LJ Idol Season 10, Week 5 -- "Fear is the heart of love"
Jazz could see Devin, his arms outstretched as he wrenched the structure of the building and destabilized it, manipulating it to cut access to the hallway they were trying to escape through. It was supposed to buy the others more time -- supposed to keep the Majerian soldiers at bay, but --
Devin’s arms lowered and he doubled over, his attention broken from the task at hand -- a task too big, a task that no doubt required at least another Manip to perform properly. If the soldiers had a Manip or two of their own, the debris in the hallway would only slow them down for a second, because even as powerful a Manipulator Devin was, he could only push through by himself for so long.
Devin didn’t see the soldier.
Devin was too busy focusing on shifting the damaged walls; on throwing up new ones. Too busy trying to catch his breath, his amber eyes wild as Jazz called for him. Ordered him to back down. To come with him. And in the midst of all this, Jazz saw the soldier. Saw them lift their weapon and aim.
He had no time to react.
He could’ve pulled Devin closer to him; could’ve grabbed him and ran. Except if one soldier could break through the makeshift barricade, then others could, too. And pulling Devin towards him might not be enough, might not get him out of the way fast enough, might put him further in the way of the impending bullet.
They needed Devin alive. He needed Devin alive. If anything happened to him --
Jazz’s heart stopped in his chest. Pain blinded him, radiating through his side and into his spine. His legs gave out; his vision went black.
“Jazz!” Devin’s voice, far away and desperate.
Jazz blinked and stared up into Devin’s wide eyes; saw the hints of tears in the corners of them.
“What --” It hurt to breathe. “What happened?”
“Got shot,” Devin answered, his voice quiet. Jazz focused more on the warmth of Devin’s arms around him than his words. “Took care of the soldier and got us out of there. Safe now, ‘kay?”
They were sitting, Jazz’s back against the wall of -- something. The building they were just in? Where were they? How’d they --?
“Waiting on Wes,” Devin murmured, cupping Jazz’s face with trembling hands. “Hiding out ‘til he gets close, then we gotta move again, ‘kay?”
Jazz nodded, swallowing hard and grimacing at how clumsy his tongue felt in his mouth. He wanted to touch Devin back; wanted to cover Devin’s hands with his own and found that he couldn’t; that his arms wouldn’t move. Just as his breath caught in his throat, his heart slamming against his ribs, he felt as though the heavy weights on his arms had been lifted.
“Sorry,” Devin said as Jazz sat up straighter and cradled his stomach. “Made it so you couldn’t move, just in case.”
Jazz let out a weak laugh and shook his head. He glanced down between them; at the blood soaking his shirt and how it now stained Devin’s. As Devin pulled his hands away, he caught the glimpses of red on his fingers. “Just in case what?” he asked, his voice thick and filled with gravel. “I did something stupid?”
With a nod, Devin hummed his answer, brushing Jazz’s hair out of his eyes. “Stay with me, ‘kay?”
Jazz’s eyes drifted closed, and he leaned in towards Devin’s touch. “How bad is it?”
Devin’s answered with silence, his hand falling away from Jazz’s face.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Jazz said, his head lightly bumping against the brick wall behind him. He didn’t open his eyes to fix Devin with the knowing look he wanted to give him and instead hoped his tone would convey the rest of his statement. Even if it didn’t hurt, he was exhausted, his body trembling with the exertion of staying conscious.
“Good,” came Devin’s terse reply. Devin settled against the wall next to him, his nimble fingers tangling themselves with Jazz’s. The two of them sat in silence, Jazz leaning to rest his head on Devin’s shoulder.
“Love you,” he whispered, squeezing Jazz’s hand. The action felt desperate; panicked.
“I love you, too.” It was all he could do to whisper the words back. Jazz kept his eyes closed; ignored the occasional flare of pain.
He just wanted to go to sleep.
Fingertips brushed against his cheek, sweeping his hair back once again. His eyes flew open, and for the first time, he caught the strain on Devin’s face. The sweat building on his forehead; how warm his fingers were -- because they were always cold, ever since he perfected his abilities. Their eyes met, and Jazz’s breath caught in his throat.
“No,” he spat out, shaking his head. He reached for Devin, pulled him close and cradled his head to his chest. “Stop it. You’re gonna --” Tears filled his eyes and closed his throat around his words. “You’re gonna deplete. Jansen needs you. I need you. Please…”
Devin clutched at his shirt and buried his face in Jazz’s chest. “Not gonna,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Need you more. Can always replace me, I’m not that fucking special.”
Jazz blinked, then snorted and shook his head, smoothing his hand down the length of Devin’s hair. “Sweetheart… I’m not gonna let you die to save me.” His tone was firm; brooked no argument -- though he damn well knew Devin was going to argue, anyway. He cleared his throat, leaning his head back against the wall as another wave of exhaustion crested. “‘I vow to protect…’”
“‘Everything we’ve built together,’” Devin quoted along with him, shivering in Jazz’s arms. He looked up at Jazz, his honey-colored eyes shimmering with tears.
“‘No matter what,’” Jazz finished, brushing loose strands of hair out of Devin’s face. Devin leaned into the touch, sniffing and closing his eyes. “Jansen can replace me. He can’t replace you. He’s told me as much.”
Devin remained silent, resting his ear over Jazz’s heart. Another sharp spike of pain caused Jazz to tense underneath him, but the pain disappeared once again as Devin croaked: “Can’t protect it all without you.”
“Yes, you can.” Jazz tightened his arms around Devin. “I know you can -- I know you will, even without me.”
“Don’t have --” Devin coughed, his own body shuddering against Jazz’s as he struggled to catch his breath. “Don’t have to do it without you, if I can just --”
“No.” Jazz snapped the word into Devin’s hair. His chest hitched, and tears threatened to spill over as he pressed his lips to the top of Devin’s head; as he held Devin with all of his strength. “Please, Devin, don’t do this. Please…”
I’m tired.
He couldn’t bring himself to say those two words out loud -- but Devin must’ve heard them anyway, as he gasped and groaned in Jazz’s arms before sobbing quietly into Jazz’s shirt. It wasn’t long before Jazz felt something shift within him; felt his lungs spasm and his throat close.
Slowly, Jazz drifted his fingertips down the length of Devin’s spine. His grip on Devin weakened, and he tipped his head back, thumping it against the wall. With a quiet smile, he realized he still couldn’t feel much pain and closed his eyes, tangling one hand in Devin’s hair as everything but his lips stilled in the desert air:
“Thank you, sweetheart…”
Devin’s arms lowered and he doubled over, his attention broken from the task at hand -- a task too big, a task that no doubt required at least another Manip to perform properly. If the soldiers had a Manip or two of their own, the debris in the hallway would only slow them down for a second, because even as powerful a Manipulator Devin was, he could only push through by himself for so long.
Devin didn’t see the soldier.
Devin was too busy focusing on shifting the damaged walls; on throwing up new ones. Too busy trying to catch his breath, his amber eyes wild as Jazz called for him. Ordered him to back down. To come with him. And in the midst of all this, Jazz saw the soldier. Saw them lift their weapon and aim.
He had no time to react.
He could’ve pulled Devin closer to him; could’ve grabbed him and ran. Except if one soldier could break through the makeshift barricade, then others could, too. And pulling Devin towards him might not be enough, might not get him out of the way fast enough, might put him further in the way of the impending bullet.
They needed Devin alive. He needed Devin alive. If anything happened to him --
Jazz’s heart stopped in his chest. Pain blinded him, radiating through his side and into his spine. His legs gave out; his vision went black.
“Jazz!” Devin’s voice, far away and desperate.
Jazz blinked and stared up into Devin’s wide eyes; saw the hints of tears in the corners of them.
“What --” It hurt to breathe. “What happened?”
“Got shot,” Devin answered, his voice quiet. Jazz focused more on the warmth of Devin’s arms around him than his words. “Took care of the soldier and got us out of there. Safe now, ‘kay?”
They were sitting, Jazz’s back against the wall of -- something. The building they were just in? Where were they? How’d they --?
“Waiting on Wes,” Devin murmured, cupping Jazz’s face with trembling hands. “Hiding out ‘til he gets close, then we gotta move again, ‘kay?”
Jazz nodded, swallowing hard and grimacing at how clumsy his tongue felt in his mouth. He wanted to touch Devin back; wanted to cover Devin’s hands with his own and found that he couldn’t; that his arms wouldn’t move. Just as his breath caught in his throat, his heart slamming against his ribs, he felt as though the heavy weights on his arms had been lifted.
“Sorry,” Devin said as Jazz sat up straighter and cradled his stomach. “Made it so you couldn’t move, just in case.”
Jazz let out a weak laugh and shook his head. He glanced down between them; at the blood soaking his shirt and how it now stained Devin’s. As Devin pulled his hands away, he caught the glimpses of red on his fingers. “Just in case what?” he asked, his voice thick and filled with gravel. “I did something stupid?”
With a nod, Devin hummed his answer, brushing Jazz’s hair out of his eyes. “Stay with me, ‘kay?”
Jazz’s eyes drifted closed, and he leaned in towards Devin’s touch. “How bad is it?”
Devin’s answered with silence, his hand falling away from Jazz’s face.
“It doesn’t hurt,” Jazz said, his head lightly bumping against the brick wall behind him. He didn’t open his eyes to fix Devin with the knowing look he wanted to give him and instead hoped his tone would convey the rest of his statement. Even if it didn’t hurt, he was exhausted, his body trembling with the exertion of staying conscious.
“Good,” came Devin’s terse reply. Devin settled against the wall next to him, his nimble fingers tangling themselves with Jazz’s. The two of them sat in silence, Jazz leaning to rest his head on Devin’s shoulder.
“Love you,” he whispered, squeezing Jazz’s hand. The action felt desperate; panicked.
“I love you, too.” It was all he could do to whisper the words back. Jazz kept his eyes closed; ignored the occasional flare of pain.
He just wanted to go to sleep.
Fingertips brushed against his cheek, sweeping his hair back once again. His eyes flew open, and for the first time, he caught the strain on Devin’s face. The sweat building on his forehead; how warm his fingers were -- because they were always cold, ever since he perfected his abilities. Their eyes met, and Jazz’s breath caught in his throat.
“No,” he spat out, shaking his head. He reached for Devin, pulled him close and cradled his head to his chest. “Stop it. You’re gonna --” Tears filled his eyes and closed his throat around his words. “You’re gonna deplete. Jansen needs you. I need you. Please…”
Devin clutched at his shirt and buried his face in Jazz’s chest. “Not gonna,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Need you more. Can always replace me, I’m not that fucking special.”
Jazz blinked, then snorted and shook his head, smoothing his hand down the length of Devin’s hair. “Sweetheart… I’m not gonna let you die to save me.” His tone was firm; brooked no argument -- though he damn well knew Devin was going to argue, anyway. He cleared his throat, leaning his head back against the wall as another wave of exhaustion crested. “‘I vow to protect…’”
“‘Everything we’ve built together,’” Devin quoted along with him, shivering in Jazz’s arms. He looked up at Jazz, his honey-colored eyes shimmering with tears.
“‘No matter what,’” Jazz finished, brushing loose strands of hair out of Devin’s face. Devin leaned into the touch, sniffing and closing his eyes. “Jansen can replace me. He can’t replace you. He’s told me as much.”
Devin remained silent, resting his ear over Jazz’s heart. Another sharp spike of pain caused Jazz to tense underneath him, but the pain disappeared once again as Devin croaked: “Can’t protect it all without you.”
“Yes, you can.” Jazz tightened his arms around Devin. “I know you can -- I know you will, even without me.”
“Don’t have --” Devin coughed, his own body shuddering against Jazz’s as he struggled to catch his breath. “Don’t have to do it without you, if I can just --”
“No.” Jazz snapped the word into Devin’s hair. His chest hitched, and tears threatened to spill over as he pressed his lips to the top of Devin’s head; as he held Devin with all of his strength. “Please, Devin, don’t do this. Please…”
I’m tired.
He couldn’t bring himself to say those two words out loud -- but Devin must’ve heard them anyway, as he gasped and groaned in Jazz’s arms before sobbing quietly into Jazz’s shirt. It wasn’t long before Jazz felt something shift within him; felt his lungs spasm and his throat close.
Slowly, Jazz drifted his fingertips down the length of Devin’s spine. His grip on Devin weakened, and he tipped his head back, thumping it against the wall. With a quiet smile, he realized he still couldn’t feel much pain and closed his eyes, tangling one hand in Devin’s hair as everything but his lips stilled in the desert air:
“Thank you, sweetheart…”