p r o l o g u e

"That is part of the beauty of all literature. You discover that your longings are universal longings, that you're not lonely and isolated from anyone. You belong."

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

prologue

Jasper Red, for all of his life, has seen the world in an astray of music; sound dancing against the air in vibrant colors and flashes of dark reds and bright blues and soothing yellows.

Greens were his favorite.

Ever since he could remember, green has been there for him. In sparks of mint that twists around his tapping fingers, in a deep pine from his bouncing leg, a soft lime flowing from his guitar strings, a dark and distracting emerald that burst from his earbuds when he needed to get away from the world.

His mother's eyes, his father's voice, his twin's smile and older sisters' same laugh, the colors of his walls and the peaceful feeling that sprouted in his chest whenever he walked through the woods and stopped against an old oak tree to just feel.

When he was seven, Jazz was diagnosed with Synesthesia-- he could see and feel sound and with his introception synesthesia, often described as silver breathing and green tiredness, he could see different emotions as colors. He had the rarest form as well, lexile-gustatory, that let him taste certain words and sounds.

It made him... different

Different in a way that wasn't always noticeable; he'd blank out or get lost to the feeling of a noise or go blind as a certain sound surrounded him. He'd compliment the color of someone's voice or complain about the way his professor's voice was too bright to look at but no one understood.

Green was safe.

Green didn't have to be told; green was there and it knew what happened.

It was there to comfort him when no one else knew how.

Even if he got a migraine from how bright the sound seemed that day, even when he tripped over his own feet because the sound ricocheting from the concrete didn't let him see where he was going, even when he was so tired of the world and so drowned into the dark blues and draining grays it was there.

Green was in every song; all music and echoed from every string or drum. Music was there for him just as much-- it let him control the sounds, it let him mash and mush and make symphonies with sounds and colors.

Some days, his music was all he had.

Other days, he was luckier. Other days he could downplay the frustration that his synesthesia created and pretended to be normal. Pretended his world wasn't dancing and flashing in all the sounds and colors around him.

Today was one of those days where he didn't have to pretend.

He was officially moving into his dorm room, even though all his boxes had been dropped off there and the paperwork had been done for weeks, and his parents came with him to see him off.

Jazz was grateful for that; he loved his family and since Dela, his twin, had an important soccer practice she needed to be at and his other two older sisters were already off in their own colleges and busy with their partners and lives, it was nice to at least have his Papa and Goddess mama with him.

Though, it would have been better if he couldn't tell that his papa was flirting with his mama from his place on Pickles, his motorcycle, while they were in their car.

But he grew up overhearing his parents flirt-- gross-- and around his siblings who, like him, picked up on the vulgar and rather amorous vocabulary. Eh, that was the worst thing his parents ever did so he was a genuinely lucky dude.

Well, maybe not so lucky, because as soon as they got the dorm key and made it to his room, they found a bloodied guy passed out onto the floor with a bunch of books around him, a box overturned.

Honestly, it looked like some shit went down and the poor dude seemed to have gotten into a fight of some sort.

But his papa just sighed and looked at him, "Welcome to college, godling."

"Oly!" Clementine, his goddess mama, scolded. "Don't just say that! W-what if that poor kid is actually hurt?"

"Well, then thank fuck this place has a nurses station."

As his parents dissolve into a flirty fight, voices blending together into a soft lavender, Jazz frowns and cautiously makes his way over to the guy on the ground.

His nose was covered in blood, and it trailed down his chin and stained his shirt-- floppy short hair went in all the directions, his face pale and eyes moving underneath closed lids.

The dude looked like he honest to god just passed the fuck out and landed onto a pile of books, that or he got hit in the head by something or someone and they didn't bother to help him.

He doesn't look too good, Jazz decided. Almost as if he were dead.

Wait...

Was he alive?

Rushing over, the musician took off the book from his chest and saw how his body started to twitch-- shoulders rolling to the side and making the brunette's head hit against the floor, his hands clenching before spazzing out, an odd growling noise coming from his chest.

"Fuck," Jazz rushed forward, holding down his shoulders and pressed a hand to his head so he wouldn't hurt himself.

Was he having a seizure or something?

That's not good.

But... he was alive, at least.

Gently, Jazz shook his shoulders, making sure his head was tilted properly so that his bloody nose wouldn't make his choke, "U-um, excuse me, please wake up. I really don't know what to do here."

He went to speak again, only to cut himself off with a loud shriek when the guy just smacks his side-- still passed out and completely unexpected.

Then the guys was squinting at him, making Jazz's cheeks flush at this weird as fuck situation, before groaning loudly and reaching up to cup his nose.

"Not again," He sounded so done with life and sort of scratchy; tone deep and green. So very green-- a green Jazz didn't know how to explain besides ethereal and he's seen a lot of different greens.

Pretty voice.

Probably would have a pretty face too if it wasn't covered in so much blood and looked between a mixture of self-exhaustion and annoyance.

Welp. That's one way to be introduced to his probable roommate.

Unless this was just a random ass dude who broke into his dorm room, but Jazz doubted that as this was, for one, an expensive building and practically just an apartment building that was located on campus and, for another, they're on the fourth floor and the door was still locked when they got there.

"Not again?" Jazz frowned, watching as the boy-- man?-- tilts his head in an odd jerk, causing concern to fill him. He didn't want him to be hurt, even if they just met. "Did someone attack you? Again? What the fuck."

This guy looks, besides the blood, like a literal cinnamon roll. He had soft features, gray eyes, and nice hair despite it being so wild. His emotions were deep greens and blue hues and intense-- but they were also kind and warm, but just like his voice.

Honestly, Jazz has never been let down by what he saw; no bad person's inner song was ever that pretty.

No one's inner song was ever that pretty in general, too.

"No I," When a growl leaves his mouth, his shoulder's jerking and tensing under his hands, Jazz isn't necessarily surprised but it doesn't make the concern any less. He wouldn't let go, though, just because it was a little weird. He doesn't want him to hurt himself by accident. Then, as he's explaining, an adorable squeak leaves his mouth, "I have Tourettes and my tic made me knock that box into my head."

"Oh."

Tourettes.

Jazz has never met someone with tourettes before, but he knows what it is and that his tics can't be helped-- studying Music Therapy as his chosen major, he's done a lot of different research on how different neurological disorders might be affected by sound.

So, yeah, it was a little different than he expected but he'd never judge the guy.

Besides, he's been weird his whole life.

His family and friends aren't exactly normal nor is what they've gone through in their life; Jazz can pretty much adapt to anything.

He watches as the guy-- what was his name, did he say it?-- grabs his glasses and slides them onto his face, his eye winking and hand spazzing for a second before he wipes both of them onto his pants, trying to get rid of the blood covering them.

As he silently begins to pick up his books, Jazz turns to his mama with a helpless expression, watching as her light blue colors spike with teal. She was worried about him too and even though his Papa won't admit it, he could see the red lining his soft pink colors.

Clementine reaches forward a bit hesitatingly, tapping the young man on his shoulder and making his eyes flash to hers, "A-are you alright?"

"Yeah," He continues putting the books away and Jazz almost misses what comes next, too focused on the ethereal green floating around the air, twisting into his curls as the sound reaches his ears but doesn't register it. "I'm used to it."

Used to it? Jazz blinked, forcing himself to pay attention. But he's hurt.

Wait, he's hurt! He shouldn't be trying to clean up instead of making sure that he's alright!

"Shit," He quickly reaches out, not liking that he wasn't even acting affected by the blood all over him. He could see the stress lines, the sea green of worry and the self depreciation of olive and the hit of basil. He was scared of them judging him, but here he was, acting okay. "Here let me help you."

Before he could oppose, and not wanting to give him the chance to, Jazz quickly scooped up the last two books before properly standing next to him for the first time. He was... short-- well, not actually short, probably just under 6 feet tall, but compared to Jazz's 6'5 self, he was short.

Then Jazz is blinking and, instead of green, all he can see is gray. His eyes are beautiful, like melted silver and breathless laughs.

Holy shit he's handsome.

Short and cute-- oh man, this year is going to be rough.

Having that good looking of a roommate? That's so not fair.

"Bit hot innit," A squeak leaves his mouth, head twisting a way as his hands clench, then fly out by his sides, fingers curling into the air before resting again. The british accent that went along with the words was said in accompany to a dance of sunflowers.

Was... was he blushing?

"I'm Jasper," He offers a kind smile and his hand, hoping he didn't upset him too bad. "But you can call me Jazz, sorry for my parents. Also, are you okay?"

Please be okay and please tell me if you're not.

"Oh I'm-" He growls after punching Jazz's hand instead of shaking it. "I'm sorry. My name is Cas- -mother-duckling!- -and normally my tics aren't this bad this is just, what you call my twitches. I'm just nervous." He growls again, all pastel lime and ethereal greens. "By tonight I should be mostly normal."

Normal? He's worried about not being normal?

He has the most positively beautiful voice and he's worried about being normal.

But... he's just human.

He's just a guy going to college and live like anyone else. He matters and is probably trying his best-- and is so cute-- just like a lot of other people.

So Jazz just shrugs and asks, "Aren't you already normal?"

"No." His hand twitches, his eye winks at least three times and his shoulders roll back slightly, an embarrassed flush going onto his cheeks as mint overtakes the sea green.

Okay, so he doesn't want to talk about this.

Doesn't like the word normal.

So move the fuck on, got it.

"You're my roommate, right?" Jazz asks, then remembers he's supposed to have his own things but the boxes weren't in here-- the couches his Papa insisted on buying because 'every college kid needs a couch to pass out on' were though. "Where the hell is all my stuff?"

"I put all the personally labeled boxes in-" His head tilts back but his eyes stay locked onto Jazz's, a growl making him pause for a second. "-your room and the one labeled kitchen in the kitchen. Sorry for the mess."

Mess? He couldn't help that, he doesn't need to apologize.

It's not like he went, 'You know what would be fun? Knocking myself out with some books.' and then did it.

"It's not really a problem, like, not at all." He reassures, then he remembers something as his parent's colors start to blend into lavender the longer they sit together. It always did that-- his parents were so in sync that it was weird, admirable but weird. "This is goodbye, you guys aren't allowed to stay for the whole day like you did at Nyx's first dorm."

Jazz remembered how Nyx had to practically pick up their goddess mama to get her out of the apartment and to get Papa to follow, Damian-- her now husband instead of a dude who pretends to hate her-- snickered at her the whole time, even though Tio Auggie practically did the same thing to him the first time he visited.

Gotta love family.

"He left," Papa says, startling Jazz from his thoughts, the pink overtaking his mama's blue just a little, leaving a darker purple. "Do you still feel comfortable here?"

"Yes, Papa bear," He sighs out, moving to pick up Cas' box from the floor, putting it on the beanbag that was clearly his roommate's. Everything else on the room's surfaces seemed to be tidy, so he probably wouldn't want the box to just be on the ground all distributive.

"Godling," He points to the wall behind him and Jazz glances up to see a gay pride flag covering the surface. He blinks at it before scowling at his dad when his Goddess mama giggles.

"At least y-you know he won't judge you or cause problems," She smiles softly. "I was worried about that. Our family is very open about that sort of thing and accepting. I wouldn't ever want you to be in the position that you felt unsafe where you live."

"I know, Mama," Jazz shuffles over to her, accepting a finger boop before sitting down on the couch next to them. "And you guys know I'd call you or Dela if I felt uncomfortable, right?"

"Yeah," Bar sighs out, dark magenta edging the corners of his voice. Stressed. "I'm just... I love you a lot, godling, and I know that I should be used to all you guys moving out but I'm not. I'll miss the fuck out of you, so call me and don't be embarrased when I turn into that one dad that randomly visits his kid."

"I won't, Papa," He chuckles, giving his father a finger boop as well. "And I love you too. You and Mama prepared me a lot to live on my own, so at least you guys know that I'll take good care of myself."

"There's a lot I'm thankful that we taught you," His goddess mama smiles. "And you know how to cook well, that's an advantage not a lot of college kids have."

"True," Jazz smiles back, then falters as a thought hits him.

Could Cas cook?

Wouldn't that be a little difficult with his tourette's? What if he was trying to cook and got hurt or was chopping something up and cut himself?

What was a polite way to ask about that?

And, if he couldn't cook, would he be okay with Jazz cooking for him?

Jazz's parents continue to softly talk, but his focus goes completely out of the window as Cas quietly comes back into the room, his inner song playing above him in greens and blues and god-- what is that color?

How can something look so beautiful and he have no words to describe it?

How does Cas go about organizing like that and not even realize how beautiful he looks? The blood was cleaned off of him, his glasses low on his nose and shoulder relaxed besides the occasional head tilt. The light came from the large windows and played like a halo on top of his hair and--

And suddenly Jazz understood why, when his parents met, his Papa could only describe his Mama as a goddess; because, hell, there was no way this dude was human. Or not completely human.

Everyone is made out of stardust; Cas must have a bit more star, more warmth in him than the average person.

There's no way someone can be that green, that diaphanous, without being some kind of celestial being.

Then gray locks onto green and Jazz almost flinches at the overwhelming emotion in his eyes-- he's used to seeing everything out in the open, used to emotions and sounds and life just flowing around him.

But Cas? He held his emotions close to his chest. Jazz isn't supposed to know, isn't supposed to see, isn't supposed to understand what he's going through.

So he has to pretend not to, otherwise people get really... defensive. They call him a freak, they think there's something wrong with him. Something... broken.

He sees a flash of deep cyan curiosity and an raised eyebrow, but before Jazz could force himself to disconnect from Cas' music, his mama is speaking.

"Did y-you come here with someone?"

"Yeah," Cas politely turns to her, a growl emphasizing an odd wink. "They dropped me off."

"Who are 'they', parents?" His papa asks and Jazz wants to scold him for being nosey but based off the pout and nudge his mama gives to Bar, he'll be getting a lecture later.

Cas clenches his jaw and nods, a distant look enters his eyes as a weird, uneasy chartreuse takes over his green. He didn't like people asking questions, he didn't like them even attempting to get closer.

"You said your name is Cas, right?" Jazz asks, going with something easy that he already knew in an attempt to make him more comfortable. He could see his music playing above his head, but the longer he searched his face, the longer he realized his parents wouldn't be able to see any of the emotions playing on his neutral-- but randomly twitching-- face.

And he was handsome.

Jazz tried to ignore the heat that was crawling up his neck.

Ugh. Why did he have to be such a bi disaster?

"Yours is Jasper." The star nods to himself and cutely glances him in the eyes before looking back down at his books, hand twitching by his side.

"You can call me Jazz, just so you know."

"Okay." He winks. Jazz knows it's a tic, but it's cute anyways.

"He's my youngest," Papa glares and Jazz almost groans. "And this is his first year of college. I don't know you or what kind of person you are, but I can promise that the kind of person I am is the kind that would hurt a fucking college brat for hurting my kid."

Papa, he wanted to say. I'm a 6'5 giant, just as fit as you, and mama taught me how to fight. This guy is a soft looking cinnamon roll. He won't be able to hurt me.

"I won't hurt him." Cas waves them off, pursing his lips slightly as he turns back to his bookshelf-- cool! He has the ACOTAR series!-- but also says, "Ah, probably!"

Papa's glare softens slightly and Goddess mama leans back knows that, just like Jazz, the last two words were probably a tic. Besides, his family knows when someone's being genuine or not.

The Red Family Bullshit Radar has never failed them.

"That was a tic," The celestial flinches in on himself. "I won't hurt him. I'm just-" He growls. "I'm nervous right now. Stressed. Unpacking is stressful."

Jazz wished he didn't feel the need to apologize for something that he literally couldn't even control, but shrugged to reassure him that it was okay-- none of them were offended. "I'll be fine even if you try. Besides, you seem like a hella chill guy anyway. I think it's cool you're my roommate, compared to other kids of intolerant judgemental fucks around."

Jazz had walked around campus with his parents earlier that day and he'd heard some shit from other guys, his papa cursing them out and all three of them helping some chick that was getting harassed.

A lot of guys are hot, but fuck are they pricks.

"Judge-" Cas squeaks and, for a second, Jazz isn't sure if it's a tic or just how he is-- as his goddess mama squeaks sometimes too. "Judgemental fucks?"

"People that would judge you for that," Clementine pointed to the pride flag, voice soft and considerate but obviously trying not to offend him. "And him for being bi."

A soft mint of relief takes over the chartreuse and the celestial opens his mouth to speak but a growl fills the silence and his hands shake out, his arms tensing and relaxing before doing it all over again.

Jazz feels bad for stressing him out so much, and decides to interrupt the conversation before he could feel judged or awkward.

"I'm glad you decided to hang that up, Cas." Jazz tells him before telling himself: it's Cas, not Star, not a Celestial. Just Cas. "Do you want me to help you unpack, since it's stressful?"

"My brain freaks out if things aren't in the right place or messy," He says and Jazz thinks about the trinkets and odd objects he has packed away in his boxes-- ones he'll let him pick where they go. Which is no big deal. He'd rather have Cas comfortable than having shiny things just thrown about. "So no. Thanks."

"I have a bunch of trinkets and instruments," Jazz smiles, not sure how to word it better so he doesn't think he's getting picked on. "Do you want to pick where they go? I really don't care, as long as they're out in the open, since that will help your brain stay calm."

He saw how his emotions were starting to go into a seafoam color, his jittery music fading into something calm when he was organizing-- so it obviously helped him. Besides, Jazz grew up with siblings and mama who constantly had their own trinkets and a bunch of things moving spots, he could handle Cas rearranging things so as to not trigger him.

"You'd let me do that?"

The surprise in his voice didn't go unnoticed, neither did the color of rose leaves that went down from his shoulders to hug his chest. Was he not used to being considerable like that?

"Well yeah," Jazz says. "I offered didn't I?"

He did not mean to have that sound so snappy-- if it did sound snappy. He wasn't sure. Was it rude to ask?

Dela, his twin, would know. She's a people person just like their older sister Eris. Nyx would just tell someone to fuck off, and although he was just as vulgar, he was much more polite.

Polite but totally didn't know how to handle such a cute guy who was shocked at such a simple gesture of kindness.

"Oh." Cas pauses, head tilting to the side and his hands clench themselves. "I'd like that. Thanks."

Jazz got distracted by the pastel lime of his growl that-- some way, he isn't quite sure how-- he misses the movement that sends Cas stumbling to the ground, consequently landing between the musician's knees, making his body jump slightly from his position on the couch.

He doesn't miss the iris color of his parent's blended laughter.

He's just thankful Nyx wasn't here; she'd be making a dick joke. Actually, she'd just laugh, Dela would be the one to do that.

Panicking, Cas vaults away from Jazz before he even realizes what happened but ends up smacking the back of his head onto to book shelf, which isn't good at all because he was probably still tender from when he knocked himself out earlier.

"Why don't you come up here?" Jazz leans forward, offering him a hand up, knowing what clumsiness feels like-- even if their two clumsinesses are for different reasons-- and knows that it's definitely not fun.

"I don't want to interrupt family time."

"It's alright," Mama smiles, squeezing Bar's hand, her blue expanding toward Jazz comfortingly. He doesn't know how she does it, but it's something both her and Papa does-- though his kind of wraps around them in a protective hug. "We should be heading out soon a-anyway."

Jazz helps Cas up, trying not to think about how warm he is as the celestial sits next to him, trying not to think about the flustered sunflower colors tousled around his hair and the way his body curls closer to him seemingly subconsciously.

And he definitely tried not to think about the way he was so fucking cute.

But he did think about how it was getting a little late and that since his parents were leaving to give his papa enough time to cook-- and for his parents to dance in the kitchen like they do sometimes-- that Jazz would have enough time to cook too.

Maybe asking about that would allow him to find out if it was safe for Cas to cook without being offensive about it.

He'll have to do some research about tourette's later to know what to do and what not to do.

"Do you have anything planned for dinner?" Jazz asks, turning to face him.

The celestial was blushing. Why was the celestial blushing? Did he do something wrong-- did he embarrass him by accident?

"...not really."

Oh no, was he too stressed to eat? He got hurt and they've been here already for a good hour or so and he passed out before they even got to the building so when's the last time that he even ate?

"You've eaten today though," Jazz frowns, leaning forward. "Right?"

Cas' cheeks flushed-- given any other situation, he probably would be flirting but this poor celestial was already stressed enough-- and his music turned sheepish, the chords stronger but wary, blazing into mahogany and pine.

He didn't eat yet.

"Uh," Cas blinkss at him, gray eyes slightly wide."Yeah?"

The little liar.

"I don't mind making food."

"I don't either."

"That's safe for you?" Bar asks, glare still in place but his famous 'I hate life' glare and not the 'I hate you' glare. Jazz knew that his papa was a giant softie on the inside though. "It must be easy to hurt yourself."

That's... not how Jazz would've brought it up, but his father's always been more blunt than him.

"Was it the bloody nose that gave it away?" Cas asks with a head tilt.

Papa chuckles, pose relaxing as his goddess mama shares his slight surprise. Jazz really didn't expect Cas to joke about it with Bar-- knowing by the sea green he was a little wary of his papa.

He's brave, Jazz thought.

Not a lot of people can look at his 6'6, tattooed and piercing covered Papa or his 6'5 self without being a little judgy or stereotyping them, and Bar's 'I'll hurt you' speech surely didn't help.

Jazz realized his foot had been bouncing and decided to stand, needing to do something with his body before he started to spazz out and lose himself into the colors around him. "I want to start unpacking, is that okay with you both?"

His papa scowls but nods and his goddess mama says yes but-- of course-- they spend at least another ten minutes checking that he was okay and that he liked the apartment before finally allowing themselves to leave. His mother offered a finger boop and his dad pulled him into a tight hug, being more sensitive and already missing his son.

Jazz can't help but to think that, as chaotic and slightly worrying as the day had been, the rest of the year is going to be a hell of a lot more interesting.