Archive of Our Own

Leona exhaled deeply as he glanced at his watch, his patience on the verge of snapping. Five more minutes and he was turning around and going back to his room, Ruggie be damned.

“Uh, how is this my fault?” Ruggie asked in disbelief, because apparently Leona had said that out loud. “You’re the one who decided to bring a fucking date.”

The venom and disdain dripping from Ruggie’s words were deserved, Leona supposed. He just couldn’t find it in him to care. “Don’t be jealous,” Leona said with a yawn. “Next time you wanna be my date, you’ll just have to ask me before someone else does. I’m a hot commodity.”

Ruggie didn’t appear even remotely amused. “You disgust me,” he deadpanned.

Mere moments before Leona’s internal deadline, the surface of the mirror they stood before wavered, and a high-heel clad leg stepped through.

“‘Bout time,” Leona muttered.

Vil Schoenheit entered the palace mirror chamber, a ridiculous amount of luggage floating magically in his wake. “Quit griping, you’ll get frown lines,” he said casually, moving his sunglasses to sit atop his head. “Are the two of you ready?”

“We’ve been ready,” Ruggie said exasperatedly. He glanced at Vil’s luggage. “You know we’re just goin’ for the weekend, right?”

“I hope you packed the oil I gave you for your hair, Leona. The humidity is projected to be high on the coast this weekend,” Vil said, ignoring Ruggie completely as he scrolled through his phone.

“I don't even know what you're talking about,” Leona replied dully.

“Nevermind, I brought extra,” Vil said, waving him off. “As well as sunscreen, and please don't give me a hard time about applying it. Just because you don't burn doesn't mean it's not damaging your skin. I swear, you're going to look like an old man by the time you're thirty.”

Ruggie sent Leona a long, flat look. “You seriously wanna get back into this?” he pointed out, pointing to Vil with his thumb unsubtly.

“He is not getting back into anything,” Vil clarified before Leona could respond, pulling out a compact mirror and touching up his eyeshadow with his finger. “It’s perfectly normal for two people to go to a wedding together as friends. And lest you forget, Ruggie,” he snapped the mirror closed, sending a sharp smile in Ruggie’s direction. “I broke up with him.”

“In a rare act of mercy,” Ruggie mumbled.

“Anyway,” Vil said, not indicating whether he’d heard Ruggie at all. “Shall we, boys?”

—

Leona really didn’t give a shit about the wedding.

It wasn't like he'd been friends with either Floyd Leech or Azul Ashengrotto in school; in fact, if someone held a magic pen to his head and asked him to tell the difference between Leech and his twin brother, Leona would almost certainly die. He assumed he’d only gotten an invite in the first place because Ruggie, who’d been in their graduating class, had vouched for him.

He’d come because Ruggie and Vil had asked him to. That was all. He was relatively agreeable these days, if only because he didn’t care enough to argue.

As they stepped through the mirror and into the venue, however, Leona reconsidered his assumption that Ruggie had pushed for him to be invited. If the absurd grandiosity of the building he was now standing in was anything to go by, they’d probably sent invitations to everyone they’d ever met; this wedding was clearly intended to be a spectacle.

“Holy shit,” Ruggie said, whistling lowly. “Are we sure the mirror didn’t accidentally take us to the Queendom royal palace?”

He was hardly even exaggerating. They were in an entry hall of sorts; the floor, walls, and pillars were all made of pristine white marble, as was the enormous fountain in the center of the room. The fountain was adorned with a golden art piece that went up several stories, which Leona knew because if he looked up, he could see each floor bordered by circular railings and crowned by an impossibly tall domed glass ceiling.

A memory stirred in Leona, of a certain meltdown he’d witnessed from one of the grooms during his third year at school, and suddenly the tasteless, show-offy nature of the wedding venue didn’t surprise him at all.

“Welcome, Vil-san, Ruggie-san,” a voice greeted them. “Ah, and Leona-san as well.”

Leona sized up the figure suddenly standing before them. He at least recalled enough to know that this one wasn’t Floyd; Floyd would’ve addressed them by some stupid sea creature nickname, and far less politely.

The other Leech twin looked largely the same as Leona remembered him looking seven years ago, except that his hair was no longer in the edgy, jaggedly cut style he’d sported back in school, and was missing the signature dyed streak. Instead, it was a bit longer, and pushed back neatly to reveal his forehead. He still wore the same dangling blue earring in one ear, but it was now joined by numerous other rings and studs on both sides.

These changes were inconsequential, really; he still had the same polite, put-together, inexplicably unsettling vibe he’d always had.

“Hello, Jade,” Vil greeted back. Right, that was his name. “It’s been a long time.”

Jade smiled politely. “Indeed it has. We’re happy you could make it,” he said, glancing down at the clipboard in his hands. “Let’s see… Ruggie Bucchi, Vil Schoenheit, and guest. Very well, if you three could check in at the desk there, you’ll be given the keys to your—”

“Hold up,” Leona said, a sinking feeling in his chest. “And what?”

“‘Guest,’ is what I said,” Jade repeated, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “Please gather in the dining hall at five this evening for the welcome dinner, the attire is semi-formal. Enjoy your weekend.”

He brushed past them without another word, leaving Leona staring at the empty space he’d just vacated. The three of them fell into silence.

“Uh,” Ruggie said. “I didn’t really know whether you were invited or not, but I figured it didn’t matter since I was just gonna drag ya along as my plus-one anyway.”

“Oh, I assumed you weren’t,” Vil added thoughtfully. “That’s why I asked you to be my plus-one, I’d thought that much was obvious.”

Leona blinked. “I wasn’t invited to this wedding,” he said slowly. It had been one thing to show up when he thought he was bestowing the couple with the honor of his requested presence, but this was too much. Ruggie and Vil had both invited him out of pity. “Alright. I’m going home.”

Vil grabbed Leona’s arm in his obnoxiously strong grip before he could even attempt to make his way back to the mirror. “No, you absolutely are not,” he scolded. “The brother of one of the grooms has already seen you. It would be absurdly tactless of you to leave now.”

“I really don’t give a fuck,” Leona said flatly.

“Well I do. Don’t embarrass me,” Vil hissed.

“Seriously, Leona-san, suck it up. You’re already here,” Ruggie added. “I know you’ve got nothing better to do.”

Leona closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. That point, no matter how often Ruggie abused it, always seemed to work.

Whatever, he wasn’t going to make a scene of it. He could survive one weekend.

“Wait,” Leona said. “If I don’t have an invite, that means I don’t have a room.”

Ruggie shrugged, unconcerned. “Good thing you’ve got a date,” he said, turning to head toward the check-in counter. “Good luck with that!”

Leona turned a withering look toward Vil, who just rolled his eyes. “Oh, don’t be dramatic,” Vil waved him off, as if Leona had said literally anything. “It’s not like we’ve never shared a room before.”

Leona just sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “We are really, really bad at being exes,” he lamented, not for the first time.

“Don’t worry,” Vil said with a sharp smile. “You’ll find that I’m really, really good at the ‘not having sex with you’ part.”

—

Luckily, Vil had apparently already requested a room with two beds when he'd RSVP’d. Unluckily, rather than being allowed to fall down face-first onto his to sleep off the exhausting day, Leona was once again literally strongarmed into doing something he didn't want to do.

“Just try to enjoy it,” Vil said tiredly as he nearly dragged an unenthusiastic Leona through the hotel and toward the dining hall. “Surely there’s someone from Night Raven who you’ll be glad to see again.”

There was only one who Leona could think of. Unfortunately, it was also the one person who he knew for a fact wasn’t going to show up.

The dining hall was just as gaudily ornate as every other room Leona had seen in the hotel so far; it made the dining room Leona had grown up with look like a hovel, and he lived in a literal palace. “God, this place is ugly,” Leona couldn’t help but mutter under his breath.

“Just allow Azul to believe he’s impressing us,” Vil said quietly back, and Leona snorted. On rare occasions, Vil made it easy to remember why they’d thought they were in love, once.

Leona craned his neck to scan the massive amounts of tables and guests crowding the room, hoping to spot Ruggie quickly and take a seat next to him before Vil forced him to mingle. He found him at a table not far from the door, already elbow-deep in the bread basket. Leona slipped away from Vil and made his way over to him.

“Leona-san!” Ruggie said brightly, tilting his head toward the occupied seat next to him as he ripped into a bread roll. “Look who I found!”

Leona hadn’t noticed that there was another person with Ruggie at the table, and even after he did, it took him a moment to recognize him. Epel Felmier had grown up; probably not as much as he would’ve liked to, seeing as Leona could tell even sitting that he wasn’t much taller than Ruggie, but he definitely wasn’t the same baby-faced kid Leona remembered from school. His hair was shorter, and his facial features had sharpened, and he had a noticeable broadness to him that he hadn’t had back then.

Leona felt a little sick, suddenly. How had so much time passed so quickly?

“I was hopin’ you’d be here!” Epel said, grinning at Leona widely. “How’ve ya been, old man?”

Leona rolled his eyes, but all at once the sickness was replaced by a strange warmth. Maybe Vil was right; it turned out there was someone he was glad to see after all.

“Hey, kid,” he said, and he couldn’t help but smile softly. “You look great.”

Epel glowed a bit at the praise. “Thanks. You look… bout the same,” Epel replied frankly. He brought a hand to his chin. “It’s been what, seven years’r so? I got to see Ruggie at that reunion Kalim had a while back, but you weren’t there…”

“Oh, he was there,” Ruggie interjected, mouth full of the last piece of bread that had been intended to be shared amongst the table. He shot Leona a smug look, and Leona glowered back. “He was preoccupied.”

Epel raised an eyebrow. “No shit? Couldn’t even be bothered to say hey to yer old team…mate…?” Epel began to scold, before trailing off, quickly moving from his slouched position to sit up straight as his gaze moved over Leona’s shoulder. He cleared his throat. “Hello, Vil-san.”

Thankful for the interruption, Leona glanced back to see that Vil had indeed followed him over. He was regarding Epel with crossed arms and a blank expression. “Epel,” he greeted shortly. “I assume something unfortunate happened to your phone and you lost my number, and that’s why I haven’t heard from you in ages?”

“U-uh, well,” Epel muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His accent seemed to have mysteriously vanished. “It hasn’t been that long, we just had lunch a few months ago…”

“Two years,” Vil said flatly. “That was two years ago.”

“Oh,” Epel replied.

The four of them fell into an awkward silence. Eventually, Vil raised his arms toward Epel, his expression thawing slightly. “Well, come here,” Vil said.

Epel’s face relaxed in relief, and he stood, easily slipping into Vil’s arms for a hug. If he noticed that Vil’s eyes were dewy as he pulled back to fix Epel’s hair, Leona decided not to mention it.

“Hold on,” Epel said, batting Vil’s hands away. “Are you two back together? Last I heard—”

“No,” Leona and Vil said simultaneously.

“We’re just here together as friends,” Vil clarified once again.

Epel blinked. “Oh. Weird,” he said. Leona was beginning to think that it was, in fact, weird. “Anyway, you guys can sit down, I think the food’ll be out soon.”

Socializing wasn't nearly as unbearable as Leona had feared after that; he quickly found that despite his changed appearance, Epel was still the same quick-witted, spunky kid Leona had known back in school, and conversation came easily.

“You ever throw the disc around anymore, Epel-kun?” Ruggie asked, tapping his fork against his empty plate as if it would make food appear there more quickly.

“Nah, not really. Haven’t had the chance,” Epel said with a shrug. His eyes lit up, suddenly, and he gave Ruggie a light punch to the shoulder. “Unlike you, Mr. Big Time! I used to watch all of your games and brag to everyone back home that I knew ya. I was surprised you didn’t end up goin’ pro, you were sure good enough.”

Leona winced a bit, but Ruggie just chuckled. “Ah, thanks,” he said with a shrug. “I got a few offers, but Gran wasn’t doin’ too well by the time I graduated college, so I decided to move back in with her and help out.”

“Me ‘n Ruggie still play one-on-one every Friday,” Leona pointed out casually. “You could join us sometime if you wanted. See if you still got it.”

Epel appeared pleasantly surprised by the invite. “Next time I’ve got time off, yeah, sure,” Epel said with a grin. “Don’t see why not.”

They were interrupted by a sudden screech of microphone feedback, and Leona turned his attention boredly toward the stage at the head of the grand room, where Azul Ashengrotto stood in a light-catching blue and silver suit.

“Good evening. I would like to take this opportunity to thank you all for joining us on this special occasion,” Azul greeted the room, his smile a bit too strained. “You are invited to sit back and enjoy everything this beautiful coastal resort has to offer over the next few days, and then we of course hope to see you for the ceremony on Saturday afternoon. As for now, Floyd and I will be coming around to each table to greet you as you enjoy your dinner, courtesy of our very own restaurant staff. Bon appetit!”

“Fucking finally,” Ruggie said, nearly salivating as the waiters began to come around with the food.

Leona glanced over at Vil, whose neck was lifted slightly as he took a subtle sweep of the room. “...Who are you looking for?” Leona asked.

“No one in particular,” Vil said quickly, moving his napkin to his lap as the food was set in front of him. “It looks like Malleus is here.”

“What?” Leona snapped, his eyes inevitably falling on a pair of tall horns as he too scanned the room. He glowered and grabbed his fork tightly. “The lizard was invited and I wasn’t? He never gets invited to fucking anything.”

Ruggie shrugged. “To be fair, Azul-kun did kinda hate you back in school,” he pointed out. “Can’t really blame him after the whole contract thing.”

Leona narrowed his eyes at him. “I guess he conveniently forgot that you had just as much to do with that,” he replied dryly.

“Sure, but we were in the same year. We kinda silently made amends at some point since we had to be around each other all the time,” Ruggie said. “Also, I’m just less of a dick than you are.”

Leona crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair irritably. “Whatever,” he muttered. “All I did was rip up some sheets of paper. If I’m remembering correctly, the cephalopunk tried to kill us. If anyone should be the one holdin’ a grudge it’s me.”

“I guess. But y’know, you almost killed me back then too,” Ruggie pointed out casually. Leona stared at him; there was a grievance that hadn’t come up in a while. “I’m just sayin’, if you’re gonna cast stones…”

“Vil almost killed us durin’ that singing competition too!” Epel piped in, as if it was a fun little game. “Huh, there was a lot of attempted murder goin’ on at NRC.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Vil hissed. “Eat your dinner, all of you.”

The rest of the night was largely uneventful. Leona continued to notice Vil glancing around the room secretively, as well as drinking a bit more wine than he usually would, but he didn’t comment on it. Vil wasn’t his business anymore, and he really didn’t care.

At some point, Azul and Floyd made their way to their table to say hello, and Leona didn’t care about that either. The greeting was rushed; understandably considering there were two hundred or so people in the dining hall for them to cover. Floyd seemed mostly bored, and Azul had given Leona a surprised, uncomfortable look before launching into his overly formal well-rehearsed greeting. Leona hadn’t said anything at all in an attempt to make it as awkward for everyone involved as possible. It seemed to work well.

Leona decided he’d had enough before dessert was even served, and Vil joined him in leaving the dining hall. They made their way through the lobby and toward the elevator, and Leona raised an eyebrow as he watched Vil sway a bit on his feet; it was almost imperceptible, but was enough of a deviation from his usual practiced poise that Leona noticed.

“Alright, what’s up with you?” Leona gave in.

“What do you mean? Nothing,” Vil insisted. “It’s these shoes, they’re new. Let me just—”

He grabbed Leona’s bicep to steady himself, reaching down to adjust the back of his heel. Leona allowed it without a second thought; he'd been Vil’s prop for so many years that he was intimately familiar with the routine.

In that moment of silence, Leona found himself catching the sound of a voice that he hadn't noticed before, the soft register made louder by the mostly-empty state of the lobby. Recognition hit him like a tidal wave, and he turned toward the check-in desk so quickly he nearly knocked Vil over.

“Surely— this place is enormous, there are really no extra rooms?”

Even as Leona stared at the back of the speaker’s head, he didn’t quite believe it. Maybe he was the one who’d had too much to drink.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we're fully booked, and we don’t have any reservations under the name Jamil Viper…”

Vil perked up, then, the sound of the familiar name likely grabbing his attention. “Oh! Jamil!” he said, a bit too loudly. “What a pleasant surprise!”

Jamil started, and turned to face them.

His eyes found Leona’s right away, and Leona felt like he was falling. Jamil let his gaze linger for a moment, before it moved to Vil, and then, finally, to Vil’s hand on Leona’s arm.

“Hey, Jamil,” Leona said, his head spinning.

Jamil was quiet for a moment, before forcing a smile so awkward that it made Leona wince. “Hello, Leona-san,” he replied.

—

Jamil was not going to Floyd and Azul's wedding.

He'd spent the months, the days, the hours leading up to it telling himself and anyone who asked as much. He'd already RSVP’d no, he had nothing to wear, and there would be at least four people in attendance who he was really better off never seeing again. He wasn't going.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we're fully booked, and we don’t have any reservations under the name Jamil Viper…”

Of course they didn't. Why would they? Jamil wasn't going, and yet somehow here he stood, on the coast of the Queendom of Roses and in the gaudiest hotel lobby he'd ever seen in his entire life.

“Oh! Jamil!” a loud voice called out to him, and Jamil jumped. “What a pleasant surprise!”

Reluctantly, Jamil turned toward the voice, and nearly startled again when his gaze locked on an unexpected pair of green eyes. It wasn't Leona Kingscholar who had spoken, though; it was Leona Kingscholar’s ex-boyfriend, who was currently hanging on his arm.

Jamil couldn't be mad, really. He'd voluntarily flown across the world and into his own personal hell. No one to blame but himself.

“Hey, Jamil,” Leona said.

Jamil forced a smile, his cheeks aching from the effort. “Hello, Leona-san,” he replied. He cleared his throat; he had a more pressing issue to deal with right now than awkward reunions. “Do either of you know if Kalim is here yet?”

Leona looked caught off-guard by the question, but Vil nodded, lowering the shoe he was adjusting and stepping away from Leona with surprising gracelessness. “Yes, I believe he’s still in the dining hall,” Vil said, gesturing toward a door across the lobby. “Last I saw he was seated at a table near the front with Cater.”

“Great. Thank you,” Jamil said, attempting to casually head in that direction without looking like he was running away. He forced himself to make eye contact with Leona one last time; he was as handsome as ever, tragically. “There’s something I have to take care of, but we’ll catch up later.”

“Of course! I’m looking forward to hearing about your travels,” Vil said with a friendly wave. Leona opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then abruptly shut it again. Jamil turned away before he had the chance to make up his mind.

At least he’d gotten that particular confrontation out of the way quickly. He’d spoken to Leona, made it clear that he wasn’t hung up on whatever had happened between them, and most importantly, gotten visual confirmation that Leona was clearly never going to move on from Vil Schoenheit for the rest of his life. Good to know.

There was no reason for him to interact with Leona Kingscholar again for the remainder of the weekend, really. Or ever. That was that.

That settled, Jamil made his way through the throng of guests in the dining hall, doing his best to ignore the stark contrast between the travel clothes he was wearing and the obvious semi-formal dress code. He found Kalim quickly; he’d had years of practice picking him out of a crowd.

It was going to be two out of four undesirable meetings right off that bat, it seemed. At least with Kalim it could never be awkward.

“Jamil?!” Kalim said, far too theatrically, once he spotted Jamil approaching his table. He jumped up to meet Jamil halfway, throwing his arms around him enthusiastically. Jamil caught his full body weight with an oomph. “I thought you weren’t coming!”

“Yeah, I… thought so too,” Jamil muttered. He peeled Kalim off of himself, avoiding his eyes uncomfortably. “Um, look, I hate to ask a favor—”

“Oh, whaddaya need? Your wish is my command!” Kalim said excitedly, as if he couldn’t believe he could be so lucky as to get to do something for Jamil.

Jamil exhaled slowly, reconsidering, before shaking off his doubts. It was either this or fly back and pretend this had never happened, and it was a really long flight.

“I wasn’t actually planning on being here, so I don’t have a room reserved,” Jamil said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Could I maybe share a room with you for the weekend? I’ll pay half of it, of course.”

Jamil could’ve sworn Kalim’s eyes began to sparkle, and he idly wondered how many regrets a single person could collect in just one day.

—

Jamil was happy. Really.

He was having the time of his life traveling the world alone, and there was nothing about his current situation that he would change. He’d gotten what he’d always wanted when he’d finally managed to free himself from the Asims. The sting of rejection he felt whenever he thought about Floyd had faded away to nothing. He’d accepted that things never could have worked between him and Leona. He had no guilt, embarrassment, or regrets.

He was happy. He was.

So then why wouldn’t he go to the wedding? Floyd and Azul were his friends, he’d lived with them for over a year, and he had been physically present to watch them fall in love. It made no sense for him to miss it. If he wasn’t afraid of potential hurt or shame, then what was he hiding from? What would people think he was hiding from?

Those had been his thoughts as he’d spontaneously mounted his broom and headed for the address on the invitation he’d been staring holes into for months, anyway. He realized now, though, that he’d forgotten a key point: he hadn’t wanted to come because it was going to be annoying.

“Up and at ‘em, Jamil!” Kalim’s piercing voice assaulted Jamil’s restless sleep. Jamil groaned, rolling over onto his face. Luckily, Kalim had booked a suite big enough to have a full kitchen and living room, complete with a convertible couch bed. Jamil would’ve slept in the bathtub before sharing a bed with Kalim. “Huh, I’ve never seen you sleep in this late before.”

That’s because I don’t have to wake up at the ass crack of dawn to show you where the armholes in your shirt are anymore, Jamil thought grumpily. He immediately felt a bit bad; Kalim was doing him a favor by letting him share his space, after all. He certainly didn’t owe Jamil anything.

“I don’t really have anything to get up for these days,” he muttered instead, and then, realizing how depressing that sounded, sat up and rubbed his eyes. “…And I’m tired from all of the traveling yesterday. Did you need something?”

“Well, no, but there’s a breakfast buffet going on downstairs,” Kalim explained, squinting at the piece of paper Jamil had just noticed he was holding. “I don’t think we have to go, but it’s on this schedule thing…”

Jamil held out his hand, and Kalim wordlessly handed the paper to him. It seemed that there was some sort of event scheduled for practically every second of the next three days. Jamil had been here for less than twelve hours, and it was already clear to him that Azul was really, really showboating.

“Alright, just… let me get dressed,” Jamil said, shuffling out of bed. “I’ll meet you down there.”

“Sure thing! I’ll save you a seat!” Kalim said cheerfully, waving as he slipped out the door.

Jamil rifled through his bag, putting way too much thought into what to wear, probably. He didn’t really have many nice clothes anymore, considering he prioritized movement and comfort during his travels. He should probably amend that before the wedding; he’d seen plenty of shops near the hotel on his way in.

He settled for a sleeveless hoodie and loose shorts. He didn’t have any makeup or hair products either, so he settled for pulling his long hair back into a loose braid and throwing a cap on top. For good measure, he pulled the hood up too, to protect him from both the coastal sun and the eyes of his former peers who had known him during a far more put-together period of his life.

He took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror. Well, he certainly looked like a vagabond. Which was fine, he was one. All of his choices had led him here. It was what he wanted.

The breakfast buffet was hosted on a terrace outside of the hotel, with the nearby ocean as a picturesque backdrop. It was lovely, objectively, but the salt air and crashing waves brought back memories that Jamil didn’t particularly want to revisit. He scanned the area for Kalim, but his vision was promptly obscured by a vaguely familiar mass of orange hair.

“Jamil-senpai?” came an enthusiastic voice, and Jamil found himself immediately endeared by the no-longer-applicable honorific. “Hey, man! It’s been forever!”

Jamil smiled despite himself. “Hi, Ace,” he said. Ace Trappola looked largely the same, except he was taller than Jamil now, and an adult; it was clear that he was no longer the bratty kid Jamil had spent so many hours schooling on the basketball court.

Ace, Floyd, and Jamil had kept a group chat going during Floyd and Jamil’s fourth year when they were away for their internships, and had maintained it for a year or two beyond that, before it naturally fizzled out as they became preoccupied with their post-graduate lives. When Jamil made his way to the coast a few years later, he and Floyd had messaged Ace to see if he’d wanted to come down to visit, but it had never come to fruition. Jamil had even missed him at Kalim’s reunion a year or so back.

Maybe he could put a bit more effort into keeping in contact. Jamil realized now, with a pang in his chest, that he was glad to see him.

“How’ve you been? You’re not still living around here with Floyd-senpai, are you?” Ace asked as they headed toward the buffet line together. Senpai again. Cute.

“Oh, no. That was never a permanent thing,” Jamil said casually. But you wanted it to be, the cruel voice in his head said accusatorily. Jamil shook it off. “I’ve been staying around the southern Shaftlands recently, but I think I’ll be heading east soon.”

Ace stared at him in amazement even as he piled bacon onto his plate. “That’s awesome,” he said excitedly. “So you’re really doing it? Seeing the whole world and shit?”

Jamil huffed a laugh. “I’m trying,” he said.

They took their plates over to an empty table on the terrace, a canopy of white chiffon blowing in the breeze above them. Memories of the ocean aside, at least the atmosphere and decor didn’t remind Jamil anything of his time on the coast. If anything, he felt like he was in an art museum.

“This place is really… fancy,” Ace pointed out, his thoughts clearly along the same lines as Jamil’s. “It isn’t exactly how I pictured Floyd-senpai’s wedding.”

Jamil snorted. “Yeah, this is definitely all Azul,” he said. Back in the day, Jamil would have said as much with a pointed eye roll, but he wasn’t quite so put-off by Azul Ashengrotto these days. For a while they’d even been friends.

“Man, I never would’ve guessed back in school that the two of them would be a thing,” Ace mused. “It’s kind of random, right? I always thought they had a weird, like, boss-goon relationship.”

Jamil shoved whatever negative feelings that threatened to bubble up deep, deep down. “I guess it did seem that way from the outside,” he muttered. “But no, they… they definitely love each other.”

“Hm,” Ace said, clearly blind to Jamil’s internal conflict. He looked up at Jamil with a smirk. “Actually, now that I think about it, I remember you and Floyd-senpai always flirting back in the basketball club.”

Jamil felt the color drain from his face, and he found himself unable to speak for a very long, incriminating moment.

It was true, probably, at least on Jamil’s part. The stupid crush that haunted him even now had started all the way back then. At the time, Jamil had been too busy to consider anything romantic, so he’d restricted it to innocent flirting and convinced himself that it was a shallow infatuation that would fade with time. It wasn’t long after running into Floyd again on the coast years later that he realized that it hadn’t, and it wouldn’t.

He was over it now, though, of course. Only it hadn’t so much faded as been violently ripped away.

“I don’t remember that,” Jamil finally managed, carefully avoiding Ace’s eyes.

Much to Jamil’s relief, their conversation was interrupted, suddenly, by a tall shadow falling over their table.

“Good morning, Ace-san. And Jamil-san!” a familiar voice greeted. “What an unexpected surprise.”

The voice was perfectly polite, but for whatever reason, made the hairs on Jamil’s arm stand up. He looked up slowly, and was met with the sight of a sharp-toothed smile.

“…Hi, Jade,” Jamil replied, feeling overwhelmingly like he was in trouble.

Jade’s yellow eye glinted. “May I speak with you for a moment?” he asked. Jamil glanced at Ace, who shrugged and continued eating, clearly unconcerned by this turn of events.

“Uh, okay,” Jamil agreed, standing warily to follow Jade off to the side.

Once they'd put a reasonable distance between themselves and Ace, Jade took a moment to simply observe him with narrowed eyes, and Jamil felt like he was being laid bare. This wasn’t anything new; despite the fact that he hadn’t been around much when Jamil lived on the coast, Jamil had always gotten the feeling that Jade knew things about him, things that Floyd and Azul were blissfully ignorant of.

Jamil wasn’t intimidated by him, though. In fact, though like with Azul his high school self would have balked at the fact, he considered Jade a friend.

“I must say, I was not anticipating seeing you here. Not entirely irrational of me, I think, considering you responded no to the RSVP,” Jade said, grin razor-sharp. “Change of heart?”

Jamil shifted awkwardly. “Look, I’m sorry. It was a last-minute decision,” he said. “You don’t have to scramble to find me a seat at the reception or anything, I’ll leave after the ceremony.”

“Don’t be silly. Luckily for you, someone who had RSVP’d with a guest ended up coming alone, so there will be an extra seat,” Jade said offhandedly. He clasped his hands in front of him and continued to smile at Jamil unsettlingly. “I’m only curious as to your motivation.”

Jamil winced. He’d been trying not to think too hard about that. “I just felt like I should, I guess,” he said vaguely.

Jade’s eyes flashed. He did not appear to be satisfied with that answer. “I see,” he said. “I’m relieved to hear it. Considering all of the work that has gone into this wedding, it would be a shame if someone were to attend with ill intentions.”

“Oh,” Jamil said, feeling slightly humiliated as realization washed over him. “No, I’m— Jade, I didn’t come here to crash the wedding.”

He didn’t. He didn’t. Floyd and Azul were getting married, and he had no intention of preventing that from happening. He was… happy for them. He was.

Jade hummed. “Of course you didn’t,” he said calmly, though clearly relieved. “You’re hardly the type for such theatrics.”

“Right. Seemed like you had no suspicions,” Jamil said tiredly. “Anything else?”

Jade took a moment to consider the question. “Only that it’s good to see you,” he concluded with a far more inviting smile than before.

Jamil huffed a laugh. “Yeah. You too,” he said, and he meant it. His thoughts backtracked, then, to something Jade had mentioned earlier. “…Do you happen to know who I’ll be seated with at the reception?”

“Ah, hm. Well, the one who no longer needed his plus-one was Ruggie Bucchi, so…” Jade said thoughtfully, and Jamil felt his blood run cold. Jade didn't even need to continue, Jamil knew. Somehow he'd already known. “You'll be with him, along with Leona Kingscholar and Vil Schoenheit. I don't suppose you remember them from school?”

Jamil let out a long-suffering sigh, with all of the theatricality that Jade had just accused him of lacking. “I remember them,” he muttered grimly.

—

Jamil sat facing the ocean, his legs pulled up onto his adirondack chair as he watched the waves crash against the shore. He’d decided to pass on the remaining scheduled activities in favor of taking advantage of the mostly-empty beach bar. He sipped on his fruity, overpriced drink idly, his slightly-inebriated mind wandering.

With the help of the alcohol taking off some of his sharp edges, the sea made him feel far more at peace than it had when he was sober. After all, his memories here weren’t bad ones. For a moment there, this had been his home. He’d belonged here.

He missed that feeling. It had been a while since he’d belonged anywhere.

“Hey.”

Jamil closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “Hi,” he replied, not turning to look at the person who had just pulled up a chair beside him. He didn’t need to.

“You sounded pretty convincing when you told me you weren’t gonna show up for this wedding,” Leona said casually. “I almost believed you.”

Instantly, Jamil felt his jaw clench in irritation. Maybe it was the alcohol exacerbating his already-unstable mood, but Leona’s accusatory tone got on his nerves; if either of them had something to answer for, it certainly wasn’t Jamil.

“Nearly as convincing as you did when you told me that it was over between you and Vil, I’m sure,” Jamil said, taking another long sip of his drink.

Leona scoffed, and Jamil could see him shake his head in his peripherals. “What does that matter to you?” he asked, clearly matching Jamil’s frustration. “I haven’t even heard from you for months. Didn’t think you’d be too terribly concerned about who I showed up with to a wedding you weren’t supposed to be at.”

Jamil was quiet for a moment. He felt the fight leave him instantly; Leona was right, and he hadn’t done anything wrong. Somewhere deep down, Jamil knew he was only lashing out because he wasn’t sure how else to act around him.

For a while after Jamil had left the Sunset Savanna palace, Leona had tried to keep in contact; attempts which had gone ignored by Jamil. What did the two of them have to talk about, anyway? Their post-high school interactions had consisted almost exclusively of having sex, and when Jamil had allowed himself to even remotely consider that they could be more than that, Leona had quickly shut him down. Jamil wasn’t holding a grudge about that part, though; Leona had simply reminded him of the reality of the situation. Jamil couldn’t give up his dreams for the slightest chance at a working relationship. It wasn’t worth it.

So really, the main barrier between them now was awkwardness. What did you say to someone you’d recently been fucked by, been rejected by, ghosted, and then caught with his ex-boyfriend on his arm? It was too much on top of everything else Jamil had to deal with.

“…You’re right,” Jamil said with a sigh, because despite it all, he wanted to be on good terms with Leona. His calming, down-to-earth presence was something that Jamil could really use right now. “Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

Leona grunted, and Jamil could feel the tension around them ease. “Doesn’t matter anyway,” he said. “Vil and me just came together as friends.”

“…Okay,” Jamil said dubiously. It was hard to believe considering their history, but whatever. “Anyway, I wasn’t going to come. I changed my mind at the last minute, and… here I am.”

Leona tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair thoughtfully. “Is it gonna be tough for you?” he asked, and the genuine concern in his voice made Jamil cringe. Leona knew the exact turmoil that being here was putting Jamil through, much to Jamil’s humiliation.

“No idea what you mean,” Jamil said, tossing the straw from his fruity drink aside in favor of chugging the rest straight from the glass. It was only then that he allowed himself to face Leona fully.

One of these days, he was going to be less horribly, stupidly, obnoxiously, painfully gorgeous, but today wasn’t that day. In fact, with the golden hour dancing across his skin and the sea breeze tousling his messy hair, he might have even been more breathtaking than usual. Jamil felt a strange sensation spread from his chest to the tips of his fingers. It scared him, so he ignored it.

“I wouldn’t have come with Vil if I thought you were gonna be here,” Leona said after a beat of silence, so sincerely that Jamil couldn’t possibly doubt him.

And then, because alcohol made him perhaps a bit too honest, Jamil replied: “I wouldn’t have come at all if I thought you weren’t.”

—

“By the way, this is cuttin’ it kinda close, don’t you think?”

Jamil hummed, holding up two tie options in front of himself in the mirror thoughtfully. It was true, most people probably wouldn’t wait until the day of the wedding to buy something to wear to it, but Jamil was nothing if not unprepared lately.

“The ceremony isn’t until later this evening,” Jamil said, unconcerned. “Which tie do you prefer?”

Leona sighed, standing up and walking to stand beside Jamil in the mirror. They’d run into each other when Jamil was on his way out of the hotel that morning and, after hearing about his plans, Leona had offered to accompany Jamil into town. Jamil would have been perfectly fine on his own, of course, but. Well. It was always nice to have a second opinion.

“I have no idea,” Leona said. He at least had the decency to sound somewhat apologetic about it. “They both look fine to me.”

Jamil sighed. “Well, what are you wearing?” he asked.

“Dunno. Vil picked it out,” Leona said. Jamil tried his very hardest not to react to that, but Leona seemed to notice anyway, because he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Listen, anything you put on is gonna look good. That’s the benefit of lookin’ the way you do.”

Jamil wasn’t sure whether to be flustered by the compliment, or offended that Leona was clearly using flattery to recover from his social fumble. Judging by the heat suddenly radiating from his face, it seemed his body had come up with the answer before he did.

“I’ll take this one,” Jamil muttered to the shop assistant, holding up the gold tie in his left hand.

Jamil paid for his suit, and the two of them walked together back onto the boardwalk. It was only a short walk to return to the hotel, but Jamil opted to pause at a bench, not quite ready to go back yet. All that awaited him at the venue were more absurdly formal meals and awkward reunions; he much preferred to take a moment to admire the colorful shops bustling tourists that filled the small downtown area.

Leona sat beside Jamil, folding his arms over his broad chest. “Is this where you were?” he asked. “When you were livin’ with Floyd and the cephalopunk?”

Jamil couldn’t help but huff a short laugh in response to the immature nickname that had apparently withstood the test of time. “No,” he replied. “It wasn’t far from here, though. It looks pretty much the same.”

He closed his eyes. The sounds, the smells, the atmosphere… they were all so similar that he could almost be convinced that he’d gone back in time. He let out a deep breath.

“It was just a coincidence, really. I’d planned on crossing to the next continent, but I heard the Queendom had beautiful beaches, so I wanted to spend a day on the coast before taking off. The trip made me hungry, so I stopped in a restaurant on the boardwalk,” Jamil continued, eyes still firmly closed, a picture painting itself behind his eyelids. “It turned out Floyd and Azul owned the place together. Jade had been invited to join them, of course, but he’d ended up moving inland. He was around every so often, but it was mostly the three of us. I moved into their small apartment above the restaurant. I needed money, so they offered me a job, and even though I thought I’d hate cooking for others again, for some reason I didn’t mind it. It was fun. I was happy.”

Leona grunted. “And then you went and caught feelings and ruined everything, right?” he chimed in unhelpfully.

Jamil sighed, opening his eyes and letting the illusion shatter. “Right,” he agreed dully. “…It caught me by surprise. I’d had a mundane, teenage crush on him in high school, but I didn’t see it going anywhere, so I never pursued it. But then, during my time on the coast… I saw a future, I guess. And it looked nice.”

There was a long pause, and Jamil chanced a glance in Leona’s direction. He was watching him with a calculating expression on his face.

“Even though it was so different from the life you’d imagined for yourself?” Leona eventually asked.

Jamil shrugged. “I guess so,” he said.

Leona made a low, thoughtful sound, and Jamil continued to feel his curious gaze on the side of his face. “‘S funny,” he muttered. “Last time you told me this story you sounded… mad at yourself, I guess, for even considering staying. Now it kinda sounds like you wish things had gone a different way.”

All at once, Jamil felt embarrassed by the whole conversation, and he sank a bit in his seat. “The coast is just making me nostalgic, probably. I… ugh,” he said frustratedly. He knew how his presence here already looked, and he wasn't making it any better for himself. “Leona-san. I’m not here to crash the wedding.”

Leona’s face twisted into a surprised, amused expression, and he let out a short bark of laughter. “Uhhh,” he said. “I didn't think you were. Don't hold back on my account, though, it would definitely liven up the weekend.”

Jamil rolled his eyes, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. After a moment, he looked back up at Leona earnestly.

“Why do you think I’m here?” he asked. He was hoping Leona could give him some insight into the truth, because Jamil sure as hell didn't know.

Leona’s response came quickly, like he’d been holding back from saying it this whole time. “Is it too much to hope that part of it was to see me?” he asked.

Jamil held his eyes, something warm and electric and frightening thrumming under his skin. The answer left his lips before he'd even decided to say it.

“No,” he said, pulling his gaze away. “I guess it isn't.”

—

“There you are.”

The voice reached them nearly the moment they’d stepped into the lobby, and Jamil was instantly ripped back to reality, all traces of his good mood fading away. He slowed to a stop in an attempt to distance himself from Leona as Vil approached them.

“What’re you, keepin’ tabs on me?” Leona replied irritably.

“I’m not,” Vil replied, unphased. “However, we do need to begin getting ready.”

Leona glanced at his watch with a frown. “There’s like four hours until the ceremony,” he said.

“Right, so we’d better get a move on,” Vil said with a firm nod. He turned to Jamil, who was trying to slip away subtly. “Sorry to steal him.”

Jamil shook his head rapidly. “Oh, no it’s… I’m the one who— um,” he said awkwardly. “He just offered to join me on an errand.”

Luckily, Vil seemed remarkably unbothered by Jamil running off with his date, and he only shrugged. “No matter. Well, we’ll see you soon,” he said, before zeroing his attention back in on Leona, who looked particularly unamused by the entire exchange. “Honestly, have you even taken a shower yet? You know your hair takes ages to dry…”

Jamil watched them leave with a sense of loss that he couldn’t quite shake. He turned to head toward his own room, when suddenly a door to one of the event rooms opened, and he nearly collided with the frantic figure that stepped through it.

“Excuse me— oh!” Azul said as he grabbed Jamil’s shoulders to steady them both. His harried expression immediately brightened at the sight of Jamil. “Jamil! Jade told me you’d managed to make it, but we must have kept missing each other.”

It was true; Jamil hadn’t seen either Azul or Floyd since he’d arrived, which could be attributed to his late arrival on Thursday and the fact that he’d spent most of yesterday getting drunk on the beach with Leona, probably. “Ah, yeah. I guess so,” he agreed, shifting a bit uncomfortably. “Sorry for showing up unexpectedly. I hope it isn’t too much trouble.”

Jamil hadn’t actually spoken to Azul at all since Kalim’s reunion, when he and Floyd had told him about the wedding. Unfortunately, Jamil couldn’t shake the awkwardness he felt in his presence. After all, Azul had, inadvertently, made Jamil’s life hell for a while. It wasn’t his fault, of course; he didn’t know how Jamil felt— had felt about Floyd, and god willing he never would.

“What? Why are you apologizing?” Azul asked, looking genuinely confused. “Rest assured you’re not a burden. You should have seen the fit Floyd threw when he found out you weren’t coming… I’m sure he’s ecstatic that you’re here. As am I, of course.”

Jamil forced a weak smile, and took in Azul’s frazzled appearance. “Well, today’s the day,” he said. And then, to himself as much as to Azul, asked: “Are you ready?”

“Physically? Oh, no, not at all. The place settings are all wrong, I can’t find the photographer, and I have yet to even begin getting ready despite that there’s only— goodness, four hours until the ceremony,” Azul said, glancing at his watch exasperatedly. He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “Mentally, though… I am ready, yes. I have been for quite some time.”

Jamil felt a pang of physical pain in his chest at the look on Azul’s face. He wondered what it felt like, to be so certain.

“I’m happy for you,” he lied through his teeth.

Azul beamed. “Yes, well,” he said, waving Jamil off in a rare display of bashfulness. “Anyway, I do need to get back to work. I’m sure I’ll see you later this evening.”

Jamil nodded, watching as Azul raced off, leaving Jamil standing alone in the clinically pristine lobby. After only a moment of hesitation, he resolutely beelined for the bar.

—

Jamil stumbled a bit as he entered his and Kalim’s shared room, swearing under his breath as he braced himself on the door jamb.

“Oh! There you are, I was wondering when you were coming up to get ready,” Kalim greeted him cheerfully. Jamil just grunted in greeting, tossing the suit bag he’d been carrying around with him all day onto the couch. “Wow, you seem… really not ready. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure it starts in a half hour…”

“I know,” Jamil said irritably, pulling his sweatshirt over his head. The ass-backwards notion of Kalim rushing Jamil to get ready on time set his teeth on edge. “I’m very aware Floyd and Azul are getting married in a half hour, thank you.”

Kalim stiffened and nodded quickly. “Of course, sorry!” he said awkwardly. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Your suit looks nice!”

Jamil grit his teeth, his head spinning as he attempted to tie his tie through the inebriation clouding his brain. He might have stayed at the bar for a bit longer than he’d planned, and Kalim’s pointless yapping wasn’t helping with his lack of focus. “Do you want something?” he asked sharply.

“Oh, um, not really,” Kalim said with a shrug. “We just haven’t talked much… it’s been a long time, and I really missed you!”

Jamil exhaled slowly. This was absolutely the last thing he needed to deal with or think about right now. “Great, well, we can talk later,” he said dismissively, his hands shaking as he once again pulled his tie through and watched it unravel into nothing. “What is wrong with this thing—”

“Do you need help?” Kalim asked, approaching him before Jamil even had a chance to answer.

“You don’t know how,” Jamil replied dully.

“No, I do, actually!” Kalim said excitedly. “You’d be amazed at all the stuff I can do myself now! After you left, I figured it was time to be a little more self-sufficient, haha.”

Jamil paused, unwilling or unable to process that. He simply let his hands fall to his side.

Kalim approached him enthusiastically, reaching for his tie. Out of everything that had come back to haunt him the past few days, for some reason, this sight was the one that made a lump rise in Jamil’s throat. He resolutely swallowed it back down.

“Thanks,” he managed.

Kalim hummed, and was quiet for a moment. “Do you wanna know how your family’s doing?” he asked offhandedly.

Jamil felt his heart rate spike. He couldn’t handle this. Not now, maybe not ever.

He hadn’t exactly left the Asim household on good terms. Kalim’s father had passed three years after they’d graduated from NRC, and Jamil had taken the opportunity to relay to the new patriarch of the household, Kalim, that he would be leaving and taking his parents and sister with him. Kalim had been surprised, and sad, but consented to his wishes. Najma had been surprised, and sad, and had expressed reluctance to leave her life behind for a new and unfamiliar future. His parents had been disappointed, and betrayed, and informed Jamil in no uncertain terms that they would serve the Asim household until the day they died.

He hadn’t spoken to them in years. What was the point? He’d chosen his life, and they’d chosen theirs. He was never going to step foot in the Asim estate again, and they were never going to leave it. It was better to just cut ties completely. It was less painful that way, for everyone.

“No,” Jamil replied firmly. “Thanks.”

“Alright,” Kalim said easily, patting Jamil’s chest and stepping back. “Welp, there you go!”

Jamil looked down at his tie, hardly able to believe his eyes as he observed the perfectly-laid knot. “You can actually tie a tie,” he said in disbelief.

“Sure can!” Kalim said with a chuckle. He smiled at Jamil warmly. “I’m doing good, Jamil.”

Jamil looked up at him, and felt the smallest weight lift off of his shoulders at the sentiment. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Well, anyway, let me just do my hair and then we can go,” Jamil said, bending to sift through his luggage for his comb.

“Great! Want any help?” Kalim asked cheerfully. “Figured you might need some since you’re totally drunk.”

Jamil sputtered and promptly straightened up to glare at him. “I’m not—” he attempted to argue, before the vertigo of the sudden movement hit him all at once and he was forced to take a moment to sit on the edge of the bed and watch the room spin. “…Fine. Please.”

—

Jamil didn’t really remember the ceremony.

It wasn’t necessarily due to the alcohol; he was drunk, definitely, but not blackout drunk, he wasn’t that pathetic. Rather, he’d voluntarily shut it out. He’d seen Floyd standing up there, and he just… couldn’t handle it. The finality. The sense of letting go of what could have been, forever.

He could have done what Jade clearly expected of him; stood and loudly objected to their union, caused a scene in front of the entire massive crowd of acquaintances and strangers. Maybe it would have felt good to risk something for once. To what end, though? It wasn’t like Floyd would jump from the altar and carry Jamil off into the sunset. It wasn’t like Jamil even wanted him to.

Jamil didn’t know what he wanted. He couldn’t remember the last time he had.

Luckily— and surprisingly, considering Azul’s borderline-neurotic planning and attention to detail— the ceremony wasn’t long at all. Before Jamil knew it, his ears were filled with a roar of applause, and he tuned back into reality just in time to see Floyd and Azul pull away from their celebratory kiss with matching grins. And just like that, they were married.

Jamil didn’t really remember dinner, and it was almost entirely due to the alcohol.

All he’d wanted was a little peace, a reprieve from the loud, relentless, rapidfire of thoughts that seemed intent on tormenting him. He’d recognized the antidote in the form of the open bar, and, well. He might have gotten carried away.

“Leona-san. Leeeeoooonaaaa-san,” Jamil said, giggling as he tested the word in his mouth. He leaned over into Leona’s space giddily. Why had he been worried about being seated at the same table as him, again? This was ideal, really; dinner and a view. “They really got married, isn’t that weird? What about you, have you ever thought about it? Oh—” He paused, glancing toward Leona’s other side and making eye contact with Vil. He chuckled sheepishly. “I guess you have.”

Leona closed his eyes for a long time. Vil cleared his throat. “News spreads quickly, it seems,” Vil said, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin calmly.

“Vil—”

“It’s alright,” Vil said, holding a hand up to stop Leona. “It’s your story to tell as much as mine. I must say, though, I’m surprised the two of you are such confidants. Have you reconnected since school? I wasn’t aware.”

Ruggie coughed on Jamil’s left. Leona stared straight ahead, as if pointedly avoiding making eye contact with any of them. “Uh, yeah,” Leona said, fidgeting with his napkin. “We talked some at Kalim’s reunion last year—”

Jamil snorted. “Yeah, talked.”

“And then,” Leona continued, raising his voice slightly. “A bit after that, he stayed at the palace for a couple days while he recovered from an injury.”

Jamil leaned his chin on his hand and grinned. “Leona-san took very good care of me,” he said with a low chuckle, very convinced of his own hilarious subtlety.

Vil sighed and pressed a hand to his forehead. “I see,” he said.

“Hey, Jamil,” Leona said, gesturing toward a pair of doors leading to the outdoor patio with his head. “Let’s go get some air.”

Jamil raised an eyebrow and smirked. “You sure? You know how things typically go when we’re alone together,” he said, letting his hand brush against Leona’s knee. “If we’re gonna ‘talk’ we might as well do it upstairs.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Vil said, suddenly moving his folded napkin from his lap to the table and standing up. “Jamil, come with me for a moment.”

Leona grimaced. “Just let me handle it.”

“No, no. We’re going to have a talk,” Vil said firmly. He gave Jamil a stern look and motioned for him to follow, before turning on his heel and heading toward the exit.

Jamil just shrugged and stood to follow. “I think I’m in trouble,” he said with a giggle, finding the whole situation rather amusing. Leona just gave him a pained look in response.

The moment Jamil stepped out of the ballroom door and into the hall, Vil pushed a vial of some sort into his hand. “Drink that and get a grip,” he said, his tone more lightly scolding than angry. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

Jamil squinted at the vial. “Is this poison?” he asked. “I remember you like to poison people.”

Vil just crossed his arms and fixed him with an unamused stare. Jamil swirled the content for a moment, thought what the hell, and drank it in one gulp.

The effects were instantaneous. Jamil didn’t suddenly become entirely sober by any means, but he was hit with clarity like a splash of cold water to the face. He met Vil’s eyes, and was all at once so embarrassed he wished it actually had been poison.

“Better?” Vil asked.

“So much worse,” Jamil replied miserably.

“Alright, so, what is it?” Vil asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Jamil got the distinct impression that he was being mothered. “Are you in love with Leona?

Jamil’s head began spinning once again in a complete refusal to even begin to process the answer to that question. “Um,” he responded eloquently.

“Because I can assure you, you will hear no objections from me,” Vil continued. “I only asked Leona to come as my date to make someone else jealous, it’s nothing to drink yourself into a stupor about.”

Jamil blinked slowly. He wanted to protest that reasoning for him getting so drunk, or better yet that he had done it on purpose, but his curiosity quickly made itself the more pressing issue. “Who the hell are you trying to pick up at Floyd and Azul’s wedding?” he asked.

“The point is, there is nothing going on between Leona and me. As you so charmingly alluded to, a rejected marriage proposal is a difficult thing to come back from,” Vil continued, unruffled. “I apologize if I stepped on any toes, I wasn’t aware that the two of you were involved, to whatever extent.”

“Uhhhmm,” Jamil said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. He’d pretty much already revealed the nature of his relationship with Leona, no point in hiding it. “We just slept together a few times, but it’s… I’m not hung up on him, if that’s what you’re implying.”

It was such a ridiculous, blatant lie that Jamil nearly laughed at himself. Until that moment, he hadn’t even realized how untrue it was.

“Really? Well,” Vil said casually. “He’s clearly hung up on you.”

The words made Jamil’s breath catch. He didn’t dare to believe them; after all, Leona was the one who’d stopped whatever they had going on in its tracks. “Why do you say that?” he asked, unable to help himself.

Vil sighed, his enthusiasm for the conversation clearly waning. “I spent eight years waiting for that man to look at me the way he looks at you,” he said, looking at his nails in an obvious effort to appear unbothered. “I noticed from the moment he first saw you in the lobby two nights ago. Does that answer your question?”

Jamil had difficulty swallowing. “I… guess, yeah,” he said, his voice cracking a bit.

“Wonderful. Now that that’s been established, I hope we can all remain cordial for the remainder of the evening,” Vil said. He pulled out a compact mirror and a tube of lipstick, and began applying the latter casually. “As I mentioned, I have objectives that are in more pressing need of my attention than this little nonexistent love triangle.”

“Okay, if you get to know this much about my personal life, then it’s only fair—”

“You remember Rook Hunt, yes?” Vil asked, snapping the mirror closed.

“Ah,” Jamil said affirmatively. He supposed that made sense, albeit a massive downgrade from Leona Kingscholar, in Jamil’s opinion. Then again, pretty much anyone would be. “I see. You’ve kept in contact with him?”

“Oh, not really. I’d just heard he was going to be here,” Vil said with a shrug. “He was always a bit of a what-if for me, but of course, I was in a relationship for the better part of the past decade. Now that that’s no longer the case, I figured it might be worth pursuing.”

Jamil considered the words thoughtfully. They had opposite problems, it seemed; Vil had been restrained by his relationship, while Jamil, ridiculously enough, was restrained by the freedom that came from lacking one.

How many more what-ifs would he watch pass him by in pursuit of the ideal life he’d chosen for himself when he was still just a kid?

“Hm. It seems dinner is over,” Vil said, breaking through Jamil's ever-present catastrophizing. The ground beneath them had suddenly begun to shake with the sound of bass. “Shall we? I’m certain I remember you being a quite capable dancer.”

Jamil smiled weakly. He really didn’t feel like dancing, but he nodded in agreement anyway.

When they reentered the room, the elegant dinner atmosphere had been jarringly replaced by what reminded Jamil of one of Kalim’s famous parties. Jamil’s gaze went straight to where Leona had been sitting earlier. He was still there, and appeared to be in deep conversation with Epel Felmier, who had moved to occupy Jamil’s seat.

Vil’s words echoed through Jamil’s head, and his stomach roiled with nerves at the thought of going back to the table. Instead, he headed for the doors he knew led to the outdoor patio, and stepped outside.

The quiet brought Jamil an instant sense of relief as the doors closed behind him, and he took a deep breath of salty air. He walked over toward a stone half-wall that faced the ocean, resting his forearms against it and watching the waves crash in the darkness.

He wasn’t alone for long. It was only a few moments before he heard the door open again behind him, bringing a flood of upbeat music with it. He didn’t even have a chance to turn and identify his company before he was embraced with such force that he was nearly lifted off his feet.

“Wha—”

“How long did ya think you could hide from me, Sea Snakey?” an achingly familiar voice purred in his ear.

Jamil pulled back, feeling a pang in his chest as he met a pair of bright, mismatched eyes. He’d been dreading this encounter, but now that it was here, he couldn’t possibly be anything but happy to see him.

“Hi, Floyd,” he said.

“Hi. Ahhh, I’m so glad you’re here,” Floyd said, hopping up on the half-wall and swinging his feet giddily. “When Azul said you weren’t gonna make it, I seriously wanted to cancel the whole thing. What’s the point of throwin’ a big fancy party with a million people if my favorite person wasn’t even gonna be there? But then yesterday Jade said you were here, and I just wanted to hang out with ya, but Azul had me so busy with wedding shit… anyway, I missed you. A lot.”

Jamil felt like crying. “I missed you too,” he said, and he really, really had. “I’m glad I was able to make it. Congratulations, by the way.”

Floyd beamed. “Check it out!” Floyd said, holding up his left hand and showing off his wedding ring excitedly. “Pretty cool, right? I’m a husband. Totally worth goin’ through all the stuffy formal shit.”

Jamil raised an amused eyebrow. “Not a fan, huh?” he asked. He glanced back at the venue, in all of its obnoxiously opulent glory. “I was thinking that this all definitely feels like Azul, but… you, not so much.”

Floyd snorted loudly. “Uh, yeah, no. I hate stuff like this. Not to mention this is the ugliest place I’ve ever seen,” Floyd said bluntly. He rested his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand, smiling fondly as he looked in on the ballroom. “Azul liked it, though. And he agreed that if I let him plan it however he wanted, I wouldn’t have to help, and the boring stuff like the ceremony would be quick and easy. We’re used to compromising on stuff by now. Been doing it for a looong time.”

Jamil nodded. “Yeah. I guess it’s been three years already,” he said. He could hardly believe it had been that long; it still felt like just yesterday that Floyd and Azul had approached him, hands clasped, and told him something that he should have already known was inevitable.

“Ahhh, I was thinkin’ more like fifteen,” Floyd said thoughtfully. “Sometimes I forget we only made it official three years ago, since I knew I was gonna marry him from the beginning.”

The words knocked the wind out of Jamil like a blow to the stomach. Everything was suddenly so, excruciatingly clear, and he wondered how he ever could have been so stupid.

For so long he’d tortured himself over his inaction, convinced himself that if he’d just taken initiative for once, maybe things could have been different. But Floyd wasn’t a missed chance, he was an impossibility. It never would have been Jamil, because before they’d even met, it had already been Azul.

He felt another small weight lift off of his shoulders. It was easier, somehow, to accept the loss of something he never could have had.

“Anyway, enough cheesy stuff, what’s up with you?” Floyd asked, nudging Jamil with his knee. “Still livin’ the dream?”

What a question. For five years now, Jamil had been traveling the world, seeing beautiful sights and experiencing incredible customs and soaking in everything Twisted Wonderland had to offer. For five years now, Jamil hadn’t had any sort of lasting home or company or sense of purpose. The truth was, Jamil had already accomplished what he’d set out to do a long time ago. He’d visited every continent, he’d experienced dozens of different cultures, he’d seen life beyond the box he’d been born in. Since then he’d just been aimlessly searching for the next stone to turn, because that was what he was supposed to do. Because it was what he’d always wanted. Because it was what he’d abandoned his family for.

The truth was, maybe the nostalgia and longing that clawed at his chest when he looked out at the ocean had nothing to do with Floyd at all. Maybe it was that the coast was the only place that had ever truly felt like home.

“I don’t think so,” Jamil said, his voice thick in his throat. “I think… I’m tired.”

Floyd was quiet for a moment, before sliding from his perch and throwing an arm over Jamil’s shoulders. “Y’know,” he said casually. “If what you’re doin’ isn’t fun anymore, you should do something else.”

Jamil couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him; the advice was so quintessentially Floyd. “Yeah, maybe,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “Anyway, I’m fine. You should stop wasting time out here with me and go dance at your wedding.”

Floyd rolled his eyes. “It’s never a waste of time with you, Sea Snake~” he said, grinning and placing a wet, sloppy kiss on Jamil’s cheek. Another laugh bubbled from Jamil’s chest, and he shoved Floyd away from him. “You’re right, though, should prolly go give my husband some attention. Heh heh.”

Jamil smiled softly. “I’m happy for you,” he said, and it felt like he meant it.

—

“Suit still looks good on you, by the way.”

Jamil forced himself to meet Leona’s eyes, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that he could feel it in his teeth. He’d eventually worked up the nerve to go back inside, and it hadn’t taken long for Leona to find him, observing the festivities from an empty table.

“Thanks. You look good too,” Jamil said shyly. Obviously Leona looking good was nothing new, but Vil’s influence was very apparent; he was wearing a forest green suit that went nicely with his deep skin, and his hair was braided back into a neat ponytail. The more Jamil looked at him, the more he doubted everything that Vil had said. There was no world where someone so beautiful could have any legitimate interest in the human disaster that was Jamil Viper. “…I’m sorry about earlier.”

Leona raised an eyebrow. “Nah, it’s my bad for not keepin’ up with you,” he said, flashing Jamil a grin. “You might remember that I have no issue with that strategy of getting through functions like this.”

Jamil snorted. He’d almost forgotten that all of this had started at an event remarkably similar to this one, except they’d both been absurdly drunk that time. “Well, in any case, rest assured I’ve sobered up,” Jamil said. “So you no longer have to worry about me detailing our hookups to the masses.”

“Mm. Well, the masses are missing out,” Leona said.

For a moment, Jamil simply held Leona’s gaze, and all at once it clicked. It was like a veil was removed from in front of his eyes, and suddenly he could see exactly what Vil had been talking about in vivid clarity. His breath caught in his chest.

When had Leona started looking at him like that? How had Jamil missed it?

“Leona—” Jamil started, before stopping abruptly. He suddenly didn’t know what else to say.

Leona stood from his seat, then, and held out a hand to Jamil. Jamil felt his stomach swoop.

“Dance with me,” Leona said. Jamil didn’t hesitate to take his hand.

They walked over toward the dance floor, passing familiar faces and unfamiliar ones, ones they hadn’t seen in years and ones they knew they would be seeing forever. Floyd gleefully twirled Azul across the floor, before grabbing Jade by the arm and pulling him in to join them. Ruggie sat in a chair at the edge of the crowd, tapping his foot and helping himself to an entire tray of appetizers. Vil was chatting vibrantly near the bar with someone who Jamil barely recognized, with freckled skin and a muscular build and short, messy blonde hair.

Jamil pulled his gaze back up to Leona as he felt his hands settle on his waist. From the way Leona smiled at him, Jamil could tell that he could see it in his eyes, too.

—

“I’ll take our luggage to the mirror chamber. You two go up to the desk and get us checked out,” Vil said, handing Leona the room keys and making the suitcases levitate around him with a wave of his pen. “Ruggie, did you do a sweep through your room to make sure you didn’t forget anything?”

Ruggie sighed deeply. “Yes, mom,” he said.

“Good. Well, I’ll meet up with you both shortly,” Vil concluded, before turning to Leona pointedly. “Don’t forget to say your goodbyes.”

Leona felt a sense of dread wash over him at the words. He didn’t know how many more goodbyes he had in him.

“Not too bad of a weekend, huh?” Ruggie asked as they approached the sizable line leading to the circulation desk. “Decent food, got to see Epel-kun… and I’m sure you were happy to reunite with your boy toy, shishishi.”

“Who might you be referring to?” a voice drawled from behind them.

Leona and Ruggie both turned quickly to see Jamil standing, unamused, with his arms crossed over his chest. Ruggie rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Heyyyy, Jamil-kun,” he greeted. “I, uh, meant his other boy toy.”

“That’s great, Ruggie, thanks,” Leona said tiredly.

Jamil’s stern expression warmed into a soft smile, and he shook his head exasperatedly. “Well, I won’t keep you from him. I just wanted to say goodbye,” he said, fixing his gaze firmly on Leona. Leona felt his heart break, not for the first time. “It was good to see you.”

“Right, do us a favor and be careful around knives while you’re out there in the wilderness, okay?” Ruggie said with a crooked grin. “Wouldn’t wanna have to rescue your ass again.”

Jamil laughed dryly. “I appreciate the concern,” he said.

“Where’re you headed next?” Leona asked, grabbing desperately at any attempt to keep Jamil talking, to keep him here. “Passin’ through Sunset Savanna anytime soon?”

Jamil pursed his lips and shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he said. “But I’ll let you know if I do.”

“You have my number,” Leona reminded him. “Maybe you’ll even use it this time.”

Jamil smiled weakly. “I’ll keep in touch,” he promised. Leona held back a sigh. It wasn’t good enough. “Well. Goodbye. Tell Vil-san I said goodbye, too.”

“See ya ‘round,” Ruggie said with a wave. Leona couldn’t bring himself to say anything at all. He just nodded stiffly, and watched Jamil walk away with an ache in his chest so severe he thought it might kill him.

As soon as Jamil was out of eyesight, Ruggie elbowed Leona, hard. “Uh, hello? This is the part where you go after him,” Ruggie said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Leona shook his head, tearing his eyes away from the door Jamil had exited through. “There’s no point,” he said, trying to push past the dizzy, suffocating feeling that threatened to overwhelm him. “Nothing’s changed. I can’t ask him to stay at the palace with me and I can’t leave.”

“Are you serious?” Ruggie asked exasperatedly. “What the hell is keeping you in Sunset Savanna?”

Leona was so thrown off by the question that he briefly forgot to be miserable. He raised a quizzical eyebrow in Ruggie’s direction. “I’m in the royal family,” he said. “I can’t just walk out.”

“Why not?” Ruggie asked, appearing genuinely confused. “Leona-san, you don’t do anything, other than lie around miserably all day every day. I hate to break it to you, but your brother and Cheka aren’t goin’ anywhere. No matter how much you mope and pout about it you’re never gonna be king. So what are you still doing there?”

Leona frowned. “I’m a prince,” he muttered. And then, with more honesty: “…I don’t know how to be anything else.”

“Yeah, well, if anyone has experience taking care of spoiled brats, it’s that guy,” Ruggie said dryly. He sighed. “I dunno, it sounds to me like you’re just making excuses.”

Leona grit his teeth. “Safiri and Cheka…”

“Will be fine. You can visit for Christmas and shit, it’s not like you have to cut ‘em out of your life,” Ruggie cut him off, looking almost unimpressed now.

“What about you?” Leona snapped.

“Oh, gross,” Ruggie said, cringing visibly. “You’re joking, right? You’re not actually sticking around because of me? That is so lame, Leona-san.”

Leona’s eye twitched. “Don’t be an ass,” he mumbled.

Ruggie snorted, and sighed. “Alright, fine,” he said. “Obviously I’d miss ya. But we both have phones, and we can make our Spelldrive matches a monthly thing instead of a weekly thing. I’ll be alright, trust me. I’m not nearly as miserable as you.”

Leona sighed, glancing back toward the doors and feeling a pang of longing in his chest. Ruggie was right, he was just making excuses. He hated his life in Sunset Savanna, but he'd never considered leaving, because it was easier to stay.

He thought of going back to the same routine, of waking up every day for the rest of his life without any sort of plan or purpose or point. Of being nothing to Jamil but a brief fling that he would eventually forget; a waste of time and energy, like he’d been for Vil, because he couldn’t get off of his ass and give him the life he deserved.

He was such an idiot. That wasn’t easy. Letting Jamil go now would be the hardest thing he’d ever done.

“Shit,” Leona said through clenched teeth.

Ruggie gestured with his head toward the exit. “Go get ‘im,” he said with a smirk.

In a rare moment of overwhelming motivation, Leona booked it across the lobby, pushing through the crowd of Azul’s excessive guest list. He burst through the doors into the warm, breezy morning, scanning quickly for any sign of familiar dark hair.

He spotted Kalim first, who was walking back toward the building distractedly as he looked down at an unopened letter in his hands. “Hey. Kalim,” Leona said, attempting to suppress his urgency. “You seen Jamil?”

Kalim looked up, blinking, as if he’d been pulled out of deep thought. “Oh, hi, Leona!” he greeted brightly. He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah, I was just talking to him. He was right around the corner, but I think he was about to take off…”

Leona took off in the direction Kalim indicated, not bothering to wait for the end of his sentence. He turned the corner, and let out an audible sigh of relief as he spotted Jamil a little ways down the parking lot, mounting his broom as if he were moments from taking off.

“Jamil!” Leona called, unbothered by the startled reactions of the several hotel patrons in his vicinity.

Jamil appeared startled as well, and he nearly fell from his broom as he scanned his surroundings for the source of the yell. He locked eyes with Leona, and watched curiously as he jogged toward him.

“Um, hi,” Jamil said, looking vaguely concerned as Leona rested his hands on his knees and caught his breath. “Is something wr—”

“Wherever you go next,” Leona cut him off before he could lose his nerve. He stood up straight, willing his heart rate to calm as he held Jamil’s gaze. “I want to follow you.”

Jamil blinked at him, puzzled. “What?” he said.

“I love you,” Leona said, and although he’d said the words before, this time they tasted different on his tongue. This time he was sure that he meant them.

For a moment, a silence settled between them, Jamil responding only with wide eyes and a slackened jaw. Leona waited, nervously, impatiently. He hadn’t considered the possibility of this going badly.

Then, Leona watched as a soft, unequivocally happy smile spread slowly across Jamil’s face, and all of his doubts melted away at once. Jamil didn’t have to say anything, Leona knew.

“Wherever, huh?” Jamil asked thoughtfully, his gaze drifting behind Leona, the crashing waves dancing in his eyes.

𓆉 ⋆｡˚𓇼 ⋆｡˚𓆟

“I’m havin’ second thoughts about this place,” Leona mumbled, his voice muffled by the thick scarf his face was buried in. “Ain’t beaches supposed to be warm?”

Jamil shrugged, trying to play off his own disgruntlement as he shoved his shaking hands further in his pockets. It really wasn’t that cold, but unfortunately, Jamil was just as much a product of his home climate as Leona was. And the coast was windy.

“Well, we’re in the northern part of the country, and it’s almost winter…” he pointed out, despite the fact that he was certain that Leona already knew this and that his question had been rhetorical. Talking kept his teeth from chattering. “I guess we should probably invest in a car for the colder months. Walking and flying won’t be ideal once it gets worse than this.”

Leona grunted. “Could always steal one from the palace,” he suggested. “Doubt anyone would even notice.”

“Or you could just ask your brother for one,” Jamil deadpanned. Falena and Safiri had practically offered Leona his weight in gold to take with him when he’d told them he was leaving, but he’d refused, and detailed exactly what infrastructure projects they should sink that gold into instead. Stubborn bastard.

“We’ll see,” Leona brushed him off. His footsteps slowed to a stop as they approached the dock, and his gaze drifted upward dully. “I’m guessing this is it.”

Jamil followed his gaze toward a large ship docked at the end of the pier, which was decorated elegantly with twinkling lights and neon signs. It wasn’t quite the same strip-mall restaurant Jamil had once lived above, but the name was the same. Mostro Bar & Grill.

“…I guess they did say they upsized,” Jamil said in amazement as he craned his neck. “Azul doesn’t do anything halfway.”

Leona scoffed. “No kidding,” he muttered. “At least it’s not as gaudy as his wedding was.” Jamil elbowed him, hiding his laugh behind a cough.

They made their way down the dock and to the entrance to the ship, which brought them into a massive, blue-lit restaurant. From the large aquarium in the center, to the sea-creature decor, to the soft jazz playing overhead, Jamil could have sworn he was back in that same on-campus restaurant he’d so loathed back in high school.

It wasn’t gaudy at all, in fact. It was impressive.

“Heyyy you guys!” an excited voice greeted them as they approached the host stand, and Jamil didn’t have time to respond before Floyd came out from behind it and enveloped him in a tight hug. He pulled back after a moment, glancing between Jamil and Leona and snorting. “Did a blizzard come through since the last time I was outside?”

“Oh, shut up,” Jamil muttered as Floyd burst into laughter at their expense. “This is cold for us.”

Floyd wiped an imaginary tear from his eye, grinning with amusement. “Sweet of you to brave the elements just to visit our humble little restaurant~” he teased. Leona flipped him off. “Aaanyway, c’mon, I’ll grab you a table.”

Jamil grabbed Leona’s hand and pulled him along as Floyd led them through the crowd, blatantly abandoning his post despite the throng of guests continuing to flood in. They stopped in front of an empty booth, and Floyd gestured for them to take a seat before sliding in beside Leona.

“The place looks great, Floyd,” Jamil said, pulling off his gloves and scarf. “I’m glad to see you guys are doing well.”

“Heh, thanks. Ownin’ a restaurant is pretty fun, especially now that we can afford a bunch of staff to do the annoying things I don’t wanna do,” Floyd replied. “We miss ya back in the kitchen though, Sea Snake. None of these guys can cook as good as you.”

Jamil smiled wryly. “You can, when you feel like it,” he pointed out.

“Yeeeeaaahhh, but that’s like, never,” Floyd pouted. “I’m just sayin’, you should totally just move back here and work with us again. We got a way bigger house now and a guest room with your name on it~”

Jamil huffed a laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah, I’ll have to run that by Leona,” he said.

“Oh, are you still with that guy?” Floyd asked, his expression becoming bored.

“I’m sitting right here,” Leona deadpanned.

Floyd sighed, leaning on his hand and regarding Leona idly. “Yeah, yeah, it’s just so random,” he said. “I didn’t even know you guys talked, ever, and all of a sudden you’re goin’ steady or whatever. What’re your intentions with Sea Snake, anyway?”

“What are you, his dad?” Leona replied irritably.

“Alright, cut it out,” Jamil interrupted with a sigh. “Yes, I’m still dating him. And actually, since we’re on the topic, we have some news—”

“Floyd,” a frustrated voice cut through their conversation. “How many times do I have to tell you to at least get someone to cover the host stand if you’re going to just walk away from it?”

Floyd shrugged. “Iunno.”

Azul sighed exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hello, Jamil-san! …And Leona-san. It’s lovely to see you,” he said after he’d composed himself. “Have you ordered yet?”

“They can order later, stop workin’ and hang out for a bit,” Floyd insisted, gesturing to the empty seat beside Jamil. “We haven’t seen each other since the wedding, and that was ages ago.”

“It was three months,” Azul corrected. He hesitated for a moment, before sinking tiredly into the booth. “I suppose a moment of rest wouldn’t hurt. How have the two of you been? Still apartment hunting?”

Jamil exchanged a glance with Leona, who appeared to still be pouting after Floyd’s comment. With a fond smile, Jamil reached over to grab his hand across the table. “Actually, no,” Jamil said. “I was just about to tell Floyd… we found one. We just signed the lease last week.”

“Where at?” Floyd asked, tracing the wood grain on the table distractedly.

“Bout a fifteen minute walk from here,” Leona muttered.

Floyd looked up at once, his expression brightening with shock and excitement. Azul, too, looked between them in wide-eyed surprise.

“You’re moving to the coast? To this coast?” Azul asked in disbelief.

Floyd bounced in his seat energetically. “No way! You’re gonna be that close to us?” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t ya tell us you were lookin’ at places around here?”

“It kind of just worked out that way…” Jamil said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I knew I wanted to live in this general area, since I grew fond of it when I lived with you two, but it just so happened that the best deal we could find was in this same town.”

Azul cleared his throat. “…Imagine that,” he said with a painful-looking smile. He turned to Leona. “Who would have thought, back in school, that we’d someday end up being neighbors, Leona-san?”

“Yeah. Funny,” Leona replied dully. Jamil squeezed his hand.

“Wait, wait,” Floyd interrupted, slamming his hands on the table. “This means you can work with us again, Sea Snake!”

Jamil shifted a bit awkwardly. “Actually, I was gonna ask if that would be alright,” he said. “Just until I can figure something else out.”

Azul waved him off. “Oh, of course,” he said, as if it wasn’t even in question. Then, with a malicious grin, he turned to Leona. “And you, Leona-san? You’ll be looking for employment too, I’d expect.”

Leona laughed dryly. “Thanks,” he said. “But I’d bartend in the pits of hell before workin’ under you.”

“Well, if you change your mind, I will be sure to set aside an employment contract with your name on it,” Azul said with a charming smile. “Seeing as you’re nearly thirty and have what I imagine is zero prior work experience, I do wonder if even the pits of hell would have you.”

Despite himself, Jamil snorted a laugh, quickly attempting to disguise it as a cough. Leona turned his unamused gaze in his direction.

“What’re you laughing at?” he grumbled. Despite irritable demeanor, he was, as was often the case when he looked at Jamil, unable to hide the fondness in his expression.

It was a good question; Jamil should have been more concerned, probably, about the fact that his partner blatantly didn’t get along with the friends that Jamil was practically forcing him to live with, but he wasn’t. On the contrary, watching them interact made him feel oddly nostalgic. This sort of hostility had been typical of all four of them in their school days, and yet somehow they’d ended up here.

Back then, Jamil would have loved nothing more than to trade all of the nonsense for some peace and quiet. He felt a bit differently now.

“Hm? Nothing,” Jamil replied, smiling at Leona softly. “Reunions are nice, is all.”

They stayed for a couple hours, eating and chatting and bonding over their shared sudden ascent into real adulthood. It wasn’t until the restaurant had mostly cleared out that Leona and Jamil took their leave, with a promise to visit again soon and, after much insistence, an agreement to hold a housewarming party in the near future.

“What a dick,” Leona said as they made their way through the quiet streets back through the apartment. Despite the harsh words, Jamil could tell that Leona wasn’t as irritated as he was trying to come across. It was probably simply impossible for him to admit that he’d had a nice time. “You sure you wanna work with that guy?”

Jamil rolled his eyes fondly, pressing himself closer to Leona’s side for warmth. “He’s not so bad,” he said.

“You couldn’t stand ‘im either back in school,” Leona pointed out, slipping and arm over Jamil’s shoulders. “Guess you were a better judge of character back then.”

“Probably true,” Jamil said, smirking up at him. “I thought you were a dick back then too.”

Leona snorted. They approached their unit, and he released Jamil with a squeeze of his shoulder so he could unlock the door. “Well, I was one,” he said, rifling through his pocket for the key. “Still am.”

Jamil frowned as Leona opened the door and held it open for him. He stepped inside, sighing with relief at the warmth. “No you’re not,” he said, taking off his gloves and massaging his cold fingers.

He couldn’t possibly be; after all, he’d given up a life in a palace to follow Jamil wherever his whims decided to take him. Even when Jamil had made it clear that he was willing to compromise on where they ended up, Leona had just brushed him off. Don’t care, Leona had told him. As long as you’re there.

Jamil grabbed the mail that had fallen from the mail slot and onto the floor, adding to the already disastrous state of their apartment. They’d only just moved in, and had barely gotten around to unpacking boxes yet.

“Anything good?” Leona asked, taking Jamil’s coat and scarf to hang up as he sifted through the junk mail.

He paused on one letter in particular, brushing his thumb over the Scalding Sands stamp in the corner. He’d asked Kalim to get him back in contact with his family after the wedding, and he’d been slowly but surely rebuilding communication ever since. Only Najma had written him back, but she did so regularly; despite her obvious frustration with him for disappearing for a few years, she was clearly glad to hear from him. He hadn’t heard from his parents, but Najma told him that they read all of his letters, at least. He could only hope that things would heal with time.

“I guess we probably should have a housewarming party,” Jamil muttered, placing the mail on the counter to read later. “I think my sister would like to meet you.”

Leona hummed, coming up behind Jamil and wrapping his arms around him. “Whatever you want,” he said into Jamil’s neck.

Jamil closed his eyes and sighed, melting into Leona’s touch as he continued to kiss down his neck, his cold hands coming up under Jamil’s shirt. It wasn’t until Jamil felt the fingers dip below his waistband that he, regrettably, pushed Leona away.

“We have to unpack at least a few boxes tonight,” he said. Leona groaned, and Jamil pinched his side lightly. “Come on, it’s never gonna get done if we keep putting it off.”

Leona sighed, pulling away and grumbling to himself as he walked into the bedroom. Jamil followed with an amused smile, taking a seat on the floor beside one of the very few boxes labeled Jamil’s things.

“I don’t even know what half of this shit is,” Leona said, holding up a garment steamer that Jamil was certain Leona had never used in his life. “Kifaji just kept shovin’ boxes at me.”

Jamil snorted. “Well, thank Kifaji for me, because my belongings consist of what I could carry with me on a broom for the past five years,” he said, emphasizing his point by pulling out a small camping stove. “We really need to go shopping.”

They worked for a bit in silence, and Jamil quickly reached the bottom of his box. He paused as he caught sight of a red, shimmery scarf that had been previously buried, his heart skipping a beat. He pulled it out and delicately unwrapped it.

A heavy, beaded necklace fell into his hands. He swallowed thickly, thinking of all of those nights he’d spent staring at it under the moonlight, agonizing over what he thought he’d never have.

“Hey,” Jamil said distractedly. He heard Leona’s rummaging come to a stop. “Did you love me when you gave me this?”

There was no hesitation in Leona’s response. “Before then,” he said.

Jamil didn’t ask. It was true for him, too; he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when, but it didn’t matter. Jamil had loved him then, and he loved him now.

“I guess we should thank Kalim for throwing that reunion,” Jamil said thoughtfully.

Leona moved to kneel in front of him, taking the necklace from his hands and delicately fastening it around Jamil’s neck. He placed a short kiss on Jamil’s forehead before standing up and getting back to work.

After a few more moments of comfortable silence, Leona sighed exaggeratedly, holding up a small, rectangular mat. “Seriously, who bought this corny shit?” he drawled.

Jamil craned his neck to read the decorative script on the beige coir.

Welcome to our home!

Something stirred in Jamil’s chest, and he quickly looked away, embarrassed by the sudden rush of emotion that the tacky welcome mat had stirred in him. He cleared his throat. “Let’s put it out,” he said, feeling warm despite the chilly evening. “I like it.”