Broken Strings (Prodigy: 2)

The Truth

Locke sat in one of the bedroom armchairs, dressed in jeans, his hair pulled up into a ponytail with a bottle of water hanging loosely from one hand, the other propping up his chin as he looked at the bed.

Zane lay asleep on the bed, completely out cold, most certainly unconscious because of the amount he'd drunk only a few hours before.

Locke would have to wake him up eventually. He'd have to get Zane moving so he could get ready for his concert that night.

Twisting the cap off the bottle, he took another sip of water and got up.

He didn't need to wake Zane up just at that moment. There was still time.

Instead, he walked out of the bedroom.

A flash on the floor drew his attention and he found Zane's phone beeping at him, signalling another message for his girlfriend. He'd forgotten about that, least the phone hadn't broken.

He looked at the photo on the screen for a moment, then frowned, crouching down.

He'd never seen the wallpaper of Zane's phone.

He was in it.

Well, sort of at least. It was mostly Madison. She was stood in front of a poster advertising one of his concerts. She was pretending to kiss his cheek. Was it intentional that Locke was in the photo? Or was it just because it happened to be a rather lovely photo of Madi?

Locke stood up again and walked on, standing on the phone as he passed, grinding his heel right now on Madi's pretty, unedited, photogenic face. He couldn't destroy the phone of course and that didn't help his mood.

Grabbing his own phone off the coffee table, he walked into the adjoining office and closed the door, falling into the desk chair and spinning towards the window, looking out across the city skyline as he hit a few buttons and held his phone to his ear, listening to the ring.

Zane was going to hate him.

He didn't want Zane to hate him.

He'd learned the game of life from Zane and Rich.

He'd put Zane's lesson into practice.

He needed to put Rich's lesson into practice now.

Zane was going to hate him.

The same way Locke had hated Rich four years ago.

That was alright, let Zane hate him, he didn't mind. He already knew where he stood with Zane and part of him hated Zane for that.

So he might as well make the feelings mutual.

Perhaps that'd teach Zane for bothering him.

The phone clicked and connected; a low, rough voice on the other end answering.

"Wray?" he said, settling back into his seat, watching the sunrise. "How are you? Es ist Locke."

And with that, he shifted into German as he old music teacher stepped away from whatever he was doing to catch up with him after years and years apart.

~~~~

Zane was awake by the time Locke finished his call and returned to the bedroom. He was sat on the bed, his feet on the floor, face in his hands. He looked a lot weaker then usual.

Locke watched him for a while, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded.

Well, what did he say?