Archive of Our Own

Jamil’s time at STYX has been… trying, to say the least. As much physically as mentally. His own behavior must have been terrific if it got the ever lazy Leona to spout life lessons at him no less than three times. 

And in retrospect, Jamil has been a pain. He can't do much but admit it at this point. He’s not even sure what prompted that. Arrogance ? Misplaced sense of duty ? The ridiculous idea that Leona would be useless because Jamil is too used to seeing him sit on his ass and do nothing ? He doesn't know. What he knows is that he’s made a fool of himself.

The worst is, Jamil could have made an ever bigger fool of himself. It was probably exhaustion or relief, he thought he saw things. He attempted one last display of arrogance to save faces, it got Leona laughing genuinely for the first time since the beginning of their trek down, and Jamil had felt light. Leona almost looked proud of him in that instant, despite having been annoyed with him the whole way. Proud and just a tad endeared and Jamil felt a flash of yearning in his chest.

It was short lived. Leona completely ruined the moment seconds later and Jamil had never been so glad he’s not the kind to act on an impulse.

Still, it stayed in his mind. Even when Vil came back from his fight a wailing old man, even when their whole group had to listen to said wails for the whole duration of the flight home - Leona seated himself next to Jamil without prompting. The one time Vil quieted down to wet sobs, Leona’s head lolled dangerously close to Jamil’s shoulder before a renewed session of wailing woke him up in a snap. For someone usually annoyed whenever his naps were interrupted, Leona seemed awfully meek about berating Vil when this happened -, even when Kalim tackled him into a snotty hug and added to the wailing, even when Vil got his youth back and they all left for the infirmary-

To be short, it lasted for days. Jamil just couldn't remember a single instance where someone had been proud of him, saved for Kalim’s usual thoughtless praises and his sister’s hidden pride. Jamil is almost ashamed he’s been so impacted by Leona of all people that it occupies his mind for almost a week.

It’s almost enough to forget how awkward Scarabia still is with him. In between the sleepover at Ramshackle dorm during the SDC prep and the whole debacle at STYX, Jamil hasn't been very present in his own dorm. He can tell his dormmates have been glad for it, and Jamil has also been. 

There’s something about having fifty something people go from adoring you to not even dare look at you. Jamil had thought he would be fine with it at first. Even if his plan failed and they all hated him, he didn't care about the opinions of lowlifes like them. Then his plan really did fail in the worst way possible and on top of having to recover from literal madness, he had to withstand the frightful glances and the not-quiet-enough murmurs and the loss of any kind of support-

The only support he had were Azul and Yuu, who had both apologized because their plan had been a bit too forceful. Even Kalim had made himself scarce, not that Jamil could blame him. Also, he had needed Kalim to make himself scarce at the time. He still had too many outbursts to be left around him for any prolonged period. 

Speaking of Kalim. Jamil can see the usual dorm residents, can hear their not-so-happy murmurs about his coming back - no matter how much Kalim smoothed things out between Jamil and the others in Scarabia, he couldn't yet do miracles -, but he doesn't see Kalim anywhere. At any other time Kalim would have asked for a party to be prepared to welcome Jamil back, and Jamil would have had to prepare said party himself, but not this week.

He’s allowed Jamil to settle back at his own pace. Kalim has been a bit overbearing about making sure Jamil had anything he needed, but he made sure Jamil had his calm, and it’s the best present Jamil could have asked for.

Still, it’s weird not to see Kalim as much, so Jamil goes to look for him. He still has to protect Kalim after all, he could hardly do that when he doesn't even know where Kalim is.

He finds him in the kitchen, along with the two Scarabia residents Jamil used to be the closest with. Those three together are the most sociable in all Scarabia. Having them all in his pocket worked for his plan. Of course Yahir and Topaz haven't talked to him once besides the mandatory homework sessions they do together as a dorm. Kalim lifts his head, realizes he’s been caught first hand messing in Jamil’s kitchen, and offers a sheepish smile while the other two look pointedly at the written recipe.

“Ah- Hi Jamil ! Wanna taste ?”

He’s got sauce on his cheek and flour on his dorm uniform but at least he doesn't seem to have burned or cut himself so Jamil has half in mind not to berate him for trying to cook by himself. Yahir does have a slight cut on his finger though.

Jamil sighs and goes to recover a bandaid. “If you were hungry you only had to ask me.”

“It’s just.” Kalim laughs meekly. He smears some flour on his nose when he scratches it out of nervousness. “Since you weren't here for a while, I tried cooking a bit by myself. Like that you wouldn't have to worry about me being poisoned, right ?”

Jamil pinches his lips. It’s not the first time he sees or hears Kalim make efforts to be more independent and Jamil isn't sure how he feels about it. That's some pressure off of his shoulders, yes. That’s also a lot of habits to break. Years old habits that Jamil couldn't help but keep around Leona because he didn't have his own wealthy child around.

Jamil doesn't know how to answer. So he only opens his mouth and allows Kalim to feed him a spoon of chili.

“It’s probably not as good as yours.”

From the other side of the counter, Jamil hears “We followed the recipe though…” muttered. Topaz is frowning at the recipe like he doesn't understand it while Yahir finishes to plaster his finger.

“Spices can be hard to measure at first,” Jamil concedes. 

Those three airheads tried to cook without him… Maybe that's the weird kind of pride Leona had felt back at STYX. The kind there is when you watch a fawn finally manage to stand on its legs. It’s still shaky and a bit pitiful but it’s endearing, and the fawn is trying its best.

“You can still ask for my help, you know,” Jamil murmurs in Kalim’s ear after he’s indicated what spices to add and how to water down the chili just a bit.

Kalim’s smile is blinding.

So much for not doing any party this week. There’s at least one party per week at Scarabia. “It’s for birthdays, Jamil !” It’s already a miracle Jamil managed to haggle for one party a week even when there are multiple birthdays, of course this week wouldn't be an exception.

Jamil is looking for Southern magnolia. They’re the birthday boy’s favorite, a reminder from Sunset Savannah where he’s from. It's a tradition to have favorite flowers on display at Scarabia for birthdays. So off Jamil is, to the botanical garden, to gather as much of those magnolia as he could bother carrying. 

The temperate side of the garden always provides flowers aplenty, along with cooking herbs and the occasional spice. Jamil is no stranger anymore to that place, he’s walked around here so many times he knew exactly where to go to find the flowers. After that he’ll have the cake to prepare, the animal parade, the finger food, he’ll have to help the less dexterous ones to cover their presents, he’ll also need to make sure no one tried to smuggle alcohol again (a grim affair was it, last time some managed to pass by Jamil) and to convince Kalim not to offer half his fortune to the birthday boy-

At least Kalim could be trusted to prepare the decorations. That’s one thing less Jamil has to worry about.

Jamil is already a good basket of flowers done, on his way to fill the second. It’s a bit of a lengthy process when he has to use a simple spell to keep the flowers fresh a bit longer, but when you live in the desert you have to be a bit crafty to keep non-native flowers in shape.

Even though it is a custom for Scarabia's birthday parties to have a favorite flower on display, Jamil has never really bothered to think about his. The past two birthdays he's just given the most generic answers he could find. He likes plants, sure, even has a few of them in his own bedroom, but he's never had a particular one catching his eye.

A red Amaryllis pops above his right shoulder. Followed by a grin and a scarred eye. “Poppy picking, Viper ?”

“Those are magnolias, actually.”

Leona hands him the amaryllis, which Jamil accepts with a faint blush. It's a beautiful, vibrant red, its petals perfectly shaped and the stem carefully plucked. It's also poisonous, the kind of flowers the Asim don't accept at any of their parties.

“It's for a birthday,” Jamil says, because the silence feels more awkward, especially when Leona sits next to him while he does his spells.

“Still doin’ the heavy lifting ? Aren’t you over this ?”

Jamil scoffs. “I can’t just stop being a servant, that’s not how it works.”

Leona hums and falls silent.

Considering the hours they spent more or less fighting back at STYX, Jamil didn't expect Leona to actively seek him out. First seating with him on the plane, now sparking discussion without real meaning. What would Leona gain from those ? 

Jamil’s eyes land on the amaryllis again. He twirls it between his thumb and forefinger, unsure what to do with it. It’s the first time anybody but Kalim or his family gives him flowers, Jamil couldn't quite describe the warm feeling spreading in his chest. In the end, he casts the spell on it too and leaves it in his front pocket where his magic pen usually resides while he keeps working on the magnolias.

It’s minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence during which Jamil works and Leona naps before any of them breaks the spell. Leona’s ear twitches minutely, he grabs Jamil’s wrist, and the next thing Jamil knows he is hiding in a nearby bush alongside Leona. Well… “alongside”. On Leona’s laps, actually. He can feel his face warm at the realization. Leona’s hand is on his lips when Jamil attempts to complain.

“Shh.”

So Jamil waits in this disastrously dangerous position to be found with a prince - sitting on said prince’s laps, holding onto his vest, one of his arms around Jamil’s hips, faces so terribly close they are breathing the same air - and Jamil is feeling ridiculously hot. He’s not sure how he could explain that should Leona sense it and mock him for it. 

He’s thankfully taken out of his thoughts by a Savanaclaw student appearing around a tree and looking around. Jamil thinks he’s seen this one during Spelldrive, it’s hard not to remember first years when they are at least a head taller than you. Jamil can’t remember his name though.

It’s a wolf. He’s sniffing the air. He’s definitely looking for Leona. Jamil glares at Leona for getting him in this position. He could've just left Jamil to work while he hid by himself, why the theatrics of having Jamil hide too ? Leona makes a face like he doesn't care about Jamil’s opinion, which is everything but surprising.

The wolfman sniffs a bit more, sees Jamil’s flower baskets abandoned on the ground, looks around, walks around the bush Jamil and Leona are hiding in, and finally he sighs.

“Dammit.”

Leona grins victoriously. Looks like he’s won this game of hide and seek. The wolfman sniffs while he searches for another track, probably the way Leona came when he found Jamil.

They don’t move from their spot for a while longer. Leona’s finger comes to play with the flower Jamil has in his pocket eventually, the first sign they’re finally out of danger. “That color suits you.” 

He doesn't release Jamil.

“How did you hide from his smell ?” Jamil asks. He hopes he doesn't sound too strained, this position is doing a number on him.

“You’ve been playing with flowers for an hour, Viper,” Leona says like it's the most obvious answer, like Jamil should have been able to guess by himself without having to ask. Jamil just gives him a flat look.

He still doesn't release Jamil.

Leona’s fingers leave the amaryllis to push Jamil’s bang aside. Too intimate.

“You’re such a pushover.”

There it is. That side of Leona that had Jamil want to bang his head against Tartarus’s walls. The remarks that are just nonchalant enough to show that he doesn't really care, but that he says nonetheless knowing it would irk up his interlocutor. Jamil has been fond of this technique once, used it on his own dormmates. He absolutely despises having it used on him.

Jamil plasters his best customer service smile on his face and asks sweetly “Why, should I start strangling you ?” 

That gets a laugh out of Leona. “Maybe try without the fake smile.”

Jamil rolls his eyes and forces his way out of Leona’s laps. He’s still got a birthday to plan, and it sadly won't be done by itself.

Leona has been… strangely present in Jamil’s life lately. Not in a bad kind of way, though he does get on Jamil’s nerves regularly with his remarks, just… present. There. A glance when they cross each other’s paths while changing classes. A discussion sparked when Jamil needed to go to the botanical garden. A flower found in his bag at the end of the day.

It’s an amaryllis. It’s always an amaryllis.

It’s there. A constant. Something that warms Jamil up every single day and has him wish he could put a word on these feelings.

Since he doesn't understand them, since he can't express them properly, Jamil starts to dance them out. He waits for Kalim to be back at Scarabia, where it should be the safest for him to stay even without Jamil being around, and wanders around the campus to find a good spot out of prying eyes but with respectably good footing for him to move without tripping. It’s not an easy task.

A couple months ago, he wouldn't even have thought about dancing whatever he is feeling out. It’s the SDC that reminded him it was a good way to unwind and something he does genuinely like.

The first time he decides to dance, he actually spends the whole three hours spotting the right place. The second time, he beelines for the one quiet part of the campus that has hard flooring but is used as a depot so nobody bothers to go there most of the time. It’s not the cleanest but Jamil hasn't seen a single bug the last time he came, that’s all that really matters.

A decently wide space, music in his headphones, and his sportswear on, Jamil has everything he needs for a good seance.

A good seance he gets. He doesn't find the time to dance to his heart’s content a lot, between his studies, Scarabia’s duties, and Kalim’s caring (and Leona’s flirting-), so it feels freeing to finally kick his feet on the floor, move his hips and shoulders to the rhythm of the drums in his ears.

It’s a shame the school doesn't have a dance club. The closest Jamil had found when he looked at the club list back in first year had been the music club, which had immediately been hijacked by Kalim when he first stepped foot on the campus. The next best things were sports clubs. Spelldrive had the bonus of adding flying to the mix, but back then Jamil couldn't afford to stand out, especially magically, so that had been a no-no. In the end, he chose basketball.

Maybe he should start a dance club. But then nobody would be there to handle Floyd and that’d be catastrophic. And there’s the risk of Kalim wanting to join it. Their relationship might not be as terrible as Jamil first expected it to become after his overblot, but they both really needed that time away from each other.

And anyway, Jamil likes basketball.

It’s only when the music stops and Jamil takes a deep breath to focus back on his surroundings that he realizes he isn't alone. He jumps backwards, half in position to fight back, before he can even see who this impromptu spectator is.

Turns out it’s Vil, who quietly applauds his performance. “It is as beautiful as ever,” Jamil hears when he pushes his headphones down.

“Sorry, I didn't realize you were there.” In the middle of a depot.

“I just got here,” Vil says with a shake of his hand. “I was spotting for the Film research club.”

“You plan on filming here ?”

Vil looks around with a critical eye. “I thought about it but… no, it is too cluttered. Maybe Ramshackle would be a better fit, if Yuu doesn't mind.” 

Vil’s eyes settle back on Jamil, with the same intensity as he always had. It’s hard not to feel small when Vil Schoenheit himself appraises you. Jamil always had confidence in his dancing and singing skills, but even he started second guessing after having gone through the selection process for the SDC.

Vil had done nothing but use him as an example and commend his skill during the whole rehearsal period though, so Jamil’s confidence had rocketed back up immediately.

“If you need a proper place to dance, Pomefiore’s ballroom would be a better fit than this… place,” Vil suggests. “I can give you clearance to use it whenever you feel like it.”

“I wouldn't want to impose.” Also Jamil always feels far too underdressed for Pomefiore.

“Nonsense. Come.”

Jamil follows because he thinks he sees a bug skittering around a box.

He’s definitely underdressed for Pomefiore. His only reprieve is that Vil is accompanying him so nobody dares even glance his way. The only student who does is none other than Rook, who beams with joy and joins Vil and Jamil on their way to the ballroom.

“Monsieur Talentueux, it has been so long. How are you faring these days ?”

“Same old.”

It’s easier to talk to Rook than it is with Vil. Rook chats him up the whole way, not once intruding but looking genuinely interested by whatever Jamil is saying. When the topic of dance is mentioned, he even claps in his hands and brightens perceptibly.

“Merveilleux ! Might I watch ?”

So Jamil ends up dancing for both Vil and Rook. Good thing the one time he doesn't mind the spotlight is when he is dancing. It is all the easier when Rook appears so amazed and compliments him any occasion he gets. That is just as much an ego boost as Vil quietly enjoying the show and occasionally clapping.

“Might I ask how you do to give this feeling of power in your moves ?” Vil asks after some time, while Jamil rummages through his bag for his water bottle. Instead he finds a red amaryllis that doesn't escape the eyes of neither Vil nor Rook. Jamil just pushes it aside, making sure not to crush it, and retrieves his bottle.

“Hm…” Jamil ponders before he says “It’s a matter of core strength and timing, I suppose.”

Jamil invites Vil on the dancefloor. It would be much easier to explain while they both dance the same moves, to point out the differences between their styles. Vil is just as elegant as ever when he moves, he has both the grace of a young maiden and the charisma of an emperor, it is hard not to look at him when he gets onstage.

“It might be something I have picked up from martial arts,” Jamil comments after having compared both their dancing. “Upper moves need to come from the hips to add power and a constant flow. If you only start moving your arms at the shoulder, it will look less fluid than if you start in your core.”

He shows examples, offers more tips, explains how even the most subtle pause at the end of a move makes it more impactful than just a succession of fluid moves. Vil drinks it all, as does Rook, and Jamil feels far too comfortable.

They alternate between several different dancing styles in the time they spend in the ballroom. From breakdance to jazz to classical - where Vil becomes the one to teach him - to waltz to actual ballroom dancing. Jamil was obviously aware of this during the SDC but Vil really is a good dancer. Not many manage to alternate between so many styles while remaining coherent and refined. Jamil leads Vil into a twirl, which he does effortlessly and stops right in front of Jamil to settle his hand back on his shoulder. He even has the proper handhold where most people would simply grab.

Jamil completely loses track of the time and ends up having to rush back to Scarabia when it becomes obvious he will be late to prepare dinner.

“Do come back whenever you want, I enjoy those lessons,” Vil calls after him, as if he hasn't taught Jamil just as much as Jamil has taught him.

Kalim is cooking again with Yahir and Topaz when Jamil gets there. “Don’t worry, we’re handling it !” Kalim grins, and the worst is that they look like they really are handling it. Jamil has been teaching them whenever they asked for help in the previous weeks and improvement there has been. Yahir raises two thumbs up at him to accentuate Kalim’s words and startles when the timer goes off.

It’s not completely perfect yet, but they’re handling it. Jamil feels almost fine with leaving them to it while he goes for a cold shower.

Jamil’s new “normal” becomes thus : he works his butt off all day to improve his grades until he is comfortably seated in the top 5 of his year (alongside Riddle and Azul, the latter oddly happy about it) ; when there aren’t classes he teaches Kalim (and Yahir and Topaz) basic skills to take care of oneself and one’s home, which they partake in willingly and dutifully to the point they’re the ones to come fetch Jamil should he dare be late ; some afternoons Jamil goes to the botanical garden to gather free cooking herbs and chat away the time with Leona who still uses him to evade his caretakers (And oh boy is Ruggie upset about it, he’s spent an hour doing laundry alongside Jamil pestering him about indulging Leona and making his job harder. “Imma kidnap Kalim, see how you like it !” None of these are real threats, Jamil promises to cook a few free dishes for him as an apology and Ruggie is immediately all buddy-buddy with him again, sharing whatever gossip he’s heard about until the laundry is done) ; other evenings Jamil goes to Pomefiore to dance the night away alongside Vil (and occasionally Rook).

It’s… nice. Comfortable. A routine he could very well get used to and even appreciate. He still has the occasional headache in the form of Kalim’s impulsiveness, but since most everything else has become less of a burden, he finds that he doesn't mind it. He’d even dare say his relationship with Kalim keeps improving over time. It’s not back to the friendship they fostered when they were children, still most of the annoyance turned anger turned helplessness had gone quiet inside Jamil’s brain. That is almost more of a relief than anything else.

“Hey, you got another flower in your bag !”

Jamil looks to find a new amaryllis on top of his books, just a bit wrinkled from having been moved around all afternoon. Kalim grins wildly as if he’d been the one to receive a flower. “Isn't it the third ? You’ve been picking some ?”

It’s the fourteenth, actually. Jamil has all the others dried and displayed in his room and will do the same to this one as soon as he has a minute to himself. “Not exactly,” he answers Kalim, whose eyes widen.

“Are they for someone ?”

“They're for me.”

“Someone has been giving you flowers ?!”

Jamil sighs at Kalim’s sudden burst of energy. That’s why he’s been trying to hide most of them from Kalim, he would be far too happy about this. Is far too happy about this. It’s hard to hide something from someone you spend most of your time with though.

“Yes,” Jamil admits nonetheless. He wishes he could wipe Kalim’s stupid grin out of his face. Instead he puts his cheek in his palm and looks elsewhere.

“It’s always the same, is that your favorite flower ? I thought you said you didn't have one.”

He doesn't.

… Right ?

Jamil, before he could give in to his reflex of hiding beneath his hood, taps his pen on Kalim’s forearm then on his open book. “Homework.”

“Oh, right, sorry !”

Kalim looks far too happy the whole duration of their class reviewing.

It starts as the usual garden meeting between Leona and Jamil. Jamil gathers plants around the corner, Leona is sprawled comfortably against a tree, both go about their business silently, nothing strange at all.

It’s not even strange when Leona grabs Jamil when he comes too close to bring him even closer. Jamil always fumbling with plants, cooking herbs and spices apparently gives him an odor rather difficult to track in nature but good enough to hide another, so Leona regularly uses him as a shield to prevent his dormmates from finding him. This time is no different. Jamil lets himself get dragged until he is seated between Leona’s legs, the lion all but draped over his back. Jamil just busies himself with arranging the herbs he gathered until whoever came to claim Leona left.

A minute passes. And another. Leona is already napping again, his head comfortably nestled in the crook of Jamil’s neck, arms encircling his middle loosely. Another. Another. Jamil frowns and looks around.

“There doesn't seem to be anybody coming,” he can’t help but remark. Leona makes a muffled humming sound from his neck.

Five more minutes pass before Jamil is completely sure that he isn't seating against Leona just to avoid his caretakers. He should push Leona’s arms and go back to his picking. He should get away from the nice heat and comfortable hug and slight tingling Leona’s eyelashes against the skin of his neck trigger and their hair mingling together on Jamil’s shoulder and he wants none of that.

There’s a new flower in his bag when he looks to put away the herbs he’s been categorizing. A vibrant red amaryllis, just like all the others. 

Jamil picks one of the flowers he’s found earlier, amongst thyme and coriander. A lonely marigold, standing proud above the herbs, bright yellow like a sun on earth. Overcome with spontaneous fondness - a feeling Jamil didn't know he was capable of experiencing -, Jamil dips the stem of the marigold into Leona’s hair, right next to his ear. Leona lifts his head to look at Jamil, lifts a hand to touch the flower. He doesn't take it out of his hair.

Jamil looks elsewhere. He knows he’s blushing. He knows his whole body is vibrating from nerves and also a bit of anticipation. He knows he feels like a little girl having just offered her crush the dandelion she found in the school yard. A crush. 

Dear Seven, Jamil has a crush on Leona.

He can feel more than see Leona’s smile. His chest moves in time with his usual chuckles, something Jamil is almost terrified to realize he’s learned by heart. The rhythm of Leona’s breathing, the rhythm of his laugh, of his snoring, of his steps…

There are lips in the crook of his neck. A soft push, so gentle Jamil barely feels it. The only response he can give is a strained body shiver that he attempts to smother. Leona most likely still feels it nonetheless. Without a word, he presses another kiss in Jamil’s neck, slightly higher.

There is a pause, like Leona is waiting for his reaction, or maybe just taking his sweet time to torture Jamil. Knowing him, it could be both. Jamil only leans into Leona’s chest.

He couldn't talk, whether he wanted to or not. His jaw is locked, his mouth is dry, he can’t taste a thing but for his heart leaping in his throat, and Jamil can’t understand how it all feels like the best sensation ever when it used to scare him after his overblot.

Leona kisses higher still. And higher. Higher. Until Jamil is all but shaking in his arms, struggling to take a proper breath, pushing into Leona’s chest like it is the safest place on earth. Then Leona raises his hand, takes Jamil’s chin between his fingers to make him look his way, and those lips end on his.

Jamil melts. A full body melting as his shaking stops and he feels boneless, incapable of holding himself up. Leona’s arms are here to gather him, safe and secure and warm and so inviting Jamil wants to nest there forever.

It’s so conflicting. Leona is so delicate with him, yet he nibbles on Jamil’s lips. A faint threat of something more if he dares to try, and Jamil can’t tell whether he wants to be treated like the most precious jewel in the world or to turn this into something fun and more… biting.

His head decides for him in the worst way possible. What next ? What next, after he answers Leona's kiss. Do they keep it to light flirting, turning around each other so long as it makes them feel good and stop whenever they get bored with it ? Do they start dating ? Do they start dating ?! What next ? Leona is a prince. It doesn't matter whether he is crown prince or not, a prince is a prince, and Jamil is a servant. One who has already betrayed the family he is serving once, who wouldn't be allowed another betrayal. How is it called, when a servant seduces a foreign prince instead of staying in his rightful place ? Betrayal. It’s betrayal. What next ? What if Jamil still dares to gamble his life away once more ? What if they do date ? What if Leona gets bored after they start dating. What if Jamil loses his gamble again ?

What next ? Nothing good.

Jamil likes cold showers, they are his showers of predilection whenever he's had a tiring day and needs to unwind, to cool down. But just as his dry mouth earlier had been contradictorily glorious, the cold shower his own brain dumped on him was the worst Jamil has ever felt. 

He gets nauseous from the whiplash, has to turn his head (break the kiss) to look away, bodily leans forward and away from Leona’s warmth to calm himself down.

It’s ridiculous. It’s not like he didn't know where this whole sketch was going. Leona never goes out of his way to do anything unless he genuinely cares for someone - like he cares for Yuu and Grim and Ruggie and that wolfman whose name is apparently Jack and also maybe Vil sometimes -, so for him to not only seek Jamil out, but to offer Jamil a flower every single time too- Jamil isn't blind, he knows it meant something. He knows the cuddling, the butterfly kisses led somewhere.

He couldn't help it, it just felt so good. It felt better than almost anything else in Jamil’s life, except for his dance sessions with Vil and watching Kalim improving everyday from his teaching maybe. He just couldn't will himself away from Leona’s embrace.

He still can’t. He also can't take another loss. He can’t do this !

“Snake ?”

No. Jamil can’t do this.

He wrestles away from Leona’s loose arms and runs away without even taking his bag.

So… Jamil is a loser. He’s always been one so it doesn't change him much, but it still stings. He lost at life from his very birth, first son in a servant family, all but sold out to work from his first steps, what else could he have expected. No matter the plots he devises, the relentlessness with which he works, the faint light he can see so far away from him, looking attainable yet always out of reach, he’ll always be number two. A shadow in Kalim’s light. An afterthought.

He would give the world to be number one.

To be worthy of standing alongside Leona.

Or Vil.

Oh fuck, not again.

They’re dancing together. Jamil has come to Pomefiore more in recent days to keep his mind off of Leona. He hasn't received any flowers since he ran away. Actually, he doesn't think he’s seen Leona at all. It’s probably for the best. Leona took this for the rejection it was and leaves him alone, that’s the best outcome for Jamil.

Except now he’s doing ballroom dance with Vil, following a jumpy and energetic song that has them hold onto each other while they twirl and bend and Vil is such a sight. He folds effortlessly backwards, curves beautifully into Jamil’s arm, looks fierce and oh so bewitching, eyes looking straight into Jamil’s, hair sticking to his skin with sweat, lips slightly parted to breathe through the effort.

It’s not the first time Jamil’s brain spins wildly into uncharted territories while they dance. Not even Leona could have Jamil marvel like that. Vil, a divinely beautiful marble statue come alive, an example of hard work and dedication, the most prominent actor and model around the globe, being so pliant in his arms and looking at him with such heat-

Jamil isn't strong enough for that. Everytime he dances with Vil, he silently thanks the Seven Rook is always there, watching, cheering for them whenever their steps end along with the song. Being in semi public does help Jamil cool down.

Rook isn't there today. “Neige is having a fan meet this evening,” Vil supplied, deadpanned, when Jamil asked. They didn't linger on the subject, Jamil knows intimately how touchy it is for Vil. Instead they jump immediately to the dancing.

“Something is bothering you,” Vil says when they are done with this song. He’s still piercing Jamil with his gaze, reading right into him as if he were an open book.

It’s so frustrating. Jamil has spent years effectively manipulating his world without ever getting caught. Be it his parents, Kalim, Kalim’s parents, the other servants, Jamil has always been good at pretending and everybody fell for it. Then he joined NRC and it started crumbling. Azul was unto him from the very beginning and the only thing Jamil could do to save face was to avoid him. Then Yuu started having doubts. Rook, who had more than once taken him to the side during the SDC rehearsal to ensure Jamil was doing alright. Leona saw right through him at STYX, and probably even before that too. And now Vil.

Jamil isn’t sure what he’s doing wrong. Why so many people could figure him out so easily. He just knows it’s harder and harder to pretend when more and more people read through him.

“Nothing worth mentioning,” Jamil mutters when he’s stayed silent too long to be natural.

Vil raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “Your acting skills could use some work.”

Jamil snorts. Obviously he’s doing something wrong if he’s so transparent.

Vil approaches, pushes Jamil’s bangs aside with one finger. It reminds him too much of the times Leona did this, barely a brush of a finger against Jamil’s forehead, a slow innocent move that denies Jamil his hiding. “Do you have anybody with whom you can share whatever is happening in your head ?”

Jamil frowns. “What do you mean ?”

Vil’s eyes wander on Jamil’s face, on his hair. Vil isn't transparent, he’s a professional actor who controls his body and facial expressions to the millimeter, to the microsecond. Nobody guessed about his spiraling toward overblot before it slapped them in the face minutes before it happened. Only Rook might boast about having known, not that there was anything worth boasting about in their situation. 

Jamil can’t find a hint of Vil’s thoughts in his eyes as he studies him. “Would you let me brush your hair ? They are tousled from our dancing.”

Jamil says yes. He’s not sure why.

He hasn't let anybody brush, nevermind style his hair, in years. Kalim used to enjoy doing it before NRC. His parents used to do it for him when he was too young and still growing them out. A few other servants have also helped Jamil settle his hair when in a rush. In maybe three years, nobody but himself has touched his hair.

Vil is smooth with the brush, never once pulling Jamil’s hair despite the knots. He repeats the same moves softly, passes his free hand through Jamil’s strands in a soothing motion that has Jamil close his eyes and sigh. The minor curls from his braids get smoothed when Vil massages his scalp. Jamil had forgotten how good it feels to have someone else take care of his hair.

“They are beautiful,” Vil murmurs after some time. “Have you tried cornrows ? It would look divine on you.”

Divine isn't an adjective worthy of Jamil, especially not uttered by the ever wonderful Vil Schoenheit. “I used to wear them during busy weeks back in the Scalding Sands,” he admits. “It allowed me not to worry about them for days.”

“Hm, hair care is a time consuming process,” Vil agrees. “I had in mind to ask you about your products and process back during the SDC but I never found the time. Would you mind enlightening me ?”

So Jamil tells him everything, from old and obscure desert recipes to keep hair from drying to the more mundane everyday brushing. Vil drinks it all, just as he does anytime Jamil explains something to him. As if he doesn't already have more than enough knowledge about hair care to make his own shine under sunlight flawlessly.

“I can write the recipe for you if you want,” Jamil hums. Without his talking, he would have already fallen asleep under Vil’s hands. There is a drowsiness that comes with having his scalp massaged so gently.

“That would be delightful, thank you.”

Done with the brushing, Vil gathers Jamil’s hair in hands and proceeds to braid them loosely. He’s obviously used to it, Jamil wouldn't be surprised to hear he’s taught the move to his fellow dormmates more than once. Jamil has spied a few long haired Pomefiore students in all the times he’s come to dance here, Vil must have berated them more than once about proper hair care. He can almost hear him pestering “Why would you be growing them out if you don't properly care for them ?” That’s a sentence Jamil heard from his parents too many times before Jamil finally got the whole process down.

“How are you feeling ?” Vil asks once he’s almost done with the braid.

Jamil sighs. “Relaxed,” he says truthfully.

“Good. I don’t know what is troubling you but I’d like you to know you don’t have to stay alone with the burden.”

Jamil frowns. Does Vil think it has anything to do with his overblot ? It has been months now, Jamil is more or less fine. How should he feel about himself if he still felt the aftermath of it when even Vil, who had one later than him, managed to recover from it already ? If. He doesn't.

“Do you have anybody to share your burden with ?” Vil asks again, and Jamil doesn't know how to answer.

Kalim is an obvious one, Jamil thinks about him immediately. Once upon a time, Jamil would tell him nearly everything. Kalim was as much Jamil’s confident as Jamil was his. But as time passed and resentment settled, Jamil had shut himself from Kalim, only telling him what he wanted to hear and nothing else. Jamil can't claim they are back to this innocent part of their childhood yet, he feels too awkward even just admitting that he’s not as annoyed by Kalim as he used to be months ago.

He regularly gossips with Ruggie while they do the laundry, about everything and nothing, but never about themselves. He’s been closer to Azul since his overblot too. The merman has been the one to help Jamil through the more immediate aftermath (the violent outbursts and the panic attacks and the physical illness and everything in between), so they had learned some about each other. Azul is still infuriating but it is more manageable for Jamil now. Yuu and Grim have also been regular visitors. They kept some distance at first, Yuu had no way to protect themselves should Jamil snap again, but they've been more and more present until they were the ones to invite him to Ramshackle dorm. Without Kalim. He’s talked a lot about nonsense and some about his greatest fears with them.

Shockingly, Jamil has also talked a lot about his feelings with Rook, back during the SDC. Rook made sure Jamil had some time to breathe and vent out when things got overwhelming for him. He knew Jamil just got down from an overblot - who on campus didn't, really ? - but instead of keeping his distances from Jamil like everybody else, he accommodated Jamil from the shadows.

The last person Jamil can think about is Leona, with whom he’s talked without shame for weeks before he cut things off abruptly. Leona knows all about Jamil’s struggles with finding his place, with desperately wishing for freedom knowing it would never come, with having no idea how to start getting stronger without being shadowed by Kalim.

Leona has listened to it all, hummed a lot, given Jamil some advice here and there when he had some insight. Leona doesn't talk much, he can't be bothered with it, but when Jamil mindlessly rambled about being afraid to go back home after his overblot, he left a small bouquet of amaryllis to be found in Jamil’s bag later.

Jamil hates having his mind stuck on Leona. He’s rejected him and he still can't stop thinking about cuddling him and kissing him and apologizing for running away when the only thing he wanted was to stay with him.

Jamil sighs. Passes his hand in his hair and grips them to stop the thoughts. “I don’t know,” he answers Vil. “I really don’t know.”

“Do you want to tell me ?”

Jamil doesn't know.

“Sup.”

Jamil hums in guise of good morning and settles next to Ruggie for their weekly laundry session. He probably shouldn't, but Jamil is glad Ruggie looks just as tired and upset as Jamil feels. It’s been an awful shitty week, Jamil just can’t will his head to shut up about the hopeful what if and the even worse pessimistic what then, which in turn makes his heart lurch up and down inside his own chest.

It doesn't help that Jamil is confused about getting these feelings while thinking not only of Leona, but of Vil too. Vil might not be a prince, but his status is still far too high for Jamil to even start hoping for anything. But Vil is so kind to him. So goddamn kind while also not condescending on him that Jamil just can’t help crushing hard.

Is that his type ? Soft older men with a snark that outclass him in everything, from status to magical talent ? Jamil wants to drown himself in the fucking laundry.

“So, when’d’you plan to reconcile with Leona ?” Ruggie mutters some time into their work. Jamil pauses his color sorting as his brain catches up.

“Sorry, what ?”

“Dunno man,” Ruggie drawls with a shrug. “He’s been even pricklier than usual recently and those flowers have been overtaking his room, do you know how annoying they’re to clear ? You think you’re done and then you find three under the bed, you’d think they multiply behind your back !”

“Why would that be my fault ?” Jamil shrieks, startled. That's too much information at once.

“Please, you’ve got those flowers’ scent all over you,” Ruggie deadpans, never once looking at Jamil. He’s completely engrossed in his laundry and somehow still managing to forget the sock he’s left aside.

Jamil gapes. Ok. That’s- He’s-

Leona is moping about having been rejected ? Really ? Jamil couldn't picture it at all, he always acts so detached from everything and everybody, nothing seems to have weight for him. He has his fun with something for awhile and abandons it without a second thought as soon as it bores him, that’s how Leona has been acting ever since Jamil has joined NRC and he started paying some mind to the other housewardens. But to take that rejection to heart…

He was serious ? About… them ? 

What ?

“It’s just like that time with the lilies or whatever they were, that was a mess,” Ruggie grumbles when Jamil can’t give a proper answer. “You know what’s good ? Dandelions. At least you can eat those.”

Jamil won't even try to understand what the lily situation was. 

He won’t because his head is stuck on Leona Leona Leona Leona and he wants so hard to do something about it but-

That doesn't change his situation one bit does he ? Leona’s still a prince and Jamil a servant, so even if their affection is reciprocal there isn't much to do about it. Miracles happening like in the stories of the mermaid princess or the street rat of the Scalding Sands are few and far in between. Considering Jamil’s luck so far, he’s not sure he’s anywhere near the top of the line for a miracle.

Maybe he should just… disappear. Go missing and hope nobody tries to look for him. Like that his family shouldn't be held responsible for Jamil’s actions, but he still could get his freedom. That’s a plan, right ?

That’s a damn stupid plan. Jamil throws his own clothes into the machine without care and slams the start button more forcefully than he truly needs.

“I’m not talking to Leona again,” Jamil decides. It sounds both like a promise to himself and a blatant lie.

Ruggie groans pitifully next to him. “Aw, man, have pity on me…”

If the universe could have pity on Jamil first…

Jamil, because his only solution when nothing else works is to run away and hide, does just that and stops going not only to the botanical garden, but to Pomefiore’s ballroom too.

These feelings might be a first but he’s not dense. If he allows himself to get too close to Vil he’ll just end up in the same mess as he is with Leona. Better to nip it at the bud than wait for this to bloom completely. So off to the old routine Jamil is, giving his whole focus to Scarabia and making sure not to stand out too much otherwise. (He’ll still work hard to stay on top of his grades and grow stronger, he just doesn't want any other third year to pay any mind to him.)

It works, somewhat. Kalim is surprised to see Jamil more often these days, takes it as a sign Jamil doesn't mind having him around anymore, which Jamil doesn't truth be told, so they work and play and rest together most of their free time.

“What about your flowers ? You don't get them anymore ?” Kalim asks once when Jamil refuses to be the one to go pick the next birthday flowers. Jamil just shrugs and goes busy himself in the kitchen.

If Kalim realizes something is wrong, he doesn't mention it.

Jamil sees Vil and Leona bicker one day. They’re half hidden in an empty room, only caught Jamil’s eye because they were moving. It’s no unusual sight to see those two at each other’s throat on campus though they don't bother being discreet about it most days. Leona looks genuinely upset, snarling and baring his fangs, while Vil leans towards him and makes quick gestures with his hands. Whatever they’re talking about, it’s no fun banter. Jamil pushes Kalim forward so they won’t be late for their next class.

All in all, those are empty days, during which Jamil feels empty, during which Jamil’s schedule feels emptier, during which any decision he takes feels completely void.

If that’s how falling in love feels, it’s not worth it.

Kalim hands him a poppy. Jamil blinks at it, then at him. There’s a sad smile on Kalim’s face, one that should be rare but that has been far too present those past few months. Whenever Kalim has this expression, it’s because of Jamil.

“You wanna talk about it ?” Kalim suggests, poppy still in hand, hand inflexibly offering it even when Jamil doesn't reach towards it.

Jamil says yes.

Because he’s exhausted.

Kalim marvels at Jamil’s collection of dried amaryllis. Despite how many times he’s tried trashing them after deciding he wouldn't see Leona anymore, he never found the strength to. He’s got a whole dried bouquet proudly displayed on his desk, nearly thirty flowers all more beautiful than the last, and since Jamil is a sap and a loser he also added a dried marigold to the mix. (He’ll also add Kalim’s poppy later. In secret.)

He hates himself for being so weak.

“They’re all from Leona ?” Kalim awes aloud, a smile obvious in his voice. “That’s so cool, I didn't know he’d be that kind !”

“That’s not cool,” Jamil grumbles from within his hands. He can’t look up from them. He’s that close to pulling the covers from the bed and burying himself under, his bangs and hood and hands and knees just aren't enough anymore.

“Are you upset because he doesn't gift you any now ?”

Yes, but that’s not the topic.

“I rejected him,” he mumbles. It feels like he’s ripping his own throat off, trying to say it.

“Uh, why ?”

And Jamil’s face finally leaves his hands. Kalim might have grown a bit, he is still completely oblivious to the ways of the world, even the ones he will soon have control over. He couldn't even fathom before why Jamil had grown rancid over their relationship, of course he wouldn't understand something as simple as power dynamics with foreign forces either.

Jamil’s expression must be terrifying to have Kalim take a step back and blanche so obviously, so he hides his face again between his knees and wills his growing anger to cool down.

“I- uh… is it my fault ?” Kalim stammers wetly.

Jamil would love to say yes. In fact, it’s his own parents' fault and ridiculous borderline traditions that allow one to basically sell their own child.

“He’s a prince,” Jamil seethes. And Vil is one of the most famous celebrities worldwide, a queen of his own rights.

Kalim gasps. “If you marry him you’d be royalty !”

Jamil pauses. Lifts his head from its hiding once more. Kalim looks far too genuine and awed, does he even realize what he just said ?

“What are you talking about ?”

“You’d marry into royalty !” Kalim says again like it’s the best thing he’s heard. 

“I’m a servant,” Jamil reminds him. “Yours.”

“What, you rejected him for me ?”

He doesn't get a thing. Of all the people Jamil could have chosen to vent to, he decided on the oblivious one. That’s on him for having a moment of weakness and jumping on nostalgia when it presented itself. They’d spend hours after bedtime talking quietly beneath Kalim’s covers as children, sharing secrets and gossip about whatever happened within the Asim household. It was such a simpler time, back then. It’s hardly the first time Jamil wishes he could wind time back.

“I don’t understand,” Kalim admits. It pains him not to, it’s written all over his face. “I’m sorry, I’m not the best at this, I’m trying but some days it feels like I just can’t understand you anymore.”

Isn't it the point ? Jamil has hidden himself under so many layers of false smiles and bootlicking words that he’s got his own self confused too. “Kalim, I've been bound to you,” Jamil tries to explain. Still too vague, he’s used not to shock his patrons with the blatant truth about what happens just below their point of view.

So Jamil takes a deep breath and looks Kalim right in the eyes. “I’ve been sold to you. My life belongs to you and your family. I can’t just fuck around with a foreign prince when I’m bound to serve you. When I… When I’ve already betrayed you once…”

He hides again. A loser, alright. He can boast arrogant words like vowing to break his own chains and crushing everybody else beneath his feet, but when push comes to shove Jamil finds himself still duty bound. What can he do, when he’s spent seventeen years being folded in the shape of the perfect servant by his own family, by the other servants, by the Asim household itself ? It’s ingrained so deep in his bones that as soon as he finds himself around Kalim, he falls back to his old habits of catering to him. 

And what can he do, when his family might be punished for his own misbehavior ? Kalim already managed to shush the true circumstances of Jamil’s overblot to both their families, he’s not sure he could do more. When Jamil gambles for his freedom, he doesn't just bet his life, but his family’s too.

It’s crushing him. The weight of it all. He sees other students go about their teenagehood freely, thoughtlessly, and Jamil finds himself jealousing them all more everyday. He watches his own dormmates enjoy Kalim’s parties and struggle on their own homeworks and call their parents regularly and plan mischief for their next class and decide to go shop together for the latest games and Jamil wishes harm to them all because he doesn't get to have that for himself.

He wants to wake up and only have to care about whether or not he’s finished all his homeworks for the day. He wants to steal food from someone else’s plate without it being to taste for poison. He wants to focus entirely on his classes without taking notes for someone else everyday. He wants to nap his free afternoon in the botanical garden. He wants to dance all night. He wants to come back to his bed at ungodly hours of the morning worrying about whether he will manage to stay awake during morning classes and not about whether his ward has been killed while he was away fooling around.

He wants to have crushes and bad grades and club activities and friends and just-

He just wants to be a regular teenager with regular teenager troubles. 

Arms encircle his shoulders, shaking from his wracking tears. He’s so goddamn pitiful. A babbling, wet mess that can’t help but feel guilty for his deepest wishes. Kalim lets him prattle incoherently for minutes. He stays quiet with Jamil in his arms, rocks him in soft motions and cards his fingers through Jamil’s hair. And what can Jamil do, but burst into heavier tears and hold back to his one anchor for dear life.

“You know, I don’t want you to be miserable.”

Jamil hums. He knows. Of course he knows. Kalim wants nothing but the best for others. He’s so damn generous, wishes for other people to be as happy as he is, that he can’t help but throw time and money and manpower into regular parties so everybody at the dorm could unwind and feel, even for just one day per year, like the most special person at school.

And how many times has Jamil been the central focus of Kalim’s efforts. His birthdays are always the most sumptuous, his gifts the most incredible. At any occasion, Kalim tries to please Jamil whether he wants it or not. Even before he started taking some responsibilities over himself, he would jump on occasions to alleviate Jamil’s burdens, that's exactly why things got out of hands with Azul!

He knows Kalim only wants the best for him. He’s always known.

Jamil brushes a finger against Kalim’s hand in answer. Kalim takes his hand in his and lifts them both towards the starry sky. It’s only them in the middle of the desert sky, way past any healthy bedtime and not caring at all. As soon as Jamil had quieted his tears, Kalim had apologized and ran away to come back not a minute later with his magic carpet. “Let’s get you some air, I know you like it !” And Jamil had been too weak and raw to protest.

So here they are, in the middle of nowhere, lying side by side and holding hands, just the two of them completely free of earthly burdens.

“If you want to go out with Leona, it’s completely fine with me,” Kalim murmurs. It’d feel like blasphemy to be too loud right now. “I’m rooting for you, you know. You don’t have to hold yourself back for me anymore, remember ?”

“It’s more complicated than that.”

“It’s not. Oh, doesn't it feel like the story of the street rat and the princess ?” Kalim turns on the carpet until he is facing Jamil. “Their love wasn't meant to be but they still managed to convince the sultan that they were true to each other ! And the street rat ended up being sultan himself !”

Jamil breathes in and out. “That’s romanticized.”

“You’re in love with a prince who’s in love with you.”

“It’s more complicated,” Jamil repeats. “There’s Vil too.”

“Uh ?”

And, oh, is it a mess to have to explain. It’s even harder when Kalim’s eyes brighten tenfold as Jamil forces the words out. “You’re in love with Vil too,” Kalim summarizes, tone not far from a squeal. “Does he like you ?”

“Dunno, I ran away before things could go any further.”

“C’m’on, Jamil,” Kalim wails. He might as well be watching a soap opera with how much he is into Jamil’s problems. Maybe Jamil should get him to the theater someday, Kalim would probably love it. “You have to tell them !”

“Kalim no.”

“Jamil yes !” If the carpet didn't right itself up on its own, they might have both already toppled down from Kalim’s incessant squirming. “What’s the worst that could happen ?”

“Heartbreak.”

“You’re already heartbroken !”

… touché.

Kalim gasps. “We could prepare a super romantic dinner for the three of you and then you’d declare your love-”

“We’re not doing that.”

Jamil sighs. He wishes he’d have just two percent of Kalim’s positivity and ease. He never understood how Kalim could keep such a bright outlook on life with all the mess he also has on his shoulders. Surely being constantly at risk of being kidnapped or assassinated should put a damper to his cheerfulness.

Well, it’s probably better that way.

“Jamil, tomorrow, go have fun, ok ?” Kalim says quietly. “Or rest, whichever you prefer. It’ll be fine.”

It is not fine.

Jamil stands in front of Pomefiore’s doors, sportswear and a bit of something else in his bag, and doesn't dare to walk in. He’s come here so much that past month, he even started to learn a few students’ names from theatrical greetings and the random gushing about how well kept his hair is, but he’s not sure whether Vil’s invitation still stands after Jamil has all but ghosted him. 

He’s got Kalim’s voice in his ear “What’s the worst that could happen ?” and the thing is, Jamil is far too good at finding the worst possible scenarios. So he focuses on bringing forth another of Kalim’s cheerful remarks. 

“What if things work well ?”

Jamil has never asked himself that. His job was to prepare for the worst, wondering about the best has never been in his skillset. Since he can’t ask it himself, he imagines Kalim asking it instead.

Alright, what if Vil kept the doors open for Jamil ? What if he was fine with dancing with him again ?

Cool. Cool cool. Jamil breathes, in and out, slowly, quietly.

He pushes the doors of Pomefiore open.

It’s not Vil or any other nameless Pomefiore student that Jamil finds first, but none other than Rook himself. Jamil sighs a breath of relief, that’s easier to start there. He can’t claim to understand Rook or to even be that close to him, but they got along well enough, that was all that mattered.

“Monsieur Talentueux, quelle surprise ! Are you here to dance ? Please, come this way.”

Rook makes inconsequential conversation the whole way. How are classes, how is Kalim, how are you ? Jamil answers everything as truthfully as he can bring himself to be. It still burns his throat, whenever he has to admit something about his own condition, but he’s getting there. Slowly. Carefully. Kalim encourages him with bright smiles each time Jamil manages to cough some truth up. So do Rook and Azul and Yuu and all the people who can see past his transparent walls.

They find Vil somewhere in the corridors of the dorm, nearly wrestling Epel into what looks to be an after shower skin care. He abandons it when he notices Jamil’s presence, which gives just enough time to Epel to run away.

“Should I chase after him ?” Rook offers with a placid smile.

“Let him enjoy his ‘win’, he will get double the work tonight,” Vil says with an elegant hand wave. “Viper, it is good to see you. You must have been busy.”

“Not… exactly,” Jamil forces himself to say. He has to punch the next words out of his chest. “Would you like to dance ?”

Vil offers him a warm smile. “Always.”

They are both changed and stretched within half an hour. Rook, ever perceptive, leaves them alone before Jamil can even dare ask for some privacy. He gives a knowing smile to Jamil before pretexting an urgent affair, leaving Vil, who pretends that he buys Rook’s excuse, alone with Jamil.

Jamil gathers a little pot from his bag and hands it to Vil.

“What is it ?” Vil asks as he opens the lid to find a creamy mixture inside.

“I told you a home recipe for hair care a while ago.” Jamil shrugs, looks anywhere but at Vil. “It’s good but it tends to darken hair, so I brewed this one for light hair. It’s just a light tweaking of ingredients.”

He sees Vil’s affectionate smile from the corner of his eyes. Feels warmth spread from his chest to his limbs that has nothing to do with his stretching. He’s missed feeling like he could fly while around Vil or Leona, that impression of lightness, the sureness that someone would catch him should he start falling.

And falling he does when Vil thanks him and places the pot within his own belongings with great care. Whenever Jamil offers him something, advices or gifts, Vil always handles it with such care it has Jamil want to do the same for him.

They dance a first song in near silence. A mix between Jamil’s breakdance and Vil’s classical that marries perfectly as they keep turning around each other and interacting in the easiest ways. Jamil takes Vil’s hand, accompanies him into a twirl and a bow, does his best to compliment Vil’s dancing as if he was made for it. It’s hard not to silently revere such an ethereal presence with every single move of his. A bow, a kneeling, a lift.

Jamil never wanted to kneel for anybody again, yet he thinks he would gratefully do it for Vil without a second thought.

Vil’s full attention is on him, eyes sharp, arms going around Jamil’s shoulders easily as he lowers Vil down after a lift, a caress below Jamil’s jaw as he turns around him.

That’s how Jamil imagines courtship happening in ancient times. In the throes of a ball, two people finding each other and dancing with such intimacy, yet never explicitly, trying to convene with stares and moves alone how invested in each other they were.

“You look nervous,” Vil hums as their steps slow.

“I am,” Jamil admits with unusual ease.

“Don’t be.”

Jamil could kiss him. Give in to the impusle, to the invitation, lean up and kiss Vil. 

He doesn't. He takes Vil’s hand and leads him for another dance.

“I’m not sure how to say it properly,” Jamil says. They start a ballroom dance, something they have done so much they no longer need to think to move in tandem. “My head has been a mess for a while now.”

“Is that why you stopped coming ?” Vil doesn't sound reproachful. He doesn't sound angry either, only comprehensive. Jamil nods.

“I have a hard time around you.”

That’s probably not the best way to say it. Jamil closes his eyes and mentally slaps himself. He already messed up once with Leona, he’d rather not fail again with Vil.

Vil only says “Oh ?” and waits for Jamil to elaborate.

It’s just like with Kalim. He only needs to rip the bandage off, be as precise as possible so he doesn't lose himself into nonsensical babble that leaves his interlocutor confused and him frustrated.

It’s easy. It’s all. Super. Easy.

It’s less ripping a bandage off and more coughing up the bundle of nerve he has in his throat, but it’s easy.

“I… like… you,” Jamil says, forcing every single word out painfully. He’s no longer looking at Vil, instead focusing on his collarbones as if it’s any easier than his eyes, when they are glistening with a faint sheen of sweat and looking so inviting.

He can still see Vil’s lips widening into a smile too divine to be witnessed by a simple mortal. Jamil continues before Vil can say a thing. “And Leona too.”

There is a pregnant pause, during which even their dancing slows to a near halt. Jamil hangs his head low, breathes in slow, controlled inhales and exhales to ease his nerves. What’s the worst that could happen ? He gets rejected and maybe gets his ass beaten to a pulp too. But what if all works out ? Kalim’s voice supplies within Jamil’s mind. 

If it works out, he gets a boyfriend.

Wow.

“Oh, that is interesting,” Vil hums, smile in his voice. When Jamil dares to look at him, he finds Vil looking immensely satisfied. “Had you not rejected Leona though ?”

Jamil gapes. “How do you know ? Wait- no- I-”

Vil places one finger on his lips and shushes him before he can make a fool of himself. “He told me that you ran away when he kissed you.”

“Since when does he confide in you ?”

“Since we started dating.”

And Jamil is lost. Leona. And Vil. Dating. Just that is a miracle in itself, they can’t stop bickering whenever they have the terrible luck of finding themselves in the same room. Jamil has witnessed them fighting mere days ago ! How is that even possible ?

Second… If they are dating, why exactly have they been flirting with Jamil ? Why Jamil of all people ? Vil and Jamil haven’t been exactly close even during the preparation for the SDC, Leona and Jamil kept fighting the whole way down Tartarus, and somehow they both decided Jamil was a good candidate to, what, double flirt ?

“What is going on ?” he asks when his brain refuses to catch up.

Vil smiles.

Jamil has never gone to the botanical garden with Vil before. Or anybody else but Kalim, Silver, and Leona, really. It’s a strange thing, Vil looks both completely out of place in the cluttered, wild natural setting, and in his rightful place amongst the prettiest flowers of the garden. 

He’s holding Jamil’s hand. A comforting gesture that denies Jamil any escape. He doesn't want to let go though, he wants to keep Vil’s hand in his for as long as he could. Vil didn't put his glove back when they changed to their school uniforms after cutting their dance session short. His left hand is gloved, but not the one holding Jamil’s hand, and Jamil is forever grateful for that.

It’s such an innocent move, Jamil shouldn't feel the want to snuggle up to Vil only because of it. (He still does, and he won’t have it any other way.)

They find Leona in one of his usual napping spots, sprawled on the grass and playing with a white lily. His ear twitches when they approach but he doesn't look at them. “Snake,” he greets with a drawl.

“Hi…”

“Don’t I get a greeting too ?”

Leona huffs, a smile stretching his lips minutely. He’s up and kissing Vil in seconds, places the white lily in Vil’s braid like it’s an old habit. Jamil recalls Ruggie mentioning lilies now. Never once would have Jamil guessed they were for Vil.

Leona looks Jamil’s way then, a silent question Jamil doesn't know the answer to.

“Tell him what you told me, won’t you ?” Vil encourages with a squeeze on Jamil’s hand. Jamil pulls his hood up and hides underneath.

That’s leagues harder to say when there is not only a queen appraising him, but also a prince. Jamil is used to charismatic people, he’s been frequenting them his whole life, he knows how to make himself tiny and invisible while he navigates amongst them to do his work. He’s not used to being the center of attention of two of the most charismatic students in school.

This time, he knows it should be fine though. Vil led him here with the conviction that Leona would react well, and Jamil trusts Vil. He’s never once misled him. (How hypocritical for this to be Jamil’s criteria when he’s done nothing but mislead everybody for years.) So Jamil goes over the thing that is slowly becoming a ritual. Deep breaths, Kalim’s voice in his ear, punching the words out.

“I told Vil that I- erm- fancy him. And you.”

“And ?” Vil prompts patiently.

“And that I ran last time because I was overwhelmed and it… scared me.”

And Jamil might be only a few years younger than Vil and Leona but he feels ages behind in emotional maturity. Leona has commented about it once. “Were you repressed growing up ?” were his words, Jamil recalls. Leona probably didn't realize he hit the mark flawlessly.

A finger pushes Jamil’s hood away. “Did you think I would bite you ?” Leona asks, smile flashing a fang.

“Don’t scare him,” Vil admonishes. He brings Jamil’s hand towards him, as if about to bodily shield him should Leona go too far.

The thing is, Jamil would have loved nothing more than for a bite. His panic had come from a whole other place than worry over the integrity of his own body. How could he care about that around Vil or Leona ? They could ruin his body and he would thank them for it.

Jamil feels like explaining himself. He can’t bring himself to. The words get stuck in his throat and he can’t push them out, no matter how hard he tries. Honesty is still hard, especially about something so shameful. He could tell Kalim how he feels about his situation, they are both intimately aware of it. Admitting to Vil, or worse Leona, that he is self-conscious of his status is just… too much.

Baby steps. Someday maybe, he’ll be comfortable enough to be honest about this topic. For the moment he just shakes his head “no”.

“I had time to cool down, think about the situation,” Jamil says with more confidence. “I can’t claim to have any experience in this, unlike you.”

And maybe this time they could explain themselves. Jamil doesn't particularly like being the butt of the joke, no matter how good the joke feels. He would have spent less time worrying about double flirting if he had known those two were dating and seemingly agreed together to seduce Jamil.

Leona shrugs. From his expression, Jamil can guess he won’t get the answer from him, so he turns to Vil instead.

“Leona has expressed interest in you once we were back from the Isle of Woe,” Vil explains nonchalantly, like he’s not saying his own boyfriend had his eyes on someone else. Shouldn't that be a source of stress in a couple ? “Obviously, Leona has great tastes in partners,” - Leona snorts from where he is fumbling with the bushes - “so I allowed it.”

“You did not allow it, you bet on who could seduce him first,” Leona corrects him with a drawl.

“I won.”

“I obviously did.”

Jamil pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand. He really was the butt of the joke here. “I have very conflicted feelings right now.”

Vil squeezes his hand softly. “Sorry, everything turns into a competition between us. It is hard not to when he loses all the time.”

Leona redresses from where he is squatting in a bush to glare at Vil. “Is that how you cope with your own losses ?”

So these past two years, whenever Jamil witnessed those two bickering, they were in reality flirting. They never even hid it, did they ? Jamil has heard them do it in front of teachers and even the headmage himself when vice housewarden were also needed for meetings. At least they kept the flower shower relatively private, though Jamil guesses he’s seen lilies quite often in Pomefiore.

What did Jamil do to attract the attention of those two in the first place ? He’s still unsure, and they are too engrossed in their bickering to bother answering.

It’s minutes before Leona shushes Vil and stops frolicking in the bushes. When he finally emerges from them, it’s with an amaryllis in hand. Jamil blushes before Leona can even offer it to him.

He’s missed that tight, warm feeling in his chest. The hot liquid spreading in his veins until even his fingers are tingling. The one he could never and still can’t describe properly, nevermind name it. He breathes more fully thanks to it, feels light enough to float above the ground without needing a broom or a carpet. It lights his brain abuzz, tingling with so many thoughts Jamil couldn't voice one. Things ranging from wanting to bury himself in Leona’s arms to “I love you”s he would never say aloud.

“Thank you,” he murmurs instead, holding the flower close to his chest.

“Are you gonna run away again if I kiss you ?”

For once, Jamil lets his impulse win. He holds the flower within index and thumb and uses all his other fingers to grab onto Leona’s vest to drag him close. It’s less soft kiss and more a crash of lips against each other, not that Leona seems to mind if his grin against Jamil’s lips is any telling. 

Jamil bites first, because it’s been in his mind for weeks and he desperately needs Leona to answer right back. Which he does once he’s secured one arm around Jamil’s shoulders, effectively locking him in place. Scared that he might run away again after all. Jamil presses into the warmth. I’m not going anywhere this time, he says with his whole body. You seduced me, not it’s your problem.

Vil squeezes his hand again, drags him backward just enough that Leona feels it and breaks the kiss. His lips are immediately replaced by Vil’s.

Where Leona’s kissing was biting yet caring, Vil’s kisses are languorous and downright indecent. Jamil moans into it before he realizes and blushes furiously because of it. He hears Leona chuckle right in his ear, feels Vil smile into the kiss.

If Leona kissing him last time was overwhelming, that’s nothing against the sheer mindblow of having two amazing people like Leona and Vil kissing him and each other in turn. 

Jamil could get addicted to it.

Kalim’s eyes are big as saucers, smile no less impressive. The only thing that stops him from jumping on Jamil is that they are still a bit awkward with being too close, but Jamil can see him vibrating in place like a jackhammer. Jamil has to place his two hands on Kalim’s shoulders to settle him.

“Yes, you heard right, we are all dating,” Jamil repeats and Kalim squeals.

“I’m sooooo happy for you !” he shouts. Jamil slams his hands on his mouth to shut him up.

“Don’t make this a national affair,” Jamil seethes quietly. The walls of his room are thick enough to obstruct most sounds but Kalim’s shrieking is not most sounds. “I’d rather… keep this private for now.”

“And you still told me ?” Kalim mumbles in Jamil’s hands.

“Well, you’re my… best friend.”

Kalim’s eyes fill with tears as Jamil realizes what he’s just said. He gets his hands back, pulls his hood so far down his face it covers even his mouth. 

He’s honest. That’s him being honest, not only to Kalim but to himself. That’s hard and mortifying and Jamil can’t understand how he got to the point that feigning either exaggerated modesty or arrogance is easier than just accepting the fact that he is struggling. 

He’s weak and he can’t accept it. But it’s fine. It’s fine because Kalim and Vil and Leona and many others still accept him despite this, so maybe he can learn to accept it too.

Jamil doesn't escape Kalim’s hug in the end. He gathers Kalim in his arms and buries his face into his shoulder.

Yeah. It’s fine.