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Jamil carefully outlined his eyes in kohl as he stared unseeing into the mirror. He was dressed in resplendent silks; only the best for the Al’Asim family. The teen shook his head at the echoing, bitter thought, he refused to go down that path again.
The feelings, the creature that had emerged during his overblot was part of him, and always would be, but it didn’t mean he would let it rule his life anymore. He had slowly realized over the past year and a half that his disgust towards Kalim had been misdirected. His bitterness was towards his situation and Kalim’s family, not the boy himself.
The rest had been damning his own position in life; that he would always be so close to the light and warmth that was Kalim, but never a step too close. No matter what Kalim said,even now, he was bound to their family. Once Kalim was of age he’d be given a wife, and Jamil would be beholden to find one of his own to bear the guardian of the next generation, as his parents had before.
The thought made him sick.
Kalim would never know his feelings, just as he had never known what Jamil put up with. He couldn’t imagine what Kalim would do if the first came to light.
Since the Overblot, he had been trying to minimize the impact he had on Jamil’s life. That didn’t mean he didn’t cause trouble, but somehow, Kalim forgetting to tell him about a dorm-wide party was far less irritating than it had been when he didn’t have to bathe Kalim or dress him. The pampered boy had learned to clean and dress himself, with considerable help from the Pop Music Club, but it was something. Jamil didn’t mind being his only real source of food still because cooking was one of his joys in life.
Which was likely a good thing, because he had found poison in at least four confections gifted to Kalim this past month.
A slow month shouldn’t make him lazy. Kalim was still far too trusting, and there were times when Kalim seemed almost too oblivious about the dangers to his life.
Almost as if he didn’t care.
It was concerning. Every time he’d tried to pry about it, Kalim had gotten excited about spending time together and he’d gotten roped into some crazy event.
Like today.
It wasn’t the first time they had been in a dance competition together. Kalim had become interested in dance as a small child, and.Jamil had been obligated to learn with him because Kalim would accept no other partner. In his capacity as a bodyguard, being on the floor with Kalim while members of his family watched from the sidelines was more effective than being in the stands 20 feet away.
Kalim's father had entered them in countless competitions growing up to show off the talent of his son, and Kalim had loved it.
Jamil had as well, because dance was one of the three loves of his life.
Losing himself to the music, speaking through movement and expression. It was storytelling with his body, and for someone who could never tell his own story, speaking through others was an outlet he needed.
When they’d been seven, he’d channelled his anger at Kalim's thoughtlessness into the rage filled “Flames of the War God”; a traditional dance depicting the fiery battle between deities that had turned the land into a barren desert centuries ago. The “acting” had startled Kalim into taking the dance more seriously and they’d won first prize even without the other boys father passing money to the judges.
When they’d been twelve, he’d channeled the grief of a cousin's death into “Ocean’s Lament”, again affecting Kalim’s emotions, to the point he’d broken down sobbing before they’d been given the prize.
They hadn’t entered a competition since coming to NRC,partially Jamil's fault with his mixed emotions regarding the Housewarden.
Getting close to Kalim to see what was bothering him had seemed easy. When Kalim had suggested they enter a competition together again, he had agreed wholeheartedly because he had missed it. It had been one of the things he had thought lost to him because Kalim had given up on it. Jamil had even let a genuine smile slip when he was told their entry was taken care of.
But.
The dance Kalim had chosen…
Jamil lifted his eyes to the mirror, grey eyes dark against a face brushed with silver and gold glitter. Dead eyes. The pale silver and white fabric was a stark contrast to his body, and the midnight of his hair. He looked down, unable to see the evidence of the turmoil inside him.
Sun and Moon.
The tale of Sand’s Goddess of the sun, bringer of warmth and life, and the cold god of night, Keeper of death. The dance had been a traditional dance of the Scalding Sands, a complicated and emotionally driven choreography detailing the doomed love affair between the two. They had done the dance before with simpler steps for children, but today they would be doing it properly.
And Jamil wanted to do anything but Sun and Moon. The love, loss and the endless yearning of the dance hit too close to home. Life was welcome in the palaces of the afterlife, whereas Death was feared.
He didn’t want to rip himself open, to expose himself in front of that many people. But he’d promised Kalim and he couldn’t stand the hurt he knew would be in his eyes if he backed out now. Kalim would smile and say he understood, but Jamil knew deep down that he would be hurt.
Jamil turned without looking at himself in the mirror again. He couldn’t deal with the vulnerability he’d seen in his own eyes. Kalim was waiting for him, of course…and as per usual his outfit was mussed, and his jewelry was askew. Jamil shook his head, biting back a fond smile as he fixed him.
“Ready, Jamil!?” Kalim was so bright right now it hurt to look at him. His hair was adorned with gold, and jewels. A gossamer thin layer of sheer golden silk wrapped around his arms, a perfect avatar for the goddess of light in human form. Jamil felt his cheeks heat and his stomach flip as he gazed at his partner,and had to turn away.
“Of course I am. You were the one who wasn’t dressed properly.”
“Heh…I knew you’d help me Jamil~!”
He looked down at his bare feet, hiding a small smile.
“Only because I refuse to dance with a messy partner.”
They both knew it was just bluster by now. Even though they were outside of the Sands, Kalim's father would be in the audience. He had no chance to leave at this point.
But the banter settled him. He could make it through this, and hopefully he wouldn’t be burned.
They heard their names and walked out on to the dance floor to take their positions, Jamil, slightly apart from Kalim, arms loose at his sides, face down, while Kalim faced the ceiling, arms lifted as if greeting the sun.
“Jamil…” He heard Kalim whisper softly. “There’s something I need to tell y—.”
Whatever he needed to say could wait. The music had started and Jamil wasn’t going to lose points to restart. Kalim had taken his cue, luckily and began his part of the dance. Jamil pushed whatever Kalim had wanted to say out of his mind as he moved through the graceful sweeping forms of the dance.
First apart as Death, Life's reflection, watched her from a distance as she twirled joyfully through the land, growing plants and warming animals. Jamil tried to keep the emotions false, but as the dance continued he felt his feelings caught up in the music.
Death admired her from afar until she noticed him. From that point they danced together, hands touching hands, then leap away, spin together again to twirl Kalim into a smooth lift, holding him steadily in the air. Kalim was solid in his arms as he held position, then he was lowered as they continued the story, Kalim spinning closer as Jamil's heart picked up the beat.
The dance became more intimate, until Kalim swept the silks to screen them as they leaned in and the music jumped. This step was one of the more difficult ones: the dancers had to be positioned just so for the silhouette to show properly through the silks, a false kiss to symbolize the real ones the immortals had shared. Jamil steeled himself as he held the difficult pose, lips so close to Kalims he could feel the warmth of his breath dance over them. It took everything he had not to slide forward the extra half inch. No one would know but Kalim.
Jamil felt Kalims soft lips brush against his own for a brief moment, but Jamil hadn’t moved. He almost missed the next steps, but his body memory kicked in and he moved on autopilot. He hadn’t moved so that meant.
Kalim had.
Jamil felt a storm of emotions slam through him as he danced through the rejection of the pantheon, the part in the story where Life’s father, the Sky, barred them from seeing each other. Jamil was barely paying attention; confusion, hope…and pain because it could have just been a mistake. Of course it had been.
The self loathing hit just in time as the dance slowed, the lovers in the story sneaking out to meet even through his exile, their dance careful, steps precise. It twisted as they danced through being caught again, and cursed never to see each other again. The longing of the dance indistinguishable from the ache in his chest as he watched Kalim’s movements, his eyes expressive in a way Jamil had never seen them.
No matter what his face said during a dance, Kalim’s eyes always held light and laughter. Now Jamil could see pain that echoed the tale they were telling with their bodies.
A pain that echoed his own.
But he couldn’t focus on that now.
The last part of the dance was hardest, the part that had a simplified version. Dancers a hair's breath apart, always close but never touching, as they swayed and flowed as if together.
Parts of the dance were difficult without actually touching your partner; hands flat against the air close enough for each to feel the heat of their palms.
Jamil’s hand a few inches from Kalim's waist as if to catch him as he balanced on the ball of his foot.
The goddess of life trapped by the day, and her lover trapped by night, only able to touch at dawn and twilight. More and more it shifted from the sun and her lover, to Kalim and Jamil.
Together every day, but trapped by birth and circumstance.
Jamil felt his throat tighten as their eyes met with the final notes of the song, Kalim rising on one to, reaching down to Jamil as he lowered himself to the floor, fingers almost touching.
Jamil closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths, trying to get his tangled emotions under control. He didn’t realized that the crowd had been dead silent until a roar of applause startled him so badly he almost jumped.
Kalim wasn’t as controlled stumbling as he started, but Jamil caught his shoulder and kept him from falling.
“Sorry, Jamil…”
Jamil looked down into Kalim's crimson eyes and snorted.
“I’m just glad you didn’t do that while we were dancing.
“Of course not…I had to dance it perfectly!”
Jamil shook his head.
“It wasn’t perfect.” It had been almost perfect, if Kalim hadn’t messed up during the silhouette.
Kalim shook his head, an almost cheeky grin on his face. “It was!”
Jamil shook his head as they walked back to the waiting area. They wouldn’t know their score until the last dancers went. “The silhouette. You fell.”
As they entered the waiting area he felt a warm hand catch his shoulder.
“No. I didn’t.”
Jamil turned to protest, only to meet the same pain he’d seen on the dance floor. Emotions he’d seen in the mirror, but hadn’t recognised on Kalim.
Longing,hurt, hope.
“Then what was that?!”
Jamil didn’t like surprises so that had come out harsher than he’d meant. He felt raw from the dance, raw from the…kiss. There had been too many emotions swirling around him since earlier, and Kalim’s added onto his own.
It was too much.
“What do you mean?Jamil! I know you’ve been kissed before!”
It was too much. Jamil slid onto a bench laughing at the stupid nonsensical answer that was so Kalim.
“Jamil? Jamil? Are you ok? Did I break you?”
Jamil swallowed, voice hoarse. “Why?”
“Because I like you! I’ve always liked you…I didn’t want to mess up being friends, and then you said we weren’t, and the overblot but…I think you like me for real this time? Right?”
Jamil looked up and shook his head exasperated. They would have to talk. This was doomed from the start, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care right now.
“Kalim, You’re an idiot.”
Moon and Sun, Death and Life. Servant and noble. Slave and Master.
Always apart, never touching until…
Jamil stood as he heard the judges call for the contestants, lips brushing Kalim’s briefly as they passed. He smirked as he felt Kalim catch his wrist.
He looked over his shoulder, catching the reflection of his eyes in the mirror.
They were filled with life.
“We’ll talk later. We have an award to accept.”
Always apart, but never touching…
As he watched Kalim pull ahead of him, Jamil smiled slightly.
“We just have to find our dawn and dusk.”