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It doesn’t start with Jamil. Well, okay, it kind of does, because for Kalim everything kind of starts with Jamil, but really, it starts with Riddle and Azul, and a failed history test.
“So,” Riddle says briskly, “explain to me the causes of the depression of 1732.” They are in the back room of Mostro Lounge, using one end of Azul’s massive desk while Azul works on something vaguely financial on the other. Why they both agreed to help him study, Kalim will never know, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
“I think the Coral Sea switched their currency from conches to the unified sand dollar?”
“And this affected the abovesea world because…”
“Umm… pearls were really stylish?”
The sigh Riddle heaves makes Kalim feel awful. “Kalim, we’ve been going over this time period for the last two days in Trein’s class. Are you really not getting anything?”
“I’m sorry,” Kalim groans, burying his face in his forearms on the table, like hiding his face will do him any good. “It’s just confusing. And then it’s not that interesting, so I forget it all. It’s not my choice, either. It just… goes out of my brain.”
Riddle, instead of looking furious, actually considers his words. He frowns briefly. “Show me how you usually take notes.”
Kalim pulls out a piece of binder paper, the one he’s been taking notes on for the last week of Trein’s lessons. Riddle examines it like evidence at a crime scene. “Azul,” he calls. “Come look at this.”
It’s a little embarrassing when Azul leans away from his desk to look over Kalim’s notes too. He feels his face heating up a little. “They’re nothing special,” he mumbles. “Just regular notes.”
“Regular notes…” Azul muses, half to himself. He looks very interested, which only makes Kalim concerned. “Yes, I suppose you could call them that. There are some quite large gaps in material here, though. Do you often find yourself falling asleep in class?”
Kalim shakes his head. “I, um, I get distracted sometimes, though? Like, if the fan is too loud or something, I can’t focus. And sometimes I just zone out and then class is over, but I don’t really fall asleep, y’know?”
Riddle and Azul share a meaningful glance, lost on Kalim.
“What?” he asks, faintly concerned.
“Kalim,” Riddle asks, “do you have ADHD?”
“I don’t know what HD is, or why I would have 80 of them.”
Azul’s eyebrows have flown so high into his hair that Kalim wonders how they haven’t detached from his face. “Well,” he says slowly, “I suppose it doesn’t really matter. In any case, have you ever tried taking notes differently?”
“There’s multiple ways of taking notes?”
“Of course,” Azul says, sounding unusually gentle. His smile, too, doesn’t have its conniving edge. “There are multiple ways of doing nearly everything, if one only cares to find them.” Azul flips over the page. “Do you mind?” he asks, holding his pen ready.
“Not at all,” Kalim says.
“Lovely,” Azul says, smiling. “I’ll show you the categorical method, then. It works quite well for Floyd, and most others I’ve tutored, but there are other options if this one isn’t to your liking. Start by drawing a distinction here…”
And right then, in Azul’s office in the back of the Mostro Lounge, Kalim comes to a realization: that everyone at NRC knows how to do something , almost certainly something he doesn’t.
Two days later, when he’s able to take notes through the entire history lecture with Azul’s recommended method, Kalim comes to another realization: people can and will teach him their skills, and all he has to do is ask.
***
Kalim stares into his mirror, frowning as he tugs at his own eyelid. If he moves just like this, and holds his hand steady, it should-
“Kalim?”
His hand falters. The eyeliner pencil drags across his face. Kalim sighs at the results. Vil had made it look so easy, too. At least he has wipes at the ready. “Hi,” he calls. “Is it time for breakfast already?”
Jamil stands in the doorway to his bathroom, looking bewildered. “No,” he says slowly. “I was coming to wake you up…? But you’re already up? What are you doing your eyeliner for? I can do it, it’s no problem.”
“I’m trying to learn to do it,” Kalim insists, wiping off the failed eye. “I already did one of them, see? It’s pretty good!”
Jamil places a gentle hand on Kalim’s face, inspecting the eye he’s already done. “Not bad,” he says, which is essentially glowing praise. “Have you been practicing?”
Kalim beams. “Nope! Vil gave me some tips, though. And I’m practicing right now, aren’t I?”
“You know I’d still do it, though…” When Kalim doesn’t respond, instead staring into the mirror again, Jamil seems to give up, and moves on. “Why are you awake? Did you sleep alright?”
Kalim sticks out his tongue as he traces his outer corner again. “Riddle helped me time my morning routine so I could figure out when to set an alarm!”
There’s a moment of silence while Kalim finishes his eyeliner. It turns out surprisingly well, and he sets down the pencil, satisfied. He’ll have to thank Vil later.
“It looks nice. You- you look nice,” Jamil says. Then, hesitating, “You have a schedule?”
“Yeah!” Kalim holds up his red and white planner excitedly. “Apparently they give these to every student in Heartslabyul, so Riddle gave me one and helped me fill it out. It’s great! I won’t forget any more housewarden meetings.”
But Jamil doesn’t mirror his enthusiasm. “I always remind you,” he says, almost petulant.
“Eh?” Kalim tilts his head. “You won’t have to anymore. Isn’t that a good thing?”
Jamil clears his throat. “Of course it is,” he agrees sharply. “If there’s nothing else you need, I’ll bring you breakfast in ten minutes.”
Kalim notices something off with his tone, but clearly Jamil doesn’t want to talk about it. So Kalim just smiles his signature grin and says, “Thanks, Jamil, that sounds perfect,” and moves on to his eyeshadow. Vil told him to blend it starting at the inner corner, so he picks up the brush and closes one eye.
It’s the best makeup he’s ever done for himself, and he’s super proud of it. Jamil’s frown bothers him, though. Why would he seem unhappy about not having to do something he complains about, anyway? Maybe Kalim still isn’t doing enough. He resolves to tackle as many skills as he can.
***
“What can you teach me?”
Cater raises one perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Like, a new song?” he asks.
“Of course!” Kalim says, because why would he refuse to learn a new song? They are the pop music club, after all, and he joined for a reason. “But… I mean, things I could learn. Like signature spells, but not magic.”
“Skills,” Lilia deadpans, his smile fondly exasperated. “You mean our skills.”
“Exactly!” Kalim remains undeterred. He’s off to a great start. “You’ve got some skills I could learn, right?”
“Well, I could teach you how to frame a photo angle,” Cater offers, holding out his phone in an offer. “Or how to write witty captions, or-”
“Kalim,” Lilia interrupts, “what’s brought this on? You’ve got lots of skills already, you know. Is something going on?”
That’s all it takes.
“But I don’t,” he wails, banging his head into his own drumset. The metal corner is sharp. He hopes he’s not bleeding, or else there’ll only be more work for Jamil, and he can’t stand the thought. “I don’t know how to do anything and Jamil must hate me, he said he hates me and he hasn’t taken it back and I really, really don’t want him to hate me because I want to make him happy, forever.”
Cater blinks. He sets down his phone on the table softly. “That’s a lot to unpack.”
Kalim sniffles. He’s not crying, he won’t cry, but also he is actively crying and- well, whoops.
“Now, now,” Lilia says, “don’t do that over your drums. You know water doesn’t mix well with those covers.” He places a hand on Kalim’s arm; Kalim looks up, and Lilia tilts his head towards the table. “Why don’t you join me?”
“Okay,” Kalim says weakly. When he plops himself into the chair, his weight feels like a great burden being lifted. Cater and Lilia join him, looking very concerned. “Sorry,” he adds quickly. “I didn’t mean to ruin our club practice.”
“Nonsense.” Lilia fixes him with a firm look. “Your mental health is a priority, too. I’d do the same for Cater if he showed up upset.”
“Aww, thanks, Lils,” Cater says, winking. He seems to remember the place, though, and turns back to Kalim without the grin. “Hey,” he says, taking one of Kalim’s hands gently. “I’m sure Jamil doesn’t hate you. If anything, it seems like he’s upset with his position, and that’s no more your fault than his.”
“I guess so,” Kalim agrees, wiping his eyes. He’s sure his makeup is ruined already. “I just thought maybe if I learn to do more things, Jamil will stop hating me for being useless…”
“You’re not useless,” Cater declares with such confidence that Kalim believes him unquestioningly. “Riddle told me you’ve been doing better academically. You’re a hard worker and you know how to keep the positive energy going. You pass the vibe check every time!”
“And,” Lilia says pointedly, smiling slightly, “you’re a fantastic drummer, Kalim.”
He sees both his upperclassmen, their eyes sincere, and smiles. “Thanks. You’re right,” he says, a bit softer than usual. “But, Cater, could you still teach me about cropping photos?”
“Sure!” Cater grins, holding his phone up to capture them both. “So, the first step is finding a focal point…”
***
“Hey, come in, I’m just- Kalim?”
Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t be here, especially not when he kind of told Jamil he was going to be doing that essay for Crewel in his room. But he locked the door, so hopefully Jamil won’t find out he’s missing. In any case, there’s no rule against visiting other dorms (probably), so…
“Hi,” Kalim says brightly.
The vice housewarden of Heartslabyul stares at him blankly. He lifts a hand to adjust his glasses, as if Kalim’s appearance is a figment of his bad vision. “Uh, not that you’re not welcome here, but… why are you in my kitchen?”
“I want you to teach me to bake!”
Trey, for all his patience, doesn’t seem like the sort of person to question things. Luckily, Kalim guessed correctly, because he doesn’t argue. “Okay,” he says instead, and Kalim beams. “Did you have something in mind?”
“Not really,” Kalim admits. “I just want to learn something.”
“Not a problem,” Trey says easily, brushing past him. He hands Kalim an apron. “You can help me with tonight’s dinner, if you want?”
“Sure!” Kalim takes the apron with a smile. “But, um, why does this apron have felt hearts and a cat…?”
Trey shrugs. “Well, it was that or the ‘Smack The Chef’s Ass’ apron, and Riddle made a rule that only I can wear that one, so, yeah. Anyway, I’m making fish pie.”
Kalim fumbles the apron knot. “You’re making what?”
“Fish pie.” At Kalim’s expression, Trey half-sighs, half-laughs. “I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds. It’s one of Cater’s favorite dishes of mine.” The name pacifies him. Kalim may not trust most Heartslabyul students’ tastes, but Cater appreciates a good harira soup, so his tastes can’t be too bad. “Will you get the salmon? I can show you how to pan fry it before baking.”
So Kalim sets aside his distrust of Rose Queendom cuisine and obligingly follows Trey’s directions, cooking the fish and helping to cut the spring onions. He’s just about getting the hang of peeling potatoes when someone taps his shoulder and he nearly jumps, knife in hand.
“My bad,” the person says sheepishly, running a hand through their hair. “Uh… Kalim, right?”
Kalim takes a moment, but the heart on his cheek eventually registers as one of the Ramshackle prefect’s friends. “Ace? What are you doing here?”
“I mean, it’s my dorm,” Ace mutters, but proceeds regardless. “I wanted to help Trey! Can I do anything?”
“Ace,” Trey sighs, “what do you want?”
Ace just grins. “Okay, fine, you got me.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Deuce kicked me out for trying to prank call his mom, so I’m gonna make an apology cake.”
“This is your third apology cake of the month, Ace.”
Ace pouts. “We fight a lot! Besides, he’s made me five apology cakes this month.”
Kalim belatedly realizes he’s been neglecting the potato peeling in favor of listening in to their conversation, and sets down the knife. “Apology cake?”
“Traditionally, it’s supposed to be an apology tart,” explains Trey. “But Riddle’s… well, there was an incident, and Riddle decided any baked goods will do. Ace and Deuce just happen to like cake.”
“You can… apologize to someone with food?”
“Sure you can,” Ace says easily, like an apology is a simple, commonplace thing. Kalim supposes that for ordinary mistakes, it might be. “Maybe for the bigger things, you gotta make a bigger cake, but it doesn’t really matter. Deuce’ll forgive me for just about anything, ‘cause he loooves me.” Ace snickers to himself. “What a loser.”
Trey looks exasperated. “Ace, you do realize you’re also dating him ?”
“Whatever.” Ace waves his hand carelessly. “Anyway, can I peel potatoes? I bought more powdered sugar and vanilla, but I need to use your flour.”
Trey just smiles as he hands Ace another paring knife. Kalim watches in astonishment as they both proceed normally. Ace seems so unbothered, so confident that he’ll be fine. Kalim wonders if he’s ever considered the possibility that his apology could fail.
“Ace?” he asks quietly. Ace glances up. “Have you ever done something you’re not sure you’ll be forgiven for?”
Ace frowns in thought. “I mean, I got a little scared when Riddle overblotted, but not really. Why? D’you want to make an apology cake too? Does it need to be three tiers?”
Kalim hesitates. His hand slips, and he cuts a chunk of potato instead of the peel.
“Careful!” Ace grabs the knife, setting it down. “But seriously, what did you do?”
“I don’t know!” Kalim wails, burying his face in his hands. His elbows hit the potato peels on the table, but he doesn’t care. “He just seems so mad at me, and I know I’ve been part of the problem but I really, really just want to fix it, but he won’t tell me how ! And I’ve been trying to learn things, to make him happier, but it’s not working, and now I don’t know what to do because I just want him to stay by my side forever, you know?”
Ace blinks. His eyebrows are out of sight. “I, uh, wow,” he says. Then, “You love him.”
“I do?” Kalim asks, bewildered, but then he thinks about it, and realizes that yes, he definitely loves Jamil, that yes, he’s probably loved Jamil for as long as he can remember. “I guess I do,” he says.
“Well, then, that's easy,” Ace says. “Just tell him.”
“Tell him?” Kalim stares at him, wide-eyed. “You really think that’ll work?”
Ace shrugs. “Or just kiss him. It worked for me.” He glances at Kalim’s guilty expression. “…But maybe you could add in an apology cake, too. Never hurts.”
***
That night, after eating dinner with Heartslabyul, Kalim comes back to Scarabia with a red velvet cake in tow. Its frosting isn’t exactly professional, but he’s proud of it nonetheless. Ace and Trey had helped out, of course, but it’s an achievement.
“Jamil!” he calls, knocking at his closed door. “I brought you something.”
Jamil opens the door instantly, looking concerned. The worry melts into confusion as he looks at the cake. “Did you want me to test this for you?”
“No, I-”
“Kalim, you shouldn’t just eat things, that’s dangerous. Come on, I’ll-”
“I made it for you,” Kalim blurts.
“You… huh?”
“I made it for you,” he repeats, a bit nervous. “Trey from Heartslabyul taught me, and Ace helped.”
To his relief, Jamil takes the cake from him, however hesitantly. “You made this?” he asks slowly. “You said… Trey taught you? Did you ask?”
“Yeah?” Kalim tilts his head. “Why would he teach me if I didn’t ask?”
Jamil glances into the hallway, then motions for Kalim to come in. He shuts the door behind him, setting the cake down on his desk. It looks out of place amidst Jamil’s perfectly organized room, just as Kalim often does. “Why are you here?” asks Jamil.
“I wanted to apologize,” Kalim mumbles.
Jamil stares at him blankly.
“I wanted to make sure you knew, I never meant to make your life more difficult. That’s why I’ve been learning people’s skills, to take care of myself, so you don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind,” Jamil says abruptly. “You know I’d still do it.”
“Then…” Kalim gathers his courage. “Can I ask you for something?”
Jamil nods.
“Everyone else has taught me something. So… will you give me something before you go, too? Please?”
Jamil crosses his arms, turning away so he’s only half-facing Kalim. “What makes you think I’ll leave?”
Kalim hesitates, feeling the corner of his mouth turn down. “Don’t you want to chase your dreams?”
“…I don’t really have any,” Jamil admits, voice a little softer. “I’ve been planning to stay with you all this time. I never liked the idea of doing anything else.”
“But you shouldn’t feel like you have to serve me anymore. I promise I won’t get mad, no matter what. Surely you-“
“Do I really have to spell it out for you?” Jamil pinches the bridge of his nose, as if attempting to pre-remedy the incoming headache. “I want to stay with you. Kalim, I’m choosing you .”
Kalim stares at him, bewildered. “Jamil…” he whispers, unsure what he wants to say but feeling comforted by the name on his lips. After everything, he wants to stay on this path? After seeing Kalim’s every flaw, after suffering in his shadow, he hasn’t been put off forever?
“So I won’t be leaving,” Jamil says, leaving no room for argument in his tone. “And besides, haven’t they all taught you plenty?”
“I…” Kalim thinks of Ace’s words, unbidden, and his mouth gets ahead of his mind. “I still don’t know how to kiss.”
Jamil frowns. “Well, neither do I,” he says, defensive, “so it’s not like I could teach you.”
“But you could learn with me,” Kalim offers. “Like dancing! I remember when neither of us could follow a rhythm at all.”
Jamil’s face flushes. “That’s… that’s different.”
Honestly, the fact that he hasn’t protested the idea by now is impressive. Kalim thinks the lack of argument sounds a bit like agreement, but doesn’t dare to hope. “Not really,” he says instead.
“Dance lessons were mandatory for all Asim heirs. As your personal servant, I naturally also attended. No one is requiring either of us to…”
“But I want to learn to kiss,” Kalim says, completely honest. “And I want it to be with you.”
Jamil runs a hand over his face, looking unsure. “Don’t mess with me, Kalim,” he pleads. “It’s bad enough I had to admit it to you, but…”
“I’m not messing with you.”
“Then why do you keep saying you want to kiss me?”
“Because I do !” Kalim wants to stomp his foot like a spoiled little child until Jamil believes him, because maybe he is a spoiled little child at heart, too accustomed to getting what he wants. But this time, he recognizes the doubt in Jamil’s eyes, the kind that can’t be driven away by any amount of whining. So he finds one of Jamil’s hands and grabs onto it. “Jamil,” he says quietly, “I love you.”
Jamil sighs. “You love everyone.”
“But I love you !” Kalim brushes the hair out of Jamil’s eyes, looks at him unwaveringly. “You’re always around for me when I need it. And I know it’s your job, but you didn’t have to do all of that. You never had to listen to me talk endlessly about the things I like. You never had to remember stories and colors and dishes you thought I’d enjoy. You never had to show me all the things you’re good at, or help me get better at them too. And… and you did it all without complaining, even when I caused you pain. And I love you, Jamil. Is that so hard to believe?”
For once, Jamil is silent.
The gravity of his words sinks in and Kalim suddenly feels a bit shy. “You don’t have to do anything,” he says quickly. “I just thought you should know.”
“Kalim,” says Jamil slowly. He looks him directly in the eyes. “You… you are the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”
But before Kalim can say anything, Jamil’s hands are on his face and he’s kissing him and kissing him and kissing him, and Kalim thinks maybe whenever Jamil calls him an idiot he’s been saying something else too all along, and he’s so glad he noticed.