Chapter Text
Kindness, they say it's the greatest thing you can give. They say it's one thing you give others. They say if you want to be treated kindly, you should treat others the same way.
Kalim has always been a firm believer of this. He saw it once in a TV show about a thief who fell in love with a princess. And all those around Kalim would agree, kindness fits him perfectly. Because, frankly, it would be hard to imagine Kalim to be anything but kind.
Even when water was forced down his throat as he desperately tried to reach for the surface. Even when vomit would close off his throat as the veins in his body would swell and get inflamed. Even when he was forced to endure beatings and whips from people who kidnapped him for ransom.
It's always the same response, same pathway, same track. Just as the food chain is, nothing can go out of its place, there's always the predators and the prey. And the prey is bound to run away, while everything else around would chase it until it's inevitable demise.
Kalim was born a good kid. He is a good kid. He will always be a good kid. Smiling, standing, staying. It's always him.
Hurt or be hurt, kill or be killed. That's always the world everyone will wind up living in eventually. The end of the tunnel everyone will eventually reach. The final crack that leads to the shattering of ice beneath.
And for how Kalim hates the feeling of knowing the cruelty of this world, he never changes. Sweet, sweet Kalim never changes. Or maybe he doesn't want to acknowledge it at all, sometimes it's better not to, isn't it?
•~•
Loyalty. Was a word that left such a bitter taste on Jamil's tongue. A poison he had to continously swallow until he succumbs into the depths of his misery. He never considered it as loyalty. He loathes using such an innocent and kind word to his describe inevitability.
He never questioned it of course, despite the never ending times he had to taste food before Kalim, being his chaperone during events, having to cook, clean, and take care of him, and to put his life before his master.
And even when his eyes grew tired of overnight watches while Kalim's snores of peaceful slumber fills his ears, he just did it. Just did what he was told, like a good 'son' he was supposed to be. Like a good 'friend' he was supposed to be. Like a good 'servant'.
Oh did he hate that word. Servant. A word that so plainly disguises the word of slave. A word that sugarcoats the bitterness and sting of being ripped away from your freedom. A word made to be seen as a choice and something people wished to be.
A word that carried through with such vigorousness, a word that always correlated with one thing— loyalty.
It wasn't loyalty, it was slavery. And Jamil knew this at an early age, despite his parents beating into his head that he should be grateful to the Al-Asim's. Jamil wonders whether they actually think that or were conditioned to do so. Either way, he can't help but pity them.
Oh, and the worst part that comes with slavery? The ignorance. Ignorance to the calluses on Jamil's hand from working all day every day. Ignorance to the vomiting he had to do, from either poisonings from eating Kalim’s meals or fear from having to save Kalim or be kidnapped with him.
It wasn't just that. It'd be somewhat better if the ignorance was pure. Pure and unintentional. But no, it wasn't that kind of ignorance. It's weaponized ignorance, weaponized incompetence. And Jamil can't say how unfair it is.
If people were to describe Jamil, it would be loyal. Jamil despises it. He would walk up to the person and stranger them with the fancy curtains hanged along the halls. But he can't, he fucking can't.
All he could ever do is agree, humble— actually, degrade himself. Say that they are right and that he puts the Al-Asim family above everything else. Even his own life. Then people will respond, saying he is such a well mannered and amazing servant.
They'd say they want someone like him to help them around once in a while. No they wouldn't, if they want their laundry done or their garden taken care of, a snake wouldn't be a fitting place at all.
•~•
Red as his eyes, smelling like rust, taste like iron. It overwhelms his entire being. But it's addicting, the slit he can easily do by just a simple swish of his hand. The blood that pours out so easily by just a new razor blade. Addicting. And disgusting.
This is his salvation, his punishment. 'Deserved', he would think.
It's been... bleeding. Everything has been bleeding. The blood running down his hands, especially his legs. He hates it, he wishes he doesn't have to resort to this every time he spirals. But it helps, it helps him feel grounded.
It makes him want to vomit. Vomit, again for the 3rd time this morning. It's been days after Jamil’s overblot. He still hears the words that echo loudly through the scarabian halls everytime he closes his eyes, he still feels the overwhelming amount of blot that clinged onto his arms during their battle.
It felt so heavy, so weighted down. The blot clinged onto him like honey, yet it was also slimy. It slowly soiled his clothes, sinking, marking him like some property, like some object, like a slave. Some ended up in his mouth somehow, as he panted and pleaded for mercy. It was the one thing he was good at. After the battle, he ended up vomiting everything out of his system.
Kalim time and time again gets reminded of their positions, their roles, their responsibilities, their purposes. And he shakes with fear, fear of how to handle things from him. He never was one to be observant of people, nor was he the type to be aware of what was actually happening around him.
Kalim, honestly never thought of himself as selfish. But he would sometimes hear it from whispers beyond his reach or control. And he never understood it, until it turned around and spat out venomous words to his face. He always knew Jamil wasn't like his family, but he never gav a second thought of how different both of them are.
Jamil, he who held back brilliance of his life so that Kalim is first. Jamil, who held back his power and dignity so that Kalim would be praised instead. Jamil, who was ultimately better than Kalim in every single way, made to kneel before Kalim because of who they were to be. The future sultan and his servant by his side.
He feels disgusting. He knows exactly why, he was able to keep it together with the others at least, but he ended up breaking down last night and is now dealing with a panic attack at 3am. He hates the feeling of weakness, the feeling of hopelessness. Why is it coming up his throat now? Why now?
He wishes he could wash it out. Scrape it out with wire, sanitize it with bleach. Make sure he no longer can taste the remnants of his vomit, blood, or left over blot. Anything to help calm his stomach and mind. If only it was that simple.
He knows he can't cover this up easily. Thank goodness he did it on his thighs, because if he wore his scarabian uniform and cut his arms instead, then he would not hear the end of it from his teachers, from his friends, from his classmates.
/From Jamil./
He lifts his magical pen up slowly, his hands trembling harshly. He whispers out a quick healing spell, and suddenly the wounds stop bleeding out. The slits close, but there's obvious scars left behind. He sighs contently as he enters the shower, removing all his clothes.
He washes himself from the dried over blood and tears. He feels a little better, the hot water stings his wounds, but he couldn't care less. After washing himself, he immediately dries himself off with a towel. He steps out of the tub, now looking at himself in the mirror.
He looks so tired, his eyebags are noticeable. He has to put on a happy face for today, he has to, he has no choice. He can't just, be sad because of something like an overblot, he can't play the victim. He already had the spotlight all his life, he can't do that again. He can't do that to Jamil again.
The vile clings on to his throat, like the days he spent with Jamil during his childhood.
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He ended up using the healing spell 2 more times.
•~•
Jamil still feels the lingering effects of his overblot. The way his skin crawls because he can still feel the blot covering every inch of his body. The way his head whispers such disgusting– revolting words about Kalim. It was bad, telling him to kill Kalim in his sleep, or to poison him, to do anything just to get rid of Kalim.
It's a similar feeling as squishing a bug between your fingers, watching the blood ooze out as you watch it's body suddenly stop moving. But the legs never stop moving, the legs shake a little, as if begging for mercy. Pushing the finger further down on the bugs body.
Jamil was scared of bugs, so he never really had to experience that but he watches. Watches carefully as adults around him or boys his age do it. He watches with intent as they do it without a second thought.
He slams his head on the wall, continues to bang it over and over again, he doesn't care if it bleeds. He just wants the thoughts to stop. He knows that being in Kalim's vicinity will worsen his thoughts, so he plans to avoid him for the whole week.
Which is easier said than done of course, because he knows Kalim will somehow make a mess for him to clean up or bump into him or something. His heart dreads at the idea of seeing Kalim again this early on after his overblot.
So why did it hurt so much? The idea of separating from him, to never seeing him again. But frankly, the idea of seeing him also hurts, knowing he will have that heart broken look he had back then when Jamil first revealed his plan. It's hypocritical and it's fucking disgusting. Because he shouldn't care anymore.
What he should care about is his magic, magic that was drained during his overblot. There it is again— his fucking overblot. It always comes down to the way he thrilled under the pained gaze of Kalim. The way he savored the knelt knees before him. The way his heart raced the moment he threw Kalim off for good. For death.
And the blot still stuck to him. Even as he woke up after his defeat. It wouldn't let go, as if inviting him to ravish in the feeling again. The feeling of strength, power, control. It's silly to think of, especially when your Master– is above your injured body, crying his heart out that he of all people is ok. He who wouldn't have given a damn if he died a few moments ago.
And it's in his damn eyes. Those eyes which shine with such care and distress. Those eyes which shine so brightly under the sun. Those eyes which greeted him every morning when they were children, asking to play or to lead him to sevens know where. Those innocent, untainted, immaculate and beautiful eyes.
He doesn't know whether to caress his cheek and reassure him he is alright or to wrap his hands around his neck, smashing his head to the ground. He doesn't know whether to stare back with the same care into those eyes or gauge them out so that he never gets to see them again.
He feels like vomiting again. It was 3am in the morning, his overthinking woke him up. It's annoying, he feels like he is spiraling. Like his thoughts want him to overblot, to try again. Worst part is that he has to hold back his magic now, he has no choice.
His magic has gone all flimsy, and he is now on the verge of losing control even if he does a simple spell. He has to hold his magic back for at least a month. So that basically translated to 'Hey! You got 1 month to not use any magic at all to fix anything wrong in the dorm!', just fucking great isn't it?
He sighs, no time for anger now. He can't get out of control, not again. He goes outside his room and heads to the kitchen, he wants to eat something. He knows it's way too early, does he care though? Nope.
He searches the fridge for anything to eat. He finds many... usual food, pie, cake, macaroons— who the hell ordered all these things from Heartslabyul? He looks to his left and right, no one is there. He takes one macaroon. No one will know.
He bites into it.. still fresh huh... was it delivered last night? Whatever, it's none of his business. Until he saw who it was for... Kalim? He grabs the tag attached to the box. This was for Kalim? He checks the other desserts, they were also for Kalim.
He suddenly doesn't want to eat anymore. Who would— order Kalim treats? What bad timing. After his overblot? That's rubbing even more salt on the wound than trying to cheer Kalim up. It's ridiculous, and annoying.
/Why was he so mad about it?/
He isn't mad, what reason would he have to get mad? None, none at fucking all. It's just for Kalim, to cheer him up. Not like he needs any 'cheering up', he is fine as he is of course. He always is.
That guy is always fine despite everything. He always smiles, always shines. That's how he is. He is like the sun, despite everything, he has to shine and brighten up everyone's day.
Why does that sound sadder than he intended it to be?
•~•
It's been weeks, the nightmares keep getting worse. Why do they keep getting worse? It's not like Jamil showed any sign of betraying him again, so why so much mistrust?
[He hurt you? Isn't that more than enough reason to not trust him?]
But it's fine isn't it? Am I not use to that by now? So why am I being so anxious?
[Look at the bruises he gave you, isn't that enough reason? Look at the eyebags the nightmares of his overblot gave you, isn't that enough?]
It's not fair to him. He was only doing what he thought he could do to set himself free from this mess. It isn't fair.
[Did he not hurt you? How was that fair to you? You did nothing wrong. And he decided to hurt you anyway, how was that fair?]
I had a lucky life, he didn't. He was forced to do things, do things for me. No wonder he was angry. At me.
[Stop defending him.]
I am not.
[Liar, you just keep holding onto the false hope that what he said was a lie, of him hating you. When he himself lied about being your friend.]
Please be quiet.
[It was all a lie, the friendship you two had, get it through your thick head.]
I know, I know it is.
[He didn't care, he's just like the others. Isn't that pathetic? You were always meant to be alone.]
"Kalim?"
He hears Vil call out for him, ah now he remembers. He is at a housewarden meeting. Of course. They're all staring at him. Damnit, he blanked out.
"S-sorry, sorry! I didn't mean to blank out haha! I'll be more attentive next time!"
Riddle would scold him, but something tells him that this isn't the time for it. So rather than that, he tells Kalim what he missed out on. Kalim appreciates this kindness, even when it's /forced/.
I hate this. I want the thoughts to leave me alone.
•~•
Jamil clicks his tongue, not used to the feeling of achieving number 1. In this case, he got the highest score in a test that was, and he quotes Professor Crewel on this, one of the hardest one he made. Jamil was not only able to get the highest score but actually perfect it.
You would think this would make Jamil happy, right? But no, it leads him to have feelings of uncertainty, leads to feelings of uncomfortableness. It's new, the kind of new that makes him uneasy. It irks him, somehow. Despite the fact of him wishing the past 17 years of his life wasn't behind Kalim’s shadow.
He doesn't know what to think, so he does what he does best, organize. Organize the hell out of his things. And when that's done he moves onto the whole dorm itself. Beads of sweat roll of his head but he doesn't relent. Because it distracts him.
[Distract you? From the relenting feeling of emptiness despite the validation of your subdued talents?]
Shut up. I don't need this. I don't need to hear your fucking words. Not until I get my shit together.
[Does the pain help distract you?]
What pain?
[The pain of your aching legs and arms as you helplessly clean. Poor you doesnt know how to handle finally being noticed so you go back to what you've always known.]
Jamil hisses at himself, dropping the mop he was using, knocking over a bucket of soapy water onto the floor and onto himself. He curses, feeling teh familiar feeling of anguish and anger surge inside.
Realistically, Jamil knows it isn't far fetched. An individual conditioned to be a servant will go back to their roots one way or another despite them wanting to rip out of it. Even if they managed to pull away, there will always be remnants of themself left in the soil.
Jamil quickly falls into a sense of hysteria. Because even if he knows it isn't anything wrong nor grotesque. It repulses him to competed that in his twisted version of comfort, he resorts to doing something he was forced to do almost his entire life. The first thing he was trained to do as a child, the one thing he always does in a daily basis thanks to Kalim's antics.
He came back to the very thing that started his whole livelihood.
[Isn't it ironic?]
Jamil quickly wraps his arms around himself, ignoring the voice. He closes his eyes and breathes in hastily, trying to calm his nerves. Why must it be this way? It causes demon's of pride and animosity to surge up his throat.
Hold it down, Viper. Hold yourself down.
•~•
Jamil has tried not noticing Kalim but it's hard. It's so hard when he notices Kalim not being as cheery as usual, nor as bright. What happened? Did he feel sick? No, he would've told Jamil immediately.
Jamil has noticed his eating decreased by 10% as well, leaving some scraps behind as leftovers. He doesn't know why, but Kalim doing so irks him so much.
Despite him looking like he would faint any second, his grades are going up. And he seems to be attending meetings and doing things right. It's weird, ludicrous even. He can't wrao his head around it. Jamil is usually stuck on that job, so what the fuck happened to Kalim?
"Jamil."
He notices Vil call for him, from the hall down, what does little miss princess want now? He isn't in the mood. He feels tired, but hey, at least his magic is slowly coming back.
He walks down the hall to meet him face to face. He can sense Vil is tensed, about what? What could he possibly be tensed about that concerns Jamil— Kalim.
"Is Kalim doing ok?"
What a weird question.
"When is he not?"
He never changes.
"He seems to be spacing out /even/ during meetings. He also feels... off, I'm sure you've noticed? You are closer to him than anyone"
Noticed? He always spaces out, I would’ve noticed if it was a concerning thing. Closer? Hah, as if.
"He is fine."
He feels somewhat pissed Vil is noticing something off with Kalim. Because if he is, then Jamil would've immediately known, but Kalim is the same as he was before. He is just the same.
"I can sense you're annoyed by the fact I'm asking about him. I never took you for the possessive type"
I'm not possessive.
"Scratch that, you are possessive. I just didn't think it'd be for Kalim, considering your... situation with him"
"If you're just going to keep talking shit then I'd rather we end this conversation here."
Jamil glares at Vil, to which Vil glares back twice as menacingly.
"If this is what Kalim has to deal with everyday, then I feel horrible for him. It's a wonder, really... anyone else would’ve treated him better."
Vil snarks as he walks away, leaving Jamil alone, not wanting to start a fight. 'Horrible for him'? 'Kalim has to deal with'? Vil acts like Jamil HAS been the annoying one of the two. Jamil feels pissed, Kalim had to sit on a pedestal while he had to step back and watch. And yet Kalim is the one who has to DEAL with him? Fucking bullshit.
'Anyone else'? Kalim would've been dead by now if it wasn't for Jamil, if anything, Kalim should be gracious that he stayed by his side for this long. 'Better'? As if anyone in Twisted Wonderland could've treated him any better than he did. Other people wouldn't even make half of the sacrifices he had to do.
He hates that a part of him is latching onto Vil’s words.
•~•
Kalim?
Why are you wearing a jacket? Isn't it hot today? It should be around 38°C. And much hotter in Scarabia.
So why?
•~•
Kalim may be overthinking it. He definitely is. It shouldn't be this hard, he knows he isn't the brightest in the room but this should be as easy as 1+1. Studying shouldn't be hard. But the words... the information won't stay with him. Won't integrate into his brain like it does for others. Others like Riddle, others like Azul.
/Others like Jamil./
Kalim swears he must've been cursed when he was a baby (and considering how many times he has been poisoned before, it isn't too far stretched). He has tried everything. Blurting it out quietly. Writing notes while the teacher is teaching. Reviewing hours and days before the test. It isn't working.
Kalim is slouched over on his bed, notes and books scattered all over. He wouldn't have to worry about messes before, or even studing as a whole, of course he didn't. Back then, he had him—
*Water drop*
Ah.. ah.... water is dropping down from the ceiling onto his notebook. That's no good, all his work will get all ruined! He looks up, confused when he sees no cracks on the ceiling. That's when he checks his face, putting a hand on his cheek. Ah... of course it was him.
Of course the problem is him.
Stop it... stop making it hurt this way. I hate it. I hate it. Please stop making it hurt this way. Why is it all coming back again? I'm so frustrated, so very frustrated. I was able to bubble down all this anger before. Whenever it came to poisoning attempts, whenever it came to failed assassinations.
Is this... what anger is like? The type that makes you feel like breaking everything in your room? The type that makes you want to bang your head on the wall. Is this what it feels like to hold all those back in order to keep up a front that people wish upon? Is this what you felt like, Jamil?
He was able to bottle it all down. He is scratching his arms unconsciously, tears flowing down his cheeks. He can be seen biting his own lips, the harshness making his lips as red as his eyes.
If anyone were to see him right now, he'd look like a caged animal. He looks like he is about to lose it any second. It frustrates him so much. He wants it to go away. His arms are getting redder, skin cells flaking off, threatening to spill out blood from his very arms from his very own hands.
Enough, enough, enough...!
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Kalim wakes up, his arms having scabs and dried blood on them. Damnit... damn the Great sevens... he is going to have to wear a jacket today. But it should be fine, right?
Because others will just think he is being sensitive or being airheaded or any other reason on why he must be wearing a jacket. Any reason, except for this. They'd never expect this from him.
Haha... how useful... nobody really would notice. They won't think anything deeper than surface level, because obviously Kalim isn't capable of much more of that. Right?
How useful... how very useful...... This won't be tedious at all.
•~•
Jamil feels himself getting anxious all of a sudden. Like something bad is about to happen. Overblot-level trouble. He knows he has no reason to think this.
/What a fucking lie./
Actually, Jamil isn't even sure anymore. He scratches his arm, unconsciously. His thoughts border on senseless. Chains he thought to be wrapped around his neck are now tangled around his heart.
Decomposing— no, rusting. Leaving marks of green and yellow in their trace. Ruining the once beautiful red it was. Some would see it as grotesque. Jamil sees this as his kind of salvation. The thing that grounds him to thinking what he did was ok.
It helps block out the 'thank you's' or the 'love you's' that once overstimulated him. It's the quiet that usually scared him. It meant Kalim was no where and somewhere. Anywhere that wasn't with him.
That scared him. And maybe it was so in grossed in his DNA that he can't escape missing the feeling of looking everywhere until he sees those red watery eyes again. Staring right at him, asking, pleading for help. Disgusting.
•~•
Kalim can feel it, can feel it coursing through him. Magic? Blood? Blot? He doesn't want to know, he doesn't check. He feels like he has been sleeping in bed for days now. He feels lazy, as if he hasnt spent his entire life doing that already.
/It's so so lonely./
Kalim wants to vomit one more time, but he can't. He already vomited out his dinner a few minutes ago. He wants the pain to go away. If he could just get ahold of his cutter— but he can't risk opening up his scars again.
He can't die, he tells himself. He doesn't know whether that's him actually believing that or a delusion he wishes to indulge in. Why not though? What's stopping him? What's here for him to stay for? Who's waiting for him? Who is there for him?
Too much, don't overthink. Kalim, breathe, you've dealt with worse haven't you? He wants to just cry out his tears. But his tears won't come out. Why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why why—
[Back again to this lonely place?]
No, I don't want to hurt myself, I'm too tired. Please stop.
[Please what? Please listen? Please help? Please talk to me? Please don't hurt me? Please don't hate me? Please what, Al-Asim?]
Stop /bullying/ me.
[You should be used to it by now.]
You're right, I'm sorry. I'm always the one messing things up.
*Knock* *Knock*
No.
"Kalim?"
No. Not him. Please not him.
"It's been a while, everyone is worrying about you. They said you haven't gone out of your room in two days. It's Monday now, keep this up and you'll miss classes. Are you alright?"
I know, I know, I know.
'I'm too tired'
["Why are you tired? How are you even tired? You've been in bed this whole time."]
I didn't mean to say that aloud, damnit. Damn it all. Just leave.
Are you real? Am I not hallucinating?
Kalim feels the guilt building up within him, he keeps seeing Jamil every time he closes his eyes.
["I caused your arms to bleed, it's getting on the bed. Or maybe it's not blood, looks too dark to be blood don't you think?"]
Please help.
•~•
Please. Let me in. I keep knocking but he won't respond. I keep calling his name but he won't respond. Why won't he respond? All I asked was whether he was ok or not. Kalim, I'm worried for once, can't you indulge my selfishness just this time?
I feel like... I'm suffocating here. That I can't breathe nor think, my mind is hazy, what's happening to me? My legs feel weak, my heart feels heavy, it's so nauseating. The only time I've ever felt like this was during my—
Jamil looks down and freezes. Blot. A pile of it flowing down from the door. Kalim. There's no way he would overblot. He has no reason– /he has many/. But he can't cross out the chance someone else might be with him, close to overblotting.
Jamil tries to think of the possibility. There's no chance anyone else was with him, considering how blocked of Kalim has been for the past few weeks. But would Kalim really overblot? Had he pushed Kalim so far to do so?
I don't care. I need to alert, I need to alert someone. But I don't want to leave Kalim alone. Why? Am I scared he'll get hurt? Definitely not, because if I was then why did I hurt him back then?
Fuck it. I'm bursting down the door, I could be sued a fortune and I wouldn't care. I just need to reach Kalim—
Jamil quickly whips out his magical pen, conjuring up a quick blast spell. As sparkles swirl around his gem stone he can feel his blood pumping through his ears. He takes a swift breath through his teeth as he bursts through the door.
*BAAM*
Jamil freezes as he sees Kalim. Kalim being covered in blot and... and blood. He see's a creature much bigger than Kalim right behind him. The head resembling a kettle..? And Jamil can see it's holding onto strings of blot, connecting straight to Kalim’s body.
Shit.
/Shit./
"Kalim...?"
"Jamil...?"
They say each other's names breathlessly, with so much emotion as if the world would end a second later. Though Jamil says it with much fear contrasting to Kalim's which carries more on shock. Guess some things never do change ever since Jamil's overblot.
"Kalim, let me help you– Don't do anything, I'll figure something out and—"
"Please..."
Please? Jamil stops to ask himself why Kalim sounds so vulnerable while pleading to him. He shouldn't have to, right? Hasn't he seen this scene before? He whispers back though, quiet and exasperated.
"Please..?"
"Get, OUUTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT–"
Kalim screeches as he whips his arm harshly, a string of long gooey blot flies towards Jamil, which he managed to dogde. Before Jamil could speak again, the figure behind Kalim suddenly conjured up a spell, to which Kalim uses the magic to eject Jamil out of the dorm.
As Jamil gets thrown out of the very roof he was standing under, he can't help but think this is karma for before. And he doesn't feel angered at all, he knows he deserves this. But instead of the outlands which Jamil ejected him out on, he was ejected right outside the dorm doors. He hits the ground abruptly, his head hitting first, rendering him unconscious.
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No... not yet... not until I get to Kalim. Not until I talk to Kalim. Not until I save Kalim.
I can't...
Lose...
Consciousness...
Kalim...