Seize the Day - NaNoWriMo Attempt - Chapter 3
So my NaNo project? Completely rewriting the Tomorrow Trilogy so that it's no longer a trilogy and mostly focuses on Jazz and Savin's story, in a tighter, more abridged sense. I'm sticking with the title Seize the Day for now, because it still fits a lot of the "theme" that seems to be present in the book. Yay NaNoWriMo!
Previous chapters:
1 | 2
Jazz wrung his hands together in front of himself, his head slightly bowed as he stood in front of his father. The two of them were inside his father’s private living quarters, which consisted of a huge living room with a separate dining room, as well as two bedrooms. It used to be that Jazz lived in the same apartment-like space. Now, though, the walls of the living room were unfamiliar to him, the color of them having changed from an off-white to more of a dusky blue.
That wasn’t the only thing that had changed, though. The living room itself had become heavily decorated. Knick-knacks lined the walls, and the furniture far more lush than ever. Jazz’s living quarters could just as easily be as posh as this, but he much preferred a simpler set of surroundings.
His father, the Emperor, had his arms crossed over his chest. His ashen hair hadn’t yet been styled appropriately for his upcoming public appearance. “What do you have to say for yourself?” Casio asked, his voice barely loud enough to hear in the otherwise still and silent room.
Jazz resisted the urge to shrug his shoulders, instead clearing his throat and looking away from his father. Sneaking out had been childish of him. But having a night where no one recognized him -- where no one knew who he was and treated him like royalty? It wasn’t like he could get that here, at the Palace. “I just needed to get away for a bit,” he said, his voice firm as he met his father’s eyes. “Clear my head.”
“Clear your head of what?” Casio snorted, uncrossing his arms. He moved to sit down on the leather couch, crossing one leg over the other as he folded his hands on top of his knee. “You’ve hardly anything to worry about.”
Jazz chewed his lip for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. “You wouldn’t understand, Dad,” he murmured, ignoring the ache in his chest. While Savin had shown him a good time last night, it wasn’t as though he could ever see the man again. And it wasn’t like he had a boyfriend to come home to anymore, either.
Casio pursed his lips together, tilting his head as he appeared to be deep in thought. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Councilor Foraker, does it?” he asked, clearing his throat. “I know the two of you have gotten quite close over the past year.”
Jazz shook his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s none of your business,” he said, crossing his own arms over his chest. “Look, can I go? I know I shouldn’t have snuck out last night and I’m well-aware that there’s been some dangerous shit going on within the Empire. I already got this lecture from Alex -- I don’t need it from you, too, and I don’t need your fake sympathy, either.”
Casio frowned, leaning back in his seat some as he uncrossed and recrossed his legs. He placed his hands in his lap again, this time leaning forward a bit. “You have no idea of any of the things that are happening within our Empire, Jasper,” he said in a hissed whisper. “The Resistance grows stronger every day -- and you continue to pretend as though it’s none of your business.”
“It’s not any of my business, Dad!” Jazz cried, shaking his head. “I’m not the Emperor -- and you’re still in good health, so I’m not going to be the Emperor for quite some time. I’ve been participating in the Council meetings for the past year -- what more do you want from me? I do the research you need me to do, interact with the colonies in the way I need to interact with them -- how can you say I don’t know what the hell is going on?”
“Because you hardly pay attention to the meetings, nor do you ever contribute something meaningful to them. You’re simply there because Councilor Foraker is there -- nothing more, nothing less,” Casio stated simply, his gaze never once wavering from Jazz’s. “But since you’re already aware that what you did last night was reckless, I’ll let you go. Foraker’s looking for you, anyway.”
“I know,” Jazz said, his arms tightening across his chest. He clenched his jaw. “I’ll be in my room, if you talk to him before I do.”
Casio nodded, giving Jazz a dismissive wave of his hand. Jazz didn’t acknowledge it as he turned on his heel and walked out of his father’s apartment. Once the door shut behind him, he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. Maybe one night of fun hadn’t been worth it, after all.
He shook his head, meandering down the hallway back to his room, which was on the opposite side of the Palace. He preferred the distance from his father that it gave him; it at least gave the illusion that he no longer lived at home. It wasn’t like he could live anywhere else; the least he could do was live in separate living quarters.
His stomach grumbled as he walked, reminding him that he still hadn’t eaten yet, that morning, despite Savin’s offer to make breakfast that morning. In the interest of time, Jazz had skipped out on it. He tried not to think that there would be a Council meeting in just about another hour -- tried not to think that he would have to face Mitchel within that same amount of time.
His stomach twisted as he approached his room, a familiar form leaning against the door to his own living quarters. The older man had his hands loosely stuffed within the pockets of his sharp suit, a slight frown on the man's face. Jazz's face grew hot, and he looked away from the other man. "What are you doing here, Mitchel?" he asked, trying to keep his voice low as he pulled his key from his pocket.
"Making sure your highness is in one singular piece," Mitchel responded, moving away from Jazz's front door. His frown deepened as he brushed his dark hair flecked with gray out of his equally dark eyes. He kept his hands in his pockets as he neared Jazz. "You gave everyone quite a scare last night, Prince Jasper."
Jazz snorted. "Including you? Yeah, right," he muttered, slipping the key into the lock. As he unlocked the door, he willed his face to return to its normal temperature. “As you can see, I’m perfectly alright, so there’s no need for you to still be here, Mitchel.”
“I thought, perhaps, we could talk before the Council meeting,” Mitchel said, seemingly unphased by Jazz’s ire. He moved in close, causing Jazz to push the door open just so that he could move away from him. “I said some things the other night that were -- rather uncalled for.”
“It’s a little late for that,” Jazz hissed, shielding his body with his door. He avoided Mitchel’s eyes as the weight of Savin’s body on top of his pervaded his mind. “It’s over, Mitchel. I told you that before. Now please, leave me alone.”
“Jasper --”
“Leave, Mitchel,” Jazz repeated, narrowing his eyes at him. His mind churned with various emotions and thoughts, each struggling to triumph over the other and escape via his throat. “I’m sorry, I just -- I can’t do this anymore, okay? I don’t want to be someone’s fucking dirty secret, and that’s all I’ve ever been to you, and I just -- I can’t. So please, just fucking go to the Council meeting without me.”
“Jazz, please, let me speak,” Mitchel pleaded, putting his hand to Jazz’s door and preventing him from shutting it all the way. Jazz glowered at him, but made no move to force the door shut in Mitchel’s face. “I love you --”
“Yeah right,” Jazz spat, tears burning at his eyes. “Yeah fucking right -- you just -- I can’t do this anymore. I can’t, okay? Hell, last night, I --” Jazz clamped his mouth shut and looked away from Mitchel, his cheeks burning with shame as tears streamed down them.
“What did you do?” Mitchel asked, his voice thankfully level and controlled. Just like everything else about him. Every move, calculated and measured to fit the situation exactly. How could Jazz trust any of it? How could any of it possibly be real? The only thing that possibly could be was the way Mitchel’s eyes softened whenever he saw Jazz -- that couldn’t just be an act, could it?
“Jasper -- what did you do?” Mitchel repeated, snapping Jazz out of his thoughts. This time, Mitchel’s voice wavered as he spoke. If Jazz looked closely enough, he thought he might have seen tears beginning to form in the corners of Mitchel’s eyes.
“I...” Jazz opened and closed his mouth uselessly before shaking his head. He glanced around Mitchel, noticing the lack of others in the Palace hallway. Still he spoke as quietly as he could as the words soon spilled from his lips. “I slept with someone else, last night,” he confessed, tears stinging his eyes all over again.
Mitchel didn’t stop him from shutting his apartment door all the way, that time.
Next Chapter
Previous chapters:
1 | 2
Jazz wrung his hands together in front of himself, his head slightly bowed as he stood in front of his father. The two of them were inside his father’s private living quarters, which consisted of a huge living room with a separate dining room, as well as two bedrooms. It used to be that Jazz lived in the same apartment-like space. Now, though, the walls of the living room were unfamiliar to him, the color of them having changed from an off-white to more of a dusky blue.
That wasn’t the only thing that had changed, though. The living room itself had become heavily decorated. Knick-knacks lined the walls, and the furniture far more lush than ever. Jazz’s living quarters could just as easily be as posh as this, but he much preferred a simpler set of surroundings.
His father, the Emperor, had his arms crossed over his chest. His ashen hair hadn’t yet been styled appropriately for his upcoming public appearance. “What do you have to say for yourself?” Casio asked, his voice barely loud enough to hear in the otherwise still and silent room.
Jazz resisted the urge to shrug his shoulders, instead clearing his throat and looking away from his father. Sneaking out had been childish of him. But having a night where no one recognized him -- where no one knew who he was and treated him like royalty? It wasn’t like he could get that here, at the Palace. “I just needed to get away for a bit,” he said, his voice firm as he met his father’s eyes. “Clear my head.”
“Clear your head of what?” Casio snorted, uncrossing his arms. He moved to sit down on the leather couch, crossing one leg over the other as he folded his hands on top of his knee. “You’ve hardly anything to worry about.”
Jazz chewed his lip for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. “You wouldn’t understand, Dad,” he murmured, ignoring the ache in his chest. While Savin had shown him a good time last night, it wasn’t as though he could ever see the man again. And it wasn’t like he had a boyfriend to come home to anymore, either.
Casio pursed his lips together, tilting his head as he appeared to be deep in thought. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Councilor Foraker, does it?” he asked, clearing his throat. “I know the two of you have gotten quite close over the past year.”
Jazz shook his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s none of your business,” he said, crossing his own arms over his chest. “Look, can I go? I know I shouldn’t have snuck out last night and I’m well-aware that there’s been some dangerous shit going on within the Empire. I already got this lecture from Alex -- I don’t need it from you, too, and I don’t need your fake sympathy, either.”
Casio frowned, leaning back in his seat some as he uncrossed and recrossed his legs. He placed his hands in his lap again, this time leaning forward a bit. “You have no idea of any of the things that are happening within our Empire, Jasper,” he said in a hissed whisper. “The Resistance grows stronger every day -- and you continue to pretend as though it’s none of your business.”
“It’s not any of my business, Dad!” Jazz cried, shaking his head. “I’m not the Emperor -- and you’re still in good health, so I’m not going to be the Emperor for quite some time. I’ve been participating in the Council meetings for the past year -- what more do you want from me? I do the research you need me to do, interact with the colonies in the way I need to interact with them -- how can you say I don’t know what the hell is going on?”
“Because you hardly pay attention to the meetings, nor do you ever contribute something meaningful to them. You’re simply there because Councilor Foraker is there -- nothing more, nothing less,” Casio stated simply, his gaze never once wavering from Jazz’s. “But since you’re already aware that what you did last night was reckless, I’ll let you go. Foraker’s looking for you, anyway.”
“I know,” Jazz said, his arms tightening across his chest. He clenched his jaw. “I’ll be in my room, if you talk to him before I do.”
Casio nodded, giving Jazz a dismissive wave of his hand. Jazz didn’t acknowledge it as he turned on his heel and walked out of his father’s apartment. Once the door shut behind him, he ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. Maybe one night of fun hadn’t been worth it, after all.
He shook his head, meandering down the hallway back to his room, which was on the opposite side of the Palace. He preferred the distance from his father that it gave him; it at least gave the illusion that he no longer lived at home. It wasn’t like he could live anywhere else; the least he could do was live in separate living quarters.
His stomach grumbled as he walked, reminding him that he still hadn’t eaten yet, that morning, despite Savin’s offer to make breakfast that morning. In the interest of time, Jazz had skipped out on it. He tried not to think that there would be a Council meeting in just about another hour -- tried not to think that he would have to face Mitchel within that same amount of time.
His stomach twisted as he approached his room, a familiar form leaning against the door to his own living quarters. The older man had his hands loosely stuffed within the pockets of his sharp suit, a slight frown on the man's face. Jazz's face grew hot, and he looked away from the other man. "What are you doing here, Mitchel?" he asked, trying to keep his voice low as he pulled his key from his pocket.
"Making sure your highness is in one singular piece," Mitchel responded, moving away from Jazz's front door. His frown deepened as he brushed his dark hair flecked with gray out of his equally dark eyes. He kept his hands in his pockets as he neared Jazz. "You gave everyone quite a scare last night, Prince Jasper."
Jazz snorted. "Including you? Yeah, right," he muttered, slipping the key into the lock. As he unlocked the door, he willed his face to return to its normal temperature. “As you can see, I’m perfectly alright, so there’s no need for you to still be here, Mitchel.”
“I thought, perhaps, we could talk before the Council meeting,” Mitchel said, seemingly unphased by Jazz’s ire. He moved in close, causing Jazz to push the door open just so that he could move away from him. “I said some things the other night that were -- rather uncalled for.”
“It’s a little late for that,” Jazz hissed, shielding his body with his door. He avoided Mitchel’s eyes as the weight of Savin’s body on top of his pervaded his mind. “It’s over, Mitchel. I told you that before. Now please, leave me alone.”
“Jasper --”
“Leave, Mitchel,” Jazz repeated, narrowing his eyes at him. His mind churned with various emotions and thoughts, each struggling to triumph over the other and escape via his throat. “I’m sorry, I just -- I can’t do this anymore, okay? I don’t want to be someone’s fucking dirty secret, and that’s all I’ve ever been to you, and I just -- I can’t. So please, just fucking go to the Council meeting without me.”
“Jazz, please, let me speak,” Mitchel pleaded, putting his hand to Jazz’s door and preventing him from shutting it all the way. Jazz glowered at him, but made no move to force the door shut in Mitchel’s face. “I love you --”
“Yeah right,” Jazz spat, tears burning at his eyes. “Yeah fucking right -- you just -- I can’t do this anymore. I can’t, okay? Hell, last night, I --” Jazz clamped his mouth shut and looked away from Mitchel, his cheeks burning with shame as tears streamed down them.
“What did you do?” Mitchel asked, his voice thankfully level and controlled. Just like everything else about him. Every move, calculated and measured to fit the situation exactly. How could Jazz trust any of it? How could any of it possibly be real? The only thing that possibly could be was the way Mitchel’s eyes softened whenever he saw Jazz -- that couldn’t just be an act, could it?
“Jasper -- what did you do?” Mitchel repeated, snapping Jazz out of his thoughts. This time, Mitchel’s voice wavered as he spoke. If Jazz looked closely enough, he thought he might have seen tears beginning to form in the corners of Mitchel’s eyes.
“I...” Jazz opened and closed his mouth uselessly before shaking his head. He glanced around Mitchel, noticing the lack of others in the Palace hallway. Still he spoke as quietly as he could as the words soon spilled from his lips. “I slept with someone else, last night,” he confessed, tears stinging his eyes all over again.
Mitchel didn’t stop him from shutting his apartment door all the way, that time.
Next Chapter