"You feel it too," he whispers before he can stop himself. "You feel it too."

The hand holding Zeke's cigarette shakes, spilling ash over the front of his shirt. Zeke throws the cigarette away, and his hand, now steady, brushes the ash off and away.

"Yeah. Yeah, I feel it."

There was no question of what they were talking about it.

Zeke's eyes are dark brown, completely fathomless as he stares at Casey. "You know what it is?"

"No."

Zeke's hands slide into his pockets, and Casey can hear the quiet click-click-click of the pens rolling around. "There are others."

"Delilah, right? And Stokely and Stan and Mary Beth."

Zeke half smirks, and hands Casey a pen. "Right."

Even though every time he sits down the cap digs into his thigh, Casey puts the pen in his pocket and keeps it there.

The next day Stokely wears a red shirt to school.

She still stands out like the freak she is. Blood red shirt, black skirt, clunky black shoes, makeup that's been slept in god knows how many times and smeared to perfection. Black nails and black and silver jewelry, and her fuck-with-me-and-I'll-make-you-sexless attitude. People give her the traditional wide berth and strange looks, but the looks are less 'fucking dyke' and more 'the fucking dyke is wearing color?'

Casey and Zeke's eyes meet from across the hallway. At lunch they make their move.

Stokely is sitting with Mary Beth. Casey didn't expect that, but it makes it that much easier and that much easier to believe.

Zeke sits across from Mary Beth and Casey sits next to him. This... thing aside, Stokely still has the potential to be one scary bitch. Stokely and Mary Beth share a look, but Stokely doesn't say anything to piss them off or scare them away, and Mary Beth doesn't flash her corn fed country smile.

"Nice shirt, Stokes," Zeke says easily, and Casey wonders if he has a death wish.

She shakes her head and picks at the sleeves. "It's wrong. It's all wrong."

"And here I was thinking it went so well with your complexion."

"Fuck off, Zeke." But Stokely doesn't really want them to leave. She twists the rings on her fingers around and around and around.

"You know it's wrong too," Mary Beth finally pipes up, voice innocent and sweet even seeped in dread. Casey feels himself nodding in agreement.

"It's fucked up," Stokely says bitterly. "Majorly fucked up."

Casey notices the red belt Mary Beth has on matches Stokely's shirt perfectly.

Zeke reaches for Mary Beth's hand and smirks, and the words come easily. "You're not supposed to be here."

She shrugs. "I know."

Casey sees suddenly that Zeke didn't reach for her hand, isn't holding her hand, he's holding her wrist. He's rubbing his fingers over the cut there, the cut that wasn't there, at least not on her first day here. Zeke keeps rubbing and stroking until it opens up and bleeds, bleeds the same color as her belt and Stokely's shirt. Mary Beth takes her hand away.

"I tried to. But I couldn't. I missed my exit. My way out. I have to wait until it comes around again. Or I think I'd just – "

"Fuck it up more," Stokely injects.

"Yes. Exactly. Fuck it up more." The word 'fuck' sounds very strange with a twang.

"Do you think it'll come around again? Your exit?" Casey asks, and Mary Beth's smile appears for a moment.

"What do you think, Casey?"

Her smile is white and sharp.

Mary Beth is part of their group now, but Casey finds he doesn't like it as much as he thought he would.

That day after school they pile into Zeke's car and head to his house. Zeke herds them into the basement, where they stare at the cold glass mechanisms and the gun on the table. Casey picks it up. It feels like it belongs in his hand, like he's held a fucking gun before. He hasn't. His father always liked to hunt, but Casey wasn't even manly enough to senselessly murder animals.

"That's loaded."

"I know."

Casey sets the gun down and sits on the couch next to Stokely.

Zeke adjusts a few things and refills the water in the rat cage. Then he turns and looks Casey in the face.

"Well, what now, brainiac?"

Somehow he's become the leader of this little group. He figures it would be Zeke, since he has charisma in bucketloads. Maybe Stokes, because her tolerance of authority ranks down there with Zeke's. But he stepped forward first, and now he's seeing this through until the end.

But all he has is the answers for questions that will never be asked.

They form their own lunch table at school. It's not right anyway, so they'll fuck with social order like it was nothing. The dyke, the new girl, the dork, and the rebel. Stokely keeps wearing little bits of color. Mary Beth's drawl begins to fade. Zeke hands out pens like candy on fucking Halloween.

At night they go to Zeke's house and get tweaked. Casey's never done drugs in his life but when the four of them sit on the beaten up old couch and snort in unison, it makes things feel all right for a second. Of course, Zeke's drugs always make everything feel all right, but that's not the point. Zeke laughs like a madman and Mary Beth and Casey giggle, and sometimes even Stokes does too. After all, it's more preferable to laugh than to cry.

Delilah is next. She shows up at school wearing glasses. Casey snaps a few pictures of her from across the quad, and he's pretty sure she isn't wearing any makeup either.

He's also pretty sure that's a sign of the apocalypse.

At the school paper meeting after school Casey stays late to talk to Delilah. She's always the last one to leave. No matter what else anyone says or thinks about her, she really is dedicated towards the paper.

"What do you want?"

"We're going to Zeke's house. Mary Beth and Stokes and me. You wanna come?"

She notices the names he drops, and that he didn't answer her question.

"Sure. Sure, I'll come over." Delilah takes his hand and lets him lead her out into the parking lot.

The others always wait on the days Casey stays late for club meetings or the days Zeke has detention. Zeke starts up the car while Casey pulls Delilah into the back seat with him. Stokes sits on the other side while Mary Beth sits up front.

No one talks, and the radio seems deafeningly loud even though it's only at half volume.

Delilah takes the pen and stares at it in disbelief.

"We all do it," Casey reassures her. Everyone lifts the pens to their noses and waits for Delilah. It's only a moment before she joins in.

Stan is the last and the easiest. Stan always sits with Delilah at lunch, and from now on Delilah sits with them.

"You're sitting with Stokes?" Stan asks in disbelief. Casey considers it further proof that yes, the Universe really is fucked up.

"Yes," Delilah answers blandly, sunlight glinting off her frames. "And now you are too."

Stan sets his lunch tray down between Delilah's salad and Stokely's leftover pasta. "Doesn't this break every social rule in the book?"

"That's the point."

They sit and eat while the world falls down around their ears.

Every other Thursday they sneak into the science supply room to steal whatever Zeke needs. Everyday they go to Zeke's house and tweak. After they tweak, when the high's all gone, they talk. They watch old movies in Zeke's bedroom, sprawled out on his bed, chips and soda and body parts flung everywhere. Casey thinks of what a great picture this would make, but he can't move. He's too comfortably stuck between Zeke's chest and his arm, with Delilah's legs across his lap.

"That was without a doubt the worst musical ever," Delilah cackles. Casey has no doubt that the next issue of the paper will feature a scathing review. Not that it didn't earn it.

Zeke raised an eyebrow. "I think they used last year's sets."

Mary Beth and Zeke kiss one Wednesday, and then it never happens again.

Stan and Delilah don't kiss at all. One day Casey realizes that Stan's class ring has moved from Delilah's hand to Stokely's. Stokely abandons her troweled on eye makeup. Delilah and Stan and Stokely talk books. Zeke and Casey talk philosophy and science, which Zeke insists are one and the same. Mary Beth watches and takes it all in.

Casey finds her smile less and less frightening and more and more sad.

Harrington High has it's worst football season ever.

When Casey wakes up in the morning, he at least feels that now the Universe has realized its mistake.

On warm nights they head up to Zeke's roof and stare at the stars. They talk stupid nonsense talk in hushed whispers and Delilah whimsically starts to count all the stars.

Casey takes photographs. Photographs he leaves slightly underdeveloped, so they seem to glow. His walls are covered with photographs these days, and he finds he never liked his room more.

Mary Beth begins to date Gabe. Delilah doesn't date anyone, and the rest of the cheerleaders are at a complete loss. Stan convinces Stokely to go to prom. Zeke torments the teachers and passes all his classes. Casey's parents have given up on him completely. Casey wouldn't have it any other way.

Zeke is driving Mary Beth home late one night or early one morning, when a drunk plows through a red light and into the right side of Zeke's car. Mary Beth, as always, it sitting in the front seat. She doesn't die instantly. She stays long enough to cling to Zeke's hand and try to kiss him one more time. Zeke squeezes her hand and looks away from her battered body. When he looks back again, she's not breathing.

It doesn't matter much, the doctors tell them. Mary Beth had cancer. She would have only held on a few more months, at the very most. In a way, it was a blessing.

Casey feels, deep down in his bones, that she was always supposed to be dead. He takes every picture of her off of his walls. Her smile is far too sad.

Their group of six has become a group of five. Casey puts the pen up to his nose and then throws it away. Zeke follows suit. Delilah looks like she might be about to cry, and Stan grasps Stokely's hand so tightly it hurts.

There isn't much of anyone at Mary Beth's funeral. A few family members and few teachers. Gabe is there too and Casey thinks he's more heartbroken than he lets on. After, they pile into Zeke's new car, a dark blue that he bought just the day before with money his mom sent. They dismantle his lab and pick up the stuff they've left there. Stokely pulls them all into a hug. Casey feels her lips brush across his forehead and Stan's arm around his waist. He smells Delilah's French perfume and feels Zeke's chin cut into the top of his head.

They pile back into Zeke's car and Zeke drives them home. Casey is last, and he finds himself in Mary Beth's usual place in the front seat.

Zeke laughs. The smoke from his cigarette wafts lazily around his face and Casey can't resist snapping a picture.

"Let me see that one, all right?"

"Sure."

At school the next day Delilah sits with the cheerleaders. Stan and Stokely sit with a few of the drama students and a few of the jocks. Casey eats his lunch in the stands. Zeke skips.

The next day Zeke pulls up alongside Casey as he walks home from school.

"Ride?"

"Sure."

Casey sits in the front and throws the photo on Zeke's lap. "You wanted to see it, right?"

"Yeah." Zeke picks it up and stares at it for a moment before placing it on the dashboard. "It's good." His hand is shaking again. "I like it."

"I thought it was good."

"It is."

Zeke hasn't moved the car yet. He stares out at the quad, watching Stan and Stokely talk with their new friends and Delilah holds court with the jocks.

"It's over," Casey says softly. "For them."

"Why not for us?" Zeke says suddenly, angrily. "Why not us?" He flicks his cigarette out the window. "Mary Beth dies, and that's... that's it? They're gone. Fucking gone. But hey, why the hell not? What was holding us together in the first place?"

"Answers with no questions."

Zeke laughs. "Right. Right. Fuck, Case, you've got everything figure out. Why are you still here?"

"It still feels fucked up."

Zeke takes out another cigarette and lights it up. "All right. Good enough answer."

Zeke puts the radio on the oldies station and sings along. Casey has no idea where they're going and doesn't ask.

"When's it going to change?"

"I don't know."

The Universe is hopelessly, hopelessly lost.

Later they sit on Zeke's bed and it feels too empty with just the two of them. Zeke and Casey bring in the pillows from the other bedrooms and pack them around their bodies. It feels slightly better, but eventually Casey gives up and moves over to sit on Zeke's lap.

"This okay?"

"Yeah."

Zeke is warm and comfortable. Casey realizes that this is what he's going to miss the most; the constant supply of warm bodies to sit on and sit with and hug. Maybe Zeke realizes it to, because he put his arm around Casey's waist and leans back against the headboard.

One of the pillows smells exactly like floral shampoo. Casey tosses it towards the end of the bed, but not before he remembers cut wrists and a razorblade smile.

"Zeke?"

"Yeah?"

Casey tilts his head back to look up at Zeke. "Are you actually going to graduate this year?"

"I was thinking about it, yeah." Zeke stamps out his cigarette in the ashtray on the bedstand and clicks off the TV. "Go to sleep Case."

Zeke doesn't remove his arm from Casey's waist.

The next day is Saturday, and Casey has cereal while Zeke has coffee and cigarettes. They sit across the table from each other, ignoring the empty spaces. Casey spends the rest of the day wandering the house and taking pictures of the empty rooms. He shoots a whole roll on pillows.

Three days and dozens of rolls of film later, Casey crawls into Zeke's bed.

"Done?" Zeke asks sarcastically, despite the gentle hand pushing Casey's hair up and out of his eyes. "All the demons exorcised?"

"I don't know."

Zeke pulls the covers over Casey and puts his arm around Casey's waist. Casey moves still closer. Zeke doesn't say anything. Which is, Casey thinks, as good as it's going to get. One of Casey's hands comes up to rest on Zeke's face and caTHUNK – the Universe snapped back into place. Mary Beth's smiling face disappeared, and so did Delilah and Stan and Stokely. Zeke swore under his breath, and when he kissed Casey he tasted like cigarettes and cinnamon and the pizza they'd had for dinner.

The Universe was back on course, and Casey had a new destination in mind.