Gray Morning Rewrite -- Chapter 2
Those of you who are members of writerverse may have already seen this chapter -- but I also mentioned I was iffy about the execution of the second half. Behold! The official version of chapter two -- new and improved, and much more to my liking.
If you're reading Gray Morning for the first time, previous chapter(s) can be found here:
1
Savin stood in front of the bathroom mirror, hands gripping the edges of the pristine marble sink. His hair was in disarray, sticking up at odd angles even despite having just finished taking his shower. He almost didn’t want to fix it, but instead reached for his comb and tried to tame it. His narrow eyes seemed narrower than usual due to the puffiness lining them.
“Savin? You okay?” Jazz asked. Savin watched him stick his head through the open gap of the bathroom door in the reflection of the mirror and managed a small, tired smile at Jazz’s obvious concern.
“Yeah,” Savin answered. Judging by the frown on Jazz’s face, Jazz knew Savin was lying through his teeth. How in the world could he be okay? They were getting ready for his mother’s funeral. “Just -- give me another minute, okay?”
Jazz nodded, his head disappearing from the reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sighing, Savin closed his eyes and took a moment to simply breathe. When he opened them again, he put the comb back inside the medicine cabinet and flexed his fingers.
They ached, and not in a way he was used to after several long hours of surgery. It was an entirely different ache, one he couldn’t describe, and it was happening more and more in the past year.
The rest of him ached, too, but he attributed that to age as he finally pushed himself away from the sink. They had a long day ahead of them, and Jazz still needed to get ready. Slowly, Savin turned away from the mirror and made his way out of the bathroom. When he emerged in the bedroom, Jazz was sitting on the edge of the bed, a tie loosely draped around his neck, fingers working the knot expertly.
“Figured I’d get it started for you,” he said with a sheepish smile, pulling the loose tie from around his neck. He got up from the bed and approached Savin and held it up in his hands. “All you have to do is pull it over your head and tighten the knot,”
Savin nodded, his lips twitching into something he felt might have resembled a smile on a different day. “Thanks,” he whispered, taking the tie from Jazz’s hands. “Go take your shower. I’ll go ahead and get dressed and meet you out in the living room, okay?”
“Okay,” Jazz said. “What time’s Hajime supposed to be here?”
Savin picked his phone up from the nightstand next to his side of the bed. “In about an hour.”
Jazz nodded, slipping out of his night shirt and boxers. Normally, Savin would watch the other man’s every move, but today he could barely look up from his phone. “Some of the Council may come to the funeral,” Jazz said after a moment, clearing his throat.
“I expected Alexandra to,” Savin said with a shrug. He paused, frowning as he put his phone back down on the nightstand and looked at Jazz, who now had a towel wrapped around his waist. “Who else?”
Jazz blanched and looked away from Savin.
Savin narrowed his eyes and frowned. “If Mitchel shows up, I’m kicking him out of the damn service. There’s no need for him to be there. He’s never even met my mother --”
“I know,” Jazz said, meeting Savin’s eyes again. “I told him that. But he insisted he ‘provide whatever assistance he can in your time of need.’”
“He can ‘provide assistance’ by just not fucking showing up,” Savin growled, snatching his own pair of boxers and slipping into them. He saw Jazz shake his head out of the corner of his eye. “What?” he snapped, reaching for his pants, next.
“Nothing, it’s just --” Jazz sighed and bit his lip. “He’s not a bad person, Savin.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. He’s just bad with people,” Jazz muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, I already asked him not to come -- but you know how well he listens to me, sometimes. Just -- don’t be surprised if he shows up, okay?”
Savin clenched his jaw. “Okay,” he said, forcing himself to take in a deep breath. “As long as he doesn’t make a scene at my mother’s funeral --”
“I know,” Jazz said, walking back over to Savin and giving him a brief hug. He pulled away and kept his arms wrapped around Savin’s waist. He then directed Savin to look at him, their eyes meeting fully for the first time that morning. “I promise I will try to keep him occupied -- and I promise not to discuss the Empire with anyone, including him, while I’m there.”
“Okay,” Savin repeated, giving Jazz a soft smile in return. He cupped Jazz’s cheek with his hand before leaning in to kiss him. “You need to take your shower,” he murmured.
“I know,” Jazz whispered back, pulling Savin flush against him. He let his hands slide up Savin’s bare chest. “You said we had about an hour, right? I still have plenty of time to comfort my husband.”
Savin’s smile widened, just slightly. “It almost sounds as though the ‘comfort’ might be sexual in nature,” he quipped. Jazz’s quiet laugh eased some of the tension in Savin’s shoulders, and Savin found himself leaning in again to press another kiss to Jazz’s forehead. “While that would be much appreciated...”
“I know.” Jazz smiled at Savin and hugged him again. “If you were in the mood for that, we’d be doing it, already.”
That time, Savin managed a low chuckle himself as Jazz pulled away from him. “Probably.” Jazz just shook his head and turned on his heel, heading towards the bathroom.
The brief moment gone, Savin sighed and reached for his shirt, slinging it over his shoulders. His fingers worked the buttons slower than usual, the pain in them intensifying with every little, calculated movement.
He had never been more grateful that Jazz had pre-knotted his tie for him in his life.
***
The funeral itself proceeded without so much as an issue. Jazz had managed to keep Mitchel occupied and away from Savin. Thankfully, Mitchel had somewhere else he needed to be, so he wouldn’t be at the wake. Which was good -- Jazz could tell Savin’s nerves were fraying, and fast. He had seen the way Savin’s hands shook whenever he talked, no matter how much the older man tried to hide it.
Sighing, Jazz turned away from Savin and glanced up at the sky, noting the gray clouds that had yet to budge from that morning. Snow. They were calling for snow already, this season. Jazz shook his head, pushing that thought from his mind as he reached for Savin’s hand. Savin jumped at his touch, and Jazz gave his husband an apologetic smile.
“Want me to drive back when we leave?” he asked quietly, squeezing Savin’s fingers as Savin pulled them into the parking lot of the reception hall. “You can just take a moment to grieve, you know.”
“I know,” Savin mumbled, squeezing back. Jazz could see the tears forming in Savin’s eyes, so he looked away to give Savin a moment of privacy. Savin then lifted Jazz’s hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to Jazz’s knuckles. “I’m just -- not one for big, emotional displays in public, remember?”
Jazz smiled at him, pulling his hand away and ruffling Savin’s hair. “Yeah, I know,” he said, pushing himself out of the car. “C’mon, let’s get this part over with so we can go home and relax and eat ice cream for dinner.”
Savin just shook his head, a slight smile breaking out on his face as he, too, climbed out of the car. “Do we even have ice cream?” he laughed.
“Who knows. I’m the goddamn Emperor. I can make ice cream magically appear in our room before we get there, if I need to,” Jazz responded, turning to smile back at Savin. His smile immediately fell when he noticed an older woman walking towards them.
Savin followed Jazz’s gaze and glanced over his shoulder. A brief, full smile broke out on his face. “Mari!” he cried, his voice sounding warmer than it had all day, and a chill traveled down Jazz’s spine. Savin approached her, enveloping her in a hug the second he was close enough to do so. “It’s so good to see you! I’m surprised you made it,” he said into her long, dark brown hair. Jazz felt his stomach twist and knot at how Savin held her close.
Mari hugged him back before pulling away quickly. “Did you really think I would miss your mother’s funeral?” she murmured, looking up at him with round, dark eyes. “How’re you holding up?”
Savin shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from Mari. He then turned to Jazz, as if he were asking him for help. “He’s been holding up alright,” Jazz answered for him, slipping an almost possessive arm around Savin’s waist. Savin jumped at the touch, but relaxed against Jazz’s arm all the same. “I’ve been making sure he takes care of himself.”
Mari nodded, a soft smile forming on her lips. “That’s good -- lord knows someone has to make sure he does,” she said, her smile growing larger. She tucked her hair behind her ear before folding her arms loosely over her chest. “Wanna get caught up inside? It’s a little chilly out here -- not to mention I feel like there’s a million eyes watching us....”
“That would be the Guard,” Savin muttered, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. “You don’t ever get used to it,” he continued, pulling away from Jazz and heading towards the reception hall doors.
“It’s not that bad,” Jazz grumbled, running his fingers through his hair. “I at least told them to keep their distance, today. Don’t think I’m in that much danger at private funeral.”
“Yeah...” Mari trailed off, glancing around the parking lot. She then turned to Jazz, a slight frown on her face. “I hate to ask, but -- there have been these rumors going ‘round of an underground rebellion -- any truth to that?”
Jazz blinked, frowning himself before raking his fingers through his hair yet again. He glanced at Savin, who gave him a slight nod of his head, as if to tell Jazz if he wanted to answer the question, he could. While Jazz knew Savin would prefer it if he didn’t talk about the Empire while at the wake, he also knew that Mari could be trusted.
“We’re still looking into it,” Jazz answered with a sigh. He bit his lip, choosing his next words carefully. “There have been threats made, though I’m not sure if there’ve been more of them than usual. It’s difficult to tell just how organized this ‘rebellion’ is -- if there is even such a group, to begin with.”
Mari nodded, her frown not budging as she then turned to Savin. “Doesn’t that worry you?” she asked him, putting a hand on his arm as the three of them walked inside the reception hall.
Savin blinked and shied away from Mari’s touch, much to Jazz’s relief. He then bit his own lip, once again looking towards Jazz for help. Jazz just raised an eyebrow in response. “Well, yeah,” Savin said finally, pursing his lips together, “but it’s not like I can stop Jazz from making public appearances or giving speeches or whatever. It’s just -- part of his job, I guess. Besides, that’s why he has the Guard -- they’re supposed to protect him, y’know?”
“True,” Mari said, turning to Savin and offering him another smile. “How’s your father doing?”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Savin said, pointing towards a table where a lone man sat. Hajime held a small glass in his hand and lifted it towards his lips.
Jazz hadn’t seen Savin’s father in quite a while -- probably not since their wedding, a few years ago. But there was no mistaking that this man was Savin’s father. The two looked eerily similar, right down to their darker complexions and the shapes of their noses. If it weren’t for Hajime’s graying hair and Savin’s green eyes, Jazz might have believed the two were twins, not father and son.
The three of them approached the table, and Hajime looked up at them over the edge of his glasses. His lips parted in a brief smile as he pushed himself out of his seat. Jazz blinked as he, too, approached Mari first, giving the woman a brief hug. “It’s been too long, Mari,” he said as he pulled away from her and settled back down in his seat. He then turned to Savin and Jazz, acknowledging them both with a stout nod of his head. “Savin. Jasper.”
Jazz ignored the way his skin crawled at the sound of his full name and gave Hajime a smile in return. Savin didn’t even offer his father that much and nodded to Hajime much the same way. “Father,” he muttered as he made to sit down. Jazz followed Savin’s lead, who sat down on the opposite side of the table as his father. Mari sat next to Hajime, and Jazz sat between her and Savin.
“It really has been too long,” Mari said, clearing her throat and tucking her hair behind her ear again. “How are things at the hospital? Savin and I haven’t gotten to talk much, lately -- I’ve been so busy with the fellowship...”
“They’re good,” Hajime said warmly, turning to Mari. “I’m gearing up for retirement -- and someone will have to become Chief of Surgery in my place.” Hajime gave Savin a pointed look as he said that and picked up his glass yet again.
Jazz felt Savin tense at his side. “I told you, Father,” Savin muttered, picking up the complimentary pitcher of water and pouring himself a glass. Jazz noticed the slight grimace on Savin’s face, even though it disappeared quickly. “I’m not cut out for a leadership role like that.”
“You’re the best surgeon we have, Savin,” Hajime said in response, his voice lacking the warmth it contained just moments earlier. “And if you need help learning how to lead, your husband should be able to provide you with that.”
Jazz frowned at the way Hajime said “husband.” He’d almost prefer it if Hajime simply referred to him by his full name. Savin seemed to notice it, too, the way he clenched his jaw before taking a sip of his water. “Jazz is rather busy running the Empire, Father. We hardly have any time together as it is -- if I become Chief of Surgery, that’ll cut into what little time we do have.”
“You seem to have no issue asking others to cover your shifts for you, just so you can have extra time with him,” Hajime pointed out, a slight frown on his face. “You didn’t even answer your phone when I called you several times, the night Nina --”
“It was our anniversary!” Savin snapped, slamming his glass back down on the table. “And how was I supposed to know you were calling about Mom? You were supposed to be working my shift for me, not --” Savin cut himself off and shook his head, putting a hand to his face and bowing his head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I knew she was sick, but -- I didn’t realize things had gotten that bad. If I had known...”
Hajime shook his own head. “She didn’t want you to know,” he said, as if that were explanation enough. Jazz frowned at that and slipped a comforting arm around Savin’s shoulders. “You know how your mother was -- she’d have gladly continued pushing herself if it meant not worrying either one of us.”
“What did she have?” Mari asked, furrowing her brow. “Last I talked to Savin, Nina was healthy.”
“Lupus,” Hajime answered. “She was diagnosed when you and Savin were still together, Mari -- it was just under much better control, then.”
Mari nodded, turning to Savin. “Why didn’t you tell me Nina had lupus?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I thought I did tell you,” Savin answered. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat, some, looking anywhere but at Mari. “She was -- it was well under control. You know lupus isn’t necessarily life-threatening. I didn’t want to worry you. I know how much you loved my mom.”
Jazz frowned to himself. Even he hadn’t known Savin’s mother was sick. Just like Mari, he had thought she was perfectly healthy. He had even seen her not that long ago, saw the way she seemed to struggle to move, at times. Nina was fond of visiting Savin on his days off, after all, and sometimes Jazz would have a few moments of downtime as well. He thought Nina’s less graceful moments were brought on by age, not some illness.
“You still should have told me, Savin,” Mari insisted, biting her bottom lip. She then turned to Hajime, placing a hand on the man’s arm. “How did she die? Lupus doesn’t usually result in life-threatening complications...”
“She had several strokes,” Hajime answered, his voice unusually thick with emotion. Jazz blinked at the sound of Hajime’s voice. “It all -- happened too quickly for anyone to save her. I just wish I had been home when she passed...”
“I’m -- gonna go to the bathroom, real quick,” Savin said suddenly, pushing himself out of his seat. “Excuse me.”
Jazz immediately turned to him, understanding jolting through him as he saw the tears forming in the corners of Savin’s eyes. He nodded, watching as Savin made his way around the table and towards the bathrooms. Part of him wanted to go after him, but deep down, he knew it would be better to give Savin a moment of privacy.
Still, his chest ached as he wished, briefly, that he could do more to support Savin in his time of need.
If you're reading Gray Morning for the first time, previous chapter(s) can be found here:
1
Savin stood in front of the bathroom mirror, hands gripping the edges of the pristine marble sink. His hair was in disarray, sticking up at odd angles even despite having just finished taking his shower. He almost didn’t want to fix it, but instead reached for his comb and tried to tame it. His narrow eyes seemed narrower than usual due to the puffiness lining them.
“Savin? You okay?” Jazz asked. Savin watched him stick his head through the open gap of the bathroom door in the reflection of the mirror and managed a small, tired smile at Jazz’s obvious concern.
“Yeah,” Savin answered. Judging by the frown on Jazz’s face, Jazz knew Savin was lying through his teeth. How in the world could he be okay? They were getting ready for his mother’s funeral. “Just -- give me another minute, okay?”
Jazz nodded, his head disappearing from the reflection in the bathroom mirror. Sighing, Savin closed his eyes and took a moment to simply breathe. When he opened them again, he put the comb back inside the medicine cabinet and flexed his fingers.
They ached, and not in a way he was used to after several long hours of surgery. It was an entirely different ache, one he couldn’t describe, and it was happening more and more in the past year.
The rest of him ached, too, but he attributed that to age as he finally pushed himself away from the sink. They had a long day ahead of them, and Jazz still needed to get ready. Slowly, Savin turned away from the mirror and made his way out of the bathroom. When he emerged in the bedroom, Jazz was sitting on the edge of the bed, a tie loosely draped around his neck, fingers working the knot expertly.
“Figured I’d get it started for you,” he said with a sheepish smile, pulling the loose tie from around his neck. He got up from the bed and approached Savin and held it up in his hands. “All you have to do is pull it over your head and tighten the knot,”
Savin nodded, his lips twitching into something he felt might have resembled a smile on a different day. “Thanks,” he whispered, taking the tie from Jazz’s hands. “Go take your shower. I’ll go ahead and get dressed and meet you out in the living room, okay?”
“Okay,” Jazz said. “What time’s Hajime supposed to be here?”
Savin picked his phone up from the nightstand next to his side of the bed. “In about an hour.”
Jazz nodded, slipping out of his night shirt and boxers. Normally, Savin would watch the other man’s every move, but today he could barely look up from his phone. “Some of the Council may come to the funeral,” Jazz said after a moment, clearing his throat.
“I expected Alexandra to,” Savin said with a shrug. He paused, frowning as he put his phone back down on the nightstand and looked at Jazz, who now had a towel wrapped around his waist. “Who else?”
Jazz blanched and looked away from Savin.
Savin narrowed his eyes and frowned. “If Mitchel shows up, I’m kicking him out of the damn service. There’s no need for him to be there. He’s never even met my mother --”
“I know,” Jazz said, meeting Savin’s eyes again. “I told him that. But he insisted he ‘provide whatever assistance he can in your time of need.’”
“He can ‘provide assistance’ by just not fucking showing up,” Savin growled, snatching his own pair of boxers and slipping into them. He saw Jazz shake his head out of the corner of his eye. “What?” he snapped, reaching for his pants, next.
“Nothing, it’s just --” Jazz sighed and bit his lip. “He’s not a bad person, Savin.”
“He’s an asshole.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s a bad person. He’s just bad with people,” Jazz muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, I already asked him not to come -- but you know how well he listens to me, sometimes. Just -- don’t be surprised if he shows up, okay?”
Savin clenched his jaw. “Okay,” he said, forcing himself to take in a deep breath. “As long as he doesn’t make a scene at my mother’s funeral --”
“I know,” Jazz said, walking back over to Savin and giving him a brief hug. He pulled away and kept his arms wrapped around Savin’s waist. He then directed Savin to look at him, their eyes meeting fully for the first time that morning. “I promise I will try to keep him occupied -- and I promise not to discuss the Empire with anyone, including him, while I’m there.”
“Okay,” Savin repeated, giving Jazz a soft smile in return. He cupped Jazz’s cheek with his hand before leaning in to kiss him. “You need to take your shower,” he murmured.
“I know,” Jazz whispered back, pulling Savin flush against him. He let his hands slide up Savin’s bare chest. “You said we had about an hour, right? I still have plenty of time to comfort my husband.”
Savin’s smile widened, just slightly. “It almost sounds as though the ‘comfort’ might be sexual in nature,” he quipped. Jazz’s quiet laugh eased some of the tension in Savin’s shoulders, and Savin found himself leaning in again to press another kiss to Jazz’s forehead. “While that would be much appreciated...”
“I know.” Jazz smiled at Savin and hugged him again. “If you were in the mood for that, we’d be doing it, already.”
That time, Savin managed a low chuckle himself as Jazz pulled away from him. “Probably.” Jazz just shook his head and turned on his heel, heading towards the bathroom.
The brief moment gone, Savin sighed and reached for his shirt, slinging it over his shoulders. His fingers worked the buttons slower than usual, the pain in them intensifying with every little, calculated movement.
He had never been more grateful that Jazz had pre-knotted his tie for him in his life.
***
The funeral itself proceeded without so much as an issue. Jazz had managed to keep Mitchel occupied and away from Savin. Thankfully, Mitchel had somewhere else he needed to be, so he wouldn’t be at the wake. Which was good -- Jazz could tell Savin’s nerves were fraying, and fast. He had seen the way Savin’s hands shook whenever he talked, no matter how much the older man tried to hide it.
Sighing, Jazz turned away from Savin and glanced up at the sky, noting the gray clouds that had yet to budge from that morning. Snow. They were calling for snow already, this season. Jazz shook his head, pushing that thought from his mind as he reached for Savin’s hand. Savin jumped at his touch, and Jazz gave his husband an apologetic smile.
“Want me to drive back when we leave?” he asked quietly, squeezing Savin’s fingers as Savin pulled them into the parking lot of the reception hall. “You can just take a moment to grieve, you know.”
“I know,” Savin mumbled, squeezing back. Jazz could see the tears forming in Savin’s eyes, so he looked away to give Savin a moment of privacy. Savin then lifted Jazz’s hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to Jazz’s knuckles. “I’m just -- not one for big, emotional displays in public, remember?”
Jazz smiled at him, pulling his hand away and ruffling Savin’s hair. “Yeah, I know,” he said, pushing himself out of the car. “C’mon, let’s get this part over with so we can go home and relax and eat ice cream for dinner.”
Savin just shook his head, a slight smile breaking out on his face as he, too, climbed out of the car. “Do we even have ice cream?” he laughed.
“Who knows. I’m the goddamn Emperor. I can make ice cream magically appear in our room before we get there, if I need to,” Jazz responded, turning to smile back at Savin. His smile immediately fell when he noticed an older woman walking towards them.
Savin followed Jazz’s gaze and glanced over his shoulder. A brief, full smile broke out on his face. “Mari!” he cried, his voice sounding warmer than it had all day, and a chill traveled down Jazz’s spine. Savin approached her, enveloping her in a hug the second he was close enough to do so. “It’s so good to see you! I’m surprised you made it,” he said into her long, dark brown hair. Jazz felt his stomach twist and knot at how Savin held her close.
Mari hugged him back before pulling away quickly. “Did you really think I would miss your mother’s funeral?” she murmured, looking up at him with round, dark eyes. “How’re you holding up?”
Savin shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away from Mari. He then turned to Jazz, as if he were asking him for help. “He’s been holding up alright,” Jazz answered for him, slipping an almost possessive arm around Savin’s waist. Savin jumped at the touch, but relaxed against Jazz’s arm all the same. “I’ve been making sure he takes care of himself.”
Mari nodded, a soft smile forming on her lips. “That’s good -- lord knows someone has to make sure he does,” she said, her smile growing larger. She tucked her hair behind her ear before folding her arms loosely over her chest. “Wanna get caught up inside? It’s a little chilly out here -- not to mention I feel like there’s a million eyes watching us....”
“That would be the Guard,” Savin muttered, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. “You don’t ever get used to it,” he continued, pulling away from Jazz and heading towards the reception hall doors.
“It’s not that bad,” Jazz grumbled, running his fingers through his hair. “I at least told them to keep their distance, today. Don’t think I’m in that much danger at private funeral.”
“Yeah...” Mari trailed off, glancing around the parking lot. She then turned to Jazz, a slight frown on her face. “I hate to ask, but -- there have been these rumors going ‘round of an underground rebellion -- any truth to that?”
Jazz blinked, frowning himself before raking his fingers through his hair yet again. He glanced at Savin, who gave him a slight nod of his head, as if to tell Jazz if he wanted to answer the question, he could. While Jazz knew Savin would prefer it if he didn’t talk about the Empire while at the wake, he also knew that Mari could be trusted.
“We’re still looking into it,” Jazz answered with a sigh. He bit his lip, choosing his next words carefully. “There have been threats made, though I’m not sure if there’ve been more of them than usual. It’s difficult to tell just how organized this ‘rebellion’ is -- if there is even such a group, to begin with.”
Mari nodded, her frown not budging as she then turned to Savin. “Doesn’t that worry you?” she asked him, putting a hand on his arm as the three of them walked inside the reception hall.
Savin blinked and shied away from Mari’s touch, much to Jazz’s relief. He then bit his own lip, once again looking towards Jazz for help. Jazz just raised an eyebrow in response. “Well, yeah,” Savin said finally, pursing his lips together, “but it’s not like I can stop Jazz from making public appearances or giving speeches or whatever. It’s just -- part of his job, I guess. Besides, that’s why he has the Guard -- they’re supposed to protect him, y’know?”
“True,” Mari said, turning to Savin and offering him another smile. “How’s your father doing?”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Savin said, pointing towards a table where a lone man sat. Hajime held a small glass in his hand and lifted it towards his lips.
Jazz hadn’t seen Savin’s father in quite a while -- probably not since their wedding, a few years ago. But there was no mistaking that this man was Savin’s father. The two looked eerily similar, right down to their darker complexions and the shapes of their noses. If it weren’t for Hajime’s graying hair and Savin’s green eyes, Jazz might have believed the two were twins, not father and son.
The three of them approached the table, and Hajime looked up at them over the edge of his glasses. His lips parted in a brief smile as he pushed himself out of his seat. Jazz blinked as he, too, approached Mari first, giving the woman a brief hug. “It’s been too long, Mari,” he said as he pulled away from her and settled back down in his seat. He then turned to Savin and Jazz, acknowledging them both with a stout nod of his head. “Savin. Jasper.”
Jazz ignored the way his skin crawled at the sound of his full name and gave Hajime a smile in return. Savin didn’t even offer his father that much and nodded to Hajime much the same way. “Father,” he muttered as he made to sit down. Jazz followed Savin’s lead, who sat down on the opposite side of the table as his father. Mari sat next to Hajime, and Jazz sat between her and Savin.
“It really has been too long,” Mari said, clearing her throat and tucking her hair behind her ear again. “How are things at the hospital? Savin and I haven’t gotten to talk much, lately -- I’ve been so busy with the fellowship...”
“They’re good,” Hajime said warmly, turning to Mari. “I’m gearing up for retirement -- and someone will have to become Chief of Surgery in my place.” Hajime gave Savin a pointed look as he said that and picked up his glass yet again.
Jazz felt Savin tense at his side. “I told you, Father,” Savin muttered, picking up the complimentary pitcher of water and pouring himself a glass. Jazz noticed the slight grimace on Savin’s face, even though it disappeared quickly. “I’m not cut out for a leadership role like that.”
“You’re the best surgeon we have, Savin,” Hajime said in response, his voice lacking the warmth it contained just moments earlier. “And if you need help learning how to lead, your husband should be able to provide you with that.”
Jazz frowned at the way Hajime said “husband.” He’d almost prefer it if Hajime simply referred to him by his full name. Savin seemed to notice it, too, the way he clenched his jaw before taking a sip of his water. “Jazz is rather busy running the Empire, Father. We hardly have any time together as it is -- if I become Chief of Surgery, that’ll cut into what little time we do have.”
“You seem to have no issue asking others to cover your shifts for you, just so you can have extra time with him,” Hajime pointed out, a slight frown on his face. “You didn’t even answer your phone when I called you several times, the night Nina --”
“It was our anniversary!” Savin snapped, slamming his glass back down on the table. “And how was I supposed to know you were calling about Mom? You were supposed to be working my shift for me, not --” Savin cut himself off and shook his head, putting a hand to his face and bowing his head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I knew she was sick, but -- I didn’t realize things had gotten that bad. If I had known...”
Hajime shook his own head. “She didn’t want you to know,” he said, as if that were explanation enough. Jazz frowned at that and slipped a comforting arm around Savin’s shoulders. “You know how your mother was -- she’d have gladly continued pushing herself if it meant not worrying either one of us.”
“What did she have?” Mari asked, furrowing her brow. “Last I talked to Savin, Nina was healthy.”
“Lupus,” Hajime answered. “She was diagnosed when you and Savin were still together, Mari -- it was just under much better control, then.”
Mari nodded, turning to Savin. “Why didn’t you tell me Nina had lupus?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I thought I did tell you,” Savin answered. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his seat, some, looking anywhere but at Mari. “She was -- it was well under control. You know lupus isn’t necessarily life-threatening. I didn’t want to worry you. I know how much you loved my mom.”
Jazz frowned to himself. Even he hadn’t known Savin’s mother was sick. Just like Mari, he had thought she was perfectly healthy. He had even seen her not that long ago, saw the way she seemed to struggle to move, at times. Nina was fond of visiting Savin on his days off, after all, and sometimes Jazz would have a few moments of downtime as well. He thought Nina’s less graceful moments were brought on by age, not some illness.
“You still should have told me, Savin,” Mari insisted, biting her bottom lip. She then turned to Hajime, placing a hand on the man’s arm. “How did she die? Lupus doesn’t usually result in life-threatening complications...”
“She had several strokes,” Hajime answered, his voice unusually thick with emotion. Jazz blinked at the sound of Hajime’s voice. “It all -- happened too quickly for anyone to save her. I just wish I had been home when she passed...”
“I’m -- gonna go to the bathroom, real quick,” Savin said suddenly, pushing himself out of his seat. “Excuse me.”
Jazz immediately turned to him, understanding jolting through him as he saw the tears forming in the corners of Savin’s eyes. He nodded, watching as Savin made his way around the table and towards the bathrooms. Part of him wanted to go after him, but deep down, he knew it would be better to give Savin a moment of privacy.
Still, his chest ached as he wished, briefly, that he could do more to support Savin in his time of need.