[ some things are just habit between them; hard as kalim tries to treat jamil as an equal in every way, that habit will always be the hardest thing to fight. like now, when jamil tries to put distance between them, and it's like muscle memory for kalim to catch his wrist and gently guide him back. forgetting himself, again. but his fingertips glide along the underside of jamil's arm, spidering up to cradle his elbow and anchor him in place with a gentle grip. ]

I don't tell you because you need to hear it. I tell you because it's how I feel.

[ but -- and the realization strikes him a beat too late, as usual -- his feelings may not be welcome here either. kalim is starting to suspect that they never had been welcome. but how true can that be, when jamil warmed to him so quickly? a split second of melting, of softness, before everything iced over again.

kalim lives for these moments. for little glimpses of the jamil that lives beneath all that crushing expectation. when his eyes are silk-spun, and his words are a melody, and his heart belongs to kalim alone. that glancing vulnerability is breathtaking. if only jamil could allow himself to linger within it -- just with kalim, just when they're alone -- kalim really would be the wealthiest man in all the world. ]

It's all right if you have better things to do. [ and still, he beckons jamil closer with that gentle grasp on his arm, fingers creeping higher on his tricep in inching steps. ] You can go. I promise I'll be good.