Archive of Our Own

Azul stands on the scale in his bathroom, water droplets falling off the tangles of grey-blue curls from his head as he stares down at the number that seems to be mocking him.

His glasses have fogged up again in the few seconds he’s wiped them down to see, but it does nothing to lessen the murky sight of the digits he can see through the glass.

He takes them off, folding them neatly and setting them on the sink ledge. He takes the corner of his towel, situated just above his chest, and takes it off to hang beside the shower. In hopes it’ll lessen his worries. Maybe take some weight off. It doesn’t.

One pound. He’s one pound over what he normally is. What he self regulates and restricts himself to be. Normally, he doesn’t even know if he happens to be a little more or less than usual, because he’s constantly tried to avoid his scale like the plague ever since he bought it at the beginning of the school year.

Weighing yourself on land is different than in the sea - the water pressure makes it too difficult to really tell what you are. All he knows is that in his human form, the lack of his eight tentacles definitely brings his weight down - something that brings him peace whenever he gets worried about it. He’d bought a scale since he wasn’t sure how it worked on land, and because he still wasn’t accustomed to how gravity doesn’t work like water pressure.

After a few weeks of owning it though, it promptly went missing - something he knew was Jade and Floyd’s doing. When he asked, Jade just shrugged and suggested that perhaps he never owned one to begin with, and Floyd had made a comment asking why he wanted something like that in the first place. Azul hadn’t replied.

By the time he managed to find it again on a rare day where both the twins were out, it was months into the school year, and the thought of weighing himself made him feel sick to his stomach. Despite how badly he wanted to - felt like he had to - he shoved it underneath the sink cabinet, pretending it was ‘just in case.’ Just in case of what, he didn’t know. He just couldn’t bring himself to throw it away, as if the scale would mock him for doing so.

And now, nearly a year later, he’s been doing much better not touching it at all - until tonight, of course. He’s not sure what compelled him to do it, maybe a morbid curiosity or the fact that he’s been caught up in his own head lately. But when he’d pulled out the scale it had a thin layer of dust on it from so little use, that which he had brushed away so he could step on it - wobbly and weak kneed, just like when he’d first come on land.

He doesn’t move for a while. He just stares at it. Stares at the digits and at himself, at his body. At his legs that for so long fascinated him dearly, and now just felt as ugly and unsightly as his tentacles. The white polish he’d put on his toes after Floyd demanded a slumber party one night doesn’t make him feel even slightly better. Usually, it makes him feel pretty - the concept of being able to put nail polish on your feet had been a wonderful revelation a year and a half ago. Now It feels more like putting makeup on a blobfish to try to make it look better.

He doesn’t know how for how long, but after a while he pushes it back under the sink and puts his clothes on. He lays in bed and stares at the dark ceiling, his thought spinning and spinning with the growing idea of what he feels like he needs to do now. What years of constantly falling back into old habits makes him want to do.

He doesn’t eat breakfast in the morning - he waits until the twins are well on their way to the Hall of Mirrors before he leaves, the hunger not yet kicking in well until the afternoon. During lunch it’s harder to hide, and he tells Jade he’s not feeling well and that he has a headache (which, by now, he does). He goes to lock himself in a bathroom stall and curl up on the floor by the toilet, scrunching his legs to his chest.

It’s a habit that makes him feel the closest to curling up in his octopus form as he can get, arms wrapped around his legs like tentacles and his face buried against his knees to block out the fluorescent bathroom lights, like he’s hiding in an octopus pot.

He’s starving. And he hates it. He hates feeling hunger, and how it’s always gnawing away at his insides and making his throat sore, like it’s begging him to just go eat something so he isn’t left with this triggering feeling.

He stays until the end of lunch, when he gets a couple of texts. He quickly grabs his phone, knowing that if he doesn’t reply fast enough, then Jade or Floyd are gonna come looking for him.

But it’s not the twins - it’s Jamil. And Azul reckons that’s even worse.

Azul can’t say he knows how he managed to get Jamil to start liking him (Jamil would say Azul didn’t make him do anything, and that emotions are complex and don’t always have a reason, but whatever), but he’s not complaining. As a kid he never really got to experience many crushes, because anytime people in class would joke about having a crush on him, they’d make faces and say they’d rather eat sand than like him.

Jamil was his first real ‘crush’, and one he only really let himself have because at Night Raven, he felt like he was a safe distance away from all the people who would bully him for it. He felt like he was finally smart enough, finally deserving enough to have a crush, like he finally blended in with everyone else so it was alright.

And despite how he told himself that it ‘wouldn’t get in the way of anything’, and ‘was just so he could finally experience it’, it hit him a hell of a lot harder than he ever expected.

When Jamil would sit shoulder to shoulder with him in alchemy class, Azul would notice. When they came back to the mirrors after clubs and Jamil’s hair was up in a graceful bun, Azul noticed. When Azul stumbled into the cafeteria kitchen late one night and saw Jamil dancing and bopping his head to music while he cooked, he noticed. And all of it just made his crush so, so much worse.

If he’s being honest, he doesn’t think he would’ve ever told Jamil he liked him had he the choice. Even if he let himself have a crush, he doesn’t think he’d ever let himself ask for more. Why would he need more? Jamil is perfectly beautiful from a distance - even if he’s confident his eyes probably sparkle more up close.

Floyd, Jade and Kalim were ultimately the main foil in his plans - one ‘Kalim Party™’ later, and Jamil popped the question - which Azul of course gave only the most dignified yes to (and then cried inconsolably in his room all night about, because how could Jamil choose him?!)

Ever since then, the two had been together, and Azul had never realized how nice it was to have someone that loves you - like that. His moms love him, but that’s familial. Jade and Floyd love him, but that’s platonic.

Jamil loves him, and it’s romantic. It’s different, somehow. Suddenly, insecurities don’t feel like something to be as ashamed about, and food feels safer shared together than shamefully hidden under the table.

Jamil cleans his glasses for him, and kisses his beauty mark when he’s overthinking. He combs through his hair whenever they’re going to bed, and will help him rub lotion into his skin after a shower.

Jamil loves everything about him, even the stuff he hasn’t seen yet - and it makes Azul feel like a little kid again, even if it’s embarrassing. It makes him feel like someone sees the kid he used to be, and doesn’t shy away or make a face. Sometimes Azul gets so caught up, in all the sweet little messages Jamil sends him and short side hugs or kisses on the cheek he receives that’s he’s back to bawling again in his room all over again.

How could he be so lucky? How could he be so fortunate to have found someone that treats him like…like this?

Azul remembers days where he’d sit alone researching spells or organizing newer coins and treasures in his collection while the kids his age squealed and played in the background. He’d pretend it didn’t bother him whenever a pair of mermaids would talk about handsome mermen they liked, or when the other kids would have playground weddings and throw seashells like flowers.

But when it would get late and the dim, shimmery light of stars reflected over the water, Floyd would tug on one of Azul’s tentacles and Jade’s tail fins respectively, demanding they make a wish. Most of the time Azul would wish to be smarter, or for the other mers to be sweet to him like candy - and then sometimes, when he was extra lonely, he’d wish for a Prince Charming just like in all the fairytales and ancient legends he’d heard about.

The Sea Witch had given the princess her Prince Charming - so maybe if he had her powers, then his little dream could come true someday.

When Floyd would nag the whole way home and ask what they wished for, Azul would furiously shake his head and refuse to say anything. And the twins, being the twins, would easily prattle off their wishes and then tell Azul that in exchange, he had to tell them his, as per his own rules.

Floyd would shrug and say it was a boring wish, and ask why he wanted some prince anyways when Azul himself is strong enough on his own. Jade would ask if it was because of all the stories about the princess, to which Azul would deny (and Jade would nip one of his tentacles to show he knew he was lying).

Needless to say, having Jamil was like every dream come true rolled into one. A handsome boy that treats him well, and he’s surrounded by others that finally treat him well too? It’s a happily ever after if he’s ever heard of one.

…Well, kind of, because his stomach still pangs uncomfortably as he reads the messages coming in from his boyfriend.

Handsome

I asked my roommate if he could stay somewhere else tonight. Do you want to come over?

Kalim should stay out of the way if I tell him we want alone time - no promises though.

Azul’s fingers hover over the keyboard, exhaling through his nose. Normally he wouldn’t think twice about staying over - after the lounge is tidied up, staying over at Jamil’s sounds wonderful. But he knows it’ll be hard to keep his frazzled feelings a secret.

Ultimately he knows that saying no without enough of a reason will seem to suspicious - Jamil knows his patterns by now. So he types out a response, rereading before sending it.

Azul Ashengrotto

Of course - if you went to all the trouble, then it’d be rude of me to refuse

Handsome

You can just say you want to come over you dork

Let me know when you close up the restaurant so I know when to expect you

Azul Ashengrotto

Certainly

Azul presses his forehead against his knees, lips pressed into a thin line while he grits his teeth and tries to wave off the coming dizziness. Maybe by tonight it’ll all go away, and then Jamil won’t know - he doesn’t know if Jamil can know. The idea of Jamil finding out he’s gone back to his old habits after he’s been good, so good, for so long, makes him feel incredibly ashamed.

He pushes himself up and goes to get some water, hopefully to satiate his appetite. It doesn’t do much, but he refuses to go eat anything. He doesn’t want to make his weight worse. He’s scared it’ll get worse.

By the end of the day when the lounge opens, he stays in his office most of the night, making routinely check-ins with Jade to make sure everything’s going well. The smell from the kitchen makes him sick every time he steps out, and he has to bury his face in his arms every once in a while to convince himself he’s fine. To convince himself that he doesn’t need it, that he’s clearly had more than enough as shown by the scale last night.

He hates that eating is required, just to stay alive. Wouldn’t it be so much easier if it were optional? It all just feels like one big unnecessary hassle.

Cleaning up the lounge takes longer than usual because of his fatigue, and the twins try to pry into the reason why. Azul says he’s still feeling under the weather from earlier, and that he’s going to visit Jamil and see if it lightens his mood. If Floyd and Jade know he’s lying (which he knows they probably do), they don’t say it, only glance at each other before leaving. Floyd tells him they left an extra pudding pack in the kitchen for him, one of his favorites - they come in packs of four from Sam’s shop, and they alternate who gets the extra one every week. Azul doesn’t plan on touching it.

He doesn’t grab too many things from his room before he heads to Scarabia, the atmosphere warm and lively despite there not being anyone out and about this late.

By time Azul gets to Jamil’s room, he’s greeted with the sight of him leaning against the headboard, eating from a little bowl while he scratches away at a notebook.

Jamil looks up when the door opens, and sets his notebook aside, sitting up. “Oh, hey. You’re early.”

“Mhm, Floyd was in a good mood, so the lounge got tidied up faster.” Azul says simply, sitting on the edge of the bed. He notes that Jamil’s already in his pajamas, a shirt and pants that are a bit too big for him and his hair out of its ponytail. He stares over at the empty bed on the far side of the room. “I suppose your roommate wasn’t too keen on sticking around in the same room as a housewarden and a vice, I take it?”

Jamil shrugs, tucking his pencil into the silver, spiral binding on his notebook. “Maybe. I just asked if he’d be alright staying in one of the spare rooms tonight cause I was going to have someone over, and he said yes.” Jamil grins a little bit to himself when he looks back at Azul. “But yeah, that’s probably part of it.”

Azul nods, sitting sitting stiffly on the side of the bed. Against his better judgement, he looks at the little bowl he’s eating from, knowing that it’d be better to ask so Jamil doesn’t suspect anything. “What are those?”

Jamil taking one of the candies out, turning it over in his fingers. “They’re a type of candied nut. Najma sent them since I can really only find them at home.” He holds it out to him. “Do you want one?”

Despite how tempting it is, Azul’s fear wins out in the end, and he shakes his head firmly. “No thank you. I’ll let you enjoy them.”

Jamil raises an eyebrow, looking him over. “Really? I thought you liked trying the things my sister sends.”

“Just…not in mood right now. My appetite hasn’t been too terribly strong lately.” Azul shakes his head, focusing on fidgeting with his bow tie. He undoes it and sets it beside himself, planning on getting up soon to change into sleepwear to avoid any more questions.

Unfortunately for him, his planning isn’t fast enough, and Jamil’s reactions are faster. Azul knows that if he’d just simply gotten up and went to change he could’ve gotten away with it, but there’s always that small part of him that wants Jamil to notice. That wants him to pry so that he has to admit what’s wrong. Selfish. Why does he have to be so selfish?

Jamil gives him an even sterner look before he pats the space between his legs with a sigh. “Somehow I know that’s not true. Sit.”

Azul frowns, more like an indignant pout at watching Jamil try to get him to open up with sweetness. It’s something that Azul’s still trying to get used to, whether because it’s so unlike the usual Jamil or because he himself is so unused to such treatment. Somehow, some way, Jamil is just really good at being sweet. Being loving. Being soft and gentle in a way that’s so different than the usual bare of fangs.

Azul’s never brought it up, but he’s noticed it more and more after they started dating. Once when Kalim wanted to make hot chocolate with him one morning, Jamil didn’t immediately shoo him away. He sat down and helped him, and despite how his lips were clearly putting on a forced smile at the sight of a very overflown and messy mug that he’d presented him with, he drank the whole thing, and Kalim was elated.

When Riddle leans over to ask him about potionology or the like in class, Jamil will give him a couple of pointers. And when Riddle manages to fully understand a concept that even he was stumped by, Jamil will put a little swirly star by the solved problem, amongst his other little pencil corrections.

And of course, Azul’s noticed no shortage of this sweetness towards him especially - everything from physical shows of affection to constant offerings to spend time together, and so on and so forth.

Despite the obvious invitation, Azul doesn’t immediately move. Not for a good while, actually. He just stares at the dark blue bed sheets as if hoping that Jamil will move on, which of course, is futile.

“Zu.” He says shortly, and this time when he says the nickname Azul caves and goes to sit between his legs, back to his chest. He crosses his arms over his chest for good measure though, as if to say he’s not going to lose so easily.

Jamil helps him shrug off the blazer of his dorm uniform and the suspender straps so he’s more comfortable. Azul feels him shift while he leans over to his bedside table again, grabbing a hair brush that he then brings to the back of his head.

Another thing Azul’s noticed, is that Jamil really likes his hair. Or touching his hair. Or maybe just hair in general. Whenever he’s over and steps out of the shower, Jamil blow dries it for him and chastises him about not using the right type of product or how curlers would really benefit his hair type - after so long, he starts to sound like Vil.

He supposes it’s cause he takes so much pride in his own hair - long, dark strands that falls down his back with a sleek shine, and looks picture perfect no matter how he wears it. Whether it’s up in a ponytail for everyday use or a bun for basketball practice (Azul’s personal favorite), he can tell how much pride Jamil takes in taking care of his hair. He’s long since assumed it’s because it’s one of the few things he can ‘show off’ with, especially since Kalim’s hair barely reaches past his ears. Azul would do the same if he had such beautiful hair to call his own.

Jamil pulls the hairbrush down the back of his head, the grey-blue spikes bouncing back into place a little neater. He takes his time going around his scalp, taking the fingers of his other hand to brush strands back into place. It makes Azul woefully sleepy.

“I know you’re not fascinated with brushing my hair out of the blue.” Azul says, staring at the far end of the bed. Better to get it out now before the suspense starts to kill him - he assumes it’s what Jamil’s waiting for anyways.

“Can’t I be?” Jamil responds, brushing through the longer curls beside his cheek and brushing them back behind his ear with his finger. He makes a show of brushing the knuckle of his index finger against his cheek, soft but knowing. “It’s messy from your hat.”

Azul pouts, shoving his hands indignantly into his lap. “It’s not that bad. And besides, we’re going to bed soon anyways.”

“Not yet.” Jamil says without budging, and he blindly finds the bridge of his nose to take his glasses off and set them aside. Azul blinks fast to adjust his vision while Jamil brushes his bangs out. “Not yet? I’d assume taking off my glasses would be an indication we’re getting ready to sleep.”

“Is it? I don’t wear glasses or contacts, so I wouldn’t know.” Jamil replies. Azul huffs, because he knows that he knows. Every time he’s working too late, Jamil will take his glasses off and pretend he’s simply cleaning them, only to fold them and put them away so Azul gets tired and can’t work any more.

“Mhm. Then I’m sure you’re perceptive enough to know that I’m fine enough to get changed and get ready for bed.” Azul mumbles. The hairbrush along the side of his head stills before it pulls away, and Jamil’s hands unravel Azul’s from being tucked away and holds them.

He pulls at the tips of his gloves, slipping each finger out until he can set his gloves aside and intertwine their hands over his, and dammit. He knows what he’s doing. The feeling of his hands against his, Jamil’s warm palms against his knuckles and his slightly long nails grazing the inside of Azul’s palms. He knows that Jamil doesn’t expend much energy into his nails because they can’t be too long for basketball anyways, but Kalim likes to file them and paint them for him - he likes to do Azul’s too when he comes over.

Jamil squeezes his hands a little and turns them this way and that, as if this is the first time he’s ever held hands with him before. While he’s pointlessly musing, he flips their hands over so he can trace the lines on his palms. “Azul.”

“Jamil.” He replies, keeping his hands frighteningly still, like he’s afraid Jamil can read his mind through his hands.

Jamil stops moving his fingers across his skin, and waits for a beat. “If we go to bed, are you going to be thinking about whatever’s on your mind all night? And all day tomorrow?”

Azul doesn’t miss the genuine question and barely concealed lilt of concern in his voice - it’s always there, but depending on the audience, it’s usually covered up with a few layers of comebacks and such. It’s just the two of them though, and despite how Azul wants to double, no, triple down and say that it’s nothing, he knows it’s not going to help.

Being in a relationship, especially when the parties in question are the two of them, is a learning curve that both of them are still getting used to. Being with each other means that they both have to make sacrifices, and give things up - namely, their endless supply of stubbornness and secret keeping.

Sometimes Azul tells him he’s homesick, and Jamil cooks him dinner that’s as close to home as he can get. Sometimes Jamil will tell him about one of his and Kalim’s more rare, more serious talks, and Azul will listen.

Sometimes Azul just cries, over whatever painful memory is bothering him. When Azul cries, it feels so loud and messy because it’s so different from crying underwater. It’s not muffled or subdued, and his tears don’t go away as fast. Jamil always wipes his face for him with tissues and makes sure he drinks water so he doesn’t get dehydrated, and when he’s finally done, Jamil doesn’t let him say anything bad about himself.

Azul thinks he’s an ugly crier, and that it’s hard to look at himself in the mirror when his face is pink and his lips are wobbly. He doesn’t understand how anyone could look at him any differently. But Jamil thinks that his eyelashes look really pretty when they’re wet, and that his glasses look like rain-spattered windsills from his tears.

Sometimes, it’s Jamil that cries, over an overwhelming week and a full dorm to clean after a party. He never cries loudly, hardly ever making a sound aside from frustrated ramblings about Kalim falling asleep when he promised to help and how he didn’t get any rest before school. It’s a habit that he’s had ever since he was a kid, how he wasn’t supposed to let anyone, especially not Kalim know he’s been crying. Kalim can be as loud as he wants, but Jamil has to hold it all together - even if they both scraped their knees.

Jamil usually stays quiet afterwards, not wishing to dwell on it or bring it up, preferring to pretend it never happened at all. He usually sighs and tries to downplay whatever had him upset, and quietly apologize for getting worked up.

Azul thinks he’s got to be one of the prettiest criers in the world, down to how his tears slip gracefully down his cheeks and don’t leave blotchy streaks. Azul’s not great at comforting others, so he’ll usually make work of redoing Jamil’s hair for him if it’s gotten untidy while he tells him it’s nothing to worry about - or take his glasses off and make Jamil try them on just so he can tell him that it’s ridiculous because he can’t see anything through Azul’s glasses anyways.

Both of them have such never ending understanding for each other, and not nearly enough for themselves. It’s a truth that neither of them says out loud, but both of them know is true.

Jamil’s gotten much better at opening up to him over time; Azul would say he’s gotten a lot better too. But he still trips up, and he still feels like he’s ten years old crying over mean comments from kids at school all over again. Like going to tell someone is only going to make the admittance more embarrassing, so it’s easier to just bear it.

Azul knows that Jamil isn’t going to let him do that - and deep down, he doesn’t want to keep it a secret either. The more time he spends with him, the less and less he seems to be able to stick to his old ideals - cause it’s just easier having a confidant. Easier to not have to wallow or double over in pain on his own.

Azul’s hands go limp in his, giving up the fight to hide it any longer. “…I took out the scale in my room.” He admits quietly.

Jamil’s hands curl more around his, like he’s bracing him for the impact of the rest of his confession. “And?”

He blinks, trying not to let the memories of yesterday replay in his mind so clearly. He looks away to the side of the room, at Jamil’s headphones he uses to listen to music while he’s cooking and such as a distraction. “And, I…”

He scrunches up a little bit, wishing he could make himself smaller. His mumbles even softer, like the words themself are dirty and he doesn’t want anyone to hear them. “I’m a tad bit over what I usually am.”

Jamil wraps his arms around his waist, still holding his hands firmly in his while he rests his chin on his shoulder. Jamil knows what his words mean, and thus knows what he’s been doing today. “Oh Zu…”

“I-I know, it’s ridiculous, and it’s barely enough to warrant my response.” Azul hurries, blinking faster so his tears don’t leave his eyes. “I know I shouldn’t watch it so carefully, and-and I was doing good not even touching that cursed thing, but-“

He unravels his hands from Jamil’s before he can stop himself, rubbing his eyes and covering his face, his voice higher pitched and desperate while one choked sob causes him to shake. “I don’t know. I looked, and I hated what I saw, and it made me so horrified that I haven’t wanted to even step foot in the cafeteria, let alone the lounge for that matter.”

His body shakes again with another sob, and one after another he’s shaking like sea grass in a harsh current. Jamil keeps his arms around him, nose pressed against his neck. He’s glad Jamil took his glasses off earlier, because he knows they’d be dirty by now.

“I’m sorry.” Azul says quietly, lip trembling while he wipes at his cheeks, looking around for a tissue. Jamil grabs him the box from his nightstand. “I just…wish it wasn’t like this sometimes. That’s all.”

He sighs, feeling twice as exhausted after crying. He’s ready to go to sleep for real now.

Jamil sits up and leans forward a bit so he can see Azul better, taking the tissue to wipe his face himself. “Is that why you didn’t want anything Najma sent earlier?”

Azul nods, his eyes scrunching up as Jamil fusses over him and dabs at his skin. “Yes. I know how much care your sister puts into sending gifts for you. I’m sure on a better day, they would be delightful.”

“I’ll save some for you then.” Jamil says quietly, pulling back and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Have you eaten anything today?”

Azul looks down, ashamed. “No.”

Jamil moves his bangs aside, rubbing his waist. “You should have a little something before you sleep. You don’t have to have a lot, just enough so that don’t go hungry.”

When Azul doesn’t reply, Jamil softens his tone even further and rubs a knuckle against his cheek. “I can make you something. Anything you want.”

Azul fidgets with his hands, picking at the nail polish on his thumbs. He’ll have to give his apologies to Kalim later for ruining his work so soon. “…Do you have cereal?”

Jamil smiles a bit, pulling his knuckles against the underside of his eye to wipe away his remaining tears. “Yes. I can cut some fruit for you too. Does that sound okay?”

Azul thinks about it for a bit before he nods. Despite the tug of war between guilt for gaining weight and shame for starving himself, his whole body still feels like it’s aching with hunger and fatigue. It’s something that he’s never really thought about until he managed to get his eating disorder a bit more under control - that feeling hungry is like a trigger. A reminder of what he does to himself.

Right now, he’s just hungry. The overwhelming thoughts from last night have dwindled a bit, and now he’s left feeling achy, and tired, and with an empty stomach. “Yeah. I don’t think I can stomach something too filling right now anyways.”

“That’s okay.” Jamil nods. He presses a quick kiss to the bridge of his nose, something he always does when Azul has his glasses off, before he pulls back a bit to stand up from the bed. “Do you want to change into sleepwear first?”

“Ah, I’ll be okay. The dorm uniform isn’t particularly uncomfortable, so-“

He watches with his blurry vision as Jamil proceeds to take the usual spare clothes out of his dresser for him anyways. He scoffs, his lips curled up into a small smile as he grabs his glasses and puts them back on his face. “My goodness, why bother asking the question if you only desire one answer?”

“Cause I like the sound of your voice.” Jamil says simply, and when Azul gives him a little grin he dumps the clothes into his arms and rolls his eyes. “Sometimes. I’ll meet you downstairs in the kitchen, do you remember where the washroom is?”

Azul nods, bunching up the clothes in his arms a bit closer to his chest. He goes to change, and just from pulling Jamil’s shirt on over his head he can tell how much it smells like him. He’s embarrassed to admit it, but sometimes he steals some of his clothes so he always has something in his room that reminds him of Jamil - his hoodies, his shirts, etc. Just cause it helps him sleep better sometimes.

He faces away from the mirror as he changes, still wary about looking at himself with his clothes off. By the time he’s finished, he meets his own gaze in his reflection, and sees that his face is still sort of pink and tear stained. He sniffles slightly, his nose still runny. He’s too tired to properly chastise himself.

By the time he gets down to the kitchen and sits at the counter, he can hear Jamil talking to Kalim from the lounge around the corner - something about Kalim getting up cause he needed a drink, and Jamil replying. He doesn’t know what he says specifically, but Kalim promises something, and then the two wander into the kitchen.

“Hey Azul! You wanted cereal?” Kalim asks with his usual, big, beaming smile. He turns and reaches up on his tiptoes to grab a bunch of clear containers filled with different brands, setting them on the counter one by one. “I can get it for you! Ah, geez, why are these so high up…?”

“So you don’t spill cereal all over the floor by trying to get it yourself.” Jamil says, reaching above him to grab the last few and handing them back to Kalim. The height difference between the two isn’t much, but it’s enough that Kalim’s fingers barely brush the shelf while Jamil can fully reach it.

Kalim’s cheeks puff out, and he sets them on the counter. “Jamil, that was five times! Only five!”

“Ah yes, quite the record.” Jamil responds sarcastically, walking away.

“See? I’m getting better aren’t I-!” Kalim pauses, turning to frown at Jamil’s satisfied grin while he grabs a container of pineapple from the fridge. “Heeey, that didn’t sound very nice.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Azul watches the two of them bicker, chuckling as Kalim has the same struggle with the bowls on a higher shelf (‘Jamil, I’ve only broken 3 bowls! And two were the same day!’) and presents Azul with his dishware and the option of far too many kinds of cereal.

“Do you have a preference for what kind of milk you use with your cereal?” Kalim asks, drumming his fingers on the counter.

“Ah, it doesn’t matter. I don’t drink much of it anyways - it’s not a common beverage in the Coral Sea.” Azul explains while Kalim takes milk out of the fridge.

“Okay, then we’ll just go with the regular kind! Me and Jamil usually drink a lot of almond and coconut milk - but it doesn’t taste very good in cereal.” Kalim sticks his tongue out at a memory Azul can’t see.

“That’s because you tried both at the same time with fruity pebbles.” Jamil reminds him, plating some of the pineapple on two separate plates. Azul doesn’t have the faintest clue what fruity pebbles are, but they don’t sound good either kinds of milk.

“Cause it sounded good…” Kalim mumbles to himself while he instinctively reached for one of the containers of cereal and pours himself a bowl - some kind of bland-looking cereal with colorful pieces mixed into it. “Jamil, do you want cereal?”

“I’ll have the usual.” He says without turning around, grabbing a couple of apples that he starts cutting up. Kalim pours the bowl next to him with plain cereal before he beams up at Azul. “And what kind would you like?”

Azul looks over all the different containers, a bit overwhelmed for choice. “I…can’t say that I have any sort of clue. We don’t have cereal in the coral sea either because it would simply turn to mush.”

Kalim’s mouth falls open into a big, sad ‘O’, and he shakes his head. “That won’t do! Here, I can tell you what each of them are-”

He points to the different cereal containers, going down the line listing off their names. “Those are plain Cheerios, the kind that Jamil likes. I like to add honey to mine to make them sweeter-“

“-Which defeats the purpose of plain Cheerios.” Jamil reminds him.

“These are fruity and coco pebbles - Jamil doesn’t like these ones cause they’re really tough to clean out of the bowl.” Kalim explains before he immediately adds, “But I’ve been cleaning them myself lately! And I get every last one!”

“And you were late to school because you individually scraped them out with a spoon.”

“But I got them all!”

Azul laughs a little under his breath, watching Kalim explain each of the cereals to him while Jamil retorts with more and more cereal horror stories. He can’t remember a single name of any of them, but it’s plenty entertaining.

“…And finally, we have lucky charms!” Kalim smiles proudly, showing off his own bowl. “These ones are my favorite, cause they’re like a mix of regular cereal and sugar cereal!”

“What are the colorful pieces?” Azul blinks, staring at the misshapen moons and rainbows in his bowl. He doesn’t know what the original box looks like, but he imagines they must have poor marketing to be putting out shaped cereal that looks like…that.

“They’re freeze dried marshmallows! They’re the ‘lucky charm’ part.” Kalim says. “And the plain cereal pieces are frosted too.”

“Those aren’t too bad. Still a little too sweet for me though.” Jamil says, setting a plate of fruit down before Kalim and Azul (Azul notes that the apple slices on Kalim’s plate have the skins off, which he thinks is rather funny). “What kind do you want?”

Azul bites the inside of his lip. Truly, this shouldn’t be that hard of a decision, but when he’s already caught up in his head suddenly even simple things like cereal flavors seem like monsters of an issue.

As tempting as it is to double down and just go with something plain and less sweet, he can’t deny that it’s not what he wants. Without saying anything he takes the same container as Kalim, and pours himself a little bit into the bowl while Kalim smiles happily.

“That one’s super good - I’m sure you’ll love it!” Kalim says while he pours milk into his own bowl just as Jamil gives him a warning glance. “Don’t pressure him, Kalim.”

“Oh, I’m sorry Azul! You can have whatever you want, I’m not trying to pressure you!” Kalim apologizes, fidgeting with his spoon just as his eyes catch on his nails. “Oh, hey, did you want me to repaint those sometime? I just got this new turquoise color that I think would look nice on you!”

“In one ear and out the other…” Jamil sighs, pulling his bowl across the counter and watching as Kalim happily chews a mouthful of lucky charms. Azul thinks he looks like an overenthusiastic kid in a commercial.

For a bit, Azul just stares at his dry bowl of cereal. He still feels guilty for wanting to eat, and it’s frustrating. Why can’t he just be like everyone else? Like Kalim, eating without a care in the world? He wishes it was different. Then maybe he wouldn’t feel this way, not once in his life.

“You okay?” Jamil asks him quietly, looking over at him. Azul blinks and looks over at him, giving a practiced smile. “Of course. Just…thinking.”

“Do you want to have fruit first? Kalim’s been raving about these apples lately, it’s all he wants for a snack.” Jamil says, and Azul can’t help but catch the slight exasperation in the way he says it, because surely have to peel every apple for him is a pain. Azul should get him an apple peeler next time he orders more supplies for the Lounge.

“Sure. That might be easier.” Azul nods after a moment. If it’s something healthier, maybe he won’t feel so guilty about eating it.

Jamil hands him an apple slice, and Azul turns in over in his hand, scrutinizing its red peel and soft fruit. Kalim perks up while he does so. “Those are the apples I bought from Epel’s family! During the VDC, he let us have some, so I put in an order for a couple dozen boxes to send home and keep for here. I think they’re the best apples I’ve ever had!”

“Really now? That good?” Azul asks, and while Kalim’s distracting him with words, he takes a small bite off the end.

It’s just as good as Kalim says it is - sweet and crisp, and best of all, makes him feel less hungry. He takes another little bite, and he relaxes a bit when there’s no immediate onslaught of thoughts coming to reprimand and punish him. Somehow, a little kitchen in Scarabia seems to be like a safe haven. Go figure.

“Mhm! Apparently you can dip them in all kinds of stuff too, like caramel and chocolate and peanut butter. I don’t really like dipping them in peanut butter cause it makes my mouth feel all weird though.” Kalim makes a face, taking a slightly more depressed bite of cereal.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop buying peanut butter?” Jamil pinches the bridge of his nose. “I can’t afford to go to the nurse’s office with you again and again when you know you’re allergic. Your family is gonna have a heart attack if they find out.”

“I’m not that allergic, it just makes me kinda itchy ‘n stuff.” Kalim purses his lips, leaning his chin on his palm. “And I keep forgetting anyways…”

“I’ll keep that in mind lest I bring anything with peanut butter over for Jamil on accident.” Azul says, slowly finishing off the last of his apple slice and dragging his finger across the plate for another. He feels a little better. He doesn’t feel as achy and exhausted as before.

The three of them eat in comfortable silence, Azul slowly eating away at his apple slices, and then some pineapple, and finally the cereal. He picks up one of the pink marshmallows, furrowing his brow. “What exactly is this supposed to be…?”

“A balloon!” Kalim answers, drinking the colored milk from his bowl. Jamil shoots him a look for slurping too loudly.

“Aren’t these called ‘lucky charms’? I would assume that all of the marshmallows would be coins or clovers, but I fail to see how a balloon is considered ‘lucky.’” Azul frowns, his businessman brain working overtime trying to figure it out. Are balloons considered lucky to land dwellers?

“Well, the charms are what gives the little leprechaun guy on the original box his powers.” Kalim explains, setting his bowl down and licking his lips. “The balloons give him the power to fly.”

Never mind. Just a weird marketing tactic.

Azul stares at the marshmallow in his hand, and then back at Kalim. “Is every cereal brand like this…?”

“I dunno! I think it’s just this kind.” Kalim shrugs, going to pick at his pineapple Jamil shakes his head, rubbing the heel of his palm against his forehead. “All that useless knowledge and you still couldn’t get above a B+ on your history exam…”

After they finish eating, Kalim bids them goodnight, going to give Jamil a quick, sleepy hug before retreating to brush his teeth. Jamil gives him a couple pats on the back in return, focused on washing the dishes at hand. Azul looks down at his empty bowl, his stomach finally feeling a bit back to normal.

He swings his leg gently under the counter, and listens to the tap run while Jamil drizzles dish soap onto the plates. The shirt Jamil gave him hangs a little big on his frame, and the pants he was given pool at his ankles. He can see the white nail polish on his toes, and it makes him feel pretty. Feel normal, and still feel like he loves his legs.

He goes over to take his bowl to the sink, and before Azul can try to wash it himself, Jamil takes it from him.

“You don’t need any help?” Azul asks, slightly frowning. “You made me dinner, I should at least do something.”

“You told me what was bothering you.” Jamil replies simply, shaking off water from the bowl and setting it aside. He leans over to kiss his beauty mark, making Azul’s face flush. “That’s payment enough.”

“I don’t think it is though.” Azul retorts, moving to situate himself behind Jamil so he can wrap his arms around his waist and rest his head between his shoulder blades. His hair is all tossed over one shoulder, a little red hair tie holding it in place at the bottom so it doesn’t get in the way.

Azul can smell his hair if he raises his head a bit, something sweet like coconuts and something richer that he can’t quite place, like his bedsheets or his hoodies. It makes him happy. “How about a private consultation in the vip room? I’ll make sure the twins are busy.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Jamil replies knowingly, a tease in his voice. Azul can just see the smirk on his face.

“Perhaps.” Azul says before his voice softens a bit. “Does that sound alright?”

Jamil turns around, having finished cleaning up as he leans against the sink so he’s trapped in Azul’s arms. Grey eyes, silky dark hair tied to the side, beautifully handsome features that sculpt his face, hands, and so on. Azul’s chest beats twice as fast, at the idea that maybe Jamil really was sent by the stars when he was a kid. His very own Prince Charming, like someone straight out a fairytale.

Jamil rubs at his cheek, like there’s a smudge he’s trying to wipe away before kissing his temple and leaning his forehead against his. “Yeah. I think I can make time for that.” He pauses, smiling a bit. “But only if I can bring you flowers. You didn’t let me last time.”

“Because then they’ll die, and what’s the point of that!” Azul huffs, reminded of an earlier conversation where Jamil had mentioned the idea to him after hearing from Floyd that Azul is, ultimately, quite the romantic at heart. “I don’t want to stare at a slowing wilting sight on my desk while I’m trying to work.”

“You can press them afterwards - that way, you can keep them for as long as you want.” Jamil offers. “Najma likes to do it in her free time.”

“You can just…keep dead flowers like that?” Azul whispers in the quiet of the kitchen, amazed.

“Mhm. I’ll bring you flowers so you can try it.” Jamil say, with all the practiced eased of coercion. Azul so despises when Jamil wins, because he lets him win. He sighs quietly, looking up at the slight, blurry grey of his eyes from the proximity. “You’re pushing it, you know.”

Jamil shrugs simply, ushering him back to his room and shutting the kitchen lights off. “I think you could use some flowers in your office.”

When they get back to Jamil’s room, he shuts the light off. He waits until Azul is in bed to crawl into the other side, taking out his hair tie and tossing his hair over his back a few times. Azul thinks he looks so pretty. So, so pretty.

By the time Jamil lays down, Azul’s right against his chest, legs tangled up in his. Jamil has teased him about it before, how clingy he is. Azul never mentions that if he were in his merform, it’d be much worse - eight tentacles and two arms to smother and cling to him with would say so, anyways.

Jamil’s long fingers are in his hair again, tracing silvery curls. His chin is on his head, lips in his hair. “Zu?”

“Mhm?” He mumbles back.

Jamil pauses for a second, breathing in against his hair. “I’m sorry you’re struggling with this. I know it’s not easy, and I hope it didn’t feel like I was pressuring you to eat earlier - I just…get worried, sometimes.”

Azul stays still in his arms, but it’s not a stiff kind of still. Just a listening kind, taking in what he’s saying. “You didn’t, and I’m eternally grateful for everything you do for me.” He yawns softly, eyes slightly brimmed with tears. “It’s…it’s a lot easier when I have someone who reminds me. Who helps me with it.”

Jamil nods, going back to playing with his hair. He scratches the fuzzy hair over his undercut, and Azul hums against his chest. “Good. I’ve been doing research, and reminding Kalim to be more mindful too - to be gentler when you’re having a hard time, like tonight. If he’s not, feel free to tell me.”

“I doubt Kalim would ever be so brash.” Azul smiles a bit, his eyes feeling heavy with exhaustion. “Goodnight, Jamil. And…thank you. Very much. I’m in your debt.”

Jamil nods, closing his eyes. “Goodnight, Azul. And really, don’t worry about it.”

He pauses, and after a beat he adds something in a voice so soft Azul nearly misses it. “I love you.”

Azul considers himself a strong person, not just in magic but with holding himself together emotionally. That sentiment all but crumbles when he breaks like a dam and the subtle shake of his shoulders is enough to alert Jamil, who frantically tries to figure out what could’ve prompted Azul to tears so quickly.

He’s still getting used to the whole ‘I love you’ thing on top of everything else in their relationship, and frankly he doesn’t know if he ever will - the way Jamil says it just makes him crack every time.

Over the next week, he manages to throw out the scale. It takes him a couple of days, but he does it, and when he gets back to the Lounge, Jade and Floyd blow kazoos at him and throw confetti to celebrate. Azul tells them to clean it up, but he’s not mad by any means - just eerily curious as to how they knew he threw it away in the first place.

He watches them clean up the little strips of colored paper from the bar, setting his pudding in front of himself. He still feels a little hesitant, but he manages to lift a bite to his lips - and it’s good. Really good.

He smiles, watching Floyd scoop up a little handful of confetti before throwing it back into the air with a giggle, and how Jade calmly chastises him in response - before throwing the confetti he’d gathered over Floyd’s head with a grin.

Azul ends up finishing his pudding, and eventually the twins end up cleaning up their mess. He stays at the bar for a little while longer, staring at his empty restaurant. His restaurant. His friends that celebrated him with confetti. His boyfriend that’s sweet, and kind, and alerts his phone with a text saying that Kalim wants him to come over so he can redo his nails.

He snorts, sending back a reply.

Azul Ashengrotto

I’ll be over in 10 - tell Kalim he can pick whichever colors he’d like

He smiles, throwing his pudding cup away and cleaning off his spoon before he leaves the Lounge.

He’s feeling much, much better today.