Writerverse - Table of Doom, Prompt: Excuses
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.
Flowers comes before this piece.
Jazz collapsed onto their bed, raking his fingers through his hair as held his pillow close to his heart. Savin hadn’t followed him into their room, which had brought him a modicum of comfort. His wrist still hurt, and his shoulders tingled where Savin’s nails had dug in, earlier that day. For a little while, Jazz had considered calling Mari -- had considered telling her exactly what happened, but thought better of it.
Savin hadn’t spoken another word to him since they stepped inside their living quarters. Hadn’t so much as looked in his direction when he picked up his own stack of reports and combed through it. Even wrote down notes -- something Jazz hadn’t seen him do in a couple of years, not after they both had gotten the hang of running the Empire.
The silence would have once unnerved Jazz, but after that afternoon? He welcomed it. The darkness of their bedroom was also a comfort -- made him feel safe, now that he was in the room entirely alone. But he knew that wouldn’t last. He knew that Savin would eventually come in after him. That Savin would lie down in the bed, right next to him.
The very idea of it made Jazz’s heart drum a new cadence in his chest. They would touch. Savin preferred to sleep nude, too. The very idea of having Savin that close to him, naked, shook him to his core.
Maybe he shouldn’t sleep in their bed tonight. Maybe he should sleep on the couch, away from Savin. Maybe even leave and sleep somewhere else tonight.
But where would he go? Not like he had Ryin to go to, anymore, not since -- Jazz cut that thought off, shaking his head and biting his lip. His eyes stung, and he fought to keep his sobs at bay. He was alone. Alone, with a man who was a mere shadow of himself.
A man who had wrapped his hands around Jazz’s neck. Hands that didn’t squeeze, but could have. Hands that probably wanted to tighten around his neck. Hands that --
The door to their room opened and shut slowly. Jazz’s eyes snapped open, but he remained absolutely still. Maybe, just maybe, Savin would leave him alone -- maybe Savin would just lie down and pass out, without so much as touching Jazz or trying to talk.
“Jazz?”
The question reverberated off the walls of the otherwise quiet room and rang loudly in Jazz’s ears. His name. Not his legal one. Jazz tried not to tense even more so on the bed and closed his eyes, keeping his mouth tightly shut. Even bit his lip, in an effort to look asleep, should Savin try to look.
“Jazz, you’re not awake, are you?” More insistent. Despite that, Savin’s tone was softer, more human than it had been all day. And was that -- was that remorse Jazz heard?
The tears came silently as Savin’s footsteps neared the bed. Jazz managed to even out his breathing, to stop holding his breath as he heard clothing get tossed onto the floor -- as he felt the bed shift under Savin’s weight.
“I’m sorry.” The words were choked, barely heard over the panicked rhythm of Jazz’s heart. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Jazz kept his breathing steady the whole time as Savin spoke, Savin’s own words becoming more frantic and pained. More like himself. Still, Jazz couldn’t move -- couldn’t speak, not even when Savin dissolved into his own fit of tears.
After Savin’s breathing evened out, Jazz slowly shifted his weight on the bed. He turned to face Savin, feeling his heart crawl into his throat when he accidentally bumped into him. He closed his eyes in relief when Savin didn’t so much as move. Savin lay with his back to Jazz, his shoulders still bunched together, even in sleep.
They would talk tomorrow. They would sit at the kitchen table or Jazz on the couch and Savin in his chair and they would discuss what happened, in quiet, shaky voices. Voices filled with pain and anxiety and frustration. Tones that suggested there was a way to move on from all of this.
Jazz didn’t think there was.
***
“We need to talk.”
Jazz looked up from his notes from that morning’s Council meeting and bit his lip. He knew this conversation had to happen. That they needed to talk. Savin collapsed into his chair, raking his fingers through his hair before pulling it back tightly behind his head.
“You know what, no, let’s not talk in here,” he said after a minute, standing back up. He gestured that Jazz do the same.
Sighing, Jazz stood up slowly. Kept his distance as Savin directed him to follow, waving absently to the pack of cigarettes that somehow materialized in his hands. Just like the day before, they made their way through the Palace in silence and eventually wound up under their tree in the Gardens.
Jazz hadn’t considered that Savin might want to talk out here -- that he might want to discuss them and what he did, what he had been doing for weeks. When Savin sat, he braced his back against their tree, one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched out before him. Jazz sat beside him, his back also to the tree as he hugged both of his knees loosely to his chest.
Savin breathed in deeply, offering Jazz his open pack. Jazz shook his head, waving the cigarettes away. Savin frowned and shrugged his shoulder before lighting one for himself. As he took in the first drag, Jazz tightened his arms around his knees.
“Nothing excuses my behavior, yesterday,” Savin began, forming his words slowly. Pain laced his voice, along with regret.
“I know,” Jazz breathed, turning his gaze towards Savin. “Believe me, I know.”
Savin nodded, pursing his lips together before shaking his head. He kept his eyes on his cigarette, rolling it between his fingers. “Then why --” his voice cracked, causing him to clear his throat. “Then why are you still here?”
“I don’t -- I don’t know,” Jazz whispered, turning his gaze out towards the Palace gates. The clouds threatened rain above them like they had yesterday, but he knew they still had time.
Savin managed a half-smile, his shoulders sagging as he shifted his legs, bending one knee and lowering the other. “There’s not an ‘us’ anymore, is there?” he murmured. Jazz snapped his head over to him, his eyes growing wide as Savin’s half-smile grew into an even darker, more desperate smirk.
“Savin...” Jazz shook his head, tears stinging at his eyes. “Savin, don’t fucking do this -- just, don’t --”
“But there isn’t, right?” Savin insisted, his own eyes welling up with tears. “How could you possibly want to be with me after that?”
“I love you,” Jazz said in a rush, lifting his head from his knees. “Savin, I love you --”
“But that’s not enough,” Savin said, shaking his head. “It shouldn’t be enough.”
Jazz bit his lip, effectively swallowing the rest of his words. He knew Savin was right. Knew that love wasn’t enough -- not in a situation like this. Not after everything Savin had done. “We can work through this --”
“What if I get worse?” Savin pressed, taking in a shaky breath. “What if I do worse?”
“We can get you help --”
“There’s no help for me,” Savin said, cutting him off. “You need to get out. While you still can -- before I -- before I --” He sucked on his cigarette, as if it would steady him, make his next words easier to say. “I’m just going to hurt you again.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that,” Savin growled, frowning. He released a heavy plume of smoke, his voice wavering as he spoke his next words. “Forget about me, Jazz. I’m not fucking worth it.”
“Isn’t that for me to decide?” Jazz asked, his own voice growing shrill as more tears threatened to spill over. “Savin, I know you -- what happened yesterday? That wasn’t you.”
Savin let out a frustrated sigh, gripping his hair tightly in one hand. “Yes, it fucking was,” he spat, giving Jazz a pained glare. “How can you even say that? I nearly -- I nearly --” Savin stopped again, taking in a hurried drag of his cigarette, his words becoming more agitated as he spoke. “Can you honestly say you want to stay with me, after that? I could have -- I could have killed you, Jazz.”
A shiver snaked its way down Jazz’s spine as he felt Savin’s hands on his shoulders all over again -- felt them move to his neck. How he had thought Savin would inevitably squeeze -- how he hadn’t been able to breathe, even if Savin’s fingers only wrapped around his throat loosely. Without thinking, he moved away from Savin. “I don’t know,” he whispered into his knees.
“Didn’t fucking think so,” Savin muttered. Jazz heard the grass shuffle under Savin’s feet as he stood up. “So how can you say there’s still an ‘us’?”
Jazz bit his lip. “I can’t.”
It wasn’t the answer he wanted to give. It wasn’t the answer Savin wanted to hear, apparently, as he cursed under his breath in response and began to move away from Jazz, his shoulders bunched together. Jazz watched as Savin walked away, saying nothing as he let the tears stream down his face.
He couldn’t say it, but he wanted to. That didn’t change even as he remembered Savin’s dead eyes from the day before. The lack of emotion in his voice. Maybe, if Savin truly regretted everything he did the day before, then maybe they could move forward, one step at a time.
But he wasn’t so sure he could do that, either.
Everybody Lies is next.
Flowers comes before this piece.
Jazz collapsed onto their bed, raking his fingers through his hair as held his pillow close to his heart. Savin hadn’t followed him into their room, which had brought him a modicum of comfort. His wrist still hurt, and his shoulders tingled where Savin’s nails had dug in, earlier that day. For a little while, Jazz had considered calling Mari -- had considered telling her exactly what happened, but thought better of it.
Savin hadn’t spoken another word to him since they stepped inside their living quarters. Hadn’t so much as looked in his direction when he picked up his own stack of reports and combed through it. Even wrote down notes -- something Jazz hadn’t seen him do in a couple of years, not after they both had gotten the hang of running the Empire.
The silence would have once unnerved Jazz, but after that afternoon? He welcomed it. The darkness of their bedroom was also a comfort -- made him feel safe, now that he was in the room entirely alone. But he knew that wouldn’t last. He knew that Savin would eventually come in after him. That Savin would lie down in the bed, right next to him.
The very idea of it made Jazz’s heart drum a new cadence in his chest. They would touch. Savin preferred to sleep nude, too. The very idea of having Savin that close to him, naked, shook him to his core.
Maybe he shouldn’t sleep in their bed tonight. Maybe he should sleep on the couch, away from Savin. Maybe even leave and sleep somewhere else tonight.
But where would he go? Not like he had Ryin to go to, anymore, not since -- Jazz cut that thought off, shaking his head and biting his lip. His eyes stung, and he fought to keep his sobs at bay. He was alone. Alone, with a man who was a mere shadow of himself.
A man who had wrapped his hands around Jazz’s neck. Hands that didn’t squeeze, but could have. Hands that probably wanted to tighten around his neck. Hands that --
The door to their room opened and shut slowly. Jazz’s eyes snapped open, but he remained absolutely still. Maybe, just maybe, Savin would leave him alone -- maybe Savin would just lie down and pass out, without so much as touching Jazz or trying to talk.
“Jazz?”
The question reverberated off the walls of the otherwise quiet room and rang loudly in Jazz’s ears. His name. Not his legal one. Jazz tried not to tense even more so on the bed and closed his eyes, keeping his mouth tightly shut. Even bit his lip, in an effort to look asleep, should Savin try to look.
“Jazz, you’re not awake, are you?” More insistent. Despite that, Savin’s tone was softer, more human than it had been all day. And was that -- was that remorse Jazz heard?
The tears came silently as Savin’s footsteps neared the bed. Jazz managed to even out his breathing, to stop holding his breath as he heard clothing get tossed onto the floor -- as he felt the bed shift under Savin’s weight.
“I’m sorry.” The words were choked, barely heard over the panicked rhythm of Jazz’s heart. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Jazz kept his breathing steady the whole time as Savin spoke, Savin’s own words becoming more frantic and pained. More like himself. Still, Jazz couldn’t move -- couldn’t speak, not even when Savin dissolved into his own fit of tears.
After Savin’s breathing evened out, Jazz slowly shifted his weight on the bed. He turned to face Savin, feeling his heart crawl into his throat when he accidentally bumped into him. He closed his eyes in relief when Savin didn’t so much as move. Savin lay with his back to Jazz, his shoulders still bunched together, even in sleep.
They would talk tomorrow. They would sit at the kitchen table or Jazz on the couch and Savin in his chair and they would discuss what happened, in quiet, shaky voices. Voices filled with pain and anxiety and frustration. Tones that suggested there was a way to move on from all of this.
Jazz didn’t think there was.
***
“We need to talk.”
Jazz looked up from his notes from that morning’s Council meeting and bit his lip. He knew this conversation had to happen. That they needed to talk. Savin collapsed into his chair, raking his fingers through his hair before pulling it back tightly behind his head.
“You know what, no, let’s not talk in here,” he said after a minute, standing back up. He gestured that Jazz do the same.
Sighing, Jazz stood up slowly. Kept his distance as Savin directed him to follow, waving absently to the pack of cigarettes that somehow materialized in his hands. Just like the day before, they made their way through the Palace in silence and eventually wound up under their tree in the Gardens.
Jazz hadn’t considered that Savin might want to talk out here -- that he might want to discuss them and what he did, what he had been doing for weeks. When Savin sat, he braced his back against their tree, one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched out before him. Jazz sat beside him, his back also to the tree as he hugged both of his knees loosely to his chest.
Savin breathed in deeply, offering Jazz his open pack. Jazz shook his head, waving the cigarettes away. Savin frowned and shrugged his shoulder before lighting one for himself. As he took in the first drag, Jazz tightened his arms around his knees.
“Nothing excuses my behavior, yesterday,” Savin began, forming his words slowly. Pain laced his voice, along with regret.
“I know,” Jazz breathed, turning his gaze towards Savin. “Believe me, I know.”
Savin nodded, pursing his lips together before shaking his head. He kept his eyes on his cigarette, rolling it between his fingers. “Then why --” his voice cracked, causing him to clear his throat. “Then why are you still here?”
“I don’t -- I don’t know,” Jazz whispered, turning his gaze out towards the Palace gates. The clouds threatened rain above them like they had yesterday, but he knew they still had time.
Savin managed a half-smile, his shoulders sagging as he shifted his legs, bending one knee and lowering the other. “There’s not an ‘us’ anymore, is there?” he murmured. Jazz snapped his head over to him, his eyes growing wide as Savin’s half-smile grew into an even darker, more desperate smirk.
“Savin...” Jazz shook his head, tears stinging at his eyes. “Savin, don’t fucking do this -- just, don’t --”
“But there isn’t, right?” Savin insisted, his own eyes welling up with tears. “How could you possibly want to be with me after that?”
“I love you,” Jazz said in a rush, lifting his head from his knees. “Savin, I love you --”
“But that’s not enough,” Savin said, shaking his head. “It shouldn’t be enough.”
Jazz bit his lip, effectively swallowing the rest of his words. He knew Savin was right. Knew that love wasn’t enough -- not in a situation like this. Not after everything Savin had done. “We can work through this --”
“What if I get worse?” Savin pressed, taking in a shaky breath. “What if I do worse?”
“We can get you help --”
“There’s no help for me,” Savin said, cutting him off. “You need to get out. While you still can -- before I -- before I --” He sucked on his cigarette, as if it would steady him, make his next words easier to say. “I’m just going to hurt you again.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do know that,” Savin growled, frowning. He released a heavy plume of smoke, his voice wavering as he spoke his next words. “Forget about me, Jazz. I’m not fucking worth it.”
“Isn’t that for me to decide?” Jazz asked, his own voice growing shrill as more tears threatened to spill over. “Savin, I know you -- what happened yesterday? That wasn’t you.”
Savin let out a frustrated sigh, gripping his hair tightly in one hand. “Yes, it fucking was,” he spat, giving Jazz a pained glare. “How can you even say that? I nearly -- I nearly --” Savin stopped again, taking in a hurried drag of his cigarette, his words becoming more agitated as he spoke. “Can you honestly say you want to stay with me, after that? I could have -- I could have killed you, Jazz.”
A shiver snaked its way down Jazz’s spine as he felt Savin’s hands on his shoulders all over again -- felt them move to his neck. How he had thought Savin would inevitably squeeze -- how he hadn’t been able to breathe, even if Savin’s fingers only wrapped around his throat loosely. Without thinking, he moved away from Savin. “I don’t know,” he whispered into his knees.
“Didn’t fucking think so,” Savin muttered. Jazz heard the grass shuffle under Savin’s feet as he stood up. “So how can you say there’s still an ‘us’?”
Jazz bit his lip. “I can’t.”
It wasn’t the answer he wanted to give. It wasn’t the answer Savin wanted to hear, apparently, as he cursed under his breath in response and began to move away from Jazz, his shoulders bunched together. Jazz watched as Savin walked away, saying nothing as he let the tears stream down his face.
He couldn’t say it, but he wanted to. That didn’t change even as he remembered Savin’s dead eyes from the day before. The lack of emotion in his voice. Maybe, if Savin truly regretted everything he did the day before, then maybe they could move forward, one step at a time.
But he wasn’t so sure he could do that, either.
Everybody Lies is next.