Writerverse - Table of Doom, Prompt: Idle Hands
If you're sticking with me on this partial Gray Morning rewrite, I fucking applaud you.
Here's the next part, which comes after Flowers, Excuses, Everybody Lies, and A Doorway to Hell.
Savin closed his eyes, his fingers pressed lightly to his cheek, just along his jaw. It’d bruise tomorrow, the way it hurt now. The pain grounded him, made him move away from the wall where he had Jazz --
He cut that thought off, his stomach climbing into his throat and threatening to stay there. He made to call out to Jazz, only to realize that his husband had already fled their apartment, the door swinging open on its hinges. Swallowing thickly, Savin moved towards the door, shutting it quietly.
Jazz wouldn’t be back.
His heart stopped. His hands flew to his hair, clawing it free from his pony tail. Jazz wouldn’t be back. He knew it. Just knew it.
The past ten minutes -- had it even been that long? -- flashed through his mind. His anger. His frustration. His hurt. They choked him, making it difficult for him to breathe and even more difficult for his stomach to settle in any one position in his throat. His eyes watered as he swallowed again, this time his stomach heaving higher than it already had.
He was in the bathroom in seconds, knees crashing to the floor in front of the toilet as he gripped the seat of it tightly. His stomach was empty even faster than that, each roll of it worse than the last.
He nearly raped Jazz.
Bile threatened to escape, his already trembling body shaking even worse at the thought. Tears streamed down his face as he rested his forehead against the heels of his palms, trying to catch his breath.
What the fuck did he just do? Did he really just -- how the fuck did he even think --
He didn’t think. Just reacted. Wanted to push Jazz as far away as possible, hurt him as much as possible, and -- and he --
Savin retched again and collapsed against the toilet when finished, hands shaking as he flushed it and closed the lid. He didn’t even bother to get up, to brush his teeth and try and get rid of the taste in his mouth as he curled up on himself, sobbing into his knees.
He succeeded. The only way the whole thing could have been any worse is if Jazz hadn’t managed to get away. If Jazz hadn’t hit him. Jazz hit him. His jaw ached where Jazz’s fist had connected. He’d definitely bruise tomorrow.
He deserved it. Deserved so much more than that, for what he had just attempted to do. Shivering, Savin clamped his jaw tightly shut, willing the next wave of nausea away. What if Jazz went to the press? What if he went to the police? Not that they’d outright arrest an Emperor, but he was held to laws against assault just like everyone else. The scandal that would cause -- right in the middle of a budding civil war, too?
Savin shook his head, willing the thoughts away. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet. Ignored the way his stomach rolled yet again as he whipped out his phone. Jazz would probably run to Mari -- would ask her for further advice.
So what possessed him to dial her number, Savin didn’t know, but the phone rang idly in his ear. With his free hand, he picked at his buttons, anything to keep his fingers busy.
“Savin? What’re you --”
“Hey, is Jazz --” He cleared his throat, wishing his voice wouldn’t crack the way that it did, “is Jazz there?”
“No,” Mari answered. Savin could practically hear the small frown twisting her features -- could see the way she bunched her eyebrows together, just through the tone of her voice. “Savin, what the hell is going on?”
“Don’t want -- can’t explain over the phone,” Savin murmured, heading out of the bathroom and collapsing into his chair. He picked up one of his medical textbooks, flipping through it without any intention of selecting a page. “Just -- if you see him, let me know, okay?”
“If he were coming here, he’d call,” Mari said. “I don’t think he’s coming to see me.”
Savin nodded before remembering Mari couldn’t see him do so. “Okay,” he said, sighing. He winced, ignoring how his eyes burned. “Could you -- could you come here, then?” he managed, his voice shaky. “I fucked up. I totally fucked up really bad and --”
“I’ll be there in a little while,” Mari muttered, cutting him off. “Don’t do anything stupid, Savin.”
He wanted to tell her it was too late for that as her line went dead.
***
"You look like hell," Mari murmured, blinking at Savin's disheveled appearance. She hadn't seen him look this awful since their daughter died. At least he didn't have a cigarette dangling from his lips?
"I feel like it," he admitted quietly, stepping aside and letting her inside. He fiddled with his glasses, his hands then reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
“Those’ll kill you, you know,” Mari said, trying to give Savin a teasing smile.
Savin gave a shadow of one back and shook his head slightly. “I’m not gonna smoke one in here,” he said, fiddling with the lid to the pack. “Just -- need to keep my hands busy, that’s all.”
Mari nodded, finding her way over to the couch. She sat down on it, folding her legs underneath her as she watched Savin pace the length of the living room. “So what happened?” she dared to ask, clearing her throat and tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “Why did you think Jazz would be with me?”
Savin winced, no longer wearing out the carpet with his frantic pacing. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, tying it up loosely behind the back of his skull. “I fucked up,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“You said that already, on the phone,” Mari muttered, folding her hands in her lap. She fixed Savin with her best stare. “Sit, Savin.” She patted the arm of his chair, the same one he had when they were living together. “Talk.”
“You’ll kill me,” he groaned, shaking his head. He stuffed his pack of cigarettes away again, hugging himself tightly. His face looked green around the edges. She knew that look.
“Go puke, then come back,” she snorted, trying to keep her tone light. Deep down, she felt the ball of lead growing in her stomach. Especially when Savin nodded, gulping audibly as he hurried off towards the bathroom.
She had a sinking feeling that she didn’t want to know. But Savin needed to talk about it -- otherwise he wouldn’t have called her. Wouldn’t have asked for her to come over. She looked up when she heard Savin’s lumbering footsteps near her once again. Slowly, the younger man settled into his chair, putting his face in his hands.
“I don’t know where he is,” Savin moaned into his hands. He sniffed, sliding his hands down his face. “Totally wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t come back, either.”
Mari nodded, taking in a deep breath. She watched as Savin’s hands fell away from his face entirely, gasping when she saw the blossoming bruise on his left cheek. “Savin -- what happened to your face?”
Savin looked up at her over the edge of his glasses, blanching with guilt and his face going even paler than it had looked when she came in. “Jazz, he --” His voice cracked and he couldn’t seem to form any additional words, instead gesturing futilely to his cheek.
“He did that?” Mari asked, blinking in surprise. She then narrowed her eyes at Savin, pressing her lips together in a thin line. “What did you do?” she demanded softly, straightening her back.
Savin turned his head away from her and closed his eyes. “You’ll kill me,” he repeated. “I would kill me, if I were you”
“What -- the hell -- did you do?” Mari growled, narrowing her eyes even further. Savin made a choked whimpering noise, shrinking in on himself. He looked as though he would be sick again as he cradled his head in his hands.
“I --” he cut himself off, gulping for air audibly, no doubt in an effort to calm his stomach. “I -- almost, almost...” he broke off again, this time sobbing into his hands, “raped him.”
The last two words were so quiet, Mari almost thought she didn’t hear him. The ball of lead had grown into a boulder, pulling her stomach down through the couch, rooting her to the spot. She swallowed thickly, brushing her own hair out of her face. “Say that again?” she breathed, praying she misheard him.
“Don’t -- don’t make me repeat it, Mari,” Savin pleaded, his voice gravelly as he lifted his head from his hands. “Just -- just fucking don’t.”
“You almost what him?” she snapped, pushing herself off the couch.
Savin grimaced, shaking his head emphatically. “I can’t -- say it again, Mari. I can’t,” he said, his eyes filling with tears.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” she shrieked, slapping Savin across the face. He crumpled into the chair, holding his left cheek in his hand -- the same side Jazz had hit earlier. “You nearly raped him? I should beat the shit out of you right now!”
“I know! I fucking know, okay? I am the worst fucking human being on the planet,” he groaned, curling in on himself and hugging his knees to his chest. “I didn’t -- it was like I fucking -- fucking blacked out, I didn’t know what I was doing --”
“Don’t give me that excuse,” Mari hissed, wrinkling her nose at him. “You know what you fucking did -- where is he?”
“I don’t know!” Savin cried, running his fingers over his hair. “He -- he punched me, got away from me, and ran. I don’t -- I don’t know where he is, or who he’s with, or --” He stopped himself, biting his lip and shaking his head. “Does it even fucking matter? He’s safe.”
Mari nearly raised her hand again, instead balling her fists at her sides and moving away from Savin. “He needs help,” she said, frowning deeply. “And so do you --”
“I’m a lost fucking cause,” Savin insisted, giving Mari a pleading look. “Like any fucking psych is gonna want to see the fucking Emperor.”
“Get -- fucking -- help,” Mari ordered, putting her hands on her hips. “You can’t run the Empire like this, Savin -- and if you don’t get psychological treatment, I swear to fucking god I will find Jazz and make him report you to the police for what you did, after chopping your balls off myself.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Is that fucking clear?”
“Yes,” Savin croaked, withering under her glare. “I’ll -- I’ll get help, just -- give me referrals tomorrow. You know the psychs better than I do.”
“Fine,” she spat, turning on her heel. “I’m gonna go look for Jazz. I’ll call you if I find him.”
“Th-Thanks, Mari.”
Mari sighed, gripping the handle of the door loosely. She glanced at Savin over her shoulder and immediately noticed just how broken he looked. “Don’t mention it, Savin,” she whispered, turning away from him.
As much as she wished she didn’t pity him, she did.
Fallen Angel is the next part, and the last of the GM parts I'll be doing for a while.
Here's the next part, which comes after Flowers, Excuses, Everybody Lies, and A Doorway to Hell.
Savin closed his eyes, his fingers pressed lightly to his cheek, just along his jaw. It’d bruise tomorrow, the way it hurt now. The pain grounded him, made him move away from the wall where he had Jazz --
He cut that thought off, his stomach climbing into his throat and threatening to stay there. He made to call out to Jazz, only to realize that his husband had already fled their apartment, the door swinging open on its hinges. Swallowing thickly, Savin moved towards the door, shutting it quietly.
Jazz wouldn’t be back.
His heart stopped. His hands flew to his hair, clawing it free from his pony tail. Jazz wouldn’t be back. He knew it. Just knew it.
The past ten minutes -- had it even been that long? -- flashed through his mind. His anger. His frustration. His hurt. They choked him, making it difficult for him to breathe and even more difficult for his stomach to settle in any one position in his throat. His eyes watered as he swallowed again, this time his stomach heaving higher than it already had.
He was in the bathroom in seconds, knees crashing to the floor in front of the toilet as he gripped the seat of it tightly. His stomach was empty even faster than that, each roll of it worse than the last.
He nearly raped Jazz.
Bile threatened to escape, his already trembling body shaking even worse at the thought. Tears streamed down his face as he rested his forehead against the heels of his palms, trying to catch his breath.
What the fuck did he just do? Did he really just -- how the fuck did he even think --
He didn’t think. Just reacted. Wanted to push Jazz as far away as possible, hurt him as much as possible, and -- and he --
Savin retched again and collapsed against the toilet when finished, hands shaking as he flushed it and closed the lid. He didn’t even bother to get up, to brush his teeth and try and get rid of the taste in his mouth as he curled up on himself, sobbing into his knees.
He succeeded. The only way the whole thing could have been any worse is if Jazz hadn’t managed to get away. If Jazz hadn’t hit him. Jazz hit him. His jaw ached where Jazz’s fist had connected. He’d definitely bruise tomorrow.
He deserved it. Deserved so much more than that, for what he had just attempted to do. Shivering, Savin clamped his jaw tightly shut, willing the next wave of nausea away. What if Jazz went to the press? What if he went to the police? Not that they’d outright arrest an Emperor, but he was held to laws against assault just like everyone else. The scandal that would cause -- right in the middle of a budding civil war, too?
Savin shook his head, willing the thoughts away. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet. Ignored the way his stomach rolled yet again as he whipped out his phone. Jazz would probably run to Mari -- would ask her for further advice.
So what possessed him to dial her number, Savin didn’t know, but the phone rang idly in his ear. With his free hand, he picked at his buttons, anything to keep his fingers busy.
“Savin? What’re you --”
“Hey, is Jazz --” He cleared his throat, wishing his voice wouldn’t crack the way that it did, “is Jazz there?”
“No,” Mari answered. Savin could practically hear the small frown twisting her features -- could see the way she bunched her eyebrows together, just through the tone of her voice. “Savin, what the hell is going on?”
“Don’t want -- can’t explain over the phone,” Savin murmured, heading out of the bathroom and collapsing into his chair. He picked up one of his medical textbooks, flipping through it without any intention of selecting a page. “Just -- if you see him, let me know, okay?”
“If he were coming here, he’d call,” Mari said. “I don’t think he’s coming to see me.”
Savin nodded before remembering Mari couldn’t see him do so. “Okay,” he said, sighing. He winced, ignoring how his eyes burned. “Could you -- could you come here, then?” he managed, his voice shaky. “I fucked up. I totally fucked up really bad and --”
“I’ll be there in a little while,” Mari muttered, cutting him off. “Don’t do anything stupid, Savin.”
He wanted to tell her it was too late for that as her line went dead.
***
"You look like hell," Mari murmured, blinking at Savin's disheveled appearance. She hadn't seen him look this awful since their daughter died. At least he didn't have a cigarette dangling from his lips?
"I feel like it," he admitted quietly, stepping aside and letting her inside. He fiddled with his glasses, his hands then reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes.
“Those’ll kill you, you know,” Mari said, trying to give Savin a teasing smile.
Savin gave a shadow of one back and shook his head slightly. “I’m not gonna smoke one in here,” he said, fiddling with the lid to the pack. “Just -- need to keep my hands busy, that’s all.”
Mari nodded, finding her way over to the couch. She sat down on it, folding her legs underneath her as she watched Savin pace the length of the living room. “So what happened?” she dared to ask, clearing her throat and tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “Why did you think Jazz would be with me?”
Savin winced, no longer wearing out the carpet with his frantic pacing. He pushed his hair out of his eyes, tying it up loosely behind the back of his skull. “I fucked up,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“You said that already, on the phone,” Mari muttered, folding her hands in her lap. She fixed Savin with her best stare. “Sit, Savin.” She patted the arm of his chair, the same one he had when they were living together. “Talk.”
“You’ll kill me,” he groaned, shaking his head. He stuffed his pack of cigarettes away again, hugging himself tightly. His face looked green around the edges. She knew that look.
“Go puke, then come back,” she snorted, trying to keep her tone light. Deep down, she felt the ball of lead growing in her stomach. Especially when Savin nodded, gulping audibly as he hurried off towards the bathroom.
She had a sinking feeling that she didn’t want to know. But Savin needed to talk about it -- otherwise he wouldn’t have called her. Wouldn’t have asked for her to come over. She looked up when she heard Savin’s lumbering footsteps near her once again. Slowly, the younger man settled into his chair, putting his face in his hands.
“I don’t know where he is,” Savin moaned into his hands. He sniffed, sliding his hands down his face. “Totally wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t come back, either.”
Mari nodded, taking in a deep breath. She watched as Savin’s hands fell away from his face entirely, gasping when she saw the blossoming bruise on his left cheek. “Savin -- what happened to your face?”
Savin looked up at her over the edge of his glasses, blanching with guilt and his face going even paler than it had looked when she came in. “Jazz, he --” His voice cracked and he couldn’t seem to form any additional words, instead gesturing futilely to his cheek.
“He did that?” Mari asked, blinking in surprise. She then narrowed her eyes at Savin, pressing her lips together in a thin line. “What did you do?” she demanded softly, straightening her back.
Savin turned his head away from her and closed his eyes. “You’ll kill me,” he repeated. “I would kill me, if I were you”
“What -- the hell -- did you do?” Mari growled, narrowing her eyes even further. Savin made a choked whimpering noise, shrinking in on himself. He looked as though he would be sick again as he cradled his head in his hands.
“I --” he cut himself off, gulping for air audibly, no doubt in an effort to calm his stomach. “I -- almost, almost...” he broke off again, this time sobbing into his hands, “raped him.”
The last two words were so quiet, Mari almost thought she didn’t hear him. The ball of lead had grown into a boulder, pulling her stomach down through the couch, rooting her to the spot. She swallowed thickly, brushing her own hair out of her face. “Say that again?” she breathed, praying she misheard him.
“Don’t -- don’t make me repeat it, Mari,” Savin pleaded, his voice gravelly as he lifted his head from his hands. “Just -- just fucking don’t.”
“You almost what him?” she snapped, pushing herself off the couch.
Savin grimaced, shaking his head emphatically. “I can’t -- say it again, Mari. I can’t,” he said, his eyes filling with tears.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” she shrieked, slapping Savin across the face. He crumpled into the chair, holding his left cheek in his hand -- the same side Jazz had hit earlier. “You nearly raped him? I should beat the shit out of you right now!”
“I know! I fucking know, okay? I am the worst fucking human being on the planet,” he groaned, curling in on himself and hugging his knees to his chest. “I didn’t -- it was like I fucking -- fucking blacked out, I didn’t know what I was doing --”
“Don’t give me that excuse,” Mari hissed, wrinkling her nose at him. “You know what you fucking did -- where is he?”
“I don’t know!” Savin cried, running his fingers over his hair. “He -- he punched me, got away from me, and ran. I don’t -- I don’t know where he is, or who he’s with, or --” He stopped himself, biting his lip and shaking his head. “Does it even fucking matter? He’s safe.”
Mari nearly raised her hand again, instead balling her fists at her sides and moving away from Savin. “He needs help,” she said, frowning deeply. “And so do you --”
“I’m a lost fucking cause,” Savin insisted, giving Mari a pleading look. “Like any fucking psych is gonna want to see the fucking Emperor.”
“Get -- fucking -- help,” Mari ordered, putting her hands on her hips. “You can’t run the Empire like this, Savin -- and if you don’t get psychological treatment, I swear to fucking god I will find Jazz and make him report you to the police for what you did, after chopping your balls off myself.” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “Is that fucking clear?”
“Yes,” Savin croaked, withering under her glare. “I’ll -- I’ll get help, just -- give me referrals tomorrow. You know the psychs better than I do.”
“Fine,” she spat, turning on her heel. “I’m gonna go look for Jazz. I’ll call you if I find him.”
“Th-Thanks, Mari.”
Mari sighed, gripping the handle of the door loosely. She glanced at Savin over her shoulder and immediately noticed just how broken he looked. “Don’t mention it, Savin,” she whispered, turning away from him.
As much as she wished she didn’t pity him, she did.
Fallen Angel is the next part, and the last of the GM parts I'll be doing for a while.