c h a p t e r. 10

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"There is only what you want and what happens. There is only grabbing on and holding tight in the darkness." ― Lauren Oliver

I wish you all never experience the torture of writing awkward scenes with your sister. Like, it's nice and all to have a writing buddy but sometimes just... no.

chapter 10

The moment Jazz stepped into their dorm, he could tell everything was just wrong. He didn't have to look, he could feel the change. The way the sound bounced, the way the soft radio's jittery tune was distorted, the constant buzz from the lamp; all gone or moved.

Everything was moved.

And it made Cas frantic.

Jazz was already starting to pick things and put them back to how it was, his people awkwardly standing in the living room not sure what exactly was wrong but knowledgeable in the fact that the people who usually lived in the space felt unfamiliar in it.

There was swearing, an odd growl here or there, no rose leaves or sunflowers or seafoam in sight as the celestial dug through his room for something-- a harsh crash! making Jazz, Eris and Nyx jump at the sound.

None of them could even ask what happened before an angry and ticing Cas was rushing past them and into the bathroom, the slamming open of drawers and cabinet doors making the Red and D'Silvettas share concerned glances.

Atlas just smirked like he knew something.

And, well, apparently he did know something because then Cas is storming past them for a second time, shouting, "Sawyer!" at the top of his lungs before-- literally--shoving him into their bookshelf.

"Where is it?"

These words are a warning from the celestial's mouth and nothing else.

And it triggers Jazz.

It triggers his dark thoughts all over again.

Grab him. Hurt him. Make him get away from what's yours.

Cas isn't mine.

Make him bleed.

That'd go too far.

Make him regret even looking at you. Make him regret it. Make him--

I can't--

Liar, they snarl. You want to. Stop lying. Stop pretending. Just show him. Show him not to act that way.

Show him that there are worse things to be than spiteful, show him that there are worse things than being angry, show him that you are one of those things.

The ache in his knuckles as they sparked against a cheekbone, the throb in his hands and the odd click in his ankle as his leg struck out, the way cries stained the air red and blood did the same to the ground.

The way he can't forgive himself.

The reason he's scary.

Scary? His thoughts cackle. Don't show him you're scary. Show him that you're terrifying. Show him that there's reasons people stay away from you.

Show him that anger you like to keep away.

Show him that you're not afraid of blood or bones or screams.

Show him that you know what it takes to make a man like him cry and show him how to do it without mercy. Show him not to touch Cas. Show him in a way you've shown them all before. Show them that you're not someone to be messed with.

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