Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Contrary to popular belief, Kalim knew exactly what people thought of him.

Naïve. Innocent. Trusting. Stupid.

Naïve due to his optimism and positivity. Innocent, since he acted to so clueless all the time. Trusting enough to blindly depend on Jamil Viper for everything. Stupid because what else do you call someone who so easily forgives a traitor?

People tended to assume that being nice came naturally to him; they had no idea how much work went into it. Not that it was a lie – more like his personality had come about as a result of a very conscious decision on his part. Because Kalim Al-Asim as others know him today was an overly generous person who would never even think of abusing the power he had as the heir to a rich and well-connected family. He was much too oblivious do something like that.

Kalim also knew that people thought his life was easy, that being rich means he never had to struggle for anything.

In a way, they would be right. Kalim was born with a lot of privilege after all, he held power in his tiny fingers even when he’d been far too young to understand it. That was the problem, that was the point.

Being an Asim is a privilege. Being an Asim is a curse.

Nobody gets it. They can’t, and Kalim doesn’t hold that against them.

So whenever somebody said to him how they envy his status or how they want to be him, Kalim only laughed brightly in response, thinking to himself that-

No. No, you don’t.

His last name held weight and so did his actions. An easy fact to forget, considering his usual demeanour. For him, it was a deliberate choice, but not many others in his family can say the same. Some of them think that being an Asim means all privilege and no responsibility, that their actions will not have consequences.

Kalim had seen what kind of consequences this attitude can have many times in his life, but it didn’t take more than once for him to learn his lesson. Two incidents in particular he remembered very well.

Both of them involved Jamil.

The first one happened soon after Jamil hurt his hands while pushing Kalim away from danger. Afterwards, they bore bright, blistering marks all over and though the other boy never complained, Kalim could still tell how much they hurt from the stiff and hesitant way he used them. Seeing Jamil in pain – especially because of him – was something Kalim couldn’t stand. So he persuaded his friend to take some salve made using magic that had always worked miracles on Kalim’s own skin. Jamil would never be able to afford something like that himself, but Kalim could and he didn’t want him to suffer.

He handed the salve over with a smile, shoving it into Jamil’s arms. Jamil eyed him silently, a mulish look on his face, but took the small jar nonetheless.

A few days later, two of Kalim’s cousins arrived to stay over a month while their parents went off on some cruise together. He’d never been that close to them, as they had only interacted occasionally on family gatherings, but greeted them as cheerfully as he did everyone. At first, things seemed to be going well. The older cousin was calm and dignified and the younger one playful, Kalim liked spending time with them.

Then, one afternoon while rambling to Jamil about what fun he had that day, his eyes fell on the other’s hands.

They were hastily wrapped in some old cloth that couldn’t have been pleasant on the skin. And Jamil’s skin must have still been tender.

Kalim frowned.

Just as he was about to ask if Jamil needed anything else to wrap his hands with, somebody burst into his room, calling to him enthusiastically. His younger cousin, vibrating with excitement, bounded in, soon followed by his older cousin.

‘Kalim, Kalim I have something for you!’ he said happily. Then, he turned his attention to the juice jug on the table. He leapt over and reached for it, clearly intending to have a drink.

Instead, his hands knocked the jug over and the liquid spilled all over Jamil. Juice dripped down his sleeves and the front of his shirt, but most of all on his hands, having soaked the cloth wrapping clean through.

Jamil flinched and yelped in pain.

Kalim watched, alarmed, as the a piece of the cloth slipped down to reveal angry red skin, a bleeding open wound, looking a lot like a slab of raw meat. Instantly, he rushed up to Jamil.

‘What happened? Why are your hands bleeding?’ he said, fretting.

Jamil pinched his lips, scowling at the ground. He didn’t say a word, but the venomous, seething hatred in his eyes gave it away when his gaze flicked over to Kalim’s younger cousin.

Kalim turned around to look directly at his cousins, face blank of emotion. Neither of them noticed, too busy bickering. While Jamil’s hands were bleeding and raw, they were bantering together, completely unconcerned.

‘What did you do to Jamil.’ Kalim demanded. It was not a question, no, but a curt and snappish order to reply.

The older cousin noticed the difference instantly. He frowned, tugging at his brother’s sleeve. Taking no notice, the boy laughed.

(Something cold and vicious crept into Kalim’s heart.)

‘Oh, so you saw? I saw that little thief took your salve, so I taught him a lesson!’ his cousin boasted proudly. ‘I mixed something in to it – it’s supposed to really burn when applied to open wounds.’

‘You did what?’ his older cousin hissed, panic flashing over his face. ‘What was it you used?’

The younger frowned, then shrugged.

‘Don’t know,’ he said carelessly.

Kalim’s currently dangerously thin thread of patience snapped entirely. Gritting his teeth, he walked right over to his cousin and slapped him as hard as he could in the face.

Neither of his cousins were welcome anymore and despite the elder’s profuse apologies for his brother’s actions, Kalim threw them both out with no hesitation. He had no desire to be around people who would hurt Jamil like that and then laugh about it. People questioned him about it afterwards of course, but Kalim never budged. He turned his impatient attention to the recovery of Jamil’s hands instead.

When his mother and father demanded answers, he followed Jamil’s suggestion on what to say. A single claim that he’d seen the two messing with his stuff was enough to get both his parents to back off. Kalim let everyone make their assumptions, uncaring of the way rumours ran wild. He knew it would reflect badly on both his cousins, but so what if it did? They deserved it, for being so awful to Jamil.

‘Was I really worth it?’ Jamil asked that night, a strange and unreadable look on his face.

‘Of course you were!’ Kalim said firmly. ‘You were hurt, Jamil. He hurt you. What was I supposed to do?’

Jamil didn’t say anything in reply, glancing at a now perfectly healed hand.

Chapter Text

The second incident happened a year or two after the first. Kalim had been invited to a birthday party held by the only daughter of one of his father’s newest business partners. While he was the only one officially invited, Kalim of course took Jamil along with him, both for safety purposes and simply out of the desire to have him close. Kalim, while normally a friendly person with everyone, didn’t feel too comfortable going to this party in this particular house.

(The last time this girl and her father visited, both had engaged him in small talk for half the afternoon before dinner. They were perfectly polite and friendly.)

(At least three of his dishes were poisoned that night.)

Luckily, Jamil understood his reluctance to go without words. He always seemed to know what Kalim needed – sometimes even before Kalim himself did. Nobody questioned his desire to bring his servant along and the birthday girl in question only clapped her hands together with a smile and said that the more the merrier. There was a strange glint in her eyes.

From his place slightly behind Kalim, Jamil tensed.

Kalim frowned briefly, then wiped the frown off his face in the next second, replying with his usual bright enthusiasm.

On the surface, everything seemed to be fine. Everything was lavish and extravagant, there were plenty of guests and the host’s family was doing their best to entertain Kalim. Perfectly friendly and welcoming.

A little too much so.

Any attempts to shove food at him Kalim cheerily declined, saying that he’d already eaten at home. He listened to the conversation with only half an ear, eyes intently looking around. Sometime during the afternoon he and Jamil had gotten separated and now the other was nowhere to be seen. The birthday girl was also mysteriously missing.

‘Yes, that’s probably-’

‘Hey, want to try this? It’s absolutely delicious!’

‘-and what do you think about-’

I still can’t see them anywhere.

(Call him paranoid, but…)

(…after spending most of his life questioning if everybody around him wanted to kill him, Kalim had a good sense for these things.)

(And right now, gut instinct was telling him something was very wrong.)

Getting a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Kalim turned and left in a hurry, not even bothering to excuse himself. He made his way through the crowd as fast as he could, ignoring any attempts to catch his attention. Something told him he had to find Jamil and fast.

(The look in the girl’s eyes. He didn’t like it.)

The layout of the house was of course deeply confusing to Kalim, who was here for the first time. He spent about five or so minutes after reaching the calmer, quieter corridors wandering around lost, growing increasingly nervous.

Luckily, before too long he heard two familiar voices from a room with a slightly open door.

‘Aw come on, don’t be such a prude!’

Kalim stopped just before opening the door.

‘Please leave me alone.’

Jamil sounds…upset.

(Not many would pick up on it, or care to, but Kalim knew too well when Jamil was about to reach the end of his patience.)

Thinking it would be best to interrupt before Jamil got even more upset, Kalim reached to open the door.

‘It’ll be just one kiss.’

His breath hitched and his hand froze on the doorknob.

What?!

‘I can’t go back out there without getting at least that, my friends will mock me!’

‘I have to get back to Kalim-’

‘Ugh, seriously? You’re no fun. Alright, fine, I didn’t want to do this, but if you try to leave now I’ll tell my daddy you forced a kiss on me. You’ll be in biiiiig trouble and we don’t want that, right?’

She was threatening Jamil.

Threatening him into-

Kalim’s expression turned icy.

He found himself glad he was alone and unseen behind the door in the dark, unlit, corridor. He didn’t want anybody to witness this completely uncharacteristic display of utter loathing, not even Jamil.

(Especially not Jamil.)

With a deep breath, Kalim forced his typical smile on his face and threw the door abruptly open. The two inside the room jumped and looked at the intruder, Jamil with clear relief and the girl with poorly-hidden frustration.

‘Kalim?’

‘Oh, hey, Kalim! We were just-’ the girl said with a desperate attempt at a smile.

‘Here you are, Jamil! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!’ he interrupted.

Ignoring her, Kalim bounded over to Jamil and began to pull at his arm.

‘Come on, let’s go. I need your help with something!’

‘Of course.’

They left the girl behind, standing alone in that room.

Soon after, Kalim and Jamil left the party.

Only a day after that unpleasant party (unpleasant to Kalim and Jamil that is, both for somewhat different reasons), the father of the girl who gave them both trouble came over. He wanted to give Kalim a gift – an apology, he said, for his daughter’s behaviour during the party.

They were standing close to the entrance, surrounded by people. Kalim’s mother and father were nearby. Jamil was too, his expression carefully blank.

(She hadn’t bothered to come herself.)

(They weren’t even apologising to Jamil. They were apologising to Kalim.)

(As if his forgiveness would be worth anything.)

Kalim’s glanced over to the self-assured and relaxed man, then to the way Jamil’s fingers grasped too-tightly on the fabric of his clothing. He continued to look, spotting quickly the tension in his shoulders.

Then, he turned back to the man in front of him. Drawing on the cold fury he’d felt when he overheard his friend being harassed, Kalim firmly shook his head.

‘No.’

The man’s confidence faded.

‘What?’ he asked slowly.

‘I said, no. I’m sorry but I can’t accept anything from you. Not after what you did.’

Those deliberately vague words had been meant as a snub, a way to keep those people away from Jamil. Kalim never wanted to interact with the girl or any of her family if he could help it, and he doubted Jamil did either. It was a good thing that neither father nor daughter ever bothered the two of them again.

Funnily enough, about a month after this incident, the Asim ended their newest partnership and a once flourishing company fell quickly into decline and eventual bankruptcy.

What a truly strange coincidence.

Chapter Text

Kalim was far more protective of Jamil, both of his secrets and his safety, than most people would have assumed at first glance. Those two incidents proved it beyond the shadow of a doubt – not that anybody except the two of them knew what truly happened and why. Jamil meant so much to him after all and what kind of friend would he be if he let anything bad happen to him? That was what he thought, before.

Now, with the overblot and all the revelations it brought, it was all Kalim could do to not fall apart.

Because Jamil hated him. He’s always hated him and Kalim just… never knew. Never realised how badly he messed up before it was almost too late. Thankfully only almost because Jamil was still – somehow, miraculously – alive and… Not “well” exactly but as good as he could be at that point, no thanks to Kalim.

(If he’d only realised sooner Jamil would have never overblotted.)

(If he thought a little more, this tension between wouldn’t have built up in the first place.)

(Stupid boy.)

(Stupid, stupid, stupid boy.)

If Kalim were being honest, what horrified him the most about Jamil overblotting wasn’t the fact that he’d been hypnotised by him, or the nearly getting murdered part, or anything like that. After so many times when his life got put in danger because of his family’s power plays and people looking to get rich, Kalim was used to that. No, what truly horrified him was something else, much deeper and more personal.

Though the other students questioned him on why he forgave Jamil’s actions so easily, confused and offended (mostly for their own sakes for getting manipulated by him), Kalim didn’t know how to explain it. If he even should try and explain. Nobody would be able to understand even if he did; they all already looked at him weird for acting so blasé about poisoning attempts.

But truthfully, Kalim was no longer sure he really understood his relationship with his not-friend himself anymore.

(There were a lot of things he wasn’t sure of nowadays.)

Days had passed since Jamil’s overblot.

Kalim couldn’t sleep.

With a groan, he threw off the blanket and pushed himself off the bed. Sleeping would be impossible when his mind was still so awake, this he knew from personal experience. If Kalim didn’t want to spend hours and hours tossing and turning in bed, he would have to try and wear himself out.

Not an ideal solution, but his ideal solution in any situation would typically be “ask Jamil for help” and that… was no longer an option.

Maybe he would wander around outside for a bit. See if he got tired faster that way.

Kalim dressed as quickly as he could, throwing on whatever easiest to put on thing he could find and not bothering matching anything. There’d be no point, nobody would even see him this late at night. He opened the door and stepped outside, head full of his own thoughts. Kalim didn’t look where he was going and let his feet take him wherever they wanted.

Before long, he walked all the way downstairs, not spotting the surprised face of his retainer in the entry to the hall.

‘Kalim?’

Kalim jolted at the sound of Jamil’s voice, startled back to attention.

‘Jamil…’

‘What are you doing awake?’ Jamil asked as he approached, eyebrows raised.

‘I…I couldn’t sleep,’ Kalim said awkwardly, trying and failing to force a smile.

A moment of silence passed.

‘…I see.’

Neither of them mentioned the expression on Jamil’s face at that moment, or brought up the likely culprit behind Kalim’s inability to fall asleep. It was still too awkward a subject to poke at.

Instead, Kalim and Jamil stared at each other uncomfortably, not knowing what to do.

Move on without a word and pretend this didn’t happen and they never saw each other?

Say goodbye and then pretend this didn’t happen they never saw each other?

‘Okay, I’ll just-’ Kalim said eventually, hoping to escape the tense atmosphere. He tried to walk past Jamil.

Jamil’s hand caught his arm.

‘Wait.’

Dark eyes looked at Kalim intently. He swallowed, meeting them head on.

‘I heard you,’ Jamil said solemnly, with an edge to his voice Kalim didn’t recognise. Was it anger? Exasperation? ‘Earlier today, I mean. When you yelled at Carys and Aiden.’

‘Oh…you did?’

Kalim wasn’t usually one to lose his temper. As Jamil would put it, he just didn’t have it in him to be a selfish brat or get angry on his own behalf. But things were always different when they involved Jamil – his oldest and best friend, the one he trusted with his life. The person he still trusted with it now, despite everything.

(Or maybe, because of it.)

(If anybody deserved to have full jurisdiction over Kalim’s life it would be the boy who had protected it for so long, duty or no.)

He understood why others would despise Jamil for what he’s done. He did, really. But Kalim still couldn’t stand to hear people talk about him so disparagingly, especially not if they were just trying to find an excuse to maliciously talk behind someone’s back, which was exactly what Carys and Aiden had been doing. The two second years had never gotten along with Jamil and were gleeful than anything else to have a legitimate reason to criticize him.

‘What, Viper? What’s he gonna do, kill us?’

‘Pfft, yeah. Isn’t he supposed to be your servant? Oh man, if I had someone like that as my servant, I’d order them to toss themselves off a cliff.’

‘You should totally have left him like that, dorm head. Viper deserved it, the bastard.’

Unfortunately for the two, they’d been sorely mistaken in thinking Kalim would agree with them.

‘You really tore them a new one.’

Kalim nodded, not even slightly embarrassed.

‘Yes, I did.’

The words he’d spoken echoed through his head again:

‘Look, I’m not going to argue with you about Jamil overblotting. That isn’t the point. But you don’t get to bring him being my servant into it. Jamil does a lot for me and I don’t want to be rude, but I really don’t think you’d be able to handle even half of what he has to do on the regular. Can you identify poison in food? What about on clothing? What kind of defensive and attack spells do you know? Jamil knows about seven different ones each, off the top of his head. We both had a lot of practise see, whenever I got kidnapped and he had to rescue me. And you two were pretty helpless against Jamil when he was overblotting, remember?

‘All I’m saying is… if you still think you could take him, you’re welcome to try.’

Jamil was looking at him intently, as though trying to find something in his expression.

‘I didn’t expect you to be so harsh, Kalim.’

Kalim shrugged.

‘They talked badly about you. I didn’t like it, so I stopped them.’ He replied. ‘They weren’t even angry about the overblotting thing. Carys and Aiden just thought they were better than you.’

‘Are you saying they deserved it?’ Jamil asked, crossing his arms.

Kalim had learned two times what kind of things people did when they thought they were above someone. He couldn’t stand it when that happened, because it always meant Jamil bore the brunt of it. People never seemed to get what Kalim saw so easily, dismissed the fire in his eyes as insolence or stupidity for thinking a servant could over-reach.

People thought they could take advantage of Jamil because he was a servant.

People thought they could walk all over Kalim, because he was kind and generous and never even slightly mean.

They thought wrong.

‘I could have handled it, you know.’ Jamil continued.

At the end of the day, even if Jamil looked at him with hatred or resentment, Kalim didn’t mind so much. He’d get over it, as much as the realisation stung. It would hurt far more if Jamil never looked at him again at all.

And Kalim had no intention of letting off people who didn’t understand that simple fact.

‘I know you could.’ Kalim said with a small, brief, smile. ‘But that’s not the point. I wanted to stop them, so I did.’

He turned around and with a soft goodnight, walked away, leaving Jamil alone with his thoughts.