Jazz Red's Anomaly

c h a p t e r. 38

"He has no need for faith who knows the uncreated, who has cut off rebirth, who has destroyed any opportunity for good or evil, and cast away all desire. He is indeed the ultimate man." -Gautama Buddha

chapter 38

Getting onto the plane was fairly easy, especially because his papa helped them take the bags and because not everyone was coming home with Jazz and his celestial-- who was just flicking through his phone as they waited.

He was bored out of his mind, and when their private pilot told them they could board and Castor didn't seem to hear him, the musician easily lifted him onto the platform.

Unfortunately, he seemed to have surprised him.

The god pushed back against him, grabbing his wrists before seeming to realize what happened when he glanced back at him and said, "Sorry, I didn't know we were moving."

He offers a small smile, but his mind is trapped into just how easy it was to lift Castor from the ground.

It shouldn't have been that easy.

So he doesn't stop himself from asking "How much do you weigh?" when they get to their seats, his arm going around him and pressing a gentle hand against his stomach.

"Like...one twenty-five?" Castor answers, turning towards him. "It's not bad."

Tucking him closer, he cups his boyfriend's cheeks, "Isn't that underweight?"

"It's not bad." Repeating this, the celestial huffs at him. "You don't have to look so worried. It's not--" He growls. "--like I shrunk any during the time I've known you."

He's... he's always been this small?

That is so not okay. Oh hell, his boyfriend is tiny!

With that thought, it's like all his protective urges come forth and he tries to help him before he even realizes what he's doing.

"Jitterbug," Castor groans, feet falling flat against the floor. "I'm not fragile. Don't treat me like I am. I can literally pick you up, and I've beaten Axel in a fight. And I play football. And-- not, not, not-- hockey. What are you worried about exactly?"

That he'll get hurt.

"Probably that you'll blow away in the wind." Flynn comes out of nowhere, his tinsel voice seeming to smack his star in the face and he almost says something before he realizes that neither of them could feel or see sound.

And then?

Then the idiot is strolling down the aisle and bumps into Castor's side--making Jazz pick him up so that couldn't happen again.

"I am not that small." The god lies, and he holds him together. "Jasper, please, I'm almost average."

"Almost but not," He instantly replies, cuddling into his neck. "You realize that you're barely up to my shoulders and I'm almost a whole 100 pounds more than you? And yeah, you're tall but you're so tiny. Not fragile but smaller people are easier to hurt and I don't like that."

"I'm literally fine." Castor sighs, as if he's completely done.

But it's not his fault that he's so small.

Jazz shakes his head, holding him with one arm and moving his other hand along his wrist, pulling his arm up to show the white bandage under his-- one of the musician's-- sweatshirt's giant sleeve. "You're already hurt."

"It's not bad, besides-- bad, bad, bad-- that was days ago. I'm literally fine. I've been this size the entire time we've been dating. Since forever."