[It had been two weeks and some odd days since the...elephant safety discussion, which was something that Jamil should have forgotten about at this point - they fed peacocks and then changed how the dorm handled the menagerie rotation, adjusted things based upon feedback, and that should have been that.
Jamil had a dream about the...elephant safety discussion. It was a few days after. He woke up in a sweat, saying Kalim's name. Someone asked him what he had dreamed about. He had to lie and spin a story about bugs and nightmares, and Jamil (frustratingly) could tell they hadn't bought it, and he heard whispers of overblot and some stares - some pitying, some angry, some smug. Which was still better than the truth, which was yet another secret between him and Kalim.
And so it went. He'd tried to forget about the...elephant safety discussion. It haunted him. And now it was two weeks (and a few days) later, and he walked into Kalim's room-]
Kalim.
[-and his fingers were twitching as he remembered, of all things, the...elephant safety discussion. Which wasn't the sort of thought he should be thinking of. (If it wasn't so secret, he might be desperate enough to turn to Azul, see if there was some way of removing the memory...but that meant turning to Azul and absolutely fucking not.)
Breathe.]
I thought it was time to bring you your food. [Perfectly normal, nothing to see here.]
[ Kalim is, possibly, better at compartmentalization than Jamil has managed to be about this entire elephant safety situation.
It's not that Kalim hasn't thought about it -- touched his own lips fondly each time the memory surfaced -- but he's something of an expert at framing things as no big deal. He kissed Jamil. It was lovely, for all the shame Jamil seemed to have about it. He insisted that no one can know, like it was some dire, filthy, revolting act. So that was all there was to it. Kalim would carry it fondly in his heart, count his blessings, and focus on the things he had some ability to control.
Though something is bothering Jamil, that much is abundantly clear. But asking Jamil to be forthright and discuss (or even acknowledge) an emotion is like begging a camel to look at its own neck. Kalim learned long ago, it's better to simply embrace the stalwart stoicism as Jamil being Jamil, and leave him to sort through it at his own pace.
He certainly has more time now. Not an abundance of it, but ever since the winter holiday incident, Kalim's been going out of his way to take on more tasks for himself. Little by little, finding small ways to bring them to a more level playing field. It won't happen all at once, but he's making great progress. Case in point, Kalim made his own bed this morning (the blankets are unforgivably wrinkled), donned his own headwrap (it's very crooked), and has spent the better part of the day studying (and getting hopelessly distracted by his phone).
That's how Jamil finds him: cross-legged on his messy bed, texting Silver, with a textbook open in his lap. ]
Mm?
[ Kalim glances at the clock -- too early for lunch -- and then to Jamil's hands (empty?) before he cracks a smile. ]
Already? That's so thoughtful of you! Where is it?
[The bed was...barely made, and that was fine, as inevitably Kalim would make a mess of it, the only people who would see it was Kalim and...himself (and that was a thought that Jamil very carefully kept from thinking too much about) and he could tell himself it was made much better and Kalim just rolled around while texting Silver, probably. He could let go of that.
Kalim's headwrap was unforgivingly crooked, and Jamil could feel his fingers want to twitch at the sight. They didn't, but they wanted to.
...lunch. Food. His hands are empty.]
I thought I'd bring you a snack and was going to ask what you wanted, but now I see you've barely been studying at all. [...and clearly, his empty hands are because he was going to ask Kalim what he wanted, not because...anyway.] And I see your headwrap is a mess- stay there.
[In case Kalim was trying to get up. He doesn't need to. Jamil can get a comb and climb onto the bed behind him. As they...do. All of this is normal, perfectly normal, and he doesn't need a mirror to do this and it's fine, fine, fine.]
[ For whatever it's worth, Kalim's managed to outline a few chapters of the textbook into some admirably well-ordered notes. At least, they're well-ordered by Kalim's standards. Anyone else in the world would call this controlled chaos, but it seems to work for whatever the hell Kalim is trying to achieve with his studying. His mind is just the same -- chaotic and reined with intermittent success -- so form must follow function.
Jamil sinks into the pillows behind him, and Kalim tips his head back with practiced ease. Except -- it occurs to him two seconds too late -- this is another burden that simply isn't Jamil's to carry. So he leans back further, until the crown of his head rests on Jamil's breastbone, and he can meet his gaze with a raised brow. ]
You don't have to fix it. I'll make sure I do it better before I come down for dinner.
[ Doing it better is probably too subjective for Jamil's tastes, but if Kalim has to sacrifice his snack in the name of fixing his scarf, he's practically obligated to protest. And true enough, this is incredibly standard behavior for them. Perfectly ordinary, complete with Kalim violating every inch of personal space until he's all but sprawled across Jamil's lap. ]
[This is the exact opposite of helpful and is the sort of thing that makes Jamil think of elephants and safety and discussions about it, and it is the exact opposite of what he came into this room to do which was to- ask Kalim what snack he wanted for his studying, and he should force Kalim to stand up so they can sit at the mirror.]
Kalim!
[An annoyed hiss, because some, most, pretty much every single day Jamil was convinced that Kalim didn't know how utterly disgraceful sprawling across a servant like him like this really was.]
Stop making a fuss. If you cooperated, I'd be finished already.
[As is, he has to grab Kalim and try to shove him off now, or at least politely slide out from under him.]
[ Jamil escapes, and Kalim lands on the pillows with a huff and a laugh. ]
I'm not fussing! But if I can't practice, I'll never get better at it.
[ Practice makes perfect, doesn't it?
The pillows are comfortable. And even though Jamil wasn't there for long, he left them warm in his wake. Cozy. Kalim might have allowed that fact to distract him, except-- ]
You seem tense. [ More venomous than usual, when it comes right down to it. ] Hard morning?
Jamil is tense, yes, and is trying very hard to avoid acknowledging it because acknowledging it might mean acknowledging why if he's not careful. And, well, here's the problem: Kalim is very perceptive at the worst possible time. When it matters? He's not perceptive. When it doesn't matter? Like now?
Kalim is very perceptive.
And, so.
Here he is, caught between retreat (and he might as well say, "Why yes, Kalim, I'm very tense and here's why." and monologue for a half hour if he does that) and...not retreating, and he is not going to retreat, because if he could fake not...hating...Kalim for his entire life without Kalim suspecting a thing, he can fake being okay now.
So now, here Jamil is, settling himself onto the bed like he belongs there and hadn't just tried to squirm his way out from under Kalim because of elephants and safety.]
...not really.
[Convincing! (No, it is not.)]
I didn't sleep well.
[No big deal.
Jamil is gesturing for Kalim to assume the...headwrap position again. (Why does that suddenly seem so loaded.)] And you've already practiced for today. If I do it for you then you can [not need me why is that suddenly so loaded as thoughts went, isn't that the point, isn't it the point] see what you did wrong the first time, Kalim.
[No. Big. Deal.] If it really bothers you, you can take it off and do it yourself again.
I will! I'll show you, I can do it myself. I think I just tied it a little crooked this morning.
[ Everything in life changes. Everything changes every day from insignificant to earth-shattering-- the immovable, the enduring, the good, and the bad. And for Kalim, that fact was something he never had to question until he learned in the hardest way possible.
Looking back on it -- over the span of his entire life -- he knows now that Jamil has always been his blind spot. Kalim could put himself through the wringer with unkind words; he took advantage of Jamil, underestimated him, overlooked him, undervalued him, overshadowed him. And if that's how Jamil felt about it, then it must be true. But that was never Kalim's truth. It was never what he meant to invoke. There are things he'll never understand by virtue of his privilege and his upbringing, but to Kalim, Jamil was only ever an extension of himself. Someone he tried to lift up and support and believe in and honor, just the same as he did for himself. Like two halves of a whole. Inseparable; the two of them against the world.
He still hasn't parsed through the notion that his entire life has been a lie, at least in that regard. All he can do is take things one day at a time and slowly unravel all the pieces that bind them together. He can do it. For both their sakes, they can be two halves. They can each be whole in their own right. They just have to learn how.
Sometimes Kalim is obliviously obstinate, but in this, he'll be knowingly stubborn. So, all right, if Jamil insists, he'll take a study break. Kalim rolls out of bed and then flops onto the ottoman at his vanity, ruffles his scarf out of his hair, and shakes it out over his lap. ]
You should study too! Or go have a nap if you didn't sleep well. Don't worry about snacks and lunch and headwraps. I'll tell you if I need help with anything.
[ He won't, in fact. Kalim's been remarkably tight-lipped lately. Jamil doesn't have to worry about a thing. ]
[They were on the bed, but then Kalim got up. Jamil had a sense of...vertigo isn't the best word, but the feeling that the world was shifting on its axis and something fundamentally important had been misaligned. Things were moving around and bumping into each other, and that important something had been knocked askew.
Please don't ask him what that something is.
That left him on Kalim's bed, which feels wrong, and so Jamil got off of the bed a half-second too late. (There he is, useless, Kalim still outshining him in every last aspect.)
He follows Kalim to the vanity. There is no room on the ottoman. So he stands, arms crossed.]
Of course I have to worry about snacks and lunch.
[There might be room on the ottoman if he forces Kalim to one side, actually...]
And headwraps, as you need to look presentable. If not to our dorm, to the world as a whole, as the Al-Asim heir. Which means that, if you're going to do it yourself, you need to learn how to do it right. Once I see you tie it properly, then I'll be satisfied, Kalim.
[...move over, he's sitting down.]
We're studying together.
[...why did he say that- no, it's fine. He can fix this- actually, it's fine.] After lunch.
[And then he can find a lake and throw Kalim into it and leave him there to drown. See? Fixed.]
[ Kalim almost, very nearly, manages to stifle his sigh. It's barely there, like an errant desert breeze when Jamil practically shoves him over (so much shoving today, Jamil), and Kalim has to curl his legs off to one side to steady himself. This ottoman isn't large enough for two. They're shoulder-to-shoulder, hip-to-hip, thigh-to-thigh, and for what? For Jamil to watch him tie a scarf? He could do that from the bed, or even from that glowering stance he'd maintained not two seconds ago. So if he's here--
If he's here, it's because he wants to be here. Kalim won't protest, even if he can't fathom the reason. ]
I'm tutoring after lunch! [ An event that he arranged himself. Not included on Jamil's carefully-maintained schedule. ] So you'll have the whole afternoon to yourself anyway!
[ Keep busy. Keep both of them busy. Ignore the elephant in the room. Kalim's preoccupied with his hair, tugging section by section until it's arranged how he wants it. Then, the first layer of scarf, carefully folded and then wrapped three times around his head. He almost succeeds in coaxing it to lay flat. The bit above his ear is lumpy. ]
Hmmmnnn? [ He presses his hand over the bump. It pops out again. ] Huh.
[It took years of hard won self control to keep from flinching, though he wanted to. He felt like he had just gotten slapped in the face by Kalim, and if he didn't know better he'd assume that Kalim was none-too-subtly hinting that he should, perhaps, seriously look at some other dorm like Ignihyde for a transfer.
But it made no sense. The time for that was...before, back when he had...when that had happened. Not now. Now was...
He is going to focus on the headwrap, not on what-ifs.]
...not bad.
[Except there's that bump that refuses to lay flat. Jamil stares. His fingers twitch, and before he can stop himself, slip in.] Let me.
[As they always do, except it doesn't feel like that, does it? Still. His fingers twist at the fabric, finding the place where it twists, and he does his best to smooth it out.
Ignore the fact that the back of his hand might have brushed Kalim's (stupidly soft) cheek for a second almost as if he went out of his way to brush said (stupidly soft) cheek, as that's the sort of thing which happens by accident when you're squeezed together on an ottoman that's very small and you don't know why you had to, but you had to. Clearly.]
What do you want for lunch?
[...it's not flat, but it's getting better. Less a lump and more slightly twisted. Passable enough for Night Raven College...as long as Kalim did his best to avoid people like Vil.]
[ There was a time -- and not very long ago, at that -- when Kalim would have chased that touch. Perhaps surreptitiously tip his head to one side, just to keep Jamil's hand against his cheek a half-moment longer, laugh it off as shying away from a ticklish bit of skin. It's still tempting. But he has a fairly good idea of where the lines are drawn now. At least, he thinks he does.
So instead of seeking out more touch, Kalim grins and chirps: ] Thank you!
[The thing about fences is that it's a lot easier to lean against them when they're not electrocuted, rimed with barbed wire, or otherwise actively warning you away. And if there isn't an obvious fence at all, then it's a lot harder to know where the boundaries are.
Case in point, Jamil huffs. (A little exasperated, a little wryly amused.) His fingers get in there again, not quite shooing Kalim away.]
You watched those videos, didn't you.
[Those videos, the people on Magicam who barely know how to tie a knot sometimes.]
If you do it their way, you pinch the fabric like so...
[He held Kalim's hands, having them pinch the fabric. Because Kalim always seemed to learn better by doing...at least doing with guidance. So clearly, the best way of explaining was by holding Kalim's hands and them doing the knot together, kind of, while talking him through it.
(Jamil isn't going to register anything odd about this until much, much later, or until Kalim makes a big deal out of it, whichever comes first. As of right now, Kalim's always in his space so this is just more of the same, yes? Kalim got in his personal space, and he had to explain something or another.)]
...and then twist this way, and that is how you make a knot. Any questions?
[Lunch was, apparently, up to him which meant that...they had a lot of chicken, so he'd make something with that.]
[ Kalim tries very hard to follow along. Truly, the effort is valiant. But it's difficult to focus on the methodology when the demonstration involves Jamil touching him so gently. Casually. Softly. Guiding his hands, tangling with his fingers. Their rings and bracelets sound like a dozen tiny cymbals, all ringing together to sing a song that's uniquely them. And sincerely though Kalim tries, he absolutely cannot focus.
They've touched like this before. Once upon a time, it was practically an everyday occurrence; finding little ways to touch one another -- a demonstration that Kalim never retained, a correction that Jamil couldn't help making on the spot, some tight quarters they simply had to squeeze into -- and no matter the reason, it seemed to happen so often. It shouldn't. It throws Kalim off his center every single time, and at the moment, it's exactly the tipping point Jamil needs to dizzy Kalim up again.
Is Jamil hypnotizing him again? His throat is too dry to swallow past, his cheeks are flush, and he's staring at the vanity tabletop as if it might reveal some secret that he can't ferret out of this situation himself. ]
That's only if I do it their way? [ Kalim's not sure where the inspiration comes from; the words don't feel like they're his own. Maybe it's just instinct, wanting to keep Jamil's hands on him. ] What about your way? It doesn't look the same like this.
[He isn't thinking about it, really, this is just another moment in a long string of moments that happened so often between the two of them (maybe not now, not recently, not in the last few years, not since they both realized their magic, but before) that it didn't occur to Jamil to even question why Kalim had asked. It was just instinct. It felt right.
So, out of his mouth is a soft,]
Mm. [Absent, vague, unfocused. Above all else, soft.] I always thought the way my grandmother did bows was nicer, so I asked her to teach me.
[He undid the bow, one hand bracing Kalim's head, holding the headwrap in place as there was no sense in letting that fall when Kalim had did a decent enough job in folding it. (His thumb grazed Kalim's scalp, his ear.)]
The resulting bow is fuller and it's far less likely to slide as you go about your day.
[Under different circumstances, this might be the point in which his vague, unfocused smile might slide to something a bit more bitter, tired, and he'd get up and make an excuse about lunch and chicken...but Kalim had yet to make any demands from him. He hadn't asked to be taught, he didn't demand to know more about bows, he didn't see him wake up from overblot and immediately demand that he focus on Kalim's friendship and Kalim's rivalry and Kalim's feelings. Kalim just asked a very simple follow-up question. A question that didn't demand a response from him, it just was.
And so, Jamil remained vague, unfocused. Soft. As there was no reason for him to be anything else, so he could simply be. Fences and lack of markings making it very easy to wander back and forth across boundaries.]
It's more complicated than the one from Magicam, so it may be easier to do that one for now...but I'll show you and you can decide for yourself. I'll do it slower than I normally would so you can see what it is I am doing. First...
[His fingers looped, his fingers tucked, he talked about twists and folds, held the cloth for a second...]
...and that extra knot is what makes it sturdy. The Magicam bow, though easier for a novice, would likely slip and you'll have to retie it at some point in the day. There is, of course, the option of using magic, but I prefer my hands for something like this.
[ Something about this demonstration just feels like a microcosmic representation of their entire lives.
Jamil's hands are deft, skilled, and subtle. They're sure. They weave artful success out of nothing, and Kalim has always been so very impressed by his ability. Awe-struck. Jamil knows everything. Jamil can do anything. He's so staggeringly capable, Kalim has never had to worry about a thing and his gratitude could never be quantified. It overflowed. It still does, and it always will, except--
There's more that's tangled up with that now. Being vocally and unabashedly grateful wasn't enough to stem Jamil's resentment, and he doesn't want to -- has never wanted to -- exercise this extraordinary talent to Kalim's benefit. He doesn't want to be Kalim's friend. He probably wishes he had nothing to do with the Asim family whatsoever. But what other choice does he (did he) ever have?
Obligation. That's all. It's so hard for Kalim to remember that. But Jamil makes the bow look so full and pretty.
And then, miraculously, Kalim manages to seize on the smallest little detail, and it blossoms into a pressing curiosity. ]
You don't talk about her much. Your grandmother. [ Kalim pulls his bare feet up onto the edge of the ottoman, and hugs his knees to his chest when he settles his attention on Jamil. ] Did you learn a lot from her?
Edited (this is why we don't write tags half-asleep) 2022-12-07 00:14 (UTC)
watch me be proven wrong once i'm done with the event lmf
[Blink, and it was like a spell ending. It was as if Jamil started to think again.
Kalim might be able to see the moment in which Jamil realized what was going on. Jamil's eyes widening, a slight tensing of his body (slight, but present), and then Jamil relaxed. Jamil very pointedly relaxed, as if he belonged on the ottoman, as if this was perfectly normal, as if he understood how it was he had ended up on the ottoman and why, as if they did this all the time. Housewarden and vice, sitting on a too tiny chair, talking about everything and nothing.]
She taught me when I first started serving you. My parents were often too busy to show me things like how to tie a proper bow.
[And then, his eyes shift towards the outdoors, his gaze turning away from Kalim ever so slightly.]
If I spend too much time talking to you, Kalim, then I won't be able to make you your lunch in time. You are tutoring this afternoon, after all.
[And that, normally, might be that, but then, added very casually, very, very casually:]
If you promise to not touch anything while I'm working then we can talk in the kitchen.
[It went against his every instinct as a servant, but...hadn't he sworn to be better, do better, stand next to Kalim as an equal and rival, not as master and servant? Why then this? Why hesitate?]
we make our own rules we are the masters of our own destiny
[ It's not much. Barely a hint of vulnerability before it disappears again in typical Jamil fashion. But these tiny glimpses come with an abundance of hope, like tattered threads being woven back together and stitched with golden string. Gently, carefully. Maybe they're not beyond repair, and maybe -- little by little -- Kalim can build something with Jamil that will endure rather than stagnate.
That's a bar set several rungs too high, but optimism lends a certain naivete to Kalim's expectations. Case in point, Jamil invites him to the kitchen. As if that's a thing he does all the time, as if he doesn't actively keep Kalim away from the kitchen by any means necessary. So of course he leaps at the opportunity (almost literally); he's smile's all sunshine, and he practically chirps: ]
Okay! I promise!
[ While he's flouncing off the ottoman and directly into his slippers, snatching up his sweater on their way to the door. ]
[All of that means that Kalim likely missed the soft exhale of relief coming from Jamil, the slight twitch of his lips that, if asked, Jamil would deny...in part because he didn't know that he was doing that. But Kalim was excited and happy (about the kitchen, of all things) and things are starting to feel right again.
Jamil follows, a half-second too late, a half-second too slow, contemplating the way Kalim carries himself - like the world is full of wonders and he belongs - and then Jamil very carefully stopped contemplating anything of the sort. Things he would contemplate instead: how to keep Kalim busy in the kitchen without having him cook. Why had he invited Kalim to the kitchen?
(Because he hoped it would make Kalim happy, that's why.)
...questions Jamil would never know the answer to, he knows.
Things he would contemplate: what he could make with chicken that was quick. Things he would contemplate: how many side dishes he should make this time.]
If I didn't know better, I'd assume you are hungry, Kalim.
[Things he didn't want to contemplate: whether or not they'd encounter other students. But he would. One of them had to.
...it's fine. Side by side as equals and rivals.
Kabsa would be easy enough.
...he lengthens his stride ever so slightly, maybe forcing Kalim to catch up to him, or maybe matching Kalim's enthusiasm and energy stride for stride. He isn't sure which.]
Who are you tutoring?
[Is it someone from Scarabia, or some bozo from a different dorm...how defensive should he feel? Much to consider. Much to know.]
When you're cooking, who wouldn't be hungry all the time?
[ It's meant to be a compliment, but Jamil probably won't take it that way. Of course they run into dormmates, and Kalim is bright and sunny in greeting them. Of course Kalim is a whirlwind of energy as soon as they're in the kitchen, sounding ignoring Jamil's orders to not touch anything by laying out his cutting boards, his knife set, all the spices he usually uses (because yes, he knows which ones Jamil prefers, and yes he knows where they're kept); all spread out in easy reach on the prep table while he launches into an explanation: ]
A couple of the freshmen are having trouble in alchemy. With those components, you know? Remember when I was in freshman year and I was having trouble harvesting that flower pollen for the rotgut tonic? They're having the same problem, so I told them I'd teach them that trick you showed me. With the infusion? It shouldn't take too long! But you never know. I wanna make sure they really understand how to do it before I leave them alone with it.
[Of course they run into dormmates and of course Kalim handles them. (And of course Jamil, once again, is forced to confront certain truths he doesn't want realize.) Of course they get to the kitchen and of course Kalim ignores the promise and proceeds to touch everything.]
I-
[Jamil was about to say something but then he was cut off by two things: Kalim talking, and the realization that Kalim was picking out his favorite knives and his favorite spices and his favorite cutting board with almost surgical precision. Kalim's talking and Jamil's reduced to staring.
Scarabian freshmen. (Good. Nothing he would have to...worry about.) Rotgut tonic. He remembers that.
But more than that, he stares and then gestures to- that. The prep table.]
[ As far as Kalim is concerned, Jamil shouldn't have to worry about him anyway. There's nothing inherently dangerous about tutoring, even with another dorm's students. Then again, there's nothing more dangerous about tutoring their own students than those in other dorms, either. Danger lurks both everywhere and nowhere, depending on how they choose to view the lens of their own situation.
To that end, neither of them should have to worry about the things that worry them. Assassins and poisons and kidnappers lurking around every corner? They should never have been burdened with that, and Jamil less so than Kalim. Some day, they'll both learn that. And perhaps with that clarity will come patience, with themselves and with one another. But until then?
Until then, Kalim is grinning sheepishly, and holding up his hands while he takes a few steps away from the prep table. Jamil absolutely does not need to know how often Kalim has watched him cook on the security feed. ]
[He doubts this. And hopefully, from the stare Jamil gives Kalim, Kalim knows that he doubts this. But.]
I suppose it doesn't matter.
[He is going to go to the refrigerator and-
The chicken isn't thawed. The chicken is still in the freezer. He had been so distracted by...elephant safety discussions...that he had forgotten to take the chicken out of the freezer and have it thaw. He can't cook frozen chicken. (Or he could, but that would require the microwave and. Well. No. There's also cold water, but, well, that would still give away that he hadn't thought ahead, and.)]
...
[Jamil is going to take out a fresh coconut to wash and properly punch a hole in it, so Kalim can have some nice and refreshing cold coconut water while he figures out what the fuck he can make with what's in the fridge. Jamil's washing it, using his magic to punch a hole (as that is so much easier than using a drill, even if he knows how) and is sticking a straw in it and setting it in front of Kalim. Perfectly normal and quite refreshing.]
Here.
[...okay, he can make wraps for the both of them, he can handle this. He saw flatbread, he can do this.]
You wanted to know something? [A prompting, whilst he starts preparing ingredients and starts to cook.]
[ For a moment, all is right in the world. There's no invisible tension, he and Jamil haven't been dancing around it for some inordinate amount of time, and Kalim is sipping coconut juice without a single care in the world. Just perfect.
Did he want to know something? Not expressly. Jamil invited him down here, so he came. To stay close to Jamil, and as far as Kalim is concerned, that's the only reason he needs. But perhaps it will be easier for Jamil to swallow if Kalim can at least fabricate an excuse. And that seems like a stellar idea, except that what comes out of his mouth is a rather blunt: ]
You've been acting a little weird since the mistletoe thing. Is everything all right?
[So, there he had been, briskly starting to chop vegetables. He's going to make a bullshit fry, in which he fries things up in a tasty way, sticks them in flatbread, and rolls it up and presents it as a sandwich. Kalim will like it. He knows Kalim's likes and dislikes enough he can make something satisfying even while viciously winging it-
Then Kalim says mistletoe and a noise escapes Jamil's lips, one which sounds not unlike the noise a tortured magic parrot might make and his knife slips.
The good news is that he practices good knife discipline and, so, he didn't just lose a finger. Just a little cut, that's all.
The bad news is that he now has to live with the knowledge that if his knife discipline was a little bit worse he might have lost a chunk of finger there.]
I thought we agreed to never talk about it.
[Said as he moves to wash the cut what the heck, Kalim, what the hey, warn him before dropping the m-word.]
My sister is merciless: you know this. [And his mom and dad will be very upset and he's not thinking about what Kalim's parents might do but...his sister is a present terror.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I nearly posted this on the wrong character lmf
Jamil had a dream about the...elephant safety discussion. It was a few days after. He woke up in a sweat, saying Kalim's name. Someone asked him what he had dreamed about. He had to lie and spin a story about bugs and nightmares, and Jamil (frustratingly) could tell they hadn't bought it, and he heard whispers of overblot and some stares - some pitying, some angry, some smug. Which was still better than the truth, which was yet another secret between him and Kalim.
And so it went. He'd tried to forget about the...elephant safety discussion. It haunted him. And now it was two weeks (and a few days) later, and he walked into Kalim's room-]
Kalim.
[-and his fingers were twitching as he remembered, of all things, the...elephant safety discussion. Which wasn't the sort of thought he should be thinking of. (If it wasn't so secret, he might be desperate enough to turn to Azul, see if there was some way of removing the memory...but that meant turning to Azul and absolutely fucking not.)
Breathe.]
I thought it was time to bring you your food. [Perfectly normal, nothing to see here.]
no subject
It's not that Kalim hasn't thought about it -- touched his own lips fondly each time the memory surfaced -- but he's something of an expert at framing things as no big deal. He kissed Jamil. It was lovely, for all the shame Jamil seemed to have about it. He insisted that no one can know, like it was some dire, filthy, revolting act. So that was all there was to it. Kalim would carry it fondly in his heart, count his blessings, and focus on the things he had some ability to control.
Though something is bothering Jamil, that much is abundantly clear. But asking Jamil to be forthright and discuss (or even acknowledge) an emotion is like begging a camel to look at its own neck. Kalim learned long ago, it's better to simply embrace the stalwart stoicism as Jamil being Jamil, and leave him to sort through it at his own pace.
He certainly has more time now. Not an abundance of it, but ever since the winter holiday incident, Kalim's been going out of his way to take on more tasks for himself. Little by little, finding small ways to bring them to a more level playing field. It won't happen all at once, but he's making great progress. Case in point, Kalim made his own bed this morning (the blankets are unforgivably wrinkled), donned his own headwrap (it's very crooked), and has spent the better part of the day studying (and getting hopelessly distracted by his phone).
That's how Jamil finds him: cross-legged on his messy bed, texting Silver, with a textbook open in his lap. ]
Mm?
[ Kalim glances at the clock -- too early for lunch -- and then to Jamil's hands (empty?) before he cracks a smile. ]
Already? That's so thoughtful of you! Where is it?
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Kalim's headwrap was unforgivingly crooked, and Jamil could feel his fingers want to twitch at the sight. They didn't, but they wanted to.
...lunch. Food. His hands are empty.]
I thought I'd bring you a snack and was going to ask what you wanted, but now I see you've barely been studying at all. [...and clearly, his empty hands are because he was going to ask Kalim what he wanted, not because...anyway.] And I see your headwrap is a mess- stay there.
[In case Kalim was trying to get up. He doesn't need to. Jamil can get a comb and climb onto the bed behind him. As they...do. All of this is normal, perfectly normal, and he doesn't need a mirror to do this and it's fine, fine, fine.]
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[ For whatever it's worth, Kalim's managed to outline a few chapters of the textbook into some admirably well-ordered notes. At least, they're well-ordered by Kalim's standards. Anyone else in the world would call this controlled chaos, but it seems to work for whatever the hell Kalim is trying to achieve with his studying. His mind is just the same -- chaotic and reined with intermittent success -- so form must follow function.
Jamil sinks into the pillows behind him, and Kalim tips his head back with practiced ease. Except -- it occurs to him two seconds too late -- this is another burden that simply isn't Jamil's to carry. So he leans back further, until the crown of his head rests on Jamil's breastbone, and he can meet his gaze with a raised brow. ]
You don't have to fix it. I'll make sure I do it better before I come down for dinner.
[ Doing it better is probably too subjective for Jamil's tastes, but if Kalim has to sacrifice his snack in the name of fixing his scarf, he's practically obligated to protest. And true enough, this is incredibly standard behavior for them. Perfectly ordinary, complete with Kalim violating every inch of personal space until he's all but sprawled across Jamil's lap. ]
Really, I can do it myself!
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Kalim!
[An annoyed hiss, because some, most, pretty much every single day Jamil was convinced that Kalim didn't know how utterly disgraceful sprawling across a servant like him like this really was.]
Stop making a fuss. If you cooperated, I'd be finished already.
[As is, he has to grab Kalim and try to shove him off now, or at least politely slide out from under him.]
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I'm not fussing! But if I can't practice, I'll never get better at it.
[ Practice makes perfect, doesn't it?
The pillows are comfortable. And even though Jamil wasn't there for long, he left them warm in his wake. Cozy. Kalim might have allowed that fact to distract him, except-- ]
You seem tense. [ More venomous than usual, when it comes right down to it. ] Hard morning?
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See.
Here's the thing.
Jamil is tense, yes, and is trying very hard to avoid acknowledging it because acknowledging it might mean acknowledging why if he's not careful. And, well, here's the problem: Kalim is very perceptive at the worst possible time. When it matters? He's not perceptive. When it doesn't matter? Like now?
Kalim is very perceptive.
And, so.
Here he is, caught between retreat (and he might as well say, "Why yes, Kalim, I'm very tense and here's why." and monologue for a half hour if he does that) and...not retreating, and he is not going to retreat, because if he could fake not...hating...Kalim for his entire life without Kalim suspecting a thing, he can fake being okay now.
So now, here Jamil is, settling himself onto the bed like he belongs there and hadn't just tried to squirm his way out from under Kalim because of elephants and safety.]
...not really.
[Convincing! (No, it is not.)]
I didn't sleep well.
[No big deal.
Jamil is gesturing for Kalim to assume the...headwrap position again. (Why does that suddenly seem so loaded.)] And you've already practiced for today. If I do it for you then you can [not need me why is that suddenly so loaded as thoughts went, isn't that the point, isn't it the point] see what you did wrong the first time, Kalim.
[No. Big. Deal.] If it really bothers you, you can take it off and do it yourself again.
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[ Everything in life changes. Everything changes every day from insignificant to earth-shattering-- the immovable, the enduring, the good, and the bad. And for Kalim, that fact was something he never had to question until he learned in the hardest way possible.
Looking back on it -- over the span of his entire life -- he knows now that Jamil has always been his blind spot. Kalim could put himself through the wringer with unkind words; he took advantage of Jamil, underestimated him, overlooked him, undervalued him, overshadowed him. And if that's how Jamil felt about it, then it must be true. But that was never Kalim's truth. It was never what he meant to invoke. There are things he'll never understand by virtue of his privilege and his upbringing, but to Kalim, Jamil was only ever an extension of himself. Someone he tried to lift up and support and believe in and honor, just the same as he did for himself. Like two halves of a whole. Inseparable; the two of them against the world.
He still hasn't parsed through the notion that his entire life has been a lie, at least in that regard. All he can do is take things one day at a time and slowly unravel all the pieces that bind them together. He can do it. For both their sakes, they can be two halves. They can each be whole in their own right. They just have to learn how.
Sometimes Kalim is obliviously obstinate, but in this, he'll be knowingly stubborn. So, all right, if Jamil insists, he'll take a study break. Kalim rolls out of bed and then flops onto the ottoman at his vanity, ruffles his scarf out of his hair, and shakes it out over his lap. ]
You should study too! Or go have a nap if you didn't sleep well. Don't worry about snacks and lunch and headwraps. I'll tell you if I need help with anything.
[ He won't, in fact. Kalim's been remarkably tight-lipped lately. Jamil doesn't have to worry about a thing. ]
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Please don't ask him what that something is.
That left him on Kalim's bed, which feels wrong, and so Jamil got off of the bed a half-second too late. (There he is, useless, Kalim still outshining him in every last aspect.)
He follows Kalim to the vanity. There is no room on the ottoman. So he stands, arms crossed.]
Of course I have to worry about snacks and lunch.
[There might be room on the ottoman if he forces Kalim to one side, actually...]
And headwraps, as you need to look presentable. If not to our dorm, to the world as a whole, as the Al-Asim heir. Which means that, if you're going to do it yourself, you need to learn how to do it right. Once I see you tie it properly, then I'll be satisfied, Kalim.
[...move over, he's sitting down.]
We're studying together.
[...why did he say that- no, it's fine. He can fix this- actually, it's fine.] After lunch.
[And then he can find a lake and throw Kalim into it and leave him there to drown. See? Fixed.]
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If he's here, it's because he wants to be here. Kalim won't protest, even if he can't fathom the reason. ]
I'm tutoring after lunch! [ An event that he arranged himself. Not included on Jamil's carefully-maintained schedule. ] So you'll have the whole afternoon to yourself anyway!
[ Keep busy. Keep both of them busy. Ignore the elephant in the room. Kalim's preoccupied with his hair, tugging section by section until it's arranged how he wants it. Then, the first layer of scarf, carefully folded and then wrapped three times around his head. He almost succeeds in coaxing it to lay flat. The bit above his ear is lumpy. ]
Hmmmnnn? [ He presses his hand over the bump. It pops out again. ] Huh.
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But it made no sense. The time for that was...before, back when he had...when that had happened. Not now. Now was...
He is going to focus on the headwrap, not on what-ifs.]
...not bad.
[Except there's that bump that refuses to lay flat. Jamil stares. His fingers twitch, and before he can stop himself, slip in.] Let me.
[As they always do, except it doesn't feel like that, does it? Still. His fingers twist at the fabric, finding the place where it twists, and he does his best to smooth it out.
Ignore the fact that the back of his hand might have brushed Kalim's (stupidly soft) cheek for a second almost as if he went out of his way to brush said (stupidly soft) cheek, as that's the sort of thing which happens by accident when you're squeezed together on an ottoman that's very small and you don't know why you had to, but you had to. Clearly.]
What do you want for lunch?
[...it's not flat, but it's getting better. Less a lump and more slightly twisted. Passable enough for Night Raven College...as long as Kalim did his best to avoid people like Vil.]
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So instead of seeking out more touch, Kalim grins and chirps: ] Thank you!
[ Next layer. He folds this one more carefully, as this will be the one on display. Then he places it, more carefully than the first, sliding it between his fingers to keep the gold lamé on the outside. And now comes the tricky part, because despite his best efforts and hours of Magicam tutorials, he still hasn't gotten the hang of tying a passable bow, much less the picture-perfect ones Jamil can tie. ]
Mm, I can't figure this part out, though. You do the loops first, right?
[ Wait. Jamil asked him something it was... ]
Oh! Lunch. Whatever you feel like.
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Case in point, Jamil huffs. (A little exasperated, a little wryly amused.) His fingers get in there again, not quite shooing Kalim away.]
You watched those videos, didn't you.
[Those videos, the people on Magicam who barely know how to tie a knot sometimes.]
If you do it their way, you pinch the fabric like so...
[He held Kalim's hands, having them pinch the fabric. Because Kalim always seemed to learn better by doing...at least doing with guidance. So clearly, the best way of explaining was by holding Kalim's hands and them doing the knot together, kind of, while talking him through it.
(Jamil isn't going to register anything odd about this until much, much later, or until Kalim makes a big deal out of it, whichever comes first. As of right now, Kalim's always in his space so this is just more of the same, yes? Kalim got in his personal space, and he had to explain something or another.)]
...and then twist this way, and that is how you make a knot. Any questions?
[Lunch was, apparently, up to him which meant that...they had a lot of chicken, so he'd make something with that.]
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[ Kalim tries very hard to follow along. Truly, the effort is valiant. But it's difficult to focus on the methodology when the demonstration involves Jamil touching him so gently. Casually. Softly. Guiding his hands, tangling with his fingers. Their rings and bracelets sound like a dozen tiny cymbals, all ringing together to sing a song that's uniquely them. And sincerely though Kalim tries, he absolutely cannot focus.
They've touched like this before. Once upon a time, it was practically an everyday occurrence; finding little ways to touch one another -- a demonstration that Kalim never retained, a correction that Jamil couldn't help making on the spot, some tight quarters they simply had to squeeze into -- and no matter the reason, it seemed to happen so often. It shouldn't. It throws Kalim off his center every single time, and at the moment, it's exactly the tipping point Jamil needs to dizzy Kalim up again.
Is Jamil hypnotizing him again? His throat is too dry to swallow past, his cheeks are flush, and he's staring at the vanity tabletop as if it might reveal some secret that he can't ferret out of this situation himself. ]
That's only if I do it their way? [ Kalim's not sure where the inspiration comes from; the words don't feel like they're his own. Maybe it's just instinct, wanting to keep Jamil's hands on him. ] What about your way? It doesn't look the same like this.
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So, out of his mouth is a soft,]
Mm. [Absent, vague, unfocused. Above all else, soft.] I always thought the way my grandmother did bows was nicer, so I asked her to teach me.
[He undid the bow, one hand bracing Kalim's head, holding the headwrap in place as there was no sense in letting that fall when Kalim had did a decent enough job in folding it. (His thumb grazed Kalim's scalp, his ear.)]
The resulting bow is fuller and it's far less likely to slide as you go about your day.
[Under different circumstances, this might be the point in which his vague, unfocused smile might slide to something a bit more bitter, tired, and he'd get up and make an excuse about lunch and chicken...but Kalim had yet to make any demands from him. He hadn't asked to be taught, he didn't demand to know more about bows, he didn't see him wake up from overblot and immediately demand that he focus on Kalim's friendship and Kalim's rivalry and Kalim's feelings. Kalim just asked a very simple follow-up question. A question that didn't demand a response from him, it just was.
And so, Jamil remained vague, unfocused. Soft. As there was no reason for him to be anything else, so he could simply be. Fences and lack of markings making it very easy to wander back and forth across boundaries.]
It's more complicated than the one from Magicam, so it may be easier to do that one for now...but I'll show you and you can decide for yourself. I'll do it slower than I normally would so you can see what it is I am doing. First...
[His fingers looped, his fingers tucked, he talked about twists and folds, held the cloth for a second...]
...and that extra knot is what makes it sturdy. The Magicam bow, though easier for a novice, would likely slip and you'll have to retie it at some point in the day. There is, of course, the option of using magic, but I prefer my hands for something like this.
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Jamil's hands are deft, skilled, and subtle. They're sure. They weave artful success out of nothing, and Kalim has always been so very impressed by his ability. Awe-struck. Jamil knows everything. Jamil can do anything. He's so staggeringly capable, Kalim has never had to worry about a thing and his gratitude could never be quantified. It overflowed. It still does, and it always will, except--
There's more that's tangled up with that now. Being vocally and unabashedly grateful wasn't enough to stem Jamil's resentment, and he doesn't want to -- has never wanted to -- exercise this extraordinary talent to Kalim's benefit. He doesn't want to be Kalim's friend. He probably wishes he had nothing to do with the Asim family whatsoever. But what other choice does he (did he) ever have?
Obligation. That's all. It's so hard for Kalim to remember that. But Jamil makes the bow look so full and pretty.
And then, miraculously, Kalim manages to seize on the smallest little detail, and it blossoms into a pressing curiosity. ]
You don't talk about her much. Your grandmother. [ Kalim pulls his bare feet up onto the edge of the ottoman, and hugs his knees to his chest when he settles his attention on Jamil. ] Did you learn a lot from her?
watch me be proven wrong once i'm done with the event lmf
Kalim might be able to see the moment in which Jamil realized what was going on. Jamil's eyes widening, a slight tensing of his body (slight, but present), and then Jamil relaxed. Jamil very pointedly relaxed, as if he belonged on the ottoman, as if this was perfectly normal, as if he understood how it was he had ended up on the ottoman and why, as if they did this all the time. Housewarden and vice, sitting on a too tiny chair, talking about everything and nothing.]
She taught me when I first started serving you. My parents were often too busy to show me things like how to tie a proper bow.
[And then, his eyes shift towards the outdoors, his gaze turning away from Kalim ever so slightly.]
If I spend too much time talking to you, Kalim, then I won't be able to make you your lunch in time. You are tutoring this afternoon, after all.
[And that, normally, might be that, but then, added very casually, very, very casually:]
If you promise to not touch anything while I'm working then we can talk in the kitchen.
[It went against his every instinct as a servant, but...hadn't he sworn to be better, do better, stand next to Kalim as an equal and rival, not as master and servant? Why then this? Why hesitate?]
we make our own rules we are the masters of our own destiny
That's a bar set several rungs too high, but optimism lends a certain naivete to Kalim's expectations. Case in point, Jamil invites him to the kitchen. As if that's a thing he does all the time, as if he doesn't actively keep Kalim away from the kitchen by any means necessary. So of course he leaps at the opportunity (almost literally); he's smile's all sunshine, and he practically chirps: ]
Okay! I promise!
[ While he's flouncing off the ottoman and directly into his slippers, snatching up his sweater on their way to the door. ]
okay you know what legit
Jamil follows, a half-second too late, a half-second too slow, contemplating the way Kalim carries himself - like the world is full of wonders and he belongs - and then Jamil very carefully stopped contemplating anything of the sort. Things he would contemplate instead: how to keep Kalim busy in the kitchen without having him cook. Why had he invited Kalim to the kitchen?
(Because he hoped it would make Kalim happy, that's why.)
...questions Jamil would never know the answer to, he knows.
Things he would contemplate: what he could make with chicken that was quick. Things he would contemplate: how many side dishes he should make this time.]
If I didn't know better, I'd assume you are hungry, Kalim.
[Things he didn't want to contemplate: whether or not they'd encounter other students. But he would. One of them had to.
...it's fine. Side by side as equals and rivals.
Kabsa would be easy enough.
...he lengthens his stride ever so slightly, maybe forcing Kalim to catch up to him, or maybe matching Kalim's enthusiasm and energy stride for stride. He isn't sure which.]
Who are you tutoring?
[Is it someone from Scarabia, or some bozo from a different dorm...how defensive should he feel? Much to consider. Much to know.]
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[ It's meant to be a compliment, but Jamil probably won't take it that way. Of course they run into dormmates, and Kalim is bright and sunny in greeting them. Of course Kalim is a whirlwind of energy as soon as they're in the kitchen, sounding ignoring Jamil's orders to not touch anything by laying out his cutting boards, his knife set, all the spices he usually uses (because yes, he knows which ones Jamil prefers, and yes he knows where they're kept); all spread out in easy reach on the prep table while he launches into an explanation: ]
A couple of the freshmen are having trouble in alchemy. With those components, you know? Remember when I was in freshman year and I was having trouble harvesting that flower pollen for the rotgut tonic? They're having the same problem, so I told them I'd teach them that trick you showed me. With the infusion? It shouldn't take too long! But you never know. I wanna make sure they really understand how to do it before I leave them alone with it.
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I-
[Jamil was about to say something but then he was cut off by two things: Kalim talking, and the realization that Kalim was picking out his favorite knives and his favorite spices and his favorite cutting board with almost surgical precision. Kalim's talking and Jamil's reduced to staring.
Scarabian freshmen. (Good. Nothing he would have to...worry about.) Rotgut tonic. He remembers that.
But more than that, he stares and then gestures to- that. The prep table.]
How did you know?
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[ As far as Kalim is concerned, Jamil shouldn't have to worry about him anyway. There's nothing inherently dangerous about tutoring, even with another dorm's students. Then again, there's nothing more dangerous about tutoring their own students than those in other dorms, either. Danger lurks both everywhere and nowhere, depending on how they choose to view the lens of their own situation.
To that end, neither of them should have to worry about the things that worry them. Assassins and poisons and kidnappers lurking around every corner? They should never have been burdened with that, and Jamil less so than Kalim. Some day, they'll both learn that. And perhaps with that clarity will come patience, with themselves and with one another. But until then?
Until then, Kalim is grinning sheepishly, and holding up his hands while he takes a few steps away from the prep table. Jamil absolutely does not need to know how often Kalim has watched him cook on the security feed. ]
Lucky guess!
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I suppose it doesn't matter.
[He is going to go to the refrigerator and-
The chicken isn't thawed. The chicken is still in the freezer. He had been so distracted by...elephant safety discussions...that he had forgotten to take the chicken out of the freezer and have it thaw. He can't cook frozen chicken. (Or he could, but that would require the microwave and. Well. No. There's also cold water, but, well, that would still give away that he hadn't thought ahead, and.)]
...
[Jamil is going to take out a fresh coconut to wash and properly punch a hole in it, so Kalim can have some nice and refreshing cold coconut water while he figures out what the fuck he can make with what's in the fridge. Jamil's washing it, using his magic to punch a hole (as that is so much easier than using a drill, even if he knows how) and is sticking a straw in it and setting it in front of Kalim. Perfectly normal and quite refreshing.]
Here.
[...okay, he can make wraps for the both of them, he can handle this. He saw flatbread, he can do this.]
You wanted to know something? [A prompting, whilst he starts preparing ingredients and starts to cook.]
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Aa! Thank you!
[ For a moment, all is right in the world. There's no invisible tension, he and Jamil haven't been dancing around it for some inordinate amount of time, and Kalim is sipping coconut juice without a single care in the world. Just perfect.
Did he want to know something? Not expressly. Jamil invited him down here, so he came. To stay close to Jamil, and as far as Kalim is concerned, that's the only reason he needs. But perhaps it will be easier for Jamil to swallow if Kalim can at least fabricate an excuse. And that seems like a stellar idea, except that what comes out of his mouth is a rather blunt: ]
You've been acting a little weird since the mistletoe thing. Is everything all right?
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Then Kalim says mistletoe and a noise escapes Jamil's lips, one which sounds not unlike the noise a tortured magic parrot might make and his knife slips.
The good news is that he practices good knife discipline and, so, he didn't just lose a finger. Just a little cut, that's all.
The bad news is that he now has to live with the knowledge that if his knife discipline was a little bit worse he might have lost a chunk of finger there.]
I thought we agreed to never talk about it.
[Said as he moves to wash the cut what the heck, Kalim, what the hey, warn him before dropping the m-word.]
My sister is merciless: you know this. [And his mom and dad will be very upset and he's not thinking about what Kalim's parents might do but...his sister is a present terror.]
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in which kalim finally pours his heart out
this is going to determine how lucky Kalim gets later on lmf choose wisely Kalim
AND WHAT IF HE JUST SIMPLY CHOOSES *NOTHING*
ME, WALKING OF SHAME BACK TO THIS deets later much has happened
tell me!
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