Writerverse - Table of Doom, Prompt: Flowers
So I'm starting part of my rewrite for Gray Morning. These aren't official chapters, as I won't really be writing GM for a while, but I have every intention of salvaging as much of this and "Don't Push (Me Away)" when I get to the real rewrite of GM. I'll be writing from Savin's quick descent towards his rock bottom, through his rock bottom, Jazz leaving, and maybe through to when Jazz comes back.
Jazz stared at the lit cigarette in his hand, frowning deeply in thought. Savin sat a few feet away from him, his own cigarette dangling from his lips. There had been an eerie silence between them ever since they stepped underneath the tree -- the same tree Jazz had proposed to him under, just a few years ago. They were so happy then, and now --
Shivering, Jazz took a drag of his cigarette. He relished the way the smoke burned his throat. Relished the way he could still breathe, the relief he felt when Savin had never tightened his hands around his throat.
“Surprised you even came out here with me,” Savin muttered suddenly, his voice light. “Thought you hated smoking?”
There was a teasing lilt to Savin’s tone, one that made Jazz’s blood turn into sludge. Exhaling slowly, Jazz watched as the smoke drifted between him and Savin, obscuring Jazz’s view of him. Those green eyes were still shadowed -- a hint of that pained smirk was still there; these were things that the quickly dissipating fog couldn’t hide.
“I do,” Jazz answered, taking in another drag too quickly and dissolving into a coughing fit. He hated the smell. Hated the taste. Hated the burn.
But right now -- right now, he needed be right here, by Savin’s side. And he could still feel Savin’s fingers digging into his shoulders -- could still feel them as they wrapped around his neck. Jazz closed his eyes and held the cigarette loosely in his hand. He ignored Savin’s barking laughter and instead focused on how Savin ran his fingers through his hair.
There used to be a time where he could watch Savin manipulate things in his hands for hours. Even now, he couldn’t help noticing the way Savin flicked the cigarette with ease, snuffing it out on the leg of his jeans. When he reached over towards Jazz, Jazz jumped and moved away from him, nearly scrambling to his feet as his heart ran laps around his ribcage.
“Just -- give me your damn cigarette,” Savin demanded, his fingers deftly plucking Jazz’s cigarette from his hand.
Jazz blinked, that all too familiar stiffness returning to his muscles. He felt rooted to the ground just like the flowers in the Palace Gardens, unable to move even as Savin got too close. His heart eventually settled in his chest, too, as Jazz forced himself to relax, just the slightest bit.
“So, if you hate it so much, why’re you out here?” Savin pressed, turning his head away from Jazz.
Jazz opened his mouth to speak, but clamped it shut again when Savin’s eyes flickered over to him. That dead half-smile split Savin’s face as he wrapped his arms around his legs loosely, cigarette still lit between his fingers. “I know you don’t want to be anywhere near me right now.”
The words carried no emotion except maybe mild curiosity, and even that felt forced. Jazz closed his eyes and bit his lip. His heart still skipped whenever Savin moved too close, threatening to stop entirely whenever their eyes met. As much as he didn’t want Savin near him, he still wanted to keep close to him. Didn’t want Savin to sneak up on him. Didn’t want anymore surprises.
“You obviously didn’t come out here to smoke, so spill it,” Savin spat, glaring at him. “The fuck are you out here for?”
Why was he out there? Jazz swallowed thickly and looked away from Savin, wishing his face wouldn’t feel so hot. “I don’t know,” he whispered, wincing at how much his voice cracked.
“Of course you fucking don’t,” Savin snorted, shaking his head. Another humorless smile graced his lips. “Why else would you fucking risk getting more abuse?”
“Why are you doing this?” Jazz said, the words falling out of him in a rush. “This isn’t like you, Savin --”
“This is what I’ve always been like,” Savin said, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. He puffed on his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he continued to give Jazz a piercing stare. “You’ve just been too fuckling naive to see it before.”
Jazz winced and looked away from Savin, hugging his own knees to his chest. “That’s not fucking true and you know it,” he whispered, biting his lip. “The Savin I know wouldn’t have ever -- wouldn’t have ever --” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t, not as he still felt Savin’s hands on his shoulders, around his neck.
“The Savin you thought you knew doesn’t exist,” Savin muttered, pushing himself off the ground. He dusted himself off before extinguishing his cigarette quickly and tossing it aside. He shoved his hands in his pockets and squared his jaw. “Mari’s right, you know. You should leave.”
“The hell are you talking about? Savin, I’m not gonna --” Jazz cut himself off and shook his head, his eyes widening as realization seeped through his skin. “You want me to leave,” he breathed, scrambling to his feet. He ignored the urge to reach out for Savin, instead sprinting to keep up with his husband. “That’s why you keep acting like this.”
Savin snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’m not fucking ‘acting,’ Jasper,” he spat, narrowing his eyes at Jazz. Jazz kept his distance as Savin pulled his hand out of his pocket, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Wished his heart would stop feeling as though it would burst out of his chest any moment. “I told you, this is what I’ve always been like.”
“No, it’s fucking not,” Jazz snapped, grinding his heel into the ground. He ignored the pounding of his heart and the twisting in his stomach as he reached out for Savin’s shoulder.
Savin turned sharply, grabbing Jazz’s wrist and ripping Jazz’s hand off his shoulder. “And how the hell would you know?” he growled, moving dangerously close to Jazz once again as he continued to hold him. “You’ve been totally head over heels for me since the moment we fucking met, thought I could do no fucking wrong.” He squeezed Jazz’s wrist. A jolt of pain caused Jazz to gasp and try to wrench his wrist free.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t get free. And they were alone -- entirely fucking alone in the Palace Gardens, and with the way the clouds gathered overhead, no one would be coming outside anytime soon. Jazz’s mouth went dry as Savin gripped his chin with his free hand yet again.
“I’ve just been using you,” Savin said with a smirk. “Didn’t you once tell me you’d never trust a surgeon? Maybe you should have listened to your instincts.”
Jazz shuddered as Savin’s fingers trailed along the edge of his jaw and down his neck, before both of Savin’s hands left his body entirely. Breathing became easier again, just for a moment, and he could no longer feel the way his heart hammered in his chest. “You’re not -- you’re not like them.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Savin said with a laugh. “All surgeons have to do a stint in the Orphanages, you know. Have to observe the experiments --”
“You’re lying!” Jazz shouted, glaring at Savin. He ignored how his cheeks suddenly felt wet -- how all of his scars suddenly burned his skin. “If you -- if you had fucking been involved in the Orphanages, you wouldn’t have even considered putting Danni through that! So stop fucking lying and stop trying to push me away -- I’m not fucking going anywhere!”
“I don’t have to fucking try, Jasper --”
“Stop calling me that!” Jazz bellowed. Savin blinked at him in confusion before snickering to himself, shaking his head. “That’s not my fucking name and you know it!”
“Legally, it is your name, Jasper,” Savin drawled, a wide grin sweeping across his face. “So get fucking used to me calling you that.”
Jazz watched in silence as Savin reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. As Savin lit another, smoke clouded the air between them once more. His eyes focused on Jazz. They hardened, flashing dangerously in the red light of the burning cherry. “Don’t fucking worry -- you won’t stay with me. You’ll leave, just like everyone else, and you won’t have to hear me call you that, ever again.”
He then took in a long drag, intentionally blowing the smoke into Jazz’s face. “Just you wait,” he murmured, turning on his heel and walking away.
Excuses is next.
Jazz stared at the lit cigarette in his hand, frowning deeply in thought. Savin sat a few feet away from him, his own cigarette dangling from his lips. There had been an eerie silence between them ever since they stepped underneath the tree -- the same tree Jazz had proposed to him under, just a few years ago. They were so happy then, and now --
Shivering, Jazz took a drag of his cigarette. He relished the way the smoke burned his throat. Relished the way he could still breathe, the relief he felt when Savin had never tightened his hands around his throat.
“Surprised you even came out here with me,” Savin muttered suddenly, his voice light. “Thought you hated smoking?”
There was a teasing lilt to Savin’s tone, one that made Jazz’s blood turn into sludge. Exhaling slowly, Jazz watched as the smoke drifted between him and Savin, obscuring Jazz’s view of him. Those green eyes were still shadowed -- a hint of that pained smirk was still there; these were things that the quickly dissipating fog couldn’t hide.
“I do,” Jazz answered, taking in another drag too quickly and dissolving into a coughing fit. He hated the smell. Hated the taste. Hated the burn.
But right now -- right now, he needed be right here, by Savin’s side. And he could still feel Savin’s fingers digging into his shoulders -- could still feel them as they wrapped around his neck. Jazz closed his eyes and held the cigarette loosely in his hand. He ignored Savin’s barking laughter and instead focused on how Savin ran his fingers through his hair.
There used to be a time where he could watch Savin manipulate things in his hands for hours. Even now, he couldn’t help noticing the way Savin flicked the cigarette with ease, snuffing it out on the leg of his jeans. When he reached over towards Jazz, Jazz jumped and moved away from him, nearly scrambling to his feet as his heart ran laps around his ribcage.
“Just -- give me your damn cigarette,” Savin demanded, his fingers deftly plucking Jazz’s cigarette from his hand.
Jazz blinked, that all too familiar stiffness returning to his muscles. He felt rooted to the ground just like the flowers in the Palace Gardens, unable to move even as Savin got too close. His heart eventually settled in his chest, too, as Jazz forced himself to relax, just the slightest bit.
“So, if you hate it so much, why’re you out here?” Savin pressed, turning his head away from Jazz.
Jazz opened his mouth to speak, but clamped it shut again when Savin’s eyes flickered over to him. That dead half-smile split Savin’s face as he wrapped his arms around his legs loosely, cigarette still lit between his fingers. “I know you don’t want to be anywhere near me right now.”
The words carried no emotion except maybe mild curiosity, and even that felt forced. Jazz closed his eyes and bit his lip. His heart still skipped whenever Savin moved too close, threatening to stop entirely whenever their eyes met. As much as he didn’t want Savin near him, he still wanted to keep close to him. Didn’t want Savin to sneak up on him. Didn’t want anymore surprises.
“You obviously didn’t come out here to smoke, so spill it,” Savin spat, glaring at him. “The fuck are you out here for?”
Why was he out there? Jazz swallowed thickly and looked away from Savin, wishing his face wouldn’t feel so hot. “I don’t know,” he whispered, wincing at how much his voice cracked.
“Of course you fucking don’t,” Savin snorted, shaking his head. Another humorless smile graced his lips. “Why else would you fucking risk getting more abuse?”
“Why are you doing this?” Jazz said, the words falling out of him in a rush. “This isn’t like you, Savin --”
“This is what I’ve always been like,” Savin said, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. He puffed on his cigarette, exhaling slowly as he continued to give Jazz a piercing stare. “You’ve just been too fuckling naive to see it before.”
Jazz winced and looked away from Savin, hugging his own knees to his chest. “That’s not fucking true and you know it,” he whispered, biting his lip. “The Savin I know wouldn’t have ever -- wouldn’t have ever --” He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t, not as he still felt Savin’s hands on his shoulders, around his neck.
“The Savin you thought you knew doesn’t exist,” Savin muttered, pushing himself off the ground. He dusted himself off before extinguishing his cigarette quickly and tossing it aside. He shoved his hands in his pockets and squared his jaw. “Mari’s right, you know. You should leave.”
“The hell are you talking about? Savin, I’m not gonna --” Jazz cut himself off and shook his head, his eyes widening as realization seeped through his skin. “You want me to leave,” he breathed, scrambling to his feet. He ignored the urge to reach out for Savin, instead sprinting to keep up with his husband. “That’s why you keep acting like this.”
Savin snorted and rolled his eyes. “I’m not fucking ‘acting,’ Jasper,” he spat, narrowing his eyes at Jazz. Jazz kept his distance as Savin pulled his hand out of his pocket, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Wished his heart would stop feeling as though it would burst out of his chest any moment. “I told you, this is what I’ve always been like.”
“No, it’s fucking not,” Jazz snapped, grinding his heel into the ground. He ignored the pounding of his heart and the twisting in his stomach as he reached out for Savin’s shoulder.
Savin turned sharply, grabbing Jazz’s wrist and ripping Jazz’s hand off his shoulder. “And how the hell would you know?” he growled, moving dangerously close to Jazz once again as he continued to hold him. “You’ve been totally head over heels for me since the moment we fucking met, thought I could do no fucking wrong.” He squeezed Jazz’s wrist. A jolt of pain caused Jazz to gasp and try to wrench his wrist free.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t get free. And they were alone -- entirely fucking alone in the Palace Gardens, and with the way the clouds gathered overhead, no one would be coming outside anytime soon. Jazz’s mouth went dry as Savin gripped his chin with his free hand yet again.
“I’ve just been using you,” Savin said with a smirk. “Didn’t you once tell me you’d never trust a surgeon? Maybe you should have listened to your instincts.”
Jazz shuddered as Savin’s fingers trailed along the edge of his jaw and down his neck, before both of Savin’s hands left his body entirely. Breathing became easier again, just for a moment, and he could no longer feel the way his heart hammered in his chest. “You’re not -- you’re not like them.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Savin said with a laugh. “All surgeons have to do a stint in the Orphanages, you know. Have to observe the experiments --”
“You’re lying!” Jazz shouted, glaring at Savin. He ignored how his cheeks suddenly felt wet -- how all of his scars suddenly burned his skin. “If you -- if you had fucking been involved in the Orphanages, you wouldn’t have even considered putting Danni through that! So stop fucking lying and stop trying to push me away -- I’m not fucking going anywhere!”
“I don’t have to fucking try, Jasper --”
“Stop calling me that!” Jazz bellowed. Savin blinked at him in confusion before snickering to himself, shaking his head. “That’s not my fucking name and you know it!”
“Legally, it is your name, Jasper,” Savin drawled, a wide grin sweeping across his face. “So get fucking used to me calling you that.”
Jazz watched in silence as Savin reached into his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. As Savin lit another, smoke clouded the air between them once more. His eyes focused on Jazz. They hardened, flashing dangerously in the red light of the burning cherry. “Don’t fucking worry -- you won’t stay with me. You’ll leave, just like everyone else, and you won’t have to hear me call you that, ever again.”
He then took in a long drag, intentionally blowing the smoke into Jazz’s face. “Just you wait,” he murmured, turning on his heel and walking away.
Excuses is next.