Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
‘I knew you before we met
And I don’t even know you yet
All I know is you're someone I have always known’
Anais Mitchell, All I’ve Ever Known from Hadestown
Ramiz Rafi Mirza is good with words.
Scratch that, he’s great—no, incredible with words actually.
How else could he have been sent up to the Royal Institute of Translation? Illustrious Babel, Britain’s pride, after all, was for the cream of the crop—the only Oxford college that took in foreign students like him. His sahib and his colleagues always praised him for his ability to speak like they did, to mimic their English speech with perfection despite being a little brown boy from India.
Words were thus his weapon of choice. He brandished them as he pleased and used them to perform for the English audience that treated him like a circus act. This performance of his was the mask that he altered constantly, shapeshifting into who his audience wanted him to be. A lowly street lascar, a blessed prince—he could play them all quite well. A sort of power that came with words that were his alone to wield, for only he could fully grasp its meanings.
Ramy thought himself alone in this endeavor, a lone soul away from home—from everything he had ever known. He alone could wield the power of words. Nobody in this damned country would be able to truly understand how he felt.
For four whole years England was his grand stage, and he was the only cast member. A solo act. A soliloquy. Only he could see behind the curtains as they closed.
Now, he was on his way to Oxford to yet again enter a new life as a first-year student at the Royal Institute of Translation. Babel would be his home for the next four years. He hoped that it might be better than the last four he had spent in metaphorical solitude. That it might actually feel like a home.
Little did Ramy know that he would, later that fateful day, meet a little birdie at Magpie Lane who would disrupt this ever perfect performance he put on for the world.
His act would fall apart, and his words—the one thing he relied on the most—would fail and slip away at the tip of his tongue.
For Ramy would meet someone who would actually listen to him. A little birdie perched on his shoulder, who would stop and listen to what he had to say.
And that terrified him.
When Ramy met Robin Swift at Magpie Lane, his whole world felt changed. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact reason why, but the air felt different when they first exchanged words with each other. Ramy felt like he had known him for forever.
The fresh breeze blew past gently, the birds chirped more cheerfully, and the skies were no longer a dull grey, but the most vibrant shade of blue he had ever seen since stepping foot onto this foreign land.
Robin, he later found out, was in quite the similar situation—both of them having been plucked from their homelands and drilled into becoming proper English boys (as proper as two coloured boys could be seen here) in preparation for their years at Babel.
For the first time since coming to this bleak and drab country, he had found a friend.
On that first night alone together, they sat with their knees almost touching on the floor in Ramy’s room. He wished that time could come to a halt at that exact moment. That he might be able to preserve this feeling for a lifetime. That night, it seemed that they could not bear to part even as the clock had struck midnight. Both were eager to spend as much time together as they could—to extend the first bouts of joy they had experienced in many years.
‘Well,’ said Robin, ‘We have no reason to part so early.’ His eyes twinkled under the harsh light of his room and met Ramy’s. They exchanged genuine, toothy grins that spoke of an unsaid excitement. ‘Classes have yet to begin, and I think we are both quite deserving of a little late night company before we enter the gilded doors of Babel, don’t you think?’
‘That’s true,’ Ramy grinned. ‘I haven’t had this much fun talking to someone since…’ He faltered, ‘Since I was back home with my family in Calcutta.’
Robin gently placed his hand on Ramy’s shoulder—‘I’m glad we’ve got each other now then.’
‘So am I, Birdie.’
‘Birdie?’
‘You know,’ he insisted. ‘A little birdie, ‘cause you’re a Robin!’ Ramy exclaimed, his hands flapping wildly.
Both boys burst out laughing far more than they should have. But in each other’s company everything felt so exciting, so bubbly and giggly—like they were a bunch of little schoolgirls sharing secrets.
They still had three blissful days of relative freedom to follow this first magical night.
Ah, magic.
Magic, he was told, would be found within the walls of Babel—within the confines of the silverworking bars that ran Britain.
Surely silverwork could not compare to the magic they created in this room tonight, thought Ramy as the moon started descending into the horizon. At that point, deep into the night, their eyes had started drooping mid conversation, their words starting to slur together—making them laugh till they finally bade each other good night.
‘See you tomorrow, Ramy,’ Robin said, his eyes quickly darting away as Ramy met them. He stood awkwardly in the hallway, waiting for who knows what. Ramy felt a slight smirk creeping up onto his face at the sight.
‘Goodnight to you too, Birdie—’ Ramy said. ‘Get some sleep. We’ll be exploring the town tomorrow.’
‘Uh, yeah. Good night.’ He met Ramy’s eyes once more and gave him an awkward smile before he finally stepped through his own door. All Ramy could do then was shake his head and laugh, shutting his own door with a light feeling fluttering in his chest.
Ramy flung himself down onto his soft mattress and yawned. His heart swelled at the thought of Robin's small parting smile. Awkward but endearing, with dimples poking out briefly before he could close his door. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners, Ramy thought, sent sparks coursing through his veins. Not that he was thinking about it for long or on purpose, he told himself quickly. He did not yet understand why, but he soon fell asleep feeling like he could fly that night.
Ramy could only hope that his Birdie had also fallen asleep with a smile.
Chapter 2: The First Attempt: Sunset
Notes:
what's up yall im back after a grueling few days of figuring out how to write cute shit T-T appreciate yall so much oughhh
now, actually,, i’ve already got chapters 5-7 written (mostly), but somehow this one was really difficult LMAO T-T i tried my best though and am happy with what i wrote hehe i hope yall enjoy it :33
the first sunset scene in particular was one of my favourite scenes, so i had to write my own version of it!!
btw thank you also to everyone who has kudos'd and commented!! the comments especially warm my heart and motivate me to write HAHA thank you so so much !! anywho, here's chapter 2!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
‘Last summer we met
We started as friends
I can't tell you how it all happened
Then autumn it came
We were never the same
Those nights, everything felt like magic’
Ross Lynch, I Think About You from Austin & Ally
It had been three days since Ramy and Robin spent the first of many sleepless nights together. Each of those three days that followed were spent walking around town together, almost as if they were attached at the hip.
In his room, Ramy lay his head on the little space his crowded desk afforded him. Treats and trinkets were piling up from the impulsive shopping spree he and Robin had gone on in the days prior. They were like children set loose in a book shop—with what little taste of freedom they had before meeting each other.
He rubbed mindlessly at his jaw and his face, sore from all the smiling he'd been doing since having met his Birdie. Giddy anticipation bubbled up in his chest at the thought of his next four years at Babel.
The next four years with Robin , who he suspected was probably first in line to becoming his best friend. Two kindred spirits in a land far away from their own.
Oxford felt like a dream.
Its entire span of green had this air of enchantment about it—like magic flowed through its waters and permeated Ramy’s very core whenever he was with Robin. It was fascinating.
(He would later learn that this was because Oxford, and indeed the rest of Britain, quite literally ran on the magical qualities of silverwork—Babel’s very own specialty.)
Tomorrow, at the beginning of Michaelmas, they were off to begin the rest of their lives as translators—as Babblers—within the walls of the Royal Institute of Translation. Only one more day of freedom awaited. He could only imagine what the future held in store for them.
At half past 2 o’clock in the afternoon, Ramy drifted off into a deep sleep—thoughts of Robin running through his mind.
***
(In hindsight, Ramy spent his waking hours wishing he could go back to this very day. Unfortunately for him, it's a memory long gone.)
***
Once the afternoon bell rang at the 17th hour, Ramy woke up from his unplanned nap to a familiar rapping of knuckles at his doorstep. He was hardly able to get a wink in last night after he and Robin stayed up—talking endlessly about…well. Just about everything really.
It was easy, talking to him. Being in each other’s presence.
Ramy was still half asleep and lost in thought when the knocking resumed, only much louder and far more irritating.
Who in god's green earth is trying to bust down my bloody door? He thought. Another minute passed before a muffled voice cut through the door.
‘Ramy? You alright in there? Hello?’
This finally woke him up enough to remember who he was meant to be meeting up with today. ‘Damn! I fell asleep—’ He whisper-shouted to himself. Mentally, Ramy thanked himself for wearing a set of decent clothes that afternoon.
He quickly got up from his desk and dodged his suitcase still lying out in the open—leaving all his old translation papers scattered and swinging the door open. There stood Robin in the fancy new garb they’d bought together from the town seamstress. Matching from head to toe in all but the colour of their ties.
‘Birdie! To what do I owe this pleasure?’ He leaned on the doorframe in an attempt to look put together. Robin smiled and let out a chuckle as Ramy’s dark curls fell over his eyes.
‘Ramy! What took you so long—’ He started, before raising an eyebrow. ‘Uh. You’ve got a little…something there—’ Robin grimaced and pointed at his cheek.
‘Hm?’ Ramy went to touch his cheek, only for it to come back sticky with his semi-dried up drool. ‘Oh I—’ A blush crept up his ears as he frantically wiped it off with his sleeve.
May all the deities listening strike me down, he silently cursed in his head.
Ramy was grateful Robin chose to ignore the rest of his state of disarray.
‘So. Anyway, how do I look?’ Robin mused.
Ramy—who was now way more conscious than he was a couple of minutes ago—gave him a once over, eyes scanning him from head to toe. ‘Would you like me to tell you the truth or would you like me to flatter you, Birdie?’
‘The truth, if you like.’
Well, you look properly dashing, he almost said out loud. The word for pretty in Urdu at the tip of his tongue. But he sealed his lips shut and kept that thought to himself for now. Ignoring the way Robin’s dress shirt hugged his waist perfectly. Or the way his soft hands rested against his hip. And the way his hair fell perfectly styled right above his brow.
Oh he was getting properly distracted now.
He took a breath. ‘It looks…well…it’s certainly something,’ said Ramy, his brows furrowed teasingly. He couldn't let on that he was quite literally ogling his new friend. Robin blinked profusely and gave him a flat stare, expecting a better answer. Ramy continued, ‘What’s got you all dolled up this afternoon anyhow? Classes don't start till the morrow, just to remind you. Didn't think we needed to get all dressed to spend time in our quarters.’
‘Please, have you forgotten already? We were to head over to South Park today. I’ve been waiting to gorge on all those sweets we’d gotten from Vaults & Gardens. Cost us a pretty penny, those treats. ’ Robin looked him up and down, ‘Come on. Get dressed—you’ve got five minutes.’
‘Whoa alright now, if you wanted me to get dressed here and now, Birdie, all you had to do was ask.’ Ramy smirked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. He put a hand against his heart, ‘But, my, we’ve only just met! I didn’t think you were that type of gentleman. Shame!’ Ramy didn’t know somebody’s eyes could roll that far back into his head.
‘Oh shush,’ Robin let out a chuckle, pushing him back into his room to get ready.
Silence enveloped their brisk walk to South Park.
It was starting to get colder by the day, even in the afternoons. The biting autumn winds howled—tousling Robin’s flat hair along the way. Ramy had this sudden urge to run his fingers through and fix his wind-swept fringe.
He had no clue where all these unthinkable ideas were bubbling up from, but he wasn’t necessarily against them either. They made him feel an odd surge of happiness, on the contrary.
How cute , Ramy smiled, admiring the way a light blush coloured Robin’s nose from the cold. They both said nothing for a good ten minutes into their walk. Only the pitter-patter of the light autumn drizzle and the rhythmic thumping of their footsteps surrounded them. It was…quite nice.
Never in his life thus far did Ramy think that silence could be so…comfortable. Comforting, even.
Back in the English countryside, he was constantly surrounded by a deafening stillness. He’d told Robin the night before that unlike the bustling city centre where he was raised by Lovell, nothing ever happened up north. A London upbringing was probably far more exciting , he thought. Thus, Ramy made sure to fill up that empty northern air with his theatrics. It was what he was best at.
Although with Robin by his side, he finally had a break from the blinding stage lights. His performance had been sent to the intermission. Conversation between them flowed so fluidly, but it wasn't a necessity to enjoy each other’s presence. They could simply…exist with one another.
Bollocks. I'm becoming a sap, he sighed and shook his head. How could a few days of genuine companionship turn Ramy into this—this softie ?
Thoughts of his new friend occupied his mind every step of the way. As for why, he couldn't yet name the reason.
Robin, to Ramy’s ignorance, watched him from his periphery, hiding a smile of his own beneath the wooly scarf he wore tucked inside his coat.
They arrived at South Park just in time to watch the sunset.
The vast green expanse was now alight with the colour of fire, a stunning array of oranges, pinks, and purples settling over them. Like a blanket of warmth to combat the chilly British weather.
Ramy looked over at Robin, who was laid back on his elbows next to him.
‘So is Lovell your father, then?’ He asked out of the blue, disrupting the serenity of the scene.
Robin choked at this, clearly stunned by the bluntness of Ramy’s approach. ‘Well. I—his colleagues back at Hampstead used to say I was his spitting image.’ He shifted his body away from Ramy to look at the sinking sun. ‘In all honesty I haven’t given it much thought.’
‘It must explain why he knew your mother as well then, though.’
‘Yes, well. Perhaps I was…pretending all these years—that I could not see the Professor when I looked into the mirror.’ He visibly gulped, uncomfortable with the topic at hand.
‘I see. My apologies, Birdie,’ said Ramy, quickly regretting his choice of conversation. ‘Trust me, I know all about having to play pretend. You’ve seen me in action, haven’t you?’ Ramy added, attempting to steer the conversation away from Robin’s alleged father. Today, he thought to himself, they were simply going to enjoy the sunset together.
Robin let out a breath of relief, shifting closer back towards Ramy on the ecchoing patch of green that they lay on. His eyes were ablaze with the burning gold of the setting sun as he stared into Ramy’s eyes with a smile playing on his lips. The latter held his breath, his gaze steady and unwavering. Ramy could not look away even if he wanted to.
Robin sat up and took his hand in his own. ‘Indeed I have, Your Majesty, the Mughal Prince. You’ve shown me just how good of an actor you can be. But I too have read of Shakespeare and the greatest poets and playwrights.’ Robin said jokingly. ‘You aren’t alone in this act, Ramy.’
At this, Ramy let out a hearty fit of laughter, his hand firmly gripping Robin’s. ‘Why thank you, my good Sir Birdie, the fairest and bravest knight in all the land,’ joked Ramy in return. Inside, he felt a warmth spread throughout his chest—blossoming at the kind words his Birdie had just said. Albeit, they may have been spoken as part of a bit, but Ramy’s selective hearing took it to heart.
You aren’t alone in this act, Ramy. Robin's words echoed throughout his mind. Nobody had ever uttered such a thing to him before.
‘Anytime, my Prince.’ Robin replied, pulling Ramy out of his dazed stupor. He almost missed the way Robin lifted his hand up towards him, as if he were trying to cup his cheek. Before he could say anything, however, Robin had already pulled his free hand back. Occupying himself with an eclair and placing his hand down onto the grass—breaking eye contact.
‘Birdie?’
‘Hm?’
‘What was that?’
‘Oh—’ Robin said, smiling, ‘It’s nothing. Just. Seems the Professor was right.’
‘About what?’
‘Oxford. It really is perfect here. Better than I imagined, even.’
Ramy hummed in agreement, setting his hand down on the grass between them—just a few centimeters shy of Robin’s own. It took his all not to inch closer and interlock his Birdie’s slender fingers with his own.
‘Are you excited, Birdie?’
‘For what?’
‘For Babel, of course.’
‘Of course I am. It’s what I’ve trained so hard to get to.’
‘Hmm.’
‘And yourself?’
‘I’d like to think I am too, Birdie.’
Ramy let his head fall back onto the soft warm green, basking in the last few rays of golden light that embraced the both of them. He closed his eyes, tired from the night before and drunk on this giddy feeling in his heart. All of a sudden, he blurted out a couple of words that spoke of his true feelings at that moment.
‘I think I like you, Birdie.’
‘You what?’
Only to immediately take it right back.
‘I meant that I hope that we become the best of friends. I’ve no one else at Babel, really.’
A beat of silence passes.
‘Well, in that case—I like you too, Ramy. Here’s to best friends.’
Ramy held up his pastry and clinked it with Robin’s eclair, mimicking a toast.
‘To best friends.’
At that moment, the English ‘like’—which held both affectionate and friendly connotations—distorted the untimely confession that he could not stop from leaving his mouth. Ramy sighed, finally understanding just why the Greeks had multiple ways to refer to what they merely called ‘love’ in English.
Notes:
welp! there we have it haha the first attempt at Ramy's series of confessions :DD ramy nd robin sitting in a tree, k i s s i n g or whatever ehehe
so yippeee hope you all liked it!! also if you'd like, leave a comment if anything strikes your fancy---they really brighten my day ueueue :333
p.s. next 2 chapters might take a little longer bc i need to brainstorm wtf to do next before i can post the last 3 chapters of this fic that i already wrote LMAO
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