Jamil doesn't have anything to say to that--it's true, as far as he's concerned. It also doesn't change anything about the impasse they're currently at, but at least Kalim is aware of that now, or so he says. For several long moments Jamil just sits there and lets Kalim sniffle into the silence. Then, finally, he sighs and hauls himself to his feet, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes in a rare blatant show of tiredness.
"At least we're on the same page now." Even if that's not true, maybe if Jamil says it firmly enough Kalim will believe him and they can both go to bed. "So can we stop with this nonsense? I'm tired of pretending I'm not constantly mending your sweater."
In the doorway, leaning silently against the entrance into the room, is one specific fae. His arms are resting around himself, one hand resting against his arm. When had he got there? How long had he been standing there? Why was there no sound to indicate he was there at all in the first place?
A plethora of questions can be asked - later. For now, he finally makes himself known.
"Boys," Lilia begins, his gaze somewhat softer than what one might imagine from him. That or its all in their heads, "You are aware that you're quite loud, yes?"
He peers between them both, as if assessing... something. Hard to tell what. But. Feel seen.
Lilia's appearance catches Jamil completely by surprise, so naturally his reaction is to whirl around with his hand raised like he's about to attack.
--Presumably Lilia would easily have been able to dodge him, but Jamil comes to his senses quickly enough to not actually try and hit him, but it's a very strong impulse.
Kalim had already been halfway through straightening up in surprise over what Jamil said about his sweater (although that does explain some things, and maybe he just wasn't letting himself wonder about it too hard) when Lilia announces himself, and he actually jumps a little. Next to Jamil his reaction seems positively restrained, though...
"L-Lilia??" He covers his mouth with his hand. Didn't he close the door...? (He did not close the door.)
Lilia doesn't even flinch when Jamil's hand is raised, although a perceptive eye (which, may be neither of them right now) would be able to catch the slight tensing of his muscles, the preparation to move out of the way or block any attack.
Good reflexes on that one. He's proud.
"Mm, long enough." Lilia replies easily, "Not that I needed to stand right here to hear the two of you."
Give him a second to finish his assessment, before he brings up a hand to wave it at the two. "You've such a complex relationship and such a difficulty talking about it. You both have so much to learn about each other. Don't waste your time by arguing, that will get you no where. You need to give yourselves the time and space to listen, with clear heads." And, with that, he pushes off the wall, standing up properly.
"Do either of you want some tea? Something herbal, perhaps...? I'll start some~" And he's moving to grab the doorknob on his way, planning to close the door for them.
Jamil stands there gaping like a fish, caught between still reeling from Lilia's sudden presence, embarrassment at how much he possibly heard, and irritation that he'd ring in at all when he has no idea how complicated this actually is, thanks! How could he possibly relate!!!
He isn't so tired he can't keep himself from running his mouth, though, and it occurs to him a split second later that Lilia has actually given him the perfect opportunity to escape this situation. How generous of him!
"That's all right, I can make the tea. We should all be getting back to bed, I think." OK great that's settled he'll be leaving the room first thanks.
"It is as Kalim says," Lilia brings his hand up, touch both gentle and rough as he settles it against Jamil's shoulder, to push him back further into the room. "I made the suggestion first. I can handle tea just fine. You need to sit and listen. Both of you." The little demand is made, placed on their heads. His tone is almost... threatening? As is that smile of his.
"He may be your responsibility, but I believe, if you pay enough attention, it's clear you're also his, in a way. You're friends after all." Vague and strange as usual. "I'll return momentarily. Sit. Talk."
And, he's closing the door before either can argue.
Jamil is a little too stunned at being ganged up on to protest too much. He just watches gobsmacked as Lilia leaves. He feels a bit like a sudden tornado just blew through. What just happened?
"We were talking," he mutters, mostly to himself. "We were done." And he's certainly not up for continuing now that he knows someone is eavesdropping! "Kalim, we should just go to bed."
Kalim stares at the closed door in faint surprise. Lilia is so cool and responsible sometimes! Maybe it's not that weird that he's a 700-year-old father of three after all...
"We weren't done!" he protests. "Jamil, please... Even if you don't leave -- no, especially if you don't! We can't just carry on doing everything the same!"
Jamil opens his mouth to retort but then closes it again without saying anything, an expression on his face like he tasted something unexpectedly sour. Again he's surprised by Kalim's priorities; just months ago he'd have thought Kalim would be over the moon to have Jamil attached to him for the rest of his life. Maybe Jamil's overblot revealed things about the both of them that he's been willfully ignoring this entire time.
'Less awful'--whatever that means. More of the kind of inarticulate sentiment Kalim likes to spout in the face of unpleasant truths, idealistic nonsense without a real plan that makes the cynic in Jamil want to strangle him. And yet it's also true that Kalim has been throwing fewer last-second parties, been making less unilateral demands of Jamil's time, been giving Jamil space that he refuses to take; he's been trying, which is more of an effort than a younger Jamil would ever have expected him to make.
Jamil finally, reluctantly, lets himself accept the conclusion that Kalim has been nearly shouting in his face all night: he really means this. For reasons Jamil can't explain, the idea only makes him uneasy.
He frowns, his irritation already punctured.
"That doesn't mean giving my job to someone else." It's still his job, regardless of his feelings on it.
Kalim nods sadly. He was sure there had to be a way around that, but... He had, admittedly, kind of been assuming Jamil would help him work out the details. He'd thought he'd be eager to make it happen, and that between the two of them they'd be able to figure it out. He still isn't sure what to make of the reality, but he's determined to work with it anyway. If Jamil will let him.
"Okay," he says. "Well... What stuff do you hate doing the most?"
Jamil eyes him uncertainly for a long moment. It's a question he doesn't know how to answer, because he hasn't actually thought about it before. It's simpler, easier, to stew in nonspecific misery, to let himself indulge in hating all of it without having to do the work of further introspection. But he doesn't really hate all of it, does he? He doesn't hate doing Kalim's makeup, necessarily. If Jamil is being really honest with himself, he'd probably cook for Kalim anyway, since he already does for everyone else. These are not tasks that Jamil actually wants taken away from him: they have to be done by someone, and that someone should be him. No one else should have the right.
There is very little Kalim can do about what Jamil truly hates, no matter how much he wants to believe otherwise. Deep down, to himself only, Jamil can acknowledge this: Kalim is only one person versus generations of tradition. As far as the politics of their hometown are concerned it is a fact that Jamil's life is worth less. It is a given that Jamil should die in Kalim's place, if it is within his power to do so. A widespread, passive acceptance that Jamil is non-valuable that's been pressed on him since his birth.
It's precisely because Kalim thinks of Jamil as valuable that he will never understand this; he can't grasp that, where they're from, he's the only one who feels that way. He can regard Jamil as fondly as he likes, but Kalim's regard isn't enough.
"I hate when you make things more difficult for me," Jamil says finally. "When you don't listen to me or come up with things for me to have to do at the last second. I have enough to worry about without having to chase after you all the time."
It's not as easy a response as Kalim was anticipating, but he supposes he should have expected that. He falls back to sit on the edge of the bed again, as if this is his own room, and looks hopefully up at Jamil.
"Yeah. Okay. I can do better at that. What about, like... tasks? You know... stuff I could handle on my own instead."
"So you don't get it. Those tasks are beneath you, Kalim. That's why they fall to me to do." He says this slowly, like Kalim is a child. He doesn't know how to spell this out any more clearly for him. "It's servants' work. Understand?"
Great, now they're talking in circles and Jamil is getting pissed off again.
"Well, it doesn't matter if you do or not, because that's the way it is. If you're seen doing something you're not supposed to, I get in trouble for it. That's why I need you to listen to me!"
Kalim scrubs his hands over his face and lets out a frustrated groan. He gets what Jamil is saying, but it feels like it doesn't quite add up? But he can't lay out why exactly... And he did just promise to do better at listening...
He exhales, drops his hands, and looks at the floor.
"...Okay. But, still... while we're here, you could at least get a bit of a break...?"
Jamil sighs through his nose and rolls this around in his brain for a little bit. Kalim still seems fixated on the wrong things, but all this has been exhausting and Jamil knows when to concede some ground. Still, it would be nice if Kalim realized that just falling into line is the least stressful thing he could do. Jamil can breathe more easily when he doesn't have to worry about what Kalim is getting up to by himself.
"Fine. I promise I'll... try to relax more on some things. But don't just assume that for me, all right?" Here, Jamil drops his gaze and clenches his fists, feeling his own face heat up for different reasons. He can only hope Kalim is still looking away from him. He mumbles, "It's... not that big of a deal to cut your hair."
Unfortunately, Kalim is so pleased that Jamil isn't outright refusing that idea that he looks up at him in relief just in time to see him blush. He really doesn't know what to make of that, except that Jamil really must mean it, if it's that hard to admit.
"...Okay," he says again. "I'll, um... I'll tell Vil it's okay, then." A brief pause, and then, emboldened by this small success, he adds, "But you have to tell me, okay, if something's making you mad. I don't care if you think it's something I shouldn't bother with, I just want to know."
Incredible of Kalim to say that to him when he's usually the one making Jamil mad. Having to keep Kalim apprised of his feelings is just one more thing for Jamil to have to worry about, honestly. But sure. Why not have to tell Kalim about his feelings too? (jamil sure will find literally anything to bitch about)
Is this really so much to promise? Jamil can just say anything he wants, after all.
"I'll... fine. I'll try to tell you when I'm mad." Maybe he even will. Though part of the problem is even he doesn't know what's making him mad sometimes...................
The feeling that it's usually him making Jamil mad is exactly why he wants to know. Before, whenever he was worried about Jamil bottling things up too much and overblotting again, he could just think, well, it'll be over soon! (and then pointedly not also worry about what that would be like for himself) – but now that he knows Jamil is completely resigned to doing this forever, Kalim has absolutely no way of reassuring himself that Jamil's resentment won't kill him. He's grasping at straws here – maybe if Jamil tells him when he's mad at him, he can stop doing whatever it is that's making him mad and it'll be okay?
It doesn't feel like a particularly great plan. Curry trauma was kind of easier to compartmentalise than overblot trauma has been. But he's still relieved when Jamil agrees; a small smile makes its way back onto his face, and he looks at him with much more gratitude than that half-hearted promise warrants.
"Thanks, Jamil. I really will try hard not to make things tough for you!"
Guess who's back with such impeccable timing? It's Lilia! He's brought with him a little tray, with has three differently colored, sized, and shaped mugs atop it, as well as a little dish with cream, one bowl of sugar cubes, and a spoon or three. It really helps when it's starting to get cold out to make sure things don't spoil, huh? Don't ask about the logistics or think about it too far. It's fine.
The door is opened without much ceremony.
"Tea is done~" He declares, taking a few easy steps into the room. Where would this tray be set? Right near Kalim on Jamil's bed, duh. "Figured I would allow you both to add to taste to your own cups," He declares, as he grabs one of the mugs from the tray - one that seems to already have been made up to his own liking.
Then, he's plopping himself right down on the other side of Kalim, as if this was, in fact, Kalim's room. Eyeing them both.
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"At least we're on the same page now." Even if that's not true, maybe if Jamil says it firmly enough Kalim will believe him and they can both go to bed. "So can we stop with this nonsense? I'm tired of pretending I'm not constantly mending your sweater."
boys oh boys....
A plethora of questions can be asked - later. For now, he finally makes himself known.
"Boys," Lilia begins, his gaze somewhat softer than what one might imagine from him. That or its all in their heads, "You are aware that you're quite loud, yes?"
He peers between them both, as if assessing... something. Hard to tell what. But. Feel seen.
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--Presumably Lilia would easily have been able to dodge him, but Jamil comes to his senses quickly enough to not actually try and hit him, but it's a very strong impulse.
"How long have you been there?!"
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"L-Lilia??" He covers his mouth with his hand. Didn't he close the door...? (He did not close the door.)
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Good reflexes on that one. He's proud.
"Mm, long enough." Lilia replies easily, "Not that I needed to stand right here to hear the two of you."
Give him a second to finish his assessment, before he brings up a hand to wave it at the two. "You've such a complex relationship and such a difficulty talking about it. You both have so much to learn about each other. Don't waste your time by arguing, that will get you no where. You need to give yourselves the time and space to listen, with clear heads." And, with that, he pushes off the wall, standing up properly.
"Do either of you want some tea? Something herbal, perhaps...? I'll start some~" And he's moving to grab the doorknob on his way, planning to close the door for them.
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He isn't so tired he can't keep himself from running his mouth, though, and it occurs to him a split second later that Lilia has actually given him the perfect opportunity to escape this situation. How generous of him!
"That's all right, I can make the tea. We should all be getting back to bed, I think." OK great that's settled he'll be leaving the room first thanks.
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Kalim starts after him, but...ah. Hm. The alternative is Lilia making the tea...
...
...
...
No. Some things are more important than keeping Lilia out of the kitchen. He's afraid if he lets Jamil leave they'll never talk about this again.
He grabs Jamil's sleeve.
"It's okay! Lilia said he'd do it!" His smile is a little strained.
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"He may be your responsibility, but I believe, if you pay enough attention, it's clear you're also his, in a way. You're friends after all." Vague and strange as usual. "I'll return momentarily. Sit. Talk."
And, he's closing the door before either can argue.
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"We were talking," he mutters, mostly to himself. "We were done." And he's certainly not up for continuing now that he knows someone is eavesdropping! "Kalim, we should just go to bed."
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"We weren't done!" he protests. "Jamil, please... Even if you don't leave -- no, especially if you don't! We can't just carry on doing everything the same!"
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"How, then? It's one thing not to throw my grades anymore, Kalim, but that only matters while we're at school. Do you understand what servant means?"
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"Yes! I do! It means Lilia's right, and you're my responsibility too! If you're going to be stuck with me for ever then I have to make it less awful!"
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'Less awful'--whatever that means. More of the kind of inarticulate sentiment Kalim likes to spout in the face of unpleasant truths, idealistic nonsense without a real plan that makes the cynic in Jamil want to strangle him. And yet it's also true that Kalim has been throwing fewer last-second parties, been making less unilateral demands of Jamil's time, been giving Jamil space that he refuses to take; he's been trying, which is more of an effort than a younger Jamil would ever have expected him to make.
Jamil finally, reluctantly, lets himself accept the conclusion that Kalim has been nearly shouting in his face all night: he really means this. For reasons Jamil can't explain, the idea only makes him uneasy.
He frowns, his irritation already punctured.
"That doesn't mean giving my job to someone else." It's still his job, regardless of his feelings on it.
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"Okay," he says. "Well... What stuff do you hate doing the most?"
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There is very little Kalim can do about what Jamil truly hates, no matter how much he wants to believe otherwise. Deep down, to himself only, Jamil can acknowledge this: Kalim is only one person versus generations of tradition. As far as the politics of their hometown are concerned it is a fact that Jamil's life is worth less. It is a given that Jamil should die in Kalim's place, if it is within his power to do so. A widespread, passive acceptance that Jamil is non-valuable that's been pressed on him since his birth.
It's precisely because Kalim thinks of Jamil as valuable that he will never understand this; he can't grasp that, where they're from, he's the only one who feels that way. He can regard Jamil as fondly as he likes, but Kalim's regard isn't enough.
"I hate when you make things more difficult for me," Jamil says finally. "When you don't listen to me or come up with things for me to have to do at the last second. I have enough to worry about without having to chase after you all the time."
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It's not as easy a response as Kalim was anticipating, but he supposes he should have expected that. He falls back to sit on the edge of the bed again, as if this is his own room, and looks hopefully up at Jamil.
"Yeah. Okay. I can do better at that. What about, like... tasks? You know... stuff I could handle on my own instead."
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"So you don't get it. Those tasks are beneath you, Kalim. That's why they fall to me to do." He says this slowly, like Kalim is a child. He doesn't know how to spell this out any more clearly for him. "It's servants' work. Understand?"
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"No! I guess I don't!"
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"Well, it doesn't matter if you do or not, because that's the way it is. If you're seen doing something you're not supposed to, I get in trouble for it. That's why I need you to listen to me!"
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Kalim scrubs his hands over his face and lets out a frustrated groan. He gets what Jamil is saying, but it feels like it doesn't quite add up? But he can't lay out why exactly... And he did just promise to do better at listening...
He exhales, drops his hands, and looks at the floor.
"...Okay. But, still... while we're here, you could at least get a bit of a break...?"
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"Fine. I promise I'll... try to relax more on some things. But don't just assume that for me, all right?" Here, Jamil drops his gaze and clenches his fists, feeling his own face heat up for different reasons. He can only hope Kalim is still looking away from him. He mumbles, "It's... not that big of a deal to cut your hair."
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"...Okay," he says again. "I'll, um... I'll tell Vil it's okay, then." A brief pause, and then, emboldened by this small success, he adds, "But you have to tell me, okay, if something's making you mad. I don't care if you think it's something I shouldn't bother with, I just want to know."
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Is this really so much to promise? Jamil can just say anything he wants, after all.
"I'll... fine. I'll try to tell you when I'm mad." Maybe he even will. Though part of the problem is even he doesn't know what's making him mad sometimes...................
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It doesn't feel like a particularly great plan. Curry trauma was kind of easier to compartmentalise than overblot trauma has been. But he's still relieved when Jamil agrees; a small smile makes its way back onto his face, and he looks at him with much more gratitude than that half-hearted promise warrants.
"Thanks, Jamil. I really will try hard not to make things tough for you!"
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The door is opened without much ceremony.
"Tea is done~" He declares, taking a few easy steps into the room. Where would this tray be set? Right near Kalim on Jamil's bed, duh. "Figured I would allow you both to add to taste to your own cups," He declares, as he grabs one of the mugs from the tray - one that seems to already have been made up to his own liking.
Then, he's plopping himself right down on the other side of Kalim, as if this was, in fact, Kalim's room. Eyeing them both.
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