"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.
It's not Kalim's room, but it's fine. Jamil is relieved enough at the distraction that he's not going to protest it.
"Thank you for the tea, Lilia." He takes the two remaining mugs in his hands, automatically moving to sip from the biggest before pausing halfway to his mouth.
"Oh, ah, what did you make this with?" He tries to make it sound like idle curiosity and not like he's trying to determine if it's toxic.
Kalim initially makes zero protest to Jamil taking both of the mugs, but when Jamil pauses it gives him pause, too. Nobody deserves to have to drink more than their share of Lilia's tea.
"Oh, it's okay, Jamil," he says, reaching out for the mug, "I'll just add a lot of sugar anyway!"
The question hardly offends him. It should, but, well. He's got a thick skin and didn't see any problems with the blend he'd made! In fact… the mix he was using was drying out now for later, secondary use.
"I do hope you enjoy. It is a simple blend of fresh chamomile, lemon balm, and elderflower. I find that these are often good choices to aid in sleep. I figured with such an emotionally driven conversation, you both would appreciate the calming effects of those herbs." He's positively beaming, sipping at his own mug.
It sounds........ reasonable. And actually kind of good, depending on the person.
That does sound uncharacteristically palatable of Lilia. Jamil takes a dubious sip from Kalim's designated mug--the larger one--mostly to get it over with as quickly as possible, but he's relieved the tea does seem to be as Lilia described. One less headache on this horribly awkward night.
That settled, Jamil passes the mug to Kalim and sits on the floor with his legs crossed. There are two people on his bed already and he's not about to squeeze on in there.
"I apologize for the... disruption. We won't cause any more trouble." Honestly, he doesn't even want to think about how much their other housemates might have heard with the door left open as long as it was...
"You need not apologize. Some days we need to get our words and thoughts out." Maybe someone else would leave the two to it, to have their tea and finish wrapping up their conversation. Lilia is not like most people, unfortunately.
"It reminded me somewhat of home." He adds on, sparing a glance between the both of them.
"Mm, but did you speak further after I left? I'd be remiss to see the two of you drift into a sea of misunderstanding and turmoil so quickly, especially whilst I could potentially assist."
Kalim takes the mug and shoots Jamil a grateful smile. Then he dumps half the contents of the sugar bowl into it.
"Ah...it's okay!" Even Kalim has the decency to be a little embarrassed about how much of that might have been overheard. "I think we figured it out...kind of."
He also can't quite muster up his usual smile kilowattage about it, but he does make a valiant effort.
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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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"Thank you for the tea, Lilia." He takes the two remaining mugs in his hands, automatically moving to sip from the biggest before pausing halfway to his mouth.
"Oh, ah, what did you make this with?" He tries to make it sound like idle curiosity and not like he's trying to determine if it's toxic.
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Kalim initially makes zero protest to Jamil taking both of the mugs, but when Jamil pauses it gives him pause, too. Nobody deserves to have to drink more than their share of Lilia's tea.
"Oh, it's okay, Jamil," he says, reaching out for the mug, "I'll just add a lot of sugar anyway!"
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"I do hope you enjoy. It is a simple blend of fresh chamomile, lemon balm, and elderflower. I find that these are often good choices to aid in sleep. I figured with such an emotionally driven conversation, you both would appreciate the calming effects of those herbs." He's positively beaming, sipping at his own mug.
It sounds........ reasonable. And actually kind of good, depending on the person.
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Kalim sits back down. Jamil can taste it if he wants; Lilia definitely wouldn't try to poison him
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That settled, Jamil passes the mug to Kalim and sits on the floor with his legs crossed. There are two people on his bed already and he's not about to squeeze on in there.
"I apologize for the... disruption. We won't cause any more trouble." Honestly, he doesn't even want to think about how much their other housemates might have heard with the door left open as long as it was...
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"It reminded me somewhat of home." He adds on, sparing a glance between the both of them.
"Mm, but did you speak further after I left? I'd be remiss to see the two of you drift into a sea of misunderstanding and turmoil so quickly, especially whilst I could potentially assist."
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"Ah...it's okay!" Even Kalim has the decency to be a little embarrassed about how much of that might have been overheard. "I think we figured it out...kind of."
He also can't quite muster up his usual smile kilowattage about it, but he does make a valiant effort.
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