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And I can still smell her perfume
Did it rub off on you?
Jamil had always liked fire. It wasn’t a secret, wasn’t one of the many things that Jamil kept guarded close to his chest and only showed to those he was absolutely closest to. It was common knowledge. Kalim was fairly certain that Jamil couldn’t have kept it a secret if he wanted to. There was something about fire that made him come alive- he got louder, moved more, was more excitable. Something almost manic . Dangerous, even.
Kalim loved it. To be entirely fair, Kalim loved anything and everything to do with Jamil because he loved Jamil, and that was how love worked for him.
He knew that people thought of him as naive, and maybe he sort of was, but when you’d grown up surrounded by your potential murderers like Kalim had, you wanted to see the best in everybody, if only so no one would suspect you of being onto their plan. So that was what Kalim did- he saw the best in a person and hoped for it, and prepared for the worst.
He’d thought the worst from Jamil meant that he didn’t love him. He was an idiot, just like everyone said, because Kalim never in a thousand years could’ve predicted Jamil’s overblot.
After that, it took them a while to become friends. It had taken them even longer to have their first kiss, their first date, their first… Everything else. But by the end of their second year, Kalim was certain that they were okay- better than okay, even. They were good . They were solidly together, and nothing could break them up.
And then they did. Kalim had been in a haze- he barely even remembered the fight the next morning. But he woke up, and Jamil wasn’t wrapped around him from behind, but instead, he was standing in the doorway saying, in a cold voice that Kalim barely recognized, “Kalim, wake up. Now.”
Overnight, they’d gone back to whatever pathetic thing they’d been before, except Jamil had so much more freedom now (which was a deal he’d made with his father that Kalim would never in a million years regret or take back), so he was gone so much more.
A few weeks into their third year, Kalim got transferred into the same class as Ruggie. The beastman immediately bullied the kid sitting next to him into moving so Kalim could sit with Ruggie. But as Kalim took his seat, he paused and sniffed. He turned, craning his neck to look through the class.
“Huh,” he murmured, eyes failing to find who he was looking for.
“What?” Ruggie asked, frowning and turning to follow Kalim’s eyes.
“I thought I smelled Jamil’s cologne. Guess not.”
“Oh,” Ruggie said, voice a bit weird.
Kalim glanced at him as he turned to face the board. “What?”
“I, uh- nothing.”
Kalim frowned slightly, but Trein called for their attention before he could press the issue.
After class, when Ruggie walked past Kalim on his way to the door, the smell of Jamil’s cologne strengthened, and Kalim’s heart twisted as he realized where the scent was coming from- Ruggie.
It clung to his jacket, or maybe his hair, or- thinking of this possibility made Kalim feel sick- maybe his skin.
As Kalim walked through the halls to Crewel’s lab, his head was filled with images of Jamil and Ruggie, intertwined together, in Ruggie’s room at Savanaclaw, and he wished he would throw up in the hallway so he wouldn’t have to go to class.
But he didn’t, and when he walked into the classroom, he saw Jamil and Ruggie sitting at one of the desks together, Ruggie’s sandy blonde hair brushing against Jamil’s glossy brown hair as they leaned their heads close together, whispering to just each other.
Kalim felt tears well up in his eyes suddenly, and he spun on his heel and ran out of the lab, ignoring the confused voices around him, even as one voice- Silver, he thought- broke through, with a worried, “Kalim, what’s wrong?”
He didn’t bother to answer, just kept running until he found himself back in his room at Scarabia. By the time his tears died, Kalim’s pillow and the hoodie he’d secretly kept from Jamil were both thoroughly damp, and his throat ached.
It was still better than the smell of Jamil’s cologne on Ruggie, though.