c h a p t e r. 17

"Things are sweeter when they're lost. I know--because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot, and when I got it it turned to dust in my hand." ― F. Scott Fitzgerald

chapter 17

Jazz knows that Castor has friends-- has people outside of just him and his family-- to rely on.

Honestly, he does.

He knows that the Castor is an amazing person-- God, star, whatever-- and that he was likeable underneath his almost constant 'I hate existence and people' glare that he wore whenever he wasn't looking at the musician and he was interesting and talented and cute and--

Okay. Yeah. He was just amazing.

He has friends.

Jazz didn't know one of his friends would be a 6'2, blonde haired, blue eyes muscular dude who looked like he never stops moving for anything or anyone and who looked like literal silver when he spoke.

But now he certainly knew, because that very friend shouted, "Oi, Cassie!" across the street from where the everyone (and now Ahmik, too) were walking towards the club on the sidewalk.

Then this almost-glowing man just fucking darts through the traffic earning himself getting honked at just to reach Castor.

"You're in party gear?" The man grinned widely in all pot pans and christmas tinsel, silver bouncy and unkept. "Can I come?"

Then he knows an arm around the celestial who doesn't even care-- the same celestial who hates human contact, who hates almost everyone, who literally glares at his own twin herself when she touches him without warning.

Ah, Jazz can't help but to frown as Cas' attention is completely caught away. They definitely care about each other.

"We're going to a club," The celestial informs. "I can't stop you even if I wanted to but hey, at least this will be the first party in three years where you actually look good. By good I mean not wearing grass stained sweatpants, crocs and no shirt."

He's seen him shirtless.

Jazz didn't know how to feel about that.

"If I look good by your standards I must be doing something right." The dude just shrugs and ruffles the celestial's hair. That and the semi-flirty comment alone makes the musician want to go, no touching, he's mine! But that obviously wouldn't be appropriate since these two were obviously friends and good ones by how comfortable they act.

"Fly," Castor smacks him in the gut-- Jazz doesn't know if it's his name or an insult but he's leaning towards it being his name. "You're living up to your name."

He was right.

"Thanks!" Fly-- what kind of parents named him that?-- chirped.

"I've told you already," Cas smirked. "It's not a compliment."

"Awh," He pouts back, making Jazz want to pout because well, he wanted Cas' attention. Jeez, he was turning into an attention-whore. Or at least one for Cas. "But you said when I get to the big leads it's gonna mean something good."

Scoffing, Castor pretends to gag while looking at the blondie, "I said if, not when. Either way, you're not there yet."

"You're so mean Cassie, no wonder--" Fly shakes his head, then cuts himself as he spots the girls and Max not too far off. "Hey! Is that Cece and Nerdy?"

Him and Noelle do a whole pointing thing, nicknames and all while Circe laughs.

Ah. Good-good friends. Family-knowing friends.

Touchy-friends.

Aw, man. Jazz didn't think he was the jealous type!

Stupid blondie. Stupid emptions. Stupid.

Unable to help himself, Jazz pulls Castor right into his chest, arms wrapping around the celestial's shoulder and middle as he asks, "Who is he?"

"Oh, sorry." His God apologizes but the musician doesn't quite know why-- he can't be more important than this friend, so it's perfectly understandable for Cas to forget him for a little while as he catches up. "He's Flynn Jacus--"

"My name!" Flynn, not Fly, whips around to face them. "That's right, I'm Flynn Jacus, protector of the running back and ball, therefore Cassie, during our games. I'm his game wife. I take our vows seriously." But Castor is supposed to be his. "And when I can't be there to tackle for him, I watch over him like a mother hawk, allowing him to score points by my excellent throws."

"Man," Noelle grins at them, joining the conversation in a bloom of marigolds and bright oranges. "You haven't changed a bit since middle school."

Game wife.

Serious vows.

Mother hawk.

Middle-school friend.

Got it.

Or, at least, he would get it if his jealousy didn't sneer at the blondie's stupid not-too-ugly face. Jazz sighed, knowing that Fly-- why, just why that nickname?-- didn't do anything wrong and he couldn't be mean or rude.

At least not outside of his head.

After all, it's not his fault that the musician didn't know how to control his own emotions.

"He's my teammate, has been since fifth grade. He's my friend, I guess, on the field. We never really hang out otherwise," As Noelle and Flynn start to bicker, Castor starts to explain, but never takes his eyes off of the blondie. Which, admittedly, makes Jazz feel a little small. "But we're pretty chill with each other. I don't hate him, unlike most fucking people I meet."

"Oh." Jazz doesn't stop his arms from tightening in a futile attempt at stating that, I'm still yours, yes? Futile because, mere seconds later, the celestial is pulling away from him to scold his friend.

Okay, nice.

He has this. He doesn't have to let his anxiety spiral out of control. He doesn't have to freak out over literally nothing-- over a guy who looks better then him and certainly acts more fun and who Castor seems genuinely more comfortable around.

He doesn't have to worry about this guy who the celestial is just sticking around, who makes him not look at Jazz when the musician usually has those lightning-strike gray eyes flitting over to him every now and again.

And he definitely doesn't have to get jealous over how at ease they are touching each other. Or how familiar Noelle and Circe are to him.

Definitely not.

Definitely not.

Because it's not like Castor will be completely ditching him for this guy, right? It's not like he freaked him out earlier that night by talking about his past-relationship shit.

Oh God, did he? Did the celestial only pretend to be okay with it and relate to it or be nice about it because he saw how upset Jazz was? Did he get completely disgusted with him? Does he still like him?

Did he like him in the first place?

What about--

"Jazz," Viv jabs him in the hip and suddenly, he's not sure how, they're standing in front of the club's doors with Jeffery-- the bouncer and one of his friends-- looking right at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Ah, right," Jazz blinks, or at least tries to, back into reality but all he can really hear is Castor laughing along to something right next to Flynn whose tinsel-colored song pushes into the mint and ethereal green. "Sorry, here."

Handing Jeffery his ID, because even if he was a co-owner of the place (all Astoria estates, assets, or companies got granted ownership to his mama and when he turned eighteen, was given to him but some of his cousins and aunts or uncles was given rights over the domains, too) it was mandatory and soon they're let past the long line and were sitting in his designated VIP section at the very top.

Jazz sits on the right inside corner, Castor right next to him on his left and Noelle on the outside and sticking close to her best friend's side while Viv and Circe already were on the dance floor, Ahmik by them to stop any creeps from getting too close and Max disappeared the second they got into the door.

"Hey, Hubby." Fly nudges the celestial.

Jazz's jaw clenches.

"Hi." Castor says back, eyebrows raised.

"Hi..." He wiggles in his seat, tinsel song going wiry-- like he wants something.

Cas shakes his head, mint knowing exactly what that something was as he says, "Hi, Wifey."

"Thank you." Flynn claps excitedly. "Anywhore, wanna go dance? Nerdy already agreed, Circe might join too."

"Wanna join?" Castor turns to him then, probably one of the first times he's fully looked at him since Flynn joined them and-- no, nope. He's not going to be petty like that.

"Nah," Jazz grins, hoping he doesn't look off. "Go have fun."

Frowning, his God wrinkles his nose and asks, "Are you sure? If it's too overwhelming for you, I'm okay with leaving. I'd rather have fun with you at home than make you uncomfortable."

He really does want the celestial to have fun. That's what they came to do, after all. He doesn't want his ridiculous jealousy to be the reason that Castor couldn't hang out with his friend and have a good time.

He just can't dance either-- all those bodies around him makes him panic.

And he doesn't want to feel ignored either, even if he isn't being ignored.

So Jazz just smiles wider and waves the celestial off with a small call of "Have fun!"

He doesn't try to watch everything Castor does, honestly.

He doesn't want his eyes to be glued to his hands and the way they'll playfully shove Flynn away from him. Or the brilliant smile and laughter he gives out, the spiralling seafoam that Jazz can see even from all the distance between them.

He doesn't want to watch as the two friends stumble together, laughter on their lips as they try to catch themselves or the weird way Noelle will bump their hips together to make the two boys bicker.

He doesn't want to watch that.

So he doesn't try to, he doesn't focus on the jealous feeling that is slowly overtaking his body and telling him to go, go, go claim what is ours and to not listen to that possessive part of him that just wants to cling to Castor.

He doesn't listen to the jealousy he inherited from his Goddess mama or the bull-face stubbornness he got from his dad.

He just sits, quietly as someone can in the middle of a club, and traces the marble table's pattern with his eyes. But then the silver mixed in with the white and black swirls is only reminding him of how Flynn looked spinning Cas in a circle.

"Mr. Ozias, Sir," A soft voice full of pine needles and Christmas lights makes him startle as he realizes someone had been standing in front of him. "I was told by Mr. Azurite to talk to you?"

Sitting up at his name-- it's his middle one but in the business world and to pretty much anyone else important he's known as Ozias Astoria, simply to keep in the Astoria name and to minimize confusion.

Setting his mind into business mode and to try and shake off the anxiety and jealousy, Jazz nods and leans back in his seat as he nods as the woman-- whose face he can't really see because her song was so bright and loud-- puts out a packet in front of him.

"I, um, just started to work here, Sir, and my manager told me that I need to get these signed by one of the higher ups?"

"You don't need to call me sir, Ozias is fine." The musician told her, knowing that he's probably not even a full year older than her and formalities like that always bugged him. "What's your name?"

"Oh!" The girl's Christmas lights got a bit calmer and he saw her brown eyes widen. "It's Calliope, sorry sir-- er, I mean, Ozias."

"It's no problem," Jazz waved her off, looking down at the packet she had given him.

Only 17, guardian-permission granted, half-time working and already in college, needing a permit that only he can give for mixing drinks, worked in the back rooms as a shelf-stocker and rarely missed a day's work. Turning the page, he notes one claim of violence against her that was dropped after the investigation (a drunk pervert, it seemed, was involved so he didn't ask). Further into the papers it was a contract agreement she signed and he read through it with pursed lips before looking back up at the nervous girl.

"No one explained to you the benefits to working here did they?" Jazz asked, then at her confused look, went on to explain how their insurance company worked and after a year of employment she can file to their private finance and health professionals that he loans out to any company under his name for full coverage.

"If you stay working here while in college and at least three months after graduation, my company will continue to pay for any and all educational and health expenses that might come up." He lets her now, quickly getting a pen from her to mark all the important information. "If your household brings in less than a certain amount of income per year, past debts will also be paid and--"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Calliope was holding her hand over her mouth, looking at him with slightly teary eyes. "You just... I don't have to pay for college?"

"No, you don't. The insurance is what covers all medical and health expenses, including a therapist and for two emergency needs for family members but I pay for intuition, books, dorm living and anything else out of my own pocket." He explains. "That's why you have to go through my financial advisor and not the company's paid program. Any questions?"

"Um, with the, with the emergency needs for family," She clearly hesitates but he urges her on, this a welcome distraction compared to his jealousy. "Does that include cancer treatments?"

"Yes, it also includes up to a five year coverage for medicine even after you quit and until any treatment you or your family ends."

Continuing the conversation and explaining how the financial things work, that she still is getting paid even if they are covering her educational and health fees completely, and that she absolutely does not have to pay them back at all.

She tells him how they couldn't afford her mother's chemotherapy even though the cancer was treatable and that's why she got a job like this so young, and he told her to call his financial advisor when she got home to schedule a meeting to get the money she needed for it.

By the end of it, Calliope was in full-blown tears and more than grateful that he explained all that (he made sure to get the name of her manager who should've done that anyways, to either fire him or ensure that he starts doing his job correctly if he was new to it) and everyone else was started to come back to the table, looking happy but breathless from dancing.

"Thank you so much," She wiped her tears, taking the packet back after he signed it with shaky hands after Castor and Flynn, the last two people to come back, began to sit in the book-- everyone else respectfully silent and looking between their friend and the waitress. "Can I get everyone drinks now? Oh, Francois is going to be so mad that I took so long."

"Okay, first, if your manager is that much of a dick, I seriously need to fire him." Jazz scowled, briefly waving at his God politely before turning back to Calliope. "When you hand those papers in to Azurite, let him know I need to speak to him, please. Oh! I also wrote my work phone number on the side in case you have any issues or things aren't running smoothly. Sometimes the dummies around here don't know how to get their heads on straight unless someone is directing them."

She beams, "Thank you again! This will help me so much, Mr. Ozias."

"It's no problem," Jazz smiled back. "Just get your contact turned in and everything else will be taken care of."

"You're the best boss, literally," Calliope giggles and then turns to everyone else. "So, can I get you guys drinks?"

"Uh..." Ahmik, and pretty much everyone else, just looks very confused but it's Viv-- of course, Viv-- who just wiggles in her seat and prattles of an order of tequila shots and a bloody mary that prompts everyone to get what they want.

Ahmik, sour and bitter on the inside, orders a Black Russian, two parts coffee, five parts vodka and it's no surprise while Circe and Noelle order more fruity drinks and an appetizer of breadsticks.

Max was still nowhere to be found, but he's probably fine.

"Oh! I'll have a Rum and Coke!" Fly yelped out, banging an excited hand on the table that shot silver sound into the air. The celestial rolls his eyes, saying he'd like a virgin lemon martini to which his friend snickers and jabs his face with a finger.

Castor and Flynn were sitting close as they told her what they wanted, the blondie's arm around the God's shoulders and Jazz looked away, jaw clenching because he wanted the celestial on him, not over there.

"And you, Mr. Ozias?"

My God on my lap, please.

"W-what?" Jazz blinks, then realizes she meant drinks. "Oh, um, a Brandy Alexander, please." He likes it because it tastes like milk shakes and because-- since his papa doesn't drink has a high alcohol tolerance-- it doesn't get him anywhere close to tipsy. Which is a good thing, because he speaks a rapid fire mix of German and French when he's drunk.

"Right away, sir," Calliope folded her packet into her apron before quickly disappearing into the crowd to retrieve their order.

"Okay, I have to fucking ask," Ahmik sighs out, leaning onto the table and drawing everyone's eyes to him. "What was all that, with the Ozias shit?"

"My name?" Jazz tilts his head to the side and then his eyes widened when he realized that oh, they really don't know that extent of what being an Astoria meant. "Oh, I uh, I kinda own this whole place. Any Astoria business o-or, or um, any of the corporations and estates or whatever is under my name and my name alone, even i-if other family members have control over different domains-- but other businesses and employees know me as Ozias Astoria. It's my, it's my m-middle name. Basically I'm, I'm the boss' boss' boss."

Circe snaps her fingers towards him, "Like the boss level in a video game. Gotta get through all the other baddies but you're the big one at the top."

"Exactly," Jazz smiles at her, glad they understood his ramble.

Glad but still jealous because Fly just leaned down and snickered something to Castor that had the star's ears go red.

"What was she thankful for, little J?" Viv asks, leaning closer to him and he pushes her back with a finger on her nose. "Rude."

"Whatever," Jazz sticks his tongue out at her, his piercing glinting off the light and Noelle gasps, probably not knowing he had that one. "But she was thanking me for the full education, health coverage thing that all my employees get."

"Right," The weirdo nods, them having talked about this before. "I remember you pulling so many all nighters to set that into place once you got all the right and stuff handed down to you and like, your Tio Zircon not having the proper steps up."

Jazz grumpily pouts and mumbles, "He was a bad boss. Didn't even have things up to guarantee maternity leave and all that. It was bullshit."

"Oh my god!" Circe hit the table, making the musician jump. "You swore!"

"I, um-- I, yeah?" Jazz flushes. "I do that sometimes?"

"But you're so wholesome?"

His best friend snorts, "I've seen this giant puppy--"

"I'm not a puppy!" He whines, head drooping down to rest on his hands over the table.

"My point," Viv just gestures to him. "I've seen him just like, completely wipe out this dude with swear words alone. Given, it was in German and it's easy to curse people out but still. This guy, the things Jazz must've said to him, he looked like he was going to piss himself."

"That was a Creed, though," Jazz's face was flushed and the odd look Castor gave him, one he quickly looked away from and focused back onto his best friend. "He deserves to be called a pendejo and worse in every language I can."

"Okay, Mr. I'm fluent in nine different languages."

"Okay, Ms. I get sour 'cause I'm only stuck with two."

"Why do you even know that many?" Flynn asks, making Jazz stare at him with wide, mint eyes as he tries to grapple with his suddenly blank mind and the wild silver buzzing around him.

"Business reasons," Jazz nods to himself. "And my family, too. They, they're very versatile with that sort of thing. My big sister speaks better Russian than me though, but that's because her fiance flirts or swears at her in it so she had to learn."

"Damien is a dick," Viv rolls her eyes.

"He's entertaining," Jazz smiles back. "Nyx is the one who ya' gotta watch out for. She had Papa's spitefulness and she married a crazy D'Silvetta like you."

"Says you, Red!" The weirdo gasps out. "You're just like your mama; cute, way too nice for your own good, acts adorable, but also jealous or protective as all hell sometimes. It's weird, I've literally seen Auntie Potato straight up just climb on Grandpa because she got a little antsy."

For whatever reason, his Tio Auggie called his Goddess mama Potato Queen so all his kids know her as Auntie Potato.

Which, admittedly, was a little funny.

As Viv and Flynn begin to argue, for whatever reason, over how a llama would wear a jacket, the celestial quickly moves to sit right next to the musician, a worried tint of pine in his otherwise seafoam song.

"Love," Castor lightly touches his jaw, making Jazz blush a soft pink he hoped the celestial couldn't see in the club's dim lighting. "Are you okay?"

"I um," Jazz, without even realizing he's doing it, moves back against the seat and tugs his God right into his lap, nuzzling their cheeks together lightly, then pecks his nose. Blinking at Castor, who's now almost eye level with him-- but still shorter-- Jazz admits, "I'm really jealous r-right now, but I want you to have fun, too."

He pauses before slowly turning his head to be able to look at him and asks, "What's there to be jealous about?" Ridiculous things. "I don't want anyone else besides you. And I was just with Noelle, who's a lesbian and Fly, who's straight."

"Fly is...doing things?" Jazz pouts, because the things Flynn's been doing he wants to do.

Castor goes to move away slightly, probably to ask Flynn what exactly he was doing, and Jazz's body acts on it's own and literally just pulls the celestial right back against him, face burying into his neck with a soft whine, hands gentle but tight around his hips.

He doesn't want his God to go back to Fly.

He doesn't want his God to leave him.

"Jitterbug," The celestial sounded more amused than anything else. "He's not even flirting with me. Not like anything Axel will do. If anything, he insults me."

"But he touches you." Jazz wrinkles his nose. "You don't let anyone t-touch you."

Castor, as if making a point, raises an eyebrow and glances down at their bodies which were pinned together, "You touch me."

"So does h-he. That's the problem."

"We've known each other for almost ten years, Jitterbug, we've played on the same team. He's an offensive tackle. I'm a running back." Cas growls, ticing in a small head jerk as he explains. "He's had my back physically for years, if I wasn't comfortable with him I couldn't play the game right. Trust me it's out of need, not want."

Nudging their noses together, the celestial softly sighs against his lips.

But he doesn't kiss him.

Which makes Jazz pout all the more and inquires him to ask, "Kiss?"

Chuckling as if he missed something, his star doesn't hesitate to lean forward just that sliver of a space and press their mouth together, bodies relaxing as Jazz tugs him closer, eyes closer and head buzzing with the green warmth spreading through his body.

Being with Castor is easy, even if his brain likes to make him overthink.

Castor is an easy person to like, to care about, to kiss and be with. He's just... amazing.

But, apparently, showing that appreciation wasn't given the right time because a low thwap! is ringing in Jazz's ears and the celestial jerks against him, lips moving away with a sharp growl as he says, "What the fuck, Fly?"

"The drinks, dipshit," Flynn snickers back. "But I don't think that's what you want to be tasting right now, so..."

Jazz squeaks at the comment, cuddling Castor closer to him as they bicker for a couple seconds and then the celestial turns to him with a sigh-- lighting-strike gray eyes softening and he asks, "Is there anything I can do to help with your jealousy?"

Flushing at the mention of such a ridiculous thing, the musician tilts his head slightly and shrugs a bit, "Um... I-I don't know? I'm yours. Not him. And I know that but, urm, I don't. Can y-you wear my jacket?"

"Silly," Castor softly cups his jaw and kisses him gently, only lasting a couple seconds but enough to make him blush to a whole new red. "I know you're mine, and sure, even though I'll look even smaller in it."

He was right about that.

Jazz couldn't help but to giggle happily as a now grumpy looking celestial climbs back into his lap, the leather jacket practically drowning him in all the extra material. It's sleeves were well past his hands and went almost to his knees.

By no means was Castor a tiny person-- he was 5'11 but he was also lean and Jazz was 6'5 and built like a giant. He had a lot of muscle too, so that didn't help the celestial at all in not looking completely adorable and oh-so-attractive in his clothes.

"Fucking giant," He grumbles under his breath.

Jazz can't help but to kiss him again, that jealous part of him completely delighted at the moment.