That's it. That's all it takes. As completely as Kalim had fallen under this spell, the entire thing shatters just as easily. Barely a fracture before it bursts, fine as sand and slipping through his fingers. Maybe Jamil can see it; one agonizing moment that feels to Kalim like dragging his bare feet through broken glass. His grip on Jamil falters, falls slack along with the barest sink of his shoulders, and that twitch beneath his eyes is the closest he's ever seen to Kalim flinching away.
It hurts. It's not fair for Kalim to think so, and he knows that. But fair or not, it aches down to the deepest part of him. Not the rejection, nor the joke. Just that one word. Own. Even after everything, that's still how Jamil sees them.
Maybe he's reading too much into it. He can shelve it for now; take it out to examine in private. Leave it, until he can pick it apart without his face betraying that achy pain. Instead, his face lights up again through a huff, and then a full-bodied laugh, tucking his head down against Jamil's chest until he can compose himself again. ]
We did, didn't we?! I knew we could!
[ A kiss to Jamil's cheek -- incredibly chaste, relative to how they'd been moments before -- and Kalim turns away, two steps toward retrieving his abandoned stick. ]
Come on! We need to focus, or we'll never get this fire show choreographed.
[There's a second, a second's worth of hesitation, a fluttering heartbeat's worth of hesitation, and then the moment's broken, and-
And then he feels a strange sense of relief, like cool rain falling after a hot day. And then he feels guilt. And then Jamil doesn't know what he feels, and so he does what he usually does with feelings and promptly does his best to ignore them. He doesn't have feelings. He has too much to do and not enough time, he doesn't have time to feel, shut up, shut up, even if he felt what could he do with it?]
You're right.
[After all, they're in some (fake) ruins atop a possible (fake) tomb, which is the last place they should linger, probably. Even if it had been...sort of...his idea.]
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That's it. That's all it takes. As completely as Kalim had fallen under this spell, the entire thing shatters just as easily. Barely a fracture before it bursts, fine as sand and slipping through his fingers. Maybe Jamil can see it; one agonizing moment that feels to Kalim like dragging his bare feet through broken glass. His grip on Jamil falters, falls slack along with the barest sink of his shoulders, and that twitch beneath his eyes is the closest he's ever seen to Kalim flinching away.
It hurts. It's not fair for Kalim to think so, and he knows that. But fair or not, it aches down to the deepest part of him. Not the rejection, nor the joke. Just that one word. Own. Even after everything, that's still how Jamil sees them.
Maybe he's reading too much into it. He can shelve it for now; take it out to examine in private. Leave it, until he can pick it apart without his face betraying that achy pain. Instead, his face lights up again through a huff, and then a full-bodied laugh, tucking his head down against Jamil's chest until he can compose himself again. ]
We did, didn't we?! I knew we could!
[ A kiss to Jamil's cheek -- incredibly chaste, relative to how they'd been moments before -- and Kalim turns away, two steps toward retrieving his abandoned stick. ]
Come on! We need to focus, or we'll never get this fire show choreographed.
no subject
And then he feels a strange sense of relief, like cool rain falling after a hot day. And then he feels guilt. And then Jamil doesn't know what he feels, and so he does what he usually does with feelings and promptly does his best to ignore them. He doesn't have feelings. He has too much to do and not enough time, he doesn't have time to feel, shut up, shut up, even if he felt what could he do with it?]
You're right.
[After all, they're in some (fake) ruins atop a possible (fake) tomb, which is the last place they should linger, probably. Even if it had been...sort of...his idea.]
So...what do you have in mind, Kalim?