c h a p t e r. 33

"I didn't grasp that desire and duty could rival each other, least of all that they most often did." -Susan Choi

chapter 33

Viv and Payton had a sleepover at Jazz's and Castor's cabin-- claiming the couple wasn't fully infected with craziness yet and that it immediately needed to be fixed until they were just as wacky as the two girls.

Which, obviously, would never happen but with how many pieces of popcorn his best friend bounced off his head, he felt close to going mad.

And, now, him and the twins were awake and making food. The god was still passed out in their room-- having woken up enough to kiss the musician good morning but still sleepy enough to cuddle further into the bed and not help with breakfast.

"Oh my fuck," Vivianna cackles out, tears in her eyes as she smacks the top of the counter.

Jazz gasped for breath, and was laughing so hard it hurt, face flushes as he struggled to speak, "Why-- holy fuck-- why would you do that?"

He broke into deep chuckles again, almost on the floor as his chest heaves with amusement, mint eyes shiny and crying as he sees the glare on Payton's face-- making him and Viv break down all over again.

"I didn't mean to!" The crazy lady was flushed deep with embarrassment and she whined. "Stop laughing at me!"

"C-can't!" Viv stuttered out, kicking her legs out with a giggle. "Oh my god. You just--" She snickered, banging a fist against her thigh as she tried to breathe, but all the words came out strained. "You just did that!

Payton decided to flip an egg not only with a spoon and her non-dominant hand-- but she also made it stick to the ceiling. And then she tried to get it down by throwing more eggs up there because 'the heavier it was, the more likely it was to fall'.

Just... no.

Jazz doesn't know where the D'Silvetta genius failed her, but he doesn't have enough time to question it when a loud bang comes from his room.

There's no "I'm okay!" or "Nothing broke!" or anything else from Castor that indicated that he was okay or awake, so if he did something in his sleep or fell and hit his head or something, he could really be hurt-- which makes him sober up from his laughing fit pretty fast.

Rushing to his room, followed closely by the twins, he throws the door open and is met with a heartbreaking sight.

The god is trembling, crying, a pained expression full of fear stuck on his face, eyes moving frantically under closed lids. His legs kicked out, and his arms slammed against the lamp-- the broken lamp, stuck between the bed and the little stand and making sharp shards dig into his skin.

"Viv, get the first aid kit, Pay call my papa." He instructs, rushing to Castor's side and quickly pinning the celestial down so he'd stop hurting himself, hand holding tightly just above his elbow to not cause harm to the injury any further but not let him stab himself anymore.

A nightmare.

He's having a nightmare.

"Castor," Jazz knows he sounds frantic-- but that's because he is. "Come on, wake up."

The god didn't say anything, just continued to struggle, a tragic sob falling from his lips as he began to fight against the musician-- knee coming up and hitting his side pretty hard, hands scratching at his skin and he thrashed.

"Viv! The kit!" He shouts, feeling the blood slick under his fingers as he struggled to keep his hold on the wild star. "Hurry!"

"I'm trying," Viv shouted back, voice thick with emotion. "It-- it's got stuck! Payton, you need to help me!"

"Fuck!" Her twin replied and the sound of her running footsteps were drowned underneath a green, fear-stained whimper.

"Castor," Jazz tries to shake him, his body over the god's and stopping him from hurting himself further even though, by now, he's positive that he'll have a good bruise here or there along with scratch marks to remind him of this moment. "Wake up!"

He needs to wake up.

Whatever moment, whatever nightmare or memory he was trapped in, was absolutely terrifying him.

Castor's left hand broke loose when he shifted and a harsh hit was delivered right to his stomach, making the musician lose his breath for the moment but he didn't care. The pain was little compared to how his heart ached at the sight before him.

Then, the god forze for a second, crying harshly but the green changed.

He's awake.

Jazz let out a breath of relief, "Star, you're safe, okay? You're s-safe."

He would never let anything happen to his god, his star, the one he loves.

They're on an island full of people he trusts, hundreds of miles away from anyone who would dare to hurt the god.

Here, now, they're safe from everything but their minds.

"I'm here, it's Jasper." He doesn't know if saying this helps, but he knows that after a particularly heavy nightmare like the one Castor just had, the facts of where and who he's with gets fuzzy. "You're safe."

The god flinches, but stops fighting him.

Which... is good, but it's not enough to make Jazz relax.

Slowly, he moves off of his boyfriend. The leg he had pinned down the celestial's after he was kneed moved to let him sit down, his weight shifting as he cautiously let go of his arms.

There's blood on his hands, and it's Castor's.

It feels like a sin.

He's watching his boyfriend carefully, and when lightning-strike gray eyes meet his own, the god breaks down into heart wrenching sobs, his body seeming to shrink in on itself.

Moving carefully and listening to his song-- his olive and basil song of self-hate and fear and disgust-- to know if he did something wrong, he hugged Castor, hands gentle.

He's always going to be scared that his hands are never as gentle as they should be.

"W-what happened, Star? We, we need to--" Jazz shouldn't be stuttering right now, he shouldn't be weak. He needs to be there for his god, he needs to help. He can't do that if he's an anxiety riddled mess. "We need to w-wrap your cuts."

Pulling them both up when he sees Viv in the doorway, he makes the god sit next to him and quickly takes the first aid kit, knowing that Castor is too out of it to notice. In sign language, the weirdo tells him his papa will be here soon and that Payton told him what happened.

The celestial seems spaced out of it almost the entire time Jazz is cleaning his wounds, a flex of his hand making the entire limb shake more as he looks around, seeming dazed by his injury, the nightmare, and the destruction around him.

There's a few cuts over his wrist, small bits of glass-- what the lamp was made out off-- embedded into the wounds, but the biggest concern was the large gash going from the middle of his wrist and almost to the crook of his elbow.

It scared Jazz, then, how vulnerable Castor looks in this moment.

Small. Terrified. There, but not.

He was ticing more than usual, shoulders and head and head jerking making it hard to clean and treat the wounds but Jazz-- after sanitizing his hands-- managed it in silence, his head spinning with how... disconnected the star's song sounded from how it usually did.

It was still beautiful, don't get him wrong, but it was more tragic than anything else.

Trauma is not kind to those who know the meaning of pain. The true, raw definition of what it felt like to not only break physically but mentally too.

Castor knew that definition, and it made sorrow find home in Jazz's chest.

The worst part is that, even though the nightmare ended, he was still scared-- still not able to speak unless it was a tic. That whatever he just had to relive was bad enough to make him lose himself to his own body.

It's not something the musician ever wanted his boyfriend to experience.

Having worked around the big cut and put down steri strips besides at the very edge where he still had to remove a piece of glass and clean it. It was a larger piece though, so he waited and inspected his arm to make sure it wasn't too deep-- thankfully, it wasn't-- but he was still very careful about it.

As he took it out with the tweezers, using his other hand to keep his arm steady, he was quick to add the last steri strip before proceeding to clean off the blood but he must've pressed to hard because the god jerked and flinched, arm trying to escape but he held it in place.

"S-sorry, there was a piece of glass still, um still i-in your wrist." Jazz stammers out, proceeding to put gauze over the wound, too, and holds it in place with medical tape before wrapping it. He cleans his hands with a wet towel, but he knows blood stains. "These are water proof if you, if you need to take a shower. I-I know that um, it helps me?"

Nodding, Castor tics verbally a couple times-- ones that aren't too common with him, but with growls and squeaks in the mix with Christmas lights-- but doesn't say anything and hold the top of Jazz's wrist in one of his hands, gently holding his jaw with the other as the god rests their forehead together.

The musician welcomed the closeness, the warmth, but it made him want to cry.

How... how could someone hurt Castor that bad? Bad enough to leave nightmares in their wake? The thought was almost impossible, he didn't and would never understand.

The emotion running through him was forgein; indescribable.

It made him want to scream, but horror had it's hold on his tongue, making his words choke down on sadness and fear.

It's a minute or two of the couple softly breathing the same air before JAzz finds the courage to pull away, placing a kiss onto the god's cheek, "I'll go start it then."

Jazz is quick to go to the bathroom, setting Castor's phone into a plastic bag in case he really needs him and can call-- he doesn't know if he's able to speak right now, or how long that'll last-- and takes out two towels and places them onto the counter.

Then he turns on the shower, putting it at a warm but not burning temperature and just in case, he hides the razors before putting out a fluffy robe if he'll want that too and hangs it up in view instead of in the drawer.

Moving to go back out to the room, he opens the door only to find Castor trying to open it on the other side, making him stumble back. He's about to apologize, then he sees the celestial's chest.

There's these red, bumpy lines-- scratches, he realizes.

His own arms from when he pinned Castor were bleeding, too, scratched like that as well but he didn't care about himself at the moment. The god didn't know he was hurt, and he wanted it to stay like that.

It'd make him feel bad.

The god was hurt too, though, there was also a bruise against his collarbone-- he probably hit himself.

"You're scratched," Jazz frowned. "And bruised?"

Did... did this happen often-- did this happen when the musician wasn't there? Is that why Castor didn't sleep sometimes, to avoid this?

The star holds up a shaky hand, showing he did it to himself, though Jazz already knew that. He nods and steps around him, not knowing if touching him was okay right now and stammered out, "I-I um, I don't know if you can call me if you n-need help, so um? I don't know, I'll be close, yeah -I'll be close."

All Castor does is nod.

Jazz sits on the best, lost to his thoughts, half-way in a daze and in a full numb panic by the time his cabin's door is slammed shut and Bar is rushing into his room. He kneels down next to him, hands hovering and unsure.

The musician takes one look at his papa and breaks down into a sob, hands fisting his hair as he gasps for hair.

"Son," His papa took Jazz into his arms and pulled him into a hug, arms gentle but tight as he gave that comforting dad-pat on his back. "Are you okay?" There was fear in his voice that no one that didn't know him could hear.

Jazz sniffles, pressing his face against his father's chest, "I... I never saw him l-like that, before." His voice shakes, and he doesn't try to stop the next wave of tears. "I didn't-- I didn't know what to do. He w-was bleeding, papa. Bleeding. He could've, h-he could've been hurt a lot, a lot worse."

"Is he bandaged up right now, safe?" He asks, nudging his son as he got him to sit down. At the musician's nod, he continues. "Then you did the right thing. I know you were trying to wake up and calm down Cas while Viv got the first aid kit and Payton called me. Having them do that was fast thinking, little J. The fact that you called me shows you knew what to do with things like this."

"What if, what if it happens again?"

His papa's dark eyes are sad as he replies, "It will. Your mama still has nightmares, y'know. They're rare, but they happen. It's... it's just something that you have to learn to deal with. It never feels like a sacrifice, but it is heartbreaking every time."

"I love him," Jazz's tears have slowed and he puts his face in his hands, hearing the shower running behind him, hearing his papa's worried song and distressed tune of his own. "I love him-- more than anyone I've ever cared about. More than life, Papa. It's terrifying."

"I know what that's like," Bar's chuckle is sympathetic.

"Course you do," He grumbled. "You did almost die for Goddess Mama."

His papa bumps their shoulders together, "Loving someone more than life isn't about whether or not you'd die for them. I have plenty of people I'd die for-- even that annoying ass Tio of yours."

"Tio Gus isn't that bad," Jazz huffs out, wiping his tears away. "But what is it about, to you, then?"

"It's... loving someone like that, loving your mother, I love her more than life." He said. "And growing up I never loved life. I hated it. I thought it was cruel, and it is. It's unfair and it gives bad people opportunities to succeed and good people excuses to die all the time. I didn't want to stay, to be here longer than I should. I... I needed to get away from it all. But her? I stayed for her. Loving someone more than life is about loving them enough that staying is worth it, not loving them in spite of it. It's about gaining something, gaining love and acceptance, not losing anything."

"Mama's magic," Is all Jazz could say in reply.

His papa was right, though.

Loving someone isn't about losing yourself or losing something else. It's an addition, a warmth. It's an exchange.

Loving someone with a mental illness is like that-- it's trading out night for day. Loving them won't cure their depression or Tourette's or instantly making them feel better. But it's comfort, it makes living easier. It's like just because the sun is shining, doesn't mean the moon isn't still there.

And days like this, days where nightmares and sadness and shame slam into their chests, it's merely an eclipse.

They'll get past it. They have to.

Jazz will still love Castorn-- not that there was any doubt to that-- whether their love is night, day, or an eclipse. He'll love him to the best of his ability.

He knows he can't make bad memories disappear, but making good memories might fill the space a little bit better.

"Are you hurt?" His papa suddenly asks, pink voice edging red. "There's blood on your shirt."

"It's Castor's," Jazz frowns at it, then realizes that no, no it's not. He rolls up his sleeves, showing the scratch marks that went from the inside of his forearm in short strokes, climbing until they almost reached his thumb.

The god was really scared-- scared enough to do this, thinking in his nightmare it was someone else.

Without saying anything, Bar cleans the cuts and wraps his arm. The damage wasn't too bad, they weren't that deep but there were a lot of them and it took a lot of his skin off. He doesn't know how he didn't notice the pain, but he'd like to blame it on the shock of what happened.

"Anywhere else?" His papa asks, and he shakes his head.

His stomach and side will just have a couple pretty bruises on it from where he was kneed and hit. No big deal, he bruises easily anyway and it's not like Castor meant to.

His papa quickly grabs him a new, clean long sleeve from his room and he changes, tugging the sleeves down so the bandage is hidden. This is when he notices that Viv and Pay were no longer there.

"D'Silvettas?" He prompts.

"Vivianna thought you guys would want privacy so she dragged Payton over to Dela's cabin." He explained. "So they're hers and Lavender's problem now. Also, what the hell is all over your kitchen ceiling?"

"Eggs," Jazz grumbled. "Pay thought it would be a great idea to see how many would stick before they all fell."

"Brilliant." His papa muttered in reply.

They fell into a silence, both lost in their thoughts until Jazz heard the shower shut off. There was a minute or two of shuffling and both him and his papa looked up at the bedroom door opened, lightning-strike eyes landing on him before moving to Bar.

Then the door is shutting again.

He shares a look with his papa, who with a raised eyebrow signs with a wide, worried slope to his hands, Should I go?

Just give him a moment, Jazz shakes his head, signing slowly, Star is probably overwhelmed.

And, doing just that proves to be the right move, because in a second or two Castor is slowly pulling open the door and stepping out.

Castor is clearly forcing himself to speak as he stumbles a little towards them, "I'm um, I-- in Eden-- I'm, just, I--" He cuts himself off and stops moving, running a hand through his hair. "Jitterbug, I'm sorry."

"Star," Jazz frowns, shifting to face his boyfriend. "You don't have to apologize."

"Before this conversation kicks off, I'm going to go," Bar says, standing up, looking between his son and the god. "Take care of yourself, kid, yeah? See you later, or whenever the fuck I get around to it. Call me, little J, and remember what I said."

Jazz nods and the couple stays silent as his papa leaves.

When the doors shut, the musician shifts so his back is against the corner, his legs stretched out and arms open-- body language purposefully open so if the god wanted to sit next to him without touching, he could easily do that on the L shaped couch but if he wanted to cuddle or hug, that would be easy too.

"Come 'ere," Jazz tilts his head. "I know you're still scared."

His song couldn't lie to him, even if the celestial wanted to.

Castor doesn't disagree or say anything, just walks up to the musician and hugs him, sitting over his thighs. He holds onto his boyfriend, arms wrapping against his slim waist without pause but lets the star pull back.

He has no interest in triggering the celestial or making him seem not in control of his own body.

Holding his face in his hands, Castor presses a short kiss to his lips, sighing against them, "I needed that."

Jazz doesn't know what he means by that, but he's not about to complain.

"Did you take your medicine?" He asks, hold loose. Castor nods, pressing his face into the musician's neck and breathing deeply.

He's sniffing me, Jazz realizes, and is unable to help what he blurts out next.

"Do I smell good?"

Castor gives a watery chuckle, "Like mint."

That's... not an answer. He, of course, likes mint. It's one of his favorite flavors but he knows that the god prefers strawberries, which were much sweeter on the pallet.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not-- in Eden-- at all."

"You always smell like bread and limes," Jazz informs.

He knows why this is-- because the god is a cook and baker that deals a lot with making things that smell that way, so eventually he just started to smell like that and the limes came from his shampoo.

Castor is quiet for a second, and the musician just stays silent as he softly strokes the star's back, before he asks, "Did I hurt you?"

"No," Jazz shook his head, ignoring the sting on his wrist and the soreness of his side. The real pain was the ache in his heart, and how it wept in his chest that his god had been hurt the way he did. "You're a god, but you're tiny."

This makes Castor scowl, "I am neither of those things."

"Liar." Brushing a hand through his wet hair, the musician hums this out. He pauses before asking, "Are you okay, my Star?"

"I'm-- Christmas lights-- okay as I can be."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Just," He takes a deep breath. "Just hold me, please."

Jazz nods, pressing their foreheads together and closing his eyes, feeling Castor relax against him-- the god's hands fisting the back of his shirt as his arms wrap around his neck in an effort to get closer.

Shifting to let his boyfriend do as he pleases, the musician lets himself be comforted while comforting Castor.

There was no shame in this.

He was only a man, and Castor was a God. They were allowed to feel and cry and have bad days where they need to relax.

And if this is how the celestial chose to calm down after a nightmare, there was nothing wrong with that.