[ But Jamil has to be the one to do it. Jamil has to initiate. It still feels wrong otherwise, like Kalim is taking advantage of something that Jamil never wanted in the first place. Again.
There are no crickets in the Scalding Sands. At night, it's startlingly quiet; only whistling wind and a gentle rustle of the shifting sand. Quiet. Serene, in a way. But that's why this silence between them seems to stretch on for ages. And here, again, Kalim is confronted by an unfortunate truth about himself:
He's not fearless. He's not careless. What he fears and cares about -- above all else -- is never doing anything to drive Jamil away again. And yet here's the sinking suspicion that he's building a wall between them through inaction instead.
Kalim's hands are soft, smooth as the silks that clothe him, and when he reaches up to stroke Jamil's cheek -- fingertips playing across his cheek bone, thumbpad brushing over his lips -- Jamil might catch the faint scent of jasmine between them. ]
no subject
[ But Jamil has to be the one to do it. Jamil has to initiate. It still feels wrong otherwise, like Kalim is taking advantage of something that Jamil never wanted in the first place. Again.
There are no crickets in the Scalding Sands. At night, it's startlingly quiet; only whistling wind and a gentle rustle of the shifting sand. Quiet. Serene, in a way. But that's why this silence between them seems to stretch on for ages. And here, again, Kalim is confronted by an unfortunate truth about himself:
He's not fearless. He's not careless. What he fears and cares about -- above all else -- is never doing anything to drive Jamil away again. And yet here's the sinking suspicion that he's building a wall between them through inaction instead.
Kalim's hands are soft, smooth as the silks that clothe him, and when he reaches up to stroke Jamil's cheek -- fingertips playing across his cheek bone, thumbpad brushing over his lips -- Jamil might catch the faint scent of jasmine between them. ]
Maybe you'd better finish it off.