"This is why you don't make these decisions by yourself." Jamil doesn't even know what he's saying anymore. Why is he arguing to stay in Kalim's service?? It's not like he can walk it back now, though, so the only way forward is through. 🤡
"You can't fire me, anyway. It's not like I was getting paid while we were at school either."
Jamil's eyes go wide and his face goes white, then red, then a whole bunch of other colors.
"I-I didn't say that! I--"
He doesn't... really have a better explanation on hand, though, and the more he fumbles for a reason to present itself and it fails to happen, he considers that maybe this is it. He's run out of rope and all he has left is digging in his heels.
"I can't just--stop, that's not... that's not how it works."
"Why not??" Kalim is starting to tear up from frustration. "Why not, no one's making you! I'm not going to, to tell our parents or anything! You...you know I'm not."
Kalim's tears in turn start to make Jamil frantic. He doesn't actually want to make Kalim cry, generally, and in between this and his own feelings not making any sense the situation is threatening to spiral very quickly out of control. He doesn't have the explanation Kalim wants--
"I don't know!" he blurts out. "I meant that, okay, I don't know. I don't know what else to do but this."
As soon as the words are out he claps his mouth shut, pressing his lips together in a thin line. His breaths are shaky as his own words ring in his ears. He can't believe he just said that. The memory of it replaying in his own mind feels fake to him. He absolutely can't look Kalim in the eyes now.
Kalim blinks, wet eyelashes sticking together. He stares at Jamil for a moment, searching his face for any hint of something he might be missing here.
"Then..." He takes a little step forward. His voice is a bit quieter and less worked up; he's still confused about everything that's just happened, but at least it doesn't seem like Jamil is actively bullshitting him any more. "Then, wouldn't this be a good time to figure that out?"
It kind of hurts to suggest, honestly! Hearing Jamil say he literally doesn't know what else to do either makes Kalim feel a lot less lonely and pathetic, and he wants to grab onto that feeling with both hands. If it's like that for both of them then maybe it would be okay to stay like this and he doesn't have to keep trying to push Jamil away –
But he knows how selfish that is. Being used to it isn't the same as liking it; even if Jamil doesn't know what to do with himself if he's not looking after Kalim, he's made his actual feelings on the matter very clear.
"I don't know what to do without you, but I'm trying. So... So we could both..." Wow hm he he feels kind of nauseous.
Jamil just stares at Kalim as he speaks, eyes wide and breathing hard. Kalim's words somehow feel like fingers touching a raw wound. He's reluctant to describe what he's feeling now as fear, but he doesn't know what else to call the rapid pounding of his heart as he wishes fervently they were talking about literally anything else.
Why does letting Kalim go feel like suffocating but admitting that he misses him feel like ripping out his own fingernails? Why can't Jamil make sense for once in his fucking life? He contemplates throwing up on Kalim's shoes to avoid having to answer. Kalim looks a little like he might throw up, on that note. Oh--
"Are you feeling all right? Here, sit down and put your head between your knees."
It's an easy, welcome, cowardly reaction to sidestep the whole issue and lapse right back into caretaking instead. The impulse is so natural Jamil hardly realizes what he's doing as he automatically tries to herd Kalim into taking a seat on his bed. For once his instinct to soothe Kalim's distress before anything else almost comes as a relief.
Kalim goes along with it without thinking, unconsciously relieved, but before he can be steered to the bed his attention comes back online and he jerks away from Jamil.
"Jamil! I'm fine!"
He looks a bit horrified. The way Jamil retreats into this so automatically -- Kalim had never consciously noticed that about it before, just taken it for granted, but now he recognises that attempt to escape because he does the same thing all the time. His head spins. He reaches for Jamil's hands.
Jamil freezes, caught out, his expression blanking on reflex. Kalim always loves to be perceptive at the worst times. The moment hangs. He stares at Kalim half-reaching for him, no longer daring to close the distance himself the way he might have done just months ago. Jamil will have to make up the difference now himself, if that's what he wants.
He closes his eyes and lets out his breath in a sigh, resigning himself to... he's not sure what. What Kalim clearly wants from him still feels like too much for him to give right now, but maybe he can figure out a way to compromise for the both of them.
Jamil sits on the bed himself and holds out his own hands. "Fine, but you still look sick and I don't want to have to clean up vomit off my floor. Give me your hands." And just in case Kalim thinks this is another diversion tactic, he adds lowly: "I'm not trying to avoid this, I promise."
It still rings hollow and he knows it, but Kalim's compliance is its own concession, because he will always give Jamil more chances than he deserves. Kalim's eyes on him feel like an almost palpable weight as he obediently sits beside him on the bed and places his wrists in Jamil's hands so he can massage Kalim's pericardium. Maybe it isn't the comforting contact Kalim had wanted, but it's all Jamil is able to offer. And even now Jamil hides, keeping his gaze stubbornly trained on pressing his thumbs into Kalim's wrists as if that requires his full attention.
After a few moments of tense silence, his heart rattling with dread, Jamil finally says, "I don't know if what you want is even possible, Kalim."
Well, Kalim feels less queasy now, so it's good enough. Jamil's hands are warm and capable, and this is the first time in months that Kalim has gotten to appreciate them without having to try very hard not to think about the certain knowledge that Jamil hates having to touch him. Of course, now he has other things to worry about, but before it was a 100% sure thing that having to do this was Jamil's personal hell, so...
When Jamil finally speaks up, though, Kalim is confused. Of course, he knows that what he actually wants isn't possible, but they're not talking about that right now – and if it's up to him they never will be. He didn't think that what he was suggesting was so out of pocket.
"Why not?" he presses. "As long as we're here, no one can tell us what to do. Isn't it the perfect time to figure it out? If we practice now, then... Even when we wind up back home, it won't be as hard."
Jamil drops Kalim's wrists and presses his lips into a thin line, feeling frustrated--at which of them in particular, he isn't sure. It's easy to lose patience at Kalim's casual insistence of we, we, we--but clearly Jamil can't claim that's presumptuous anymore when he's now the one desperately holding the door open. So what is it?
It feels like there's something stuck in his chest that he can't dislodge. That feels like it might kill him if he tries. Is it just him? Is it that grueling to admit that he might be the problem? That maybe he'll never be ready to leave a familiar hell for a terrifying unknown?
"I don't know if I can..." he says. It trails off like a thought half-finished. He makes himself start over, struggling to form words out of the emotions that fill his throat like stones, rough and heavy and suffocating. He still can't look at Kalim. He feels strangely dizzy and disconnected; almost like he's falling while sitting still. "I don't know how to change. Maybe I can't change."
Kalim pulls his knees up to his chest, not looking at Jamil either. He's already made his peace, as much as he can, with the harsh truth that Jamil won't be with him forever. He's had half a year to get used to the thought, even if it still hurts. But it does feel a bit like having the scabs ripped off, to try to convince Jamil to do what he's spent all this time dreading.
"There's a lot of things I don't know how to do," he says. "That's why I want to learn. Just because you don't know how you're going to do it..." He glances sideways at Jamil, but looks away just as quickly. "Isn't it better to work it out now, instead of when we go on our internships, or after school?"
Jamil expects to feel a flare of anger at Kalim's words, but instead a bone-deep fatigue settles over him. This is familiar territory after all: having to break Kalim's heart with a dose of reality. It's almost cute he seems to think they won't be shackled together until death.
"There's no point. Kalim..." Jamil sighs. "You know you can't actually dismiss me without causing a huge scandal, don't you? It hasn't been done for generations."
Kalim does look up at him now, almost shocked to hear that Jamil hasn't also been anticipating going their separate ways after they graduate. It's been basically a certainty to him since winter break.
His expression goes from startled to folorn – and then turns determined. He's been bracing himself for Jamil leaving – the idea of him being forced to stay in his service, miserable, for the rest of their lives, is far more horrifying to contend with, and he refuses.
"I don't care!" He clenches his fists. "I don't care who I have to persuade, or how mad people get, or any of that!"
There's the anger. Of course: nothing pisses Jamil off more than Kalim sticking his fingers in his ears rather than accept reality.
"I do! It's not just me in the middle of this, in case you forgot!" This is Kalim's whole problem. He never has to consider the consequences of his impulses because he is never the one who has to endure them. "You think I want my parents to be ashamed of me? A dismissal is a stain on our whole family's reputation and that will be my fault. Except I won't be the one they punish for it!"
And that's probably enough to get his point across, but Jamil got to his feet in a fury at some point and he's kind of on a roll now. "And fine, say you dismiss me, then what? There's no replacement for me. I'm your bodyguard too, remember? Maybe you can figure how to put your socks on yourself but I keep you alive. No one knows you like I do. You're my responsibility and you can't just--just--give that away!"
Jamil breathes hard in the wake of his rant, his own words ringing in his ears--and then goes bright red as he processes what he just said. For once, though, he doesn't try to hide his embarrassment from view; instead he crosses his arms and looks Kalim dead in the eye, almost as if in defiance. He can't take the words back, so the only option left is to stand by them, as humiliating as they are.
Kalim looks about to protest – he wants to argue that there has to be some other way around the dismissal problem, that they can figure it out – but Jamil keeps talking, and successfully shuts him up.
Of course he's thought about that. Of course he knows no one can take care of him like Jamil does. Jamil is the only person in his life who he's really, genuinely, completely sure he can actually trust, even after everything that happened last year. Kalim is terrified of what his life is going to look like with someone else trying to do Jamil's job, and half certain that whatever it does end up looking like, it won't last very long. He's already resigned to that; he's already been trying not to think about it.
He shrinks in on himself a little, still sitting on the edge of the bed. He's so caught up in shit he normally does his best to ignore that it takes a moment for those last words to sink in – he actually notices Jamil's flushed face and indignant glare first, and thinks, stupidly, Why is he embarrassed? before his brain catches up to his ears.
He blinks, dislodging a few tears, and stares back at him.
"...I don't want to," he says wretchedly. "Jamil, I know it'll be awful, I know they'll do a terrible job, I know you're better than anyone else, but – otherwise you'll be sad forever. That's worse."
Jamil isn't sure what he expected instead. Kalim to concede, maybe. Admit he hadn't really thought the implications through and try to backtrack into another argument that Jamil would have to pick apart. It hadn't crossed his mind that Kalim could have actually considered the natural conclusion to this idea and decided it was acceptable.
It stuns him to realize Kalim's attachment to him could extend this far. In Jamil's experience, that fondness had only ever meant demands on his attention without any regard for his actual feelings on the matter. Over the years, it had been easy to dismiss that disregard as the same thoughtless entitlement that plagued the majority of the Asims, irrespective of how Kalim claimed to see their relationship. It's easy to profess friendship when you're never the one who has to make the sacrifices, after all.
But here is Kalim saying he would sacrifice his own safety for Jamil's happiness, and he doesn't know what to do with that information.
"I wou--" Jamil cuts himself off before he can finish the sentence. Not even under pain of death is he going to admit that right now. The fact is, it doesn't really matter how either of them feel about it. "You're the only one who cares about that. I don't know what else to tell you."
"That's not true!" Kalim's eyes well up with a fresh crop of tears. Who needs his signature spell back, honestly! "And even if it was, that doesn't matter! I still care about it! What's the point of any of it if I can't make you happy?"
Jamil inhales sharply with shock. He hadn't realized Kalim feels this strongly about this; they'd never really talked about anything that happened. After the disaster of a stunt Jamil pulled over winter break, he'd considered himself lucky to return to the way things were without further repercussions. He'd long since resigned himself to the fact that Night Raven College had been his only chance to pretend at freedom, if only temporary, and he'd already blown that shot. He'd just assumed Kalim had understood the same, and was carrying on with the same silly, flighty, thoughtless, cavalier attitude with which he does everything.
This simple revelation of Kalim's priorities is too overwhelming for Jamil to process. Kalim can't just say things like that. Does he even know how he sounds?
(Of course he doesn't. That's Kalim's privilege, that he can just say whatever he wants without a care what it might mean to other people.)
Standing over Kalim while he's pathetically curled up on the bed suddenly feels exhausting for some reason, but Jamil doesn't really want to sit back down next to him either, so he compromises by sliding down the opposite wall to sit on the floor. There, now they both look pathetic.
"That's not up to you."
He doesn't know what else to say; this isn't a distress he actually knows how to soothe, because the heart of the problem is still that what Kalim wants is impossible. Even if it was up to Kalim, Jamil doesn't even know what "happy" looks like for him. He's certain it isn't anything Kalim could give him.
Kalim watches him fold down to the floor and he wants to get down from the bed to join him but he can't. He feels locked in place by his uncertainty, so unmoored by everything Jamil has said to him that no action seems safe to make.
"So -- so what, then? I'm just supposed to watch you be miserable, for the rest of our lives--?"
Jamil feels like he should be satisfied that Kalim seems to finally get it, but strangely enough, seeing Kalim cry has never felt like the victory it should. Mostly Jamil just feels like shit. Not enough to get up there and coo at him the way he'd be expected to, but he doesn't really love the conclusion they've reached here either. At least now they're finally on the same page about it.
And, well. Kalim isn't the only one doing some reassessing. Maybe this is a conversation they should have had a long time ago.
"I could say the same thing to you," he says, keeping his voice neutral. He's not trying to start another argument. "I... didn't realize you were that serious about it."
Kalim looks up in surprise. He was expecting some kind of mean remark. It's unusual for Jamil to admit he misunderstood something.
"Ah... Haha. Yeah, well. I just figured I had to sell my dad on it, you know?" He wipes the back of his wrist over his face. "You're so talented. If they let you go off to do other stuff, then...it'd be really good for our family to have that connection to whatever you end up doing, especially if my kids end up having magic too..." Kalim smiles dejectedly. "He gets really excited whenever I mention his grandkids. I thought it could work."
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Kalim sags in dejected confusion.
"I thought that would make you happy."
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"You can't fire me, anyway. It's not like I was getting paid while we were at school either."
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No, hold on.
"Wait, then..." His face crumples with the effort of trying to comprehend this. "You... want to keep helping me...?"
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"I-I didn't say that! I--"
He doesn't... really have a better explanation on hand, though, and the more he fumbles for a reason to present itself and it fails to happen, he considers that maybe this is it. He's run out of rope and all he has left is digging in his heels.
"I can't just--stop, that's not... that's not how it works."
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"I don't know!" he blurts out. "I meant that, okay, I don't know. I don't know what else to do but this."
As soon as the words are out he claps his mouth shut, pressing his lips together in a thin line. His breaths are shaky as his own words ring in his ears. He can't believe he just said that. The memory of it replaying in his own mind feels fake to him. He absolutely can't look Kalim in the eyes now.
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"Then..." He takes a little step forward. His voice is a bit quieter and less worked up; he's still confused about everything that's just happened, but at least it doesn't seem like Jamil is actively bullshitting him any more. "Then, wouldn't this be a good time to figure that out?"
It kind of hurts to suggest, honestly! Hearing Jamil say he literally doesn't know what else to do either makes Kalim feel a lot less lonely and pathetic, and he wants to grab onto that feeling with both hands. If it's like that for both of them then maybe it would be okay to stay like this and he doesn't have to keep trying to push Jamil away –
But he knows how selfish that is. Being used to it isn't the same as liking it; even if Jamil doesn't know what to do with himself if he's not looking after Kalim, he's made his actual feelings on the matter very clear.
"I don't know what to do without you, but I'm trying. So... So we could both..." Wow hm he he feels kind of nauseous.
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Why does letting Kalim go feel like suffocating but admitting that he misses him feel like ripping out his own fingernails? Why can't Jamil make sense for once in his fucking life? He contemplates throwing up on Kalim's shoes to avoid having to answer. Kalim looks a little like he might throw up, on that note. Oh--
"Are you feeling all right? Here, sit down and put your head between your knees."
It's an easy, welcome, cowardly reaction to sidestep the whole issue and lapse right back into caretaking instead. The impulse is so natural Jamil hardly realizes what he's doing as he automatically tries to herd Kalim into taking a seat on his bed. For once his instinct to soothe Kalim's distress before anything else almost comes as a relief.
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"Jamil! I'm fine!"
He looks a bit horrified. The way Jamil retreats into this so automatically -- Kalim had never consciously noticed that about it before, just taken it for granted, but now he recognises that attempt to escape because he does the same thing all the time. His head spins. He reaches for Jamil's hands.
"That's not...this is important. Please."
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He closes his eyes and lets out his breath in a sigh, resigning himself to... he's not sure what. What Kalim clearly wants from him still feels like too much for him to give right now, but maybe he can figure out a way to compromise for the both of them.
Jamil sits on the bed himself and holds out his own hands. "Fine, but you still look sick and I don't want to have to clean up vomit off my floor. Give me your hands." And just in case Kalim thinks this is another diversion tactic, he adds lowly: "I'm not trying to avoid this, I promise."
It still rings hollow and he knows it, but Kalim's compliance is its own concession, because he will always give Jamil more chances than he deserves. Kalim's eyes on him feel like an almost palpable weight as he obediently sits beside him on the bed and places his wrists in Jamil's hands so he can massage Kalim's pericardium. Maybe it isn't the comforting contact Kalim had wanted, but it's all Jamil is able to offer. And even now Jamil hides, keeping his gaze stubbornly trained on pressing his thumbs into Kalim's wrists as if that requires his full attention.
After a few moments of tense silence, his heart rattling with dread, Jamil finally says, "I don't know if what you want is even possible, Kalim."
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When Jamil finally speaks up, though, Kalim is confused. Of course, he knows that what he actually wants isn't possible, but they're not talking about that right now – and if it's up to him they never will be. He didn't think that what he was suggesting was so out of pocket.
"Why not?" he presses. "As long as we're here, no one can tell us what to do. Isn't it the perfect time to figure it out? If we practice now, then... Even when we wind up back home, it won't be as hard."
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It feels like there's something stuck in his chest that he can't dislodge. That feels like it might kill him if he tries. Is it just him? Is it that grueling to admit that he might be the problem? That maybe he'll never be ready to leave a familiar hell for a terrifying unknown?
"I don't know if I can..." he says. It trails off like a thought half-finished. He makes himself start over, struggling to form words out of the emotions that fill his throat like stones, rough and heavy and suffocating. He still can't look at Kalim. He feels strangely dizzy and disconnected; almost like he's falling while sitting still. "I don't know how to change. Maybe I can't change."
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"There's a lot of things I don't know how to do," he says. "That's why I want to learn. Just because you don't know how you're going to do it..." He glances sideways at Jamil, but looks away just as quickly. "Isn't it better to work it out now, instead of when we go on our internships, or after school?"
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"There's no point. Kalim..." Jamil sighs. "You know you can't actually dismiss me without causing a huge scandal, don't you? It hasn't been done for generations."
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His expression goes from startled to folorn – and then turns determined. He's been bracing himself for Jamil leaving – the idea of him being forced to stay in his service, miserable, for the rest of their lives, is far more horrifying to contend with, and he refuses.
"I don't care!" He clenches his fists. "I don't care who I have to persuade, or how mad people get, or any of that!"
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"I do! It's not just me in the middle of this, in case you forgot!" This is Kalim's whole problem. He never has to consider the consequences of his impulses because he is never the one who has to endure them. "You think I want my parents to be ashamed of me? A dismissal is a stain on our whole family's reputation and that will be my fault. Except I won't be the one they punish for it!"
And that's probably enough to get his point across, but Jamil got to his feet in a fury at some point and he's kind of on a roll now. "And fine, say you dismiss me, then what? There's no replacement for me. I'm your bodyguard too, remember? Maybe you can figure how to put your socks on yourself but I keep you alive. No one knows you like I do. You're my responsibility and you can't just--just--give that away!"
Jamil breathes hard in the wake of his rant, his own words ringing in his ears--and then goes bright red as he processes what he just said. For once, though, he doesn't try to hide his embarrassment from view; instead he crosses his arms and looks Kalim dead in the eye, almost as if in defiance. He can't take the words back, so the only option left is to stand by them, as humiliating as they are.
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Of course he's thought about that. Of course he knows no one can take care of him like Jamil does. Jamil is the only person in his life who he's really, genuinely, completely sure he can actually trust, even after everything that happened last year. Kalim is terrified of what his life is going to look like with someone else trying to do Jamil's job, and half certain that whatever it does end up looking like, it won't last very long. He's already resigned to that; he's already been trying not to think about it.
He shrinks in on himself a little, still sitting on the edge of the bed. He's so caught up in shit he normally does his best to ignore that it takes a moment for those last words to sink in – he actually notices Jamil's flushed face and indignant glare first, and thinks, stupidly, Why is he embarrassed? before his brain catches up to his ears.
He blinks, dislodging a few tears, and stares back at him.
"...I don't want to," he says wretchedly. "Jamil, I know it'll be awful, I know they'll do a terrible job, I know you're better than anyone else, but – otherwise you'll be sad forever. That's worse."
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Jamil isn't sure what he expected instead. Kalim to concede, maybe. Admit he hadn't really thought the implications through and try to backtrack into another argument that Jamil would have to pick apart. It hadn't crossed his mind that Kalim could have actually considered the natural conclusion to this idea and decided it was acceptable.
It stuns him to realize Kalim's attachment to him could extend this far. In Jamil's experience, that fondness had only ever meant demands on his attention without any regard for his actual feelings on the matter. Over the years, it had been easy to dismiss that disregard as the same thoughtless entitlement that plagued the majority of the Asims, irrespective of how Kalim claimed to see their relationship. It's easy to profess friendship when you're never the one who has to make the sacrifices, after all.
But here is Kalim saying he would sacrifice his own safety for Jamil's happiness, and he doesn't know what to do with that information.
"I wou--" Jamil cuts himself off before he can finish the sentence. Not even under pain of death is he going to admit that right now. The fact is, it doesn't really matter how either of them feel about it. "You're the only one who cares about that. I don't know what else to tell you."
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This simple revelation of Kalim's priorities is too overwhelming for Jamil to process. Kalim can't just say things like that. Does he even know how he sounds?
(Of course he doesn't. That's Kalim's privilege, that he can just say whatever he wants without a care what it might mean to other people.)
Standing over Kalim while he's pathetically curled up on the bed suddenly feels exhausting for some reason, but Jamil doesn't really want to sit back down next to him either, so he compromises by sliding down the opposite wall to sit on the floor. There, now they both look pathetic.
"That's not up to you."
He doesn't know what else to say; this isn't a distress he actually knows how to soothe, because the heart of the problem is still that what Kalim wants is impossible. Even if it was up to Kalim, Jamil doesn't even know what "happy" looks like for him. He's certain it isn't anything Kalim could give him.
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"So -- so what, then? I'm just supposed to watch you be miserable, for the rest of our lives--?"
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"I guess so," he snaps. "What do you want me to say? We covered this months ago, it shouldn't be news to you by now."
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Oh. Right.
This entire time, then, that's all this change has meant to Jamil? That now Kalim knows about it?
He pushes the tears out of his eyes with the heel of his palm and tries to make himself laugh, but it just comes out as a tragic little hiccup.
"I still really don't know how to read you, huh..."
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And, well. Kalim isn't the only one doing some reassessing. Maybe this is a conversation they should have had a long time ago.
"I could say the same thing to you," he says, keeping his voice neutral. He's not trying to start another argument. "I... didn't realize you were that serious about it."
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"Ah... Haha. Yeah, well. I just figured I had to sell my dad on it, you know?" He wipes the back of his wrist over his face. "You're so talented. If they let you go off to do other stuff, then...it'd be really good for our family to have that connection to whatever you end up doing, especially if my kids end up having magic too..." Kalim smiles dejectedly. "He gets really excited whenever I mention his grandkids. I thought it could work."
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boys oh boys....
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