LJ Idol Season 10, Break Week -- Kummerspeck
Jazz adjusted his tie, licking his lips as he glanced around the darkened, secluded corner of the fanciest restaurant he’d ever had the pleasure of stepping inside of. He raked his nails over his scalp as he gave himself a little shake and looked over at his companion.
“So -- why did you bring me here, again?” he asked, swallowing the bundle of butterflies that wanted to escape through his mouth.
Mitchel pushed his menu aside and picked up the glass of wine their server had poured him, only moments ago. Their server had been an incredibly attractive man, probably a couple of years younger than Jazz, and despite everything Jazz found himself appreciating the view along with Mitchel. His heart still ached, though, and weighed heavily in his chest as he reached for his own glass and toyed with it, waiting for Mitchel’s response.
Mitchel meet Jazz’s eyes over the edge of his wine and gestured to Jazz’s left hand. “I’m not sure which one of them you’ve lost, but -- I figured you needed some sort of -- distraction -- from your predicament. One that isn’t working yourself to death.”
Jazz glanced down at this hand -- at the solitary ring he now wore. He toyed with the band with his thumb and met Mitchel’s eyes. “So you’ve noticed,” he said, blinking away tears and lifting his glass to his lips.
“I remember how you behaved when I ended things between us,” Mitchel said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He gestured to the restaurant around them. “And I remember that when I did, I came here and enjoyed one of my favorite dining experiences.”
Jazz raised an eyebrow. “I thought you shared all of your ‘favorite dining experiences’ with me when we were dating,” he said, lowering his glass and toying with the intricately folded napkin surrounding his silverware.
“This is an experience I prefer to indulge in alone,” Mitchel said, and Jazz could’ve sworn Mitchel’s cheeks darkened in the dimmed lighting
With a quiet laugh, Jazz shook his head and folded his arms on top of the table, leaning on them. “So why are you letting me in on what must be one of your best kept secrets, Councilor Foraker?” he asked, managing a slight teasing tone. “If you prefer to indulge in it alone, I mean.”
“I understand that you’re experiencing some of the worst anguish a man can feel, at present,” Mitchel said, his expression sobering. “It’s -- difficult to express that sometimes, especially when our lives are so busy and we have little time to ourselves. Aside from the occasional visit from our server -- who will engage in flirtatious small talk, if you feel up to it -- we will be alone in this section until we’re through with our meal. And we are allowed to be here as long as we like.”
Jazz blinked, then glanced around the section once more, realizing that not only was it secluded, but that it was empty, aside from Mitchel and himself. “And they just -- let you do this?” he asked, giving Mitchel his best skeptical look. “How much do you tip them for this? Aren’t they losing business by letting us stay as long as we want?”
“My brother owns this restaurant,” Mitchel said, giving Jazz a sheepish look. “Whenever I decide to do this, I simply ask him for the favor. He says whoever has to deal with my -- ‘overdramatic ass’ gets a generous bonus from him. That includes all staff on, tonight. I still tip the server generously of course. Most of the time I’m not exactly easy to deal with...”
Jazz smiled, feeling the ache in his chest ease up a little as he took in the embarrassed expression now crossing Mitchel’s face. “You are an overdramatic ass,” he said, his smile growing wider. He lifted his wine back to his lips and knocked it back. “So are you paying for everything, or are we splitting?”
“That depends,” Mitchel asked, easing into a smile as well as he sipped at his wine. “If your tastes are as expensive as mine...”
Jazz snorted. “I guess I’ll be paying for myself, then,” he said, leaning forward in his seat. His expression of mirth faded as their server stepped back into his field of vision. Except the sharp black hair and the man’s slim build hit a little too close to home, and Jazz’s eyes filled with tears.
“It was Savin,” he said, picking up his menu and flipping through it, his voice trembling. “Savin moved out while I was in Cliffton. I haven’t -- he won’t answer any of my calls, or my emails, or --” He shook his head and put a hand to his face, trying his best to hide his tears. “Or my texts... I just -- I just want to talk to him, just once…”
Mitchel’s expression shifted to one of sympathy, and he reached across the table to squeeze Jazz’s hand. “Don’t force yourself to talk about it, Jasper,” he said, his voice quiet. “If don’t want to speak with me about it, there’s no need to. Just -- do your best to enjoy you meal. That’s all I ask of you, right now.”
Jazz sniffed and swiped at his eyes, nodding and doing his best to steady his breathing. “Okay,” he managed after a few moments, meeting Mitchel’s eyes. He tangled their fingers together for a second before pulling his hand away. “Thank you -- but if you really want me to enjoy this, you really should be the one paying for it…”
Mitchel laughed, a wry smile making its way across his lips as he picked up his own menu. “Of course, Jasper. I intended to no matter how much you spent, either way…”
“So -- why did you bring me here, again?” he asked, swallowing the bundle of butterflies that wanted to escape through his mouth.
Mitchel pushed his menu aside and picked up the glass of wine their server had poured him, only moments ago. Their server had been an incredibly attractive man, probably a couple of years younger than Jazz, and despite everything Jazz found himself appreciating the view along with Mitchel. His heart still ached, though, and weighed heavily in his chest as he reached for his own glass and toyed with it, waiting for Mitchel’s response.
Mitchel meet Jazz’s eyes over the edge of his wine and gestured to Jazz’s left hand. “I’m not sure which one of them you’ve lost, but -- I figured you needed some sort of -- distraction -- from your predicament. One that isn’t working yourself to death.”
Jazz glanced down at this hand -- at the solitary ring he now wore. He toyed with the band with his thumb and met Mitchel’s eyes. “So you’ve noticed,” he said, blinking away tears and lifting his glass to his lips.
“I remember how you behaved when I ended things between us,” Mitchel said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. He gestured to the restaurant around them. “And I remember that when I did, I came here and enjoyed one of my favorite dining experiences.”
Jazz raised an eyebrow. “I thought you shared all of your ‘favorite dining experiences’ with me when we were dating,” he said, lowering his glass and toying with the intricately folded napkin surrounding his silverware.
“This is an experience I prefer to indulge in alone,” Mitchel said, and Jazz could’ve sworn Mitchel’s cheeks darkened in the dimmed lighting
With a quiet laugh, Jazz shook his head and folded his arms on top of the table, leaning on them. “So why are you letting me in on what must be one of your best kept secrets, Councilor Foraker?” he asked, managing a slight teasing tone. “If you prefer to indulge in it alone, I mean.”
“I understand that you’re experiencing some of the worst anguish a man can feel, at present,” Mitchel said, his expression sobering. “It’s -- difficult to express that sometimes, especially when our lives are so busy and we have little time to ourselves. Aside from the occasional visit from our server -- who will engage in flirtatious small talk, if you feel up to it -- we will be alone in this section until we’re through with our meal. And we are allowed to be here as long as we like.”
Jazz blinked, then glanced around the section once more, realizing that not only was it secluded, but that it was empty, aside from Mitchel and himself. “And they just -- let you do this?” he asked, giving Mitchel his best skeptical look. “How much do you tip them for this? Aren’t they losing business by letting us stay as long as we want?”
“My brother owns this restaurant,” Mitchel said, giving Jazz a sheepish look. “Whenever I decide to do this, I simply ask him for the favor. He says whoever has to deal with my -- ‘overdramatic ass’ gets a generous bonus from him. That includes all staff on, tonight. I still tip the server generously of course. Most of the time I’m not exactly easy to deal with...”
Jazz smiled, feeling the ache in his chest ease up a little as he took in the embarrassed expression now crossing Mitchel’s face. “You are an overdramatic ass,” he said, his smile growing wider. He lifted his wine back to his lips and knocked it back. “So are you paying for everything, or are we splitting?”
“That depends,” Mitchel asked, easing into a smile as well as he sipped at his wine. “If your tastes are as expensive as mine...”
Jazz snorted. “I guess I’ll be paying for myself, then,” he said, leaning forward in his seat. His expression of mirth faded as their server stepped back into his field of vision. Except the sharp black hair and the man’s slim build hit a little too close to home, and Jazz’s eyes filled with tears.
“It was Savin,” he said, picking up his menu and flipping through it, his voice trembling. “Savin moved out while I was in Cliffton. I haven’t -- he won’t answer any of my calls, or my emails, or --” He shook his head and put a hand to his face, trying his best to hide his tears. “Or my texts... I just -- I just want to talk to him, just once…”
Mitchel’s expression shifted to one of sympathy, and he reached across the table to squeeze Jazz’s hand. “Don’t force yourself to talk about it, Jasper,” he said, his voice quiet. “If don’t want to speak with me about it, there’s no need to. Just -- do your best to enjoy you meal. That’s all I ask of you, right now.”
Jazz sniffed and swiped at his eyes, nodding and doing his best to steady his breathing. “Okay,” he managed after a few moments, meeting Mitchel’s eyes. He tangled their fingers together for a second before pulling his hand away. “Thank you -- but if you really want me to enjoy this, you really should be the one paying for it…”
Mitchel laughed, a wry smile making its way across his lips as he picked up his own menu. “Of course, Jasper. I intended to no matter how much you spent, either way…”