Seize the Day - NaNoWriMo Attempt - Chapter 20
Well, apparently, I forgot I still had a few more chapters of this written that I hadn't posted -- and since I started working on this draft again, well... Time to spam, I guess. ;)
Previous Chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19
Savin frowned to himself as he and Jazz walked down the thin alleyways of the local market. Jazz stuck close to his side, one arm threaded through Savin’s. “You sure you’re alright?” Savin asked again, breaking free from Jazz’s grasp only to wrap an arm around the smaller man’s waist. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“Just -- a little overwhelmed, that’s all,” Jazz answered, offering Savin a quiet smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve never been to the local farmer’s market -- every time I’ve left the Palace, on my own or with the Guard, I’ve usually stuck to less...crowded spaces.”
“Are you afraid of being recognized?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. He flicked the baseball cap Jazz wore on top of his head. “I think that cap of yours does a good job of covering up your hair, at least. And hiding your eyes.”
“No, it’s not that,” Jazz said, shaking his head. “Even if I am recognized, it’s not like I’m my father, y’know?” Jazz’s quiet smile faded, his expression darkening entirely. “So what are we buying here, anyway?” he asked.
Savin welcomed the change in subject, smiling back at Jazz and letting his hand linger at the small of Jazz’s back. “We’re here to buy the vegetables, and the meat, I need to make dinner,” he said. “The farmer’s market is cheaper than most supermarkets and the quality of the food is that much better. I never shop anywhere else.”
Jazz nodded, his lips pressing together into a slight pout. “I see,” he said, continuing to stick close to Savin. “Is it always this crowded?”
“Most of the time, yeah,” Savin answered, offering Jazz an apologetic smile. “We can go somewhere else, if you want. The stall I’m looking for is just a little further down, and it’s usually a madhouse there this time of day. I don’t have to buy the ingredients I need here -- “
“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just -- it’s loud, and I’m just -- not used to it, that’s all,” Jazz said, shaking his head. This time, he gave Savin an apologetic smile of his own, and this one seemed to reach his eyes. “How often do you come here?”
“Depends on how often I work and what hours I work, honestly,” Savin said, guiding Jazz towards a fruits and vegetables stand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jazz’s own eyes widen at the sight of all of the fresh vegetables. “I try to make at least one or two large meals a week so I can take the leftovers into work, but I’m not always successful at it.”
“I can see that,” Jazz said, snickering. He poked Savin in the ribs. “You’re almost too thin, y’know. You should eat more often.”
“Kinda hard to eat if I’m in twelve hour -- or longer -- surgeries all of the damn time,” Savin said, shaking his head. “Trust me, I eat when I can. I just sometimes get really -- focused on what I’m doing, and I forget to eat. It happens.”
“Twelve hour surgeries?” Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow. “When my dad was in the hospital, weren’t his surgeries shorter than that?”
“They were, yeah,” Savin said, picking up a bell pepper and studying it closely before bagging it. He could feel Jazz’s eyes on him as he did so, and looked towards the shorter man. “Most surgeries aren’t that long, honestly. I am a trauma surgeon, though. I like piecing people back together after they’ve been in accidents and whatnot -- routine surgery can be kinda boring after a while. Trauma cases? Are almost never routine.”
Savin glanced towards Jazz again, who had an odd expression on his face. Savin raised an eyebrow at him. “What?” he prompted, moving down to the onions and carefully selecting one.
Jazz’s face turned a slight shade of pink. He then looked away from Savin, rubbing the back of his neck and shuffling his feet. “Nothing, it’s just -- how do you know which ones to get?” he asked, his face turning a darker shade of red.
Savin chortled at that and resisted the urge to give Jazz a teasing smile. Instead, he pulled the onion he had just selected out of the bag. “First thing I look for is size -- I like a lot of onion in my ramen,” he said quietly. “Next is color. There are different types of onion, too, but I prefer white onions for just about everything. Red onions are great, too.”
He paused, noticing Jazz’s attention was entirely focused on him. Savin felt his own cheeks heat up slightly and he glanced down at the onion, trying to regain his train of thought. “I look to see if the outer layer is stained at all -- this one’s pretty much pristine, as you can see,” he continued, turning the onion over in his hand. He then squeezed it. “It’s firm, too, not squishy like a rotted one would be.”
“Is the process the same for all them?” Jazz asked, sweeping his gaze over all of the fruits and vegetables before them. He seemed to relax, now, his shoulders no longer bunching together as he moved closer to Savin.
“Kinda sorta?” Savin offered in response, letting out a quiet laugh. “I mean, for fruits, you’re looking for ripeness, too. And underripe fruit just doesn’t taste anywhere near as good -- but I’m really sticking to basic vegetables for my ramen. So color and feel and size are really all I need to know.”
Jazz nodded, looking away from Savin and putting his hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t have even stopped to consider the fact you have to look for certain things,” he murmured after a while, his cheeks turning pink yet again.
“Well, you’ve never had to cook your own meals before, have you?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. He made his way down the aisles, making selections as he went along until he was satisfied with the supply that he had.
“Not really,” Jazz answered, clearing his throat. “Living in the Palace makes it a little easier to just -- up and order whatever food you want,” he continued, following behind Savin in the market. “So seeing all of this -- it’s...interesting.”
“I’m sure,” Savin said with a nod. He turned to face Jazz and offered him his free hand. “I think I’m done here, so let’s go ahead and pay for all this.”
Jazz took his hand and smiled. “Okay. We still have to get meat, too, right?” he asked, trailing just a bit behind Savin as they walked to the check out.
“Yes.” Savin smiled back at Jazz, placing his selections down on the short belt. He then let go of Jazz’s hand and pulled his wallet out from his back pocket. As he flipped it open, he noticed Jazz was biting his lip again. “What?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I can -- I can pay for this, if you --”
“Jazz, I have plenty of money,” Savin said, chuckling quietly to himself. “I’m a surgeon, remember? Doctors make pretty good money. And since I work for your father, now, too...”
“Oh, yeah,” Jazz said, laughing nervously to himself. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, it’s just -- I very rarely come out in public, and --”
“It’s okay,” Savin said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Jazz’s temple. The cashier looked between the two of them and frowned to herself, but otherwise continued to ring up the order in silence. Savin then quickly paid the cashier, shoving his change into his wallet and replacing it in his back pocket. “Did Mitchel used to have you pay for everything...?” he asked, the words leaving his lips before he could stop them.
Jazz blinked at the question, a slight frown forming on his face. “Mitchel and I -- we almost never went out in public together. Said he didn’t want to risk getting discovered by the media,” he answered as he and Savin moved away from the checkout counter. Savin snatched up the bags, wrapping the handles around his wrist and holding them loosely, letting the bags dangle at his sides.
“You’re not nervous about that, are you?” Savin asked, furrowing his brow and leaning in close to Jazz so that no one could overhear him. “I mean, you are the Prince, going shopping with a lowly, quote-unquote, ‘peasant,’ of sorts.”
Jazz paused, biting his lip as he took a look around the marketplace. He then moved in close to Savin, the two of them facing one another and off to the side of the pathway leading from one stall to the other. “I mean... yeah?” he answered after a moment, continuing to chew on his lip. “But -- that’s because my dad --” He stopped, his expression darkening all over again. “Never mind. Let’s just keep shopping, okay?”
Savin frowned to himself and held back a sigh. He tried not to think about earlier, how Jazz had cried and whimpered against his shoulder, presumably over a conversation the younger man had just had with his father. “Alright,” he said with a nod, offering Jazz his free hand yet again. The two of them walked hand-in-hand as they made their way to Savin’s next stop.
The two of them completed their shopping trip in companionable silence. As they made their way back to the Palace, Savin turned his questions over and over in his mind. Jazz’s spirits, at least, had seemed to be lifted some by their trip, and he didn’t once let go of Savin or pull away from him, not even when others blatantly stared at them.
“Aren’t you nervous about being seen out in public with me?” Jazz asked suddenly, his words causing Savin to jump, slightly, as they neared the vehicle provided to them by the Guard. “I mean -- if anyone recognized who I was, and made the connection that you and I were, y’know, dating --”
Savin shrugged his shoulders, opening the trunk to the car and placing his purchases inside of it. “It’s not like the public knows who I am, you know,” he said, shutting the truck with a quiet thud.
“Yeah, but --” Jazz sighed and shook his head. He then looked around the street, which was far less crowded than the marketplace alleyways. “You know what, it’s probably better if we spoke about this back at the Palace.” He paused, biting his lip for a moment as he approached the rear car door and opening it. “I think I’m ready to talk about what my dad wanted, too.”
Savin nodded, his own frown deepening as he, too, climbed into the car. As the man in the driver’s seat started the car, he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and sighed.
This wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation, was it?
Next Chapter
Previous Chapters:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19
Savin frowned to himself as he and Jazz walked down the thin alleyways of the local market. Jazz stuck close to his side, one arm threaded through Savin’s. “You sure you’re alright?” Savin asked again, breaking free from Jazz’s grasp only to wrap an arm around the smaller man’s waist. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“Just -- a little overwhelmed, that’s all,” Jazz answered, offering Savin a quiet smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I’ve never been to the local farmer’s market -- every time I’ve left the Palace, on my own or with the Guard, I’ve usually stuck to less...crowded spaces.”
“Are you afraid of being recognized?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. He flicked the baseball cap Jazz wore on top of his head. “I think that cap of yours does a good job of covering up your hair, at least. And hiding your eyes.”
“No, it’s not that,” Jazz said, shaking his head. “Even if I am recognized, it’s not like I’m my father, y’know?” Jazz’s quiet smile faded, his expression darkening entirely. “So what are we buying here, anyway?” he asked.
Savin welcomed the change in subject, smiling back at Jazz and letting his hand linger at the small of Jazz’s back. “We’re here to buy the vegetables, and the meat, I need to make dinner,” he said. “The farmer’s market is cheaper than most supermarkets and the quality of the food is that much better. I never shop anywhere else.”
Jazz nodded, his lips pressing together into a slight pout. “I see,” he said, continuing to stick close to Savin. “Is it always this crowded?”
“Most of the time, yeah,” Savin answered, offering Jazz an apologetic smile. “We can go somewhere else, if you want. The stall I’m looking for is just a little further down, and it’s usually a madhouse there this time of day. I don’t have to buy the ingredients I need here -- “
“No, no, it’s fine, it’s just -- it’s loud, and I’m just -- not used to it, that’s all,” Jazz said, shaking his head. This time, he gave Savin an apologetic smile of his own, and this one seemed to reach his eyes. “How often do you come here?”
“Depends on how often I work and what hours I work, honestly,” Savin said, guiding Jazz towards a fruits and vegetables stand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jazz’s own eyes widen at the sight of all of the fresh vegetables. “I try to make at least one or two large meals a week so I can take the leftovers into work, but I’m not always successful at it.”
“I can see that,” Jazz said, snickering. He poked Savin in the ribs. “You’re almost too thin, y’know. You should eat more often.”
“Kinda hard to eat if I’m in twelve hour -- or longer -- surgeries all of the damn time,” Savin said, shaking his head. “Trust me, I eat when I can. I just sometimes get really -- focused on what I’m doing, and I forget to eat. It happens.”
“Twelve hour surgeries?” Jazz asked, raising an eyebrow. “When my dad was in the hospital, weren’t his surgeries shorter than that?”
“They were, yeah,” Savin said, picking up a bell pepper and studying it closely before bagging it. He could feel Jazz’s eyes on him as he did so, and looked towards the shorter man. “Most surgeries aren’t that long, honestly. I am a trauma surgeon, though. I like piecing people back together after they’ve been in accidents and whatnot -- routine surgery can be kinda boring after a while. Trauma cases? Are almost never routine.”
Savin glanced towards Jazz again, who had an odd expression on his face. Savin raised an eyebrow at him. “What?” he prompted, moving down to the onions and carefully selecting one.
Jazz’s face turned a slight shade of pink. He then looked away from Savin, rubbing the back of his neck and shuffling his feet. “Nothing, it’s just -- how do you know which ones to get?” he asked, his face turning a darker shade of red.
Savin chortled at that and resisted the urge to give Jazz a teasing smile. Instead, he pulled the onion he had just selected out of the bag. “First thing I look for is size -- I like a lot of onion in my ramen,” he said quietly. “Next is color. There are different types of onion, too, but I prefer white onions for just about everything. Red onions are great, too.”
He paused, noticing Jazz’s attention was entirely focused on him. Savin felt his own cheeks heat up slightly and he glanced down at the onion, trying to regain his train of thought. “I look to see if the outer layer is stained at all -- this one’s pretty much pristine, as you can see,” he continued, turning the onion over in his hand. He then squeezed it. “It’s firm, too, not squishy like a rotted one would be.”
“Is the process the same for all them?” Jazz asked, sweeping his gaze over all of the fruits and vegetables before them. He seemed to relax, now, his shoulders no longer bunching together as he moved closer to Savin.
“Kinda sorta?” Savin offered in response, letting out a quiet laugh. “I mean, for fruits, you’re looking for ripeness, too. And underripe fruit just doesn’t taste anywhere near as good -- but I’m really sticking to basic vegetables for my ramen. So color and feel and size are really all I need to know.”
Jazz nodded, looking away from Savin and putting his hands in his pockets. “I wouldn’t have even stopped to consider the fact you have to look for certain things,” he murmured after a while, his cheeks turning pink yet again.
“Well, you’ve never had to cook your own meals before, have you?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow. He made his way down the aisles, making selections as he went along until he was satisfied with the supply that he had.
“Not really,” Jazz answered, clearing his throat. “Living in the Palace makes it a little easier to just -- up and order whatever food you want,” he continued, following behind Savin in the market. “So seeing all of this -- it’s...interesting.”
“I’m sure,” Savin said with a nod. He turned to face Jazz and offered him his free hand. “I think I’m done here, so let’s go ahead and pay for all this.”
Jazz took his hand and smiled. “Okay. We still have to get meat, too, right?” he asked, trailing just a bit behind Savin as they walked to the check out.
“Yes.” Savin smiled back at Jazz, placing his selections down on the short belt. He then let go of Jazz’s hand and pulled his wallet out from his back pocket. As he flipped it open, he noticed Jazz was biting his lip again. “What?” Savin asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I can -- I can pay for this, if you --”
“Jazz, I have plenty of money,” Savin said, chuckling quietly to himself. “I’m a surgeon, remember? Doctors make pretty good money. And since I work for your father, now, too...”
“Oh, yeah,” Jazz said, laughing nervously to himself. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, it’s just -- I very rarely come out in public, and --”
“It’s okay,” Savin said, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Jazz’s temple. The cashier looked between the two of them and frowned to herself, but otherwise continued to ring up the order in silence. Savin then quickly paid the cashier, shoving his change into his wallet and replacing it in his back pocket. “Did Mitchel used to have you pay for everything...?” he asked, the words leaving his lips before he could stop them.
Jazz blinked at the question, a slight frown forming on his face. “Mitchel and I -- we almost never went out in public together. Said he didn’t want to risk getting discovered by the media,” he answered as he and Savin moved away from the checkout counter. Savin snatched up the bags, wrapping the handles around his wrist and holding them loosely, letting the bags dangle at his sides.
“You’re not nervous about that, are you?” Savin asked, furrowing his brow and leaning in close to Jazz so that no one could overhear him. “I mean, you are the Prince, going shopping with a lowly, quote-unquote, ‘peasant,’ of sorts.”
Jazz paused, biting his lip as he took a look around the marketplace. He then moved in close to Savin, the two of them facing one another and off to the side of the pathway leading from one stall to the other. “I mean... yeah?” he answered after a moment, continuing to chew on his lip. “But -- that’s because my dad --” He stopped, his expression darkening all over again. “Never mind. Let’s just keep shopping, okay?”
Savin frowned to himself and held back a sigh. He tried not to think about earlier, how Jazz had cried and whimpered against his shoulder, presumably over a conversation the younger man had just had with his father. “Alright,” he said with a nod, offering Jazz his free hand yet again. The two of them walked hand-in-hand as they made their way to Savin’s next stop.
The two of them completed their shopping trip in companionable silence. As they made their way back to the Palace, Savin turned his questions over and over in his mind. Jazz’s spirits, at least, had seemed to be lifted some by their trip, and he didn’t once let go of Savin or pull away from him, not even when others blatantly stared at them.
“Aren’t you nervous about being seen out in public with me?” Jazz asked suddenly, his words causing Savin to jump, slightly, as they neared the vehicle provided to them by the Guard. “I mean -- if anyone recognized who I was, and made the connection that you and I were, y’know, dating --”
Savin shrugged his shoulders, opening the trunk to the car and placing his purchases inside of it. “It’s not like the public knows who I am, you know,” he said, shutting the truck with a quiet thud.
“Yeah, but --” Jazz sighed and shook his head. He then looked around the street, which was far less crowded than the marketplace alleyways. “You know what, it’s probably better if we spoke about this back at the Palace.” He paused, biting his lip for a moment as he approached the rear car door and opening it. “I think I’m ready to talk about what my dad wanted, too.”
Savin nodded, his own frown deepening as he, too, climbed into the car. As the man in the driver’s seat started the car, he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and sighed.
This wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation, was it?
Next Chapter