[ 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.]
[ Look, he knows, he promised not to touch anything, but that's before blood was involved. So-- Clean towels! First aid kit! That's all he'll touch! Kalim's abandoned his coconut and gathered the necessary accouterments together before he rushes over to the sink. ]
Be careful! You need your fingers, you know!
[ Jamil's got washing under control, so Kalim drapes the towel over the edge of the sink for when he's done, and cracks open the first aid kit instead. ]
Make sure you use plenty of soap. When did you get your last tetanus shot! Do you need me to call the infirmary?
[ Absolutely not an overblown reaction for a little cut, right? But he and Jamil took first aid classes together, they know the drill. Kalim has his gloves on, a cotton swab in forceps, and a bandage unwrapped before Jamil is even finished washing. ]
[He can't quite bring himself to say fine because, in a (rare) moment of self-awareness, Jamil is keenly aware that if their positions were reversed he'd be aggressively fussing over Kalim. Self-awareness is terrible and he rather hates it. It's much easier to be oblivious.
He'd fight giving his hand to Kalim, and would argue about how he could put on a bandage himself and is, in fact, quite good at it...but Kalim's right there, first aid kit open, bandage unwrapped, hands in gloves. So, instead, Jamil sighs and surrenders his hand to Kalim.
...suspiciously, but his hand is surrendered to Kalim for his tender ministrations.]
I don't need the infirmary, my last tetanus shot was the same year as yours, and you just saw how much soap I used. And it's a small cut. [Kind of...it's small, especially in relation to what could've happened, but it's not a papercut and beneath notice.] Once you put the bandage on, I can get back to cooking.
[ Relative comparisons only work when you're not bleeding, Jamil. ]
Just be more careful, please! And wear a glove so you don't get your bandage wet.
[ It's exceedingly rare for Kalim to fuss over Jamil like this, but when the opportunity presents itself, he's always ready! Carefully drying the cut, swabbing hydrogen peroxide over it, then a sparing application of antibacterial cream. But if Jamil thought he might be spared having to talk about this entire thing, he's sorely mistaken. ]
Anyway... I told you no one has to know. I'm not gonna tell anyone, especially not Najma. But you seem upset about something. Or nervous. So I just-- Umm.
I want you to know, you don't have to worry about anything. I know that didn't mean anything to you. Or, if it was gross for you, I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again.
[ And he's not looking at Jamil. Not in the eye, anyway. If he does, Jamil will see the quiet ache that's lurking there, and that's the last thing either of them needs. So it's head down, focused on Jamil's injury until he has the bandage affixed. ]
Done! [ Kalim is grinning again when he finally lifts his head again. ] Sorry I startled you!
[Jamil has to listen. He has no choice. Kalim has his hand, he's a captive audience, he can't move unless he wants to slap Kalim in the face, and if he wanted to slap Kalim in the face that badly he would've pushed his luck when he had the opportunity and switch dorms. He didn't. Jamil still has something to prove in Scarabia.
He stands there, staring, listening, waiting, hating the fact that he has to lean on Kalim, hating the fact that Kalim is doing a good enough job that there's nothing he can call him out on. He's drying the cut carefully, is careful with the hydrogen peroxide, sparing with the antibacterial cream. He doesn't succumb to the temptation of too much, and he doesn't end up with one inch of bandages on his cut.
He tests the bandage, not quite looking at Kalim, and then.]
Don't underestimate me.
[This was said with an edge of anger as he goes for gloves, as...Kalim was right about that. Kalim was right about a lot of things. How was it that, even after saying he wasn't going to hold himself back, even after saying he was going to be Kalim's rival, after claiming that he could be better, do better...why was it that it felt like he had to try to catch up?
Jamil breathed. Exhaled slowly. It's fine. He can smother his anger, strangle his ire. He can have a normal conversation with Kalim about this.]
First: If I see any more of that mistletoe up anywhere, Kalim, I'm burning it. I don't care where it is and I don't care how much collateral damage I cause. I spent too much time rescuing our underclassmen and I'm tired, Kalim. And, if you feel like trying something like that again...tell me first.
[And now to quickly rinse off the knife and- fuck it, new cutting board. Same knife, new cutting board. Jamil is tired. He'll have to wash a cutting board twice regardless of his choices, so why not do the one that involves less vegetable maneuvering.]
Second. [And now here he is, angrily chopping a carrot.] My parents will be furious if they knew I kissed you. If you need to bring up the subject again, refer to it as...a conversation we had in the menagerie. I'll know what you're referring to and won't have to worry about others overhearing.
[Here he is, dicing an onion into furious little bits.]
[ Is avoiding really the word to use? Kalim hasn't been avoiding Jamil. At least, not insofar as avoidance being the intention. Then again, how is one meant to convey intention with something like that?
There's nothing left for Jamil to do here, in any case. Cleaning the forceps and packing away the kit barely eats up a few moments of his time, and then he has to awkwardly meander back to his coconut -- not touching a single thing in between -- while he tries to work out how Jamil's gotten this impression in the first place. ]
I've been trying to do more for myself. I'm learning all the things I never had to do before. I don't want to ask you for help unless I really need it. And I don't expect you to do anything for me anymore. I'm really grateful for what you still do! But--
I know I'm a burden to you. I didn't know I was. But I don't want to be anymore. So I'm trying really hard to make it so you can do what you want to do, and be who you want to be.
[...was that what he wanted? He didn't know. It was as if Kalim had laid a riddle before him, and, most frustratingly of all, Jamil was pretty sure Kalim didn't realize that was what he had been doing. Who did he want to be? What did he want to do?
He didn't know. Jamil had boasted about not letting anything hold him back anymore, and yet that it felt like, now that he had taken Kalim and set him aside as an obstacle, that there were a hundred thousand little things that still lay in his way. Things that he hadn't even considered as they (as well as he) had been in Kalim's shadow for years.
And Kalim was racing ahead. Who needed who?]
Well, if you aren't then you aren't.
[He (angrily) chopped up some broccoli, and then weighed protein...there was likely some sausage in the fridge that he could use.]
Yet it's felt like, whenever I offer you my help, you want nothing to do with it. And that it's only gotten worse since the kiss. [See? He can say it.]
[ And there it is, slipping out before Kalim has the good sense to stop it. He liked it. He'd like for it to happen again. He'd like to dance Jamil out to the farthest edges of the world and kiss him deeply in every shadowed corner of it. He wants Jamil by his side, forever and in every imaginable way. He'd give Jamil the whole world, anything and everything he wants, rearrange the stars themselves at his whim, and that's never going to change.
And as far as Kalim can tell, that's the absolute opposite of what Jamil has ever wished for. He hates Kalim. He wants to be away from him, out of his shadow, free of an aide's burden. Equals, rivals, nothing more. If that's what Jamil wants, then Kalim wants that for him too.
But he trusts Jamil. Kalim has always confided in him, and old habits die hard. ]
[His chopping slowed. Jamil's gaze turns towards the distance, not at Kalim, not at the vegetables he had cut to bits, not at the kitchen, or Scarabia, or Night Raven College, but at some fixed point a million miles away, and all Jamil could think was ah.
So that was it.
So that was what he had been mad at, this entire time.
He doesn't respond, not right away. What Jamil does is take the things for the bullshit fry and set them aside. He pulls out a pan. He stands there, for a moment, contemplating getting on with cooking, and then carefully walks towards Kalim, taking off one glove as he does so.]
You're right.
[But he doesn't sound...mad, more contemplative. Like they were discussing a fact. Like this isn't about them. This is about the latest thing Azul tried to pull, or the news that Leona was found sleeping in yet another new spot, or Riddle terrorizing his freshmen once more, or something else. Something boring. Mundane. Not about them.]
You shouldn't.
[And then he grabs Kalim's chin and Kalim would be forgiven for thinking that this was the prelude to him using his unique magic, and for one wild, angry moment Jamil considered doing that instead- but hadn't he said he wouldn't back down? That he wouldn't hide? That he'd stand by Kalim as an equal, instead of a servant?
So, instead, Jamil moved in, quick, kissed Kalim, hard, none of the hesitation of the kiss from before, none of the duty, none of the obligation, and while it still might be terrible it had one thing the last kiss lacked, which was passion. Decisiveness.
And then he pulled away as quickly as he had struck.]
If. [Jamil had to force himself to look at Kalim, to ride the wave of whatever had crested, to follow whatever had tipped over inside of him. Jamil had to force himself to stand there like he belonged, to force Kalim to see him, really see him, to not try to slither back into the shadows and hide.] If you're going to dream of a kiss, dream of this one, not...whatever that last one was. I'm better than that.
[...he should get back to cooking, before that whatever broke and he really had to think about the consequences of his actions- oh.]
Jamil may as well have hypnotized him. Ordered his lungs to seize up until he just simply expired. It has exactly the same effect, and not a single suffering cell in Kalim's brain will cooperate any longer. This is it. There's no more Kalim. He's checked out.
It must be instinct instead, that has Kalim reaching to cradle Jamil's jaw the moment he draws away again. His hands drift beneath to coax, thumb brushing idly over Jamil's fine cheek bone. That's the only warning Jamil receives, before Kalim guides their lips together again.
It's such a stark contrast to Jamil's kiss. Kalim's mouth is soft and undemanding, plush and generous. It gives as much as it takes, and Kalim swears, for just a moment, that everything in the world is as it should be. ]
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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.
no subject
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.]
no subject
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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[ Look, he knows, he promised not to touch anything, but that's before blood was involved. So-- Clean towels! First aid kit! That's all he'll touch! Kalim's abandoned his coconut and gathered the necessary accouterments together before he rushes over to the sink. ]
Be careful! You need your fingers, you know!
[ Jamil's got washing under control, so Kalim drapes the towel over the edge of the sink for when he's done, and cracks open the first aid kit instead. ]
Make sure you use plenty of soap. When did you get your last tetanus shot! Do you need me to call the infirmary?
[ Absolutely not an overblown reaction for a little cut, right? But he and Jamil took first aid classes together, they know the drill. Kalim has his gloves on, a cotton swab in forceps, and a bandage unwrapped before Jamil is even finished washing. ]
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[He can't quite bring himself to say fine because, in a (rare) moment of self-awareness, Jamil is keenly aware that if their positions were reversed he'd be aggressively fussing over Kalim. Self-awareness is terrible and he rather hates it. It's much easier to be oblivious.
He'd fight giving his hand to Kalim, and would argue about how he could put on a bandage himself and is, in fact, quite good at it...but Kalim's right there, first aid kit open, bandage unwrapped, hands in gloves. So, instead, Jamil sighs and surrenders his hand to Kalim.
...suspiciously, but his hand is surrendered to Kalim for his tender ministrations.]
I don't need the infirmary, my last tetanus shot was the same year as yours, and you just saw how much soap I used. And it's a small cut. [Kind of...it's small, especially in relation to what could've happened, but it's not a papercut and beneath notice.] Once you put the bandage on, I can get back to cooking.
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Just be more careful, please! And wear a glove so you don't get your bandage wet.
[ It's exceedingly rare for Kalim to fuss over Jamil like this, but when the opportunity presents itself, he's always ready! Carefully drying the cut, swabbing hydrogen peroxide over it, then a sparing application of antibacterial cream. But if Jamil thought he might be spared having to talk about this entire thing, he's sorely mistaken. ]
Anyway... I told you no one has to know. I'm not gonna tell anyone, especially not Najma. But you seem upset about something. Or nervous. So I just-- Umm.
I want you to know, you don't have to worry about anything. I know that didn't mean anything to you. Or, if it was gross for you, I'm sorry. I promise it won't happen again.
[ And he's not looking at Jamil. Not in the eye, anyway. If he does, Jamil will see the quiet ache that's lurking there, and that's the last thing either of them needs. So it's head down, focused on Jamil's injury until he has the bandage affixed. ]
Done! [ Kalim is grinning again when he finally lifts his head again. ] Sorry I startled you!
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He stands there, staring, listening, waiting, hating the fact that he has to lean on Kalim, hating the fact that Kalim is doing a good enough job that there's nothing he can call him out on. He's drying the cut carefully, is careful with the hydrogen peroxide, sparing with the antibacterial cream. He doesn't succumb to the temptation of too much, and he doesn't end up with one inch of bandages on his cut.
He tests the bandage, not quite looking at Kalim, and then.]
Don't underestimate me.
[This was said with an edge of anger as he goes for gloves, as...Kalim was right about that. Kalim was right about a lot of things. How was it that, even after saying he wasn't going to hold himself back, even after saying he was going to be Kalim's rival, after claiming that he could be better, do better...why was it that it felt like he had to try to catch up?
Jamil breathed. Exhaled slowly. It's fine. He can smother his anger, strangle his ire. He can have a normal conversation with Kalim about this.]
First: If I see any more of that mistletoe up anywhere, Kalim, I'm burning it. I don't care where it is and I don't care how much collateral damage I cause. I spent too much time rescuing our underclassmen and I'm tired, Kalim. And, if you feel like trying something like that again...tell me first.
[And now to quickly rinse off the knife and- fuck it, new cutting board. Same knife, new cutting board. Jamil is tired. He'll have to wash a cutting board twice regardless of his choices, so why not do the one that involves less vegetable maneuvering.]
Second. [And now here he is, angrily chopping a carrot.] My parents will be furious if they knew I kissed you. If you need to bring up the subject again, refer to it as...a conversation we had in the menagerie. I'll know what you're referring to and won't have to worry about others overhearing.
[Here he is, dicing an onion into furious little bits.]
You're the one who's been avoiding me.
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[ Is avoiding really the word to use? Kalim hasn't been avoiding Jamil. At least, not insofar as avoidance being the intention. Then again, how is one meant to convey intention with something like that?
There's nothing left for Jamil to do here, in any case. Cleaning the forceps and packing away the kit barely eats up a few moments of his time, and then he has to awkwardly meander back to his coconut -- not touching a single thing in between -- while he tries to work out how Jamil's gotten this impression in the first place. ]
I've been trying to do more for myself. I'm learning all the things I never had to do before. I don't want to ask you for help unless I really need it. And I don't expect you to do anything for me anymore. I'm really grateful for what you still do! But--
I know I'm a burden to you. I didn't know I was. But I don't want to be anymore. So I'm trying really hard to make it so you can do what you want to do, and be who you want to be.
Isn't that what you wanted?
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He didn't know. Jamil had boasted about not letting anything hold him back anymore, and yet that it felt like, now that he had taken Kalim and set him aside as an obstacle, that there were a hundred thousand little things that still lay in his way. Things that he hadn't even considered as they (as well as he) had been in Kalim's shadow for years.
And Kalim was racing ahead. Who needed who?]
Well, if you aren't then you aren't.
[He (angrily) chopped up some broccoli, and then weighed protein...there was likely some sausage in the fridge that he could use.]
Yet it's felt like, whenever I offer you my help, you want nothing to do with it. And that it's only gotten worse since the kiss. [See? He can say it.]
Did I disgust you, Kalim?
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[ And there it is, slipping out before Kalim has the good sense to stop it. He liked it. He'd like for it to happen again. He'd like to dance Jamil out to the farthest edges of the world and kiss him deeply in every shadowed corner of it. He wants Jamil by his side, forever and in every imaginable way. He'd give Jamil the whole world, anything and everything he wants, rearrange the stars themselves at his whim, and that's never going to change.
And as far as Kalim can tell, that's the absolute opposite of what Jamil has ever wished for. He hates Kalim. He wants to be away from him, out of his shadow, free of an aide's burden. Equals, rivals, nothing more. If that's what Jamil wants, then Kalim wants that for him too.
But he trusts Jamil. Kalim has always confided in him, and old habits die hard. ]
I know I shouldn't have. I'm trying not to.
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So that was it.
So that was what he had been mad at, this entire time.
He doesn't respond, not right away. What Jamil does is take the things for the bullshit fry and set them aside. He pulls out a pan. He stands there, for a moment, contemplating getting on with cooking, and then carefully walks towards Kalim, taking off one glove as he does so.]
You're right.
[But he doesn't sound...mad, more contemplative. Like they were discussing a fact. Like this isn't about them. This is about the latest thing Azul tried to pull, or the news that Leona was found sleeping in yet another new spot, or Riddle terrorizing his freshmen once more, or something else. Something boring. Mundane. Not about them.]
You shouldn't.
[And then he grabs Kalim's chin and Kalim would be forgiven for thinking that this was the prelude to him using his unique magic, and for one wild, angry moment Jamil considered doing that instead- but hadn't he said he wouldn't back down? That he wouldn't hide? That he'd stand by Kalim as an equal, instead of a servant?
So, instead, Jamil moved in, quick, kissed Kalim, hard, none of the hesitation of the kiss from before, none of the duty, none of the obligation, and while it still might be terrible it had one thing the last kiss lacked, which was passion. Decisiveness.
And then he pulled away as quickly as he had struck.]
If. [Jamil had to force himself to look at Kalim, to ride the wave of whatever had crested, to follow whatever had tipped over inside of him. Jamil had to force himself to stand there like he belonged, to force Kalim to see him, really see him, to not try to slither back into the shadows and hide.] If you're going to dream of a kiss, dream of this one, not...whatever that last one was. I'm better than that.
[...he should get back to cooking, before that whatever broke and he really had to think about the consequences of his actions- oh.]
And don't tell my sister. Or my parents.
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Jamil may as well have hypnotized him. Ordered his lungs to seize up until he just simply expired. It has exactly the same effect, and not a single suffering cell in Kalim's brain will cooperate any longer. This is it. There's no more Kalim. He's checked out.
It must be instinct instead, that has Kalim reaching to cradle Jamil's jaw the moment he draws away again. His hands drift beneath to coax, thumb brushing idly over Jamil's fine cheek bone. That's the only warning Jamil receives, before Kalim guides their lips together again.
It's such a stark contrast to Jamil's kiss. Kalim's mouth is soft and undemanding, plush and generous. It gives as much as it takes, and Kalim swears, for just a moment, that everything in the world is as it should be. ]
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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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