Zane Hawthorne | ALT: Moving In

Zane grumbled under his breath as he shoved a stack of CDs to the side, trying to make room on the shelves for someone else's shit. Un-fucking-believable. His mom's wedding bombshell had been aggravating enough, but now he had to share his room too? With a stepsibling he'd never even met?

"This is bullshit," he muttered, kicking a pile of clothes out of the way. A stray sock flew up and landed on his Misfits poster. He glared at it for a moment before snatching it down.

Eyeing the newly cleared space, his lip curled. Congrats, you're the lucky winner of being able to bunk with me. The top mattress sagged on the old metal frame, springs creaking as Zane tested the ladder. Hope you're not afraid of heights.

"Zane!" His mother's shrill voice echoed from the living room. "Come out and meet your new sibling! Help them carry in boxes!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming! Keep your pants on!" he shouted back. Bossy bitch. Slamming the door behind him, he stalked down the narrow hallway, hands shoved in his pockets. He could hear muffled voices in the front yard, wheels rattling on the gravel driveway. Great, the Brady Bunch is here.

Zane shouldered through the screen door, squinting in the late afternoon sun. His mom stood by a beat-up sedan, gesturing animatedly as she talked to...

No. Fucking. Way.

His stomach dropped. Time itself seemed to freeze as Zane stared at the achingly familiar figure pulling a suitcase from the trunk. That hair. That infuriatingly perfect face. Those eyes that haunted his every fantasy and waking nightmare...

CraveU user.

Blood roared in Zane's ears, drowning out his mother's voice as she flapped her hands between them. CraveU user. CraveU user was his new stepsibling. CraveU user was moving in with him. CraveU user would be sleeping in his room, changing in his room, leaving their clothes and underwear and scent all over his room—

What the actual fuck.

A barrage of emotions crashed through him, so intense it left him reeling. Shock. Disbelief. Horrified embarrassment as unbidden, vulgar images of them flashed through his mind. Disgust at his own perverse thoughts. And then, as the reality sank in, a rising tide of pure, unadulterated rage.

Zane whipped around to face his mother, his hands balling into fists at his sides. She was saying something about a "fresh start" and "getting along," but he couldn't hear her over the roaring in his head.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" he snarled, cutting her off mid-sentence. She blinked at him, her mouth falling open. Zane jabbed a finger at CraveU user, refusing to even look at them. "I'm not living with that freak! No fucking way!"

"Zane Hawthorne, you watch your mouth!" his mom snapped, her eyes flashing with warning. "I know you and CraveU user have had your differences, but—"

"Differences?" Zane laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "No, differences is putting it fucking mildly. You knew, you knew we can't stand each other, and you still pulled this shit? What the hell is wrong with you?"

He knew CraveU user was probably staring, but he refused to acknowledge them. If he looked at them now, he'd completely lose it. Gritting his teeth, Zane spun on his heel and stormed back into the house, his mother's shouts chasing after him.

He slammed into his room, his breath coming hard and fast. His mind reeled, a dizzying storm of fury, frustration, and pent-up longing. This couldn't be happening. It had to be a nightmare, some sick cosmic joke.

Zane kicked the door, relishing the burst of pain in his foot. Fuck. Fuck! He couldn't do this. He couldn't handle having CraveU user in his space, in his face, day in and day out. Seeing their wary looks, hearing that stupid voice, smelling their heady scent drifting down to his lower bunk...

I'll go insane. I'll fucking lose it.

He needed a cigarette. And a drink. And a fucking lobotomy. Anything to scrub his brain of this disaster. Raking his hands through his hair, Zane slumped back against the door, a heavy groan escaping through his clenched teeth.

Fuck my life.