Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The early afternoon sun came through the tall windows of the Akademiya's library, casting sunny shadows across rows of ancient tomes, showing just how much dust had accumulated on them. Zandik sat in one of the corners hunched over his desk and surrounded by stacks of texts that seemed to grow taller with each passing hour, taller than him at this point. It was a mini tower of books which tilted with every stroke of his fountain pen, threatening to fall if he dared shake the desk even by a bit. And that wasn't even all, by his side, on the floor, there was another tower, it was big enough for him to use as an arm rest, be it on accident, but still.
His red eyes, which seemed brighter in the light, were fixed on a rather dense manuscript about experimental theories connected to the Abyss, written by some scholar before the cataclysm had struck. It was rather incoherent. To focus and to try and understand Zandik had taken to biting the end of his fountain pen.

'Excerpt from an Unknown Manuscript
[Recovered fragment, heavily damaged. Translation uncertain. Authorship unknown.]

───

...the mechanisms by which the....[the page seems too damaged]....manifests cannot be reconciled with established frameworks, or perhaps the frameworks themselves are insufficient, which is to say, insufficient not in their application but in their fundamental conception of what -application- might mean when one is discussing forces that do not obey the normal progression of cause and consequence...
The observation chamber (the third one, after the first two were compromised, though...compromised may not be the correct terminology as the materials simply ceased to exist in the...[incoherent] ) produced readings that suggested some manner of temporal distortion. Or it was a spatial distortion. The instruments were not capable of distinguishing between the two, which raises questions about..[the rest seemed damaged].
It should be noted that subjects exposed to prolonged proximity exhibited changes in their physical composition that could not be attributed to standard alchemical processes. This is concerning, or it is fascinating.
The observer bias may be affecting interpretation.
Further research is required, but the permissions necessary for such research are increasingly difficult to obtain. The Akademiya grows more restrictive by day. They say it is for safety. Perhaps they are correct. But knowledge that is not pursued is knowledge that remains unknown, and there are consequences to remaining ignorant.
If this document is being read, then either I have found a way to continue the work, or I have failed and someone else has inherited these questions.
[Remainder illegible. Appears to be damaged by environmental factors, possibly also by deliberate obscuration.]'

It was written badly and incoherently, at least in Zandiks opinion. The author kept going off track and sometimes even forgetting their previous points! Though, it was exactly the kind of incoherent mess he'd come to expect from older scholars. The sentences were fragmented, the methodology barely present. A properly trained academic would find it nearly unreadable. Like himself, for example.
And yet, the only thing he could give the writer credit for was that they weren't pretending to understand things they didn't. They were documenting confusion itself, which was oddly more valuable than false certainty. The author had been trying to describe something real. They'd simply lacked the language for it and proper writing etiquette.
Nonetheless, that subject wasn't a popular one so he had to stick with what he had, even if it was ramblings. Such a subject had garnered considerable disdain from the more conservative scholars and sages, but it fascinated him to the point of obsession. He knew the library had his back since no matter how annoyed the Akademiya was by the subject, they wouldn't get rid of any books containing knowledge about it.

Then, a voice.
Zandik was certain he was alone, he didn't even hear anyone come in or make a noise, or feel the change in air. Just a sudden:
"You're going to go blind staring at those things."
A familiar voice, one he would have recognized in complete darkness, in a crowded room, in the space between waking and sleep, hence why he didn't look up or even move in the sligheest upon hearing it.
"An unlikely outcome. The human eye is more resilient than most people assume. Besides, I've already accounted for potential vision degradation in my research schedule. Plus, you're the one with glasses, not me." His answer was more teasing than serious.

Pantalone pulled up a chair, his perfect uniform marking him as one of the Akademiya's most promising students, though for entirely different reasons than Zandik. Where Zandik pursued forbidden knowledge, Pantalone excelled in what was approved, what was safe, what was...normal. The boys tone was light as he glanced at the titles surrounding his friend.
"Your research schedule includes ruining your eyesight, apparently." Pantalone leaned back in his chair with the ease of someone entirely comfortable in any space. "You know, most people take breaks. We're supposed to be in our prime years, not dissertating like we're fifth-year scholars."
"I'm not most people" Zandik replied, finally looking up with that gaze that had characterized him since they were children playing in the streets. His eyes held a singular focus that Pantalone had learned long ago not to interrupt lightly.
"And neither are you, though you seem to labor under the delusion that maintaining a 'normal' schedule is somehow conducive to actual achievement."
Pantalone smiled, that smile, the real, geniune smile he only showed around Zandik and no one else. Evryone who wasn't him received the practiced, polite smile, only Zandik got his real and slightly crooked one. "Ah, but I achieve plenty. Did you hear? The Promotions Committee is considering me for the Economics track early. Three years ahead of schedule."
"Of course they are." Zandik said and then returned to his manuscript without apparent interest in the accomplishment, though Pantalone knew him well enough to recognize the slight acknowledgment in his tone. "You've cultivated the image perfectly. Diligent, well-mannered, appropriately ambitious but not threateningly so. They find you acceptable."
"And they find you..." Pantalone trailed off, gesturing vaguely at the collection of disapproved and often hidden texts.
"Dangerous" Zandik added. "Uncontrollable. A threat to institutional knowledge. Yes, I'm aware of my reputation. It's only a matter of time until they..."

The two had known each other since childhood, back before the Akademiya had properly sorted them into the distinct roles they would play. Pantalone remembered Zandik as an adventurous, intense and curious child, always asking questions that the adults would exchange nervous glances over. He remembered being drawn to that curiosity even then. While other children played with toys, Zandik experimented. While other children followed rules, Zandik questioned them before breaking them.
Pantalone had been different. He'd always understood that power came from within systems, not in opposition to them. Even as a child, he could negotiate. He would act perfect and get his way every time. He could see value in things that others overlooked. That's how they'd become friends, Zandik had been conducting some unauthorized experiment involving beetles and reactions, and Pantalone had caught him red-handed. Yet instead of reporting him, Pantalone had asked what he was trying to prove. They'd talked for hours after that and somehow became friends.
Just remembering that day made Pantalone laugh. Their first meeting, Zandik hunched over the ground, holding a bug between his small fingers, Pantalone standing over him. Zandik's red eyes lifting up to look at him while stuttering and stammering over his words, excuses, pleas and many 'um' and uh' 's. Cute.
And somehow that lead to them to this day remaining inseperetable. They rarely had the same classes anymore, but they always walked together from school and to school.
It was impossible to see Zandik without the other being nearby.

"You're still thinking about the weird theories" Pantalone observed now, watching his friend's expression. "Specifically, you're thinking about how the Akademiya will never approve your research, which is why you're reading the forbidden texts in the library like a scholar conducting treason."
Zandik's lips twitched—the closest he came to smiling in the moment. "Your observational skills remain adequate. Did your economics professors praise you for that as well or is that just a side effect of knowing me?"
"Knowing you is an education in itself" Pantalone replied dryly. "One that isn't on the official curriculum, which is precisely why I find it worthwhile." He leaned forward slightly, his expression settling into something more serious. "What are you actually looking for, Zandik? And don't tell me it's just academic curiosity. We've known each other too long. Is this research really worth your standing in the Akademiya? You do know what will happen if they catch on to the lenghts you're taking this to. Not to mention all the books you have back in your room about the same old topic." His gaze swept over the messy notes and many books surrounding the other.
Zandik set down his pen.
This was always the moment where others would try to convince him to be reasonable, to accept the Akademiya's limitations, to work within the system that Pantalone seemed so naturally suited to navigating. Zandik had expected that from others. But Pantalone... Pantalone never tried to convince him to be less than what he was. He merely demanded honesty, no matter how raw, as long as it was true.
"Knowledge" Zandik said finally. "Understanding. There are mechanisms in this world that the Akademiya refuses to study because they're uncomfortable, because they contradict established doctrine. The Abyss exists. Its forces are real. Pretending they don't exist doesn't make them go away, it just means we're willfully ignorant. As for my books...I fear that the Akademiya will get rid of them and I find myself feeling like I need to preserve them."
Pantalone nodded along as he listened, he's heard Zandik say that before, to a point where even he had it recognized. "Yes, I see the appeal of that to you. Though I note that burning down your academic prospects in pursuit of forbidden knowledge seems like a rather inefficient strategy. You can't blame me for worrying."

"I'm not trying to burn anything down."

Zandik then stood, his joints cracking as he did so. He moved to the window which was half open beside his desk and looked out. From the standing point he could see the grounds of the Akademiya, the gardens, the towers where research took place, the entire city below them. Somewhere in those buildings were scholars who would go on to shape the world. He wondered if any of them would dare to actually learn the truths that mattered. If any of them would pursue the knowledge he did. "They'll restrict my access eventually" he said quietly. He knew that he was standing on a thin line which leaned towards him getting expelled. "Once they realize how far my inquiries are going. The Akademiya doesn't actually encourage learning, Pantalone. It encourages conformity dressed up in scholarly language."
"Then what will you do?"
It was such a simple question, and yet it contained multitudes. Zandik knew that Pantalone wasn't asking idly. He had always been planning several moves ahead, even at the Akademiya. While Zandik pursued knowledge, Pantalone pursued understanding of a different sort, how money moved, how favors accumulated, how power could be measured and traded, how contacts with people were established. He was setting himself up for a comfortable life in the future, while Zandik...? Zandik was, moving without a thought for the future, just living in thr present.
"...I don't know yet" Zandik admitted. "But I'll find a way. There's always a way."
"There is" Pantalone agreed, and something in his tone suggested he was already thinking ahead, already calculating possibilities, like always. "And if you do find yourself... at loose ends with the Akademiya's more restrictive elements, you should remember that you have at least one friend with access to resources and a talent for acquiring more."
Zandik turned from the window, facing the other now. "You're offering me something?"
"I'm acknowledging that you're one of the few people I actually respect" Pantalone corrected. "And respect implies certain obligations. Besides-" a smile played at the corners of his mouth, "you wouldn't be nearly as interesting if you were constrained by academic approval. You'd just be another competent scholar. And I have no use for ordinary people." He moved his hand through the air as he spoken exactly how a businessman would when selling something. "And, I'm saying, if you ever find yourself in a situation which is hard to get out of I am always available, Zandik." He then crossed his arms, his offer final.

They'd always been like that, understanding each other in ways that the Akademiya's social hierarchies couldn't quite categorize, not just the Akademiya, anyone really, their old tutors, other children and people alike.
Zandik was dangerous in ways that made the establishment nervous. Pantalone was valuable in ways that made him indispensable. And somehow they remained friends through all of it. Pantalone was showered in praise and special treatment from the sages while Zandik was overlooked, but Zandik wasn't jealous and nor was Pantalone rubbing it in. Rather no matter how much there were attempts to remove them from one another, it never worked.

"The Akademiya will eventually force a choice between their rules and my research." Zandik sighed. He knew that outcome would come sooner rather than later. Every day could be the last.
"And when that happens" Pantalone continued, standing now "remember that there are other paths to take. I, for one, will be building an empire that has no use for institutional approval." He paused, standing behind him now. "And my empire will need someone like you, specifically you."
Zandik cast one last glance at the grounds outside before turning and returning back to his desk. A simple 'hmph' was his reply to Pantalone. It wasn't a dismissive one, or one that said 'I don't believe you', no, it meant more like...'we'll see about that'.
The moment his behind reached the wood of the chair he felt hands settle on his shoulders, then he heard Pantalone's footsteps approaching once again.
Most people couldn't touch Zandik. He didn't allow it. The casual familiarity that others took for granted felt intrusive to him, a violation of the boundaries he maintained between himself and the world.
But Pantalone wasn't 'most people.'

"Don't" Zandik said automatically, though he didn't move away. He never moved away when it was Pantalone.
"Too late. I'm already doing it." Pantalone's hands were firm on his shoulders, applying pressure as he coaxed Zandik's spine into a straighter position. "Look at you. You're going to develop a hunch at this rate. Very scholarly, very tragic. The great researcher of forbidden knowledge, crippled by his own posture before he's even twenty."
Despite himself, Zandik felt the tension in his shoulders ease slightly under the pressure of Pantalone's hands. It was infuriating how quickly his body responded to his friend's touch, how the knots that had accumulated over hours of focused work seemed to dissolve under those firm yet gentle movements.
"I'm concentrating" Zandik said, which wasn't really an argument. It was more of an explanation, a defense against something that felt too much like concern.

"How many hours have you been sitting here?"
"Since sunrise."
"And you're going to tell me you've eaten."

It wasn't a question since he already knew the answer. Pantalone's hands moved in circles across Zandik's shoulders, applying pressure to the specific points where he always seemed to have the most tension.
Zandik didn't say anything, which was confirmation enough.
"That's what I thought." Pantalone sighed. "You realize that depriving your body of fuel is counterproductive to your work, yes? The brain requires food. Without proper nutrition, your cognitive function declines. You're essentially sabotaging your own research through sheer spite toward basic human needs."
"I can think clearly regardless of whether I've eaten." Zandik murmured.
"That doesn't mean you're thinking at your actual capacity. I know you Zandik. When you're properly fed and rested, you're insufferable. When you're hungry and exhausted, you're merely very difficult to be around." Pantalone countered, suddenly pressing too hard with his thumbs to prove a point.
Zandik hissed at the sudden roughness before allowing himself a smile at the others words. "Your concern is noted and dismissed."
"It's not going anywhere." Pantalone's hands then continued their work, kneading at the hard spots that seemed to live permanently in Zandik's neck. "When did you last take a break? And don't tell me you're taking one now, because I'm not leaving until you've actually stepped away from this desk for more than a second."
Zandik almost looked insulted at that. Any time away from his research was a break! Every blink was a break! Every time he paced around the room in annoyance was a break! "That would be inefficient. You interrupting my work is already a disruption."
Pantalone moved his hands upward, working along the tight muscles at the base of Zandik's skull. He was so used to managing his friend's self-destructive habits. "Do you know what happens to people who push themselves this hard without proper care? They burn out. Their minds stop working. All that brilliant research goes nowhere because the researcher is too exhausted to think properly."
Zandik wanted to argue, wanted to insist that he was different, that his mind operated under different rules than ordinary people. But Pantalone had a way of making logical arguments that were difficult to refute, especially when he was demonstrating his concern through the simple act of touching Zandik in ways that no one else was permitted. "I'm close to a breakthrough" Zandik said instead. "If I can just push through this final section of the book—"
"The breakthrough will still be there in an hour." Pantalone cut him off, his voice had taken on that certain tone of patient exasperation that Zandik found oddly comforting. "After you've eaten something. After you've taken a walk. After you've done something to remind your body that it exists outside of that chair."
Pantalone's hands pressed more firmly, and Zandik felt something in his chest tighten at the deliberateness of the gesture. Care, he recognized it. This was care, expressed through touch because Pantalone understood that Zandik didn't respond well to verbal sentiment.
"Come. I have some pastries from the morning vendors. They're not gourmet, but they're edible, and more importantly, they're available."
"Pantalone—"
"I can make this a request or a demand, or I can grab you by the leg and drag you out. Which do you prefer?" Pantalone said. "But either way, you're leaving that desk. At least for a little while." He added.
Zandik sat rigid for a moment longer, feeling the weight of Pantalone's hands on his shoulders, grounding him to something other than his own obsessive pursuits. It would be easy to refuse. He was used to refusing, to pushing past interruptions, to sacrificing everything for knowledge. And to clawing at the floors when Pantalone did resort to actually dragging him out by the leg. "Fine" he said finally. "But only briefly and because I don't want to be dragged down the stairs again."
"Of course, briefly." Pantalone's hands finally released him and Zandik felt the absence of that weight immediately. "I know you. Brief is as long as you'll tolerate. But that's better than nothing."
Zandik stood, and his body protested immediately, muscles stiff from hours of long immobility, joints that had forgotten how to work smoothly. He felt every moment of sitting hunched over those texts in the protest of his own physicality.
"You see?" Pantalone said, watching him stretch. "Your body is staging a rebellion. This is what happens when you ignore its needs." Pantalone was already moving toward the library doors, clearly expecting Zandik to follow. His confidence in Zandik's compliance was absolute. "Come on. The afternoon light in the courtyard is perfect right now. We can eat there, and you can breathe some fresh air that hasn't been recycled through library dust."
Zandik wanted to say a teasing 'yes mom' but decided against it in the last moment.

Then,
As they walked, Zandik found himself studying his friend, something he often did. The way Pantalone moved through the Akademiya's halls like he owned them. Pantalone probably would own them someday, or something like them. He had that quality of inevitable success that made people want to follow him, to invest in him, be close to him. And yet, here Pantalone was, taking time away from his own studies to force Zandik to eat lunch.
"Why do you care?" Zandik asked, the question emerging without his usual filter. "You could be studying right now. Cultivating relationships with important people. Advancing your position. Instead you're here, lecturing me about nutrition."
Pantalone glanced at him and for a moment, his expression shifted into something more genuine than the charming mask he typically wore inside the Akademiya's walls. It was the expression he reserved for Zandik alone.
"Because you're brilliant" Pantalone said simply. "And because brilliant people need someone to remind them that they're also human. And because..." he paused, and something almost vulnerable crossed his features, "because you're one of the very few people I actually give a damn about."
It was such a Pantalone way of expressing affection, and also so NOT-Pantalone to curse.
Zandik heard what his friend was really saying, probably something along the lines of:
'You matter. Not because of what you can do for me, but because you simply matter.'
....stupid....useless...and utterly Pantalone.
"That's inefficient" Zandik said quietly.
"Probably." Pantalone smiled. "But efficiency isn't everything. Come on, the pastries are getting cold, and you're getting maudlin. That's a sign that your blood sugar is genuinely critical. I swear, if you pass out on me again..."

They emerged into the courtyard where the afternoon sun fell across stone benches and carefully cultivated gardens. Where it felt warmer and more breathable. Yet instead of said benches, they decided to sit on the grass. It was cool beneath them, still damp from the previous day's rain. Zandik sat with his back against the trunk of one of the trees, an ancient thing with bark so thick and weathered it looked like it had stood sentinel over the gardens for centuries. Pantalone had chosen this spot on purpoe. Away from the main pathways where scholars passed often, hidden from the windows of the administrative buildings, sheltered by low-hanging branches that created a canopy of shadow. It was the kind of place where two people could disappear, at least for a little while.
Pantalone handed Zandik a pastry wrapped in cloth, and Zandik accepted it without comment. The bread was fresh, soft enough that it gave slightly under his fingers, filled with cold roasted chicken and greens that still held the faint crispness of when it was made. It was simple food, the kind that tasted exactly as it expected.
Simply safe. That was another thing that Zandik was rather picky about. Foods. If the texture was off, if the feel and the taste of it on his tongue was 'wrong' he didn't want it. He couldn't eat it. Pantalone was used to that, he never really minded.
They ate in silence for a while, the only sounds around them the gentle rustle of leaves above and the distant murmur of the Akademiya's daily routines. Zandik found that his hunger was greater than he'd admitted to himself, each bite disappeared with a focus that would have been comical if anyone was watching. But no one was watching. That was the point of this place.
"Better?" Pantalone asked simply. He didn't ask 'do you like it' or 'is it to your taste', nope, if it wasn't Zandik would've made it obvious.
"Tolerable" Zandik replied, which was his way of saying yes without conceding that Pantalone had been right about the whole situation.
"Mmm, high praise from you." Pantalone reclined slightly, propping himself on his elbows, seemingly unbothered by the possibility of grass stains on his immaculate uniform.
That was another thing about Pantalone, he could be meticulous when it mattered, but he wasn't precious about it. He understood that some things were more important than appearance. "You know, when we were younger, you used to actually say 'thank you' occasionally. I'm not sure what happened to that version of you."
Zandik chuckled. "He matured and realized that gratitude is a social convention designed to mask transactional obligation." He replied after swallowing.
"Of course that's what you think." Pantalone smiled, biting into his own food. He ate more slowly than Zandik, savoring rather than consuming. "I brought you food because I wanted to, not because I expect you to perform gratitude. Saying thank you isn't a transaction, Zandik. It's just... acknowledgment."
Zandik considered this while he ate. The problem with Pantalone was that he was often right about things, and he had the annoying ability to articulate truths that Zandik preferred to avoid. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together, and one of the reasons Zandik found him occasionally insufferable.
"Thank you" he said finally, the words not forced just honest.
"There we go." Pantalone's tone was light, but there was satisfaction underneath it. "Was that so painful?"
"Extraordinarily." Zandik sighed.

They continued eating, and Zandik found himself watching Pantalone, the way his friend seemed to settle into the natural space with an ease that Zandik had never quite managed. Where Zandik always felt slightly at odds with his surroundings, fighting against the world's insistence that he fit into predetermined categories, Pantalone seemed to flow around obstacles, adapting his shape to whatever container he found himself in.
It was a useful skill, Zandik supposed. But it wasn't his skill and hardly he'd ever learn it.

"Do you ever wonder what we'd be if we'd never met?" Pantalone asked, his gaze directed upward at the filtered sunlight coming through the canopy. "I've been thinking about it, actually. You were always going to be brilliant and dangerous and fundamentally at odds with authority. But would you have... survived here?"
"Survived?" Zandik repeated.
"The Akademiya doesn't like people who question it" Pantalone said thoughtfully while removing a few crumbs from his lap. "Without someone running interference, someone who understood how to navigate the institution while maintaining a relationship with you—I think they would have expelled you by now. Or worse. Made you one of those cautionary tales they use to scare younger students."
Zandik hadn't considered this particularly, though now that Pantalone mentioned it, it seemed obvious. His dangerous research, his flagrant disregard for institutional approval, these things should have earned him far more censure than they had. The fact that he was still permitted to attend lectures, to use the library, to remain a student was largely because...
"You've been protecting me" Zandik said.
"I prefer to think of it as strategic investment in a promising scholar" Pantalone replied, though his expression suggested that, that was just bullshit. "But yes, essentially. I've spent the last few years building enough credibility and favor with the right people that when you inevitably do something they disapprove of, there's at least one voice in the room suggesting leniency. It's not much, but it buys you time."

"Why?"

Pantalone turned his head to look at Zandik now. "Because you should be allowed to study no matter what, forbidden knowledge or not, you are a scholar. And because..." he paused, choosing his words with unusual care "because I can–" and because you're my friend, I care for you.
But he left that part unsaid.
It was the kind of thing Pantalone said rarely, something that seemed to come from underneath the careful strategizing, from the part of him that existed outside the calculations. And because Pantalone wasn't the best with affection, in any way.
"That's surprisingly poetic for someone focused on economics" Zandik muttered.

They fell silent again and Zandik finished his food while considering this. The grass around them smelled like earth and the shadow from the tree created a pocket of coolness that was distinctly pleasant after hours in the heated library. It occurred to him that this was a rare thing, spending time doing nothing in particular, with someone who didn't require him to perform or defend or explain.

"When you inevitably leave the Akademiya" Pantalone said after a while, "and I mean when, not if—because we both know you will—what will you do?" Was it a 'have a hard amd geniune talk with your friend day' or something? That particular conversation, Pantalone didn't want to leave it behind for whatever reason. Did he want to make sure Zandik was okay and would be okay with the inevitable outcome? Who knows.
"I haven't decided yet." Zandik shrugged.
"That's a lie. You've already decided, you just haven't admitted it to yourself." Pantalone sat up slightly, brushing grass from his uniform. "You're going to pursue your research regardless of whether the Akademiya ir whoever approves. You'll probably find patrons, wealthy people curious about forbidden knowledge. You might go underground. Or you might..." he trailed off.

"Or I might what?"

"Consider offers from ambitious people who understand that knowledge is power" Pantalone finished. "People like me, for instance, once I've established myself sufficiently. I'll need you."
Zandik chuckled at this. On the surface, it was another instance of Pantalone thinking several moves ahead, calculating how future capabilities might align with future needs. But underneath that, Zandik recognized the offer for what it really wasb not a job proposition, but an assurance. A promise that even when the Akademiya cast him out, when he became too dangerous to tolerate, he wouldn't be alone and that he always had a place by Pantalone's side.

"I'd want complete autonomy in any research I conduct. 100% or nothing." Zandik said casually, jokingly.
"Ah then I take it back." Pantalone teased back.
"You're taking back the offer because I have standards?" Zandik tsked.
"I'm taking it back because you're impossible" Pantalone corrected. "One hundred percent autonomy isn't a research position, Zandik. That's theft!"

Their conversation went on in such a joking manner that would seem serious to anyone who wasn't them.
Zandik reclined against the trunk, his fingers still absently brushing against the cloth that had wrapped his food earlier. Pantalone sat beside him, shoulders relaxed, suggesting he had nowhere else to be, no other obligations demanding his attention. It was a lie, of course. Pantalone always had obligations. But, co-existing next ti Zandik was what mattered the most right now.

"You're exhausted" Pantalone pointed out, not looking at Zandik directly but rather at something in the middle distance, the gardens beyond their sheltered spot, perhaps.
"I'm fine" Zandik replied automatically.
"Your eyes have that glassy look to them that they get when you haven't properly slept in days. And you keep yawning despite clearly trying not to." Pantalone pointed out once more. He knew how Zandik acted in certain situations of course, this was nothing new.
Zandik wanted to deny, wanted to insist that he was perfectly fine, that rest was a luxury he couldn't afford when so close to a breakthrough. But the food had made him drowsy and the warmth of the afternoon was seductive, and Pantalone's presence beside him had created a bubble of safety that made the constant vigilance exhausting in its own way.
"I can't sleep here, someone might see." Zandik murmured, not even hiding the tiredness in his tone anymore. He had been caught, so why pretend.
"And report to whom exactly?" Pantalone's tone was soft. "You were resting? Scandalous. You'd be expelled immediately!" He shifted slightly, moving his position slightly. "Here. Come here."
Zandik watched him "What are you—"
"Don't make me repeat myself, Zandik." Pantalone's voice held a note of gentle authority that Zandik had learned over years meant he should comply. It was easier that way. "You're going to rest. I'm not asking."
Zandik found himself moving before he'd fully decided to, muscle memory from childhood responding to Pantalone's tone in ways that his conscious mind hadn't authorized. He shifted his position, turning slightly to face his friend, and Pantalone simply reached out and guided Zandik's head downward.
His head rested on Pantalone's lap.
It was shocking, this moment of vulnerability. Zandik's entire body went rigid with the implications of it, with the exposure inherent in assuming such a position. To have his head on someone's lap was to place himself in a position of absolute trust, to make himself helpless in a way that violated every instinct he'd cultivated.
But it was Pantalone. And Pantalone was fine.
He trusted Pantalone.

"Breathe" He said softly, and his hand moved to Zandik's hair, stroking through the light blue strands. "You're thinking too hard. That's the problem. Your mind won't stop runing long enough for your body to rest."
Zandik wanted to protest, wanted to sit up and return to his work, but his friends hand continued its steady movement through his hair, and the sensation was unexpectedly calming. It drew his attention away from the racing thoughts, from the constant cataloging of research problems and from the endless pursuit of answers.
"Why do you do this?" Zandik asked, his voice quieter now.
"Do what? Force you to rest?" Pantalone chuckled.
"Care, in such a... direct way. You have calculations for everything. What calculation justifies this?" Zandik mumbled.
Pantalone's hand didn't pause in its movement. "Maybe some things don't require justification. Maybe I care about you because you matter to me, and your wellbeing is therefore a priority. That's not a calculation, Zandik. That's just... how it works between us."

"That's inefficient."
"Probably"

Zandik found his body relaxing, the tension that lived permanently in his shoulders beginning to ease. The hand in his hair continued its soothing moves. It was the kind of touch that demanded nothing from him except to receive it.
"What if I'm too far gone?" Zandik asked, the question seemed to emerge from somewhere deeper than his conscious thoughts. "What if pursuing knowledge the way I do is incompatible with being... with this?"
"With what? Being cared for? Being human?" Pantalone's voice carried no judgment. "You're not too far gone. You're just someone who needs reminding occasionally that maintaining yourself isn't separate from your ambitions." He sighed.

Above them, the tree's leaves created shifting patterns of shadow and light across Zandik's face. Pantalone watched these patterns move, watched his friend's breathing gradually slow and deepen.
"When we were younger" Pantalone began quietly, continuing the slow stroke through Zandik's hair, "do you remember that time you got sick? Maybe seven or eight years old?"
Zandik made a small noise of acknowledgment. He remembered, the fever dreams and the fever itself, being impossibly hot and impossibly cold simultaneously. He remembered Pantalone sitting with him while his guardian went about their business, remembered his friend's cool hand on his forehead.
"You wouldn't let anyone touch you" Pantalone paused, remembering it himself before continuing. "Except me. Even then, you were difficult about it. But you'd tolerate it if I insisted. I think that's when I understood that what you needed wasn't permission, you needed someone willing to insist on your care even when you resisted it. Especially when you resisted it."
"That's astute." Zandik whispered against the cloth on Pantalone's lap. His eyes were beginning to drift closed. He was fighting the sleep...but Pantalone's voice was low and gentle, his hands never stopping their moving and the safety of the moment was overwhelming.

"The library will still be there in two hours" Pantalone said. "Your research will still be there. Your breakthrough will still be waiting. Your body needs rest."
Zandik opened his eyes again, though they seemed heavy. "If I sleep too long—" he began.
"Then the library will still be there tomorrow" Pantalone interrupted gently. "And the day after that. Zandik, you're brilliant. You're going to change how people understand the world. But you can't do that if you burn yourself out. Let yourself rest."
Zandik's resistance was crumbling now, exhaustion finally winning over the fighting. His breathing had become deep and regular, his body heavy.
"I'm going to stay right here. I'm not going anywhere. When you wake up, I'll still be here. You're safe." Pantalone murmured.
It was the last thing Zandik consciously heard, that promise of safety, while he allowed himself the vulnerability of sleep. His eyes closed fully, his body went completely slack against Pantalone's lap, and his breathing deepened into that of genuine rest.

For a long moment, Pantalone simply sat there watching his friend's face in sleep. Without the constant intensity that held him during his waking hours, he looked younger, all the harsh lines and angles softened by rest. He could see in this relaxed expression traces of the frightened child who had first captured his attention years ago, the one who asked dangerous questions and expected rejection. The one who continuously tried to push him away.
The one who had learned through years of patient friendship that at least one person wouldn't reject him for what he was because Pantalone was farrrr more stubborn than Zandik could ever be.

...
'Beautiful like this' Pantalone thought, the thought not coherent enough but it was aimed at Zandik. The realization caught him slightly off-guard. He'd always known Zandik was striking. There was something inherently compelling about him, despite having no idea how to navigate basic human interaction. But beauty was usually something that required softness, required relaxation. Yet on Zandik, even at rest, there was an edge. Even asleep, he looked like someone perpetually on the verge of solving an impossible puzzle.
Thinking about it, his looks were enough to drive multiple other students, girls and guys alike, to ask him out. Zandik never even hesitated in his rejections, saying that he wasn't interested. No, not interested in the person but not interested in relationships whatsoever. The person who'd confess would run away thinking he waa making it up to make them feel better.
Pantalone remembered accidentally witnessing one such moment. Purely by chance, he was walking down the hall when he saw Zandik and some unknown student standing before oneanother and for some reason Pantalone hid while staying within the earshot.
He wasn't meant to see it nor hear it. He wanted to turn and leave... butwhen he heard the nervous voice he couldn't. Whether he was curious about Zandik's answer or wanted to tease him about it later...well..who cares. It went as such,

"Zandik, I—I wanted to tell you that I think you're really impressive and I was wondering if maybe you'd like to—"
Third year, he could tell by the insignia on the uniform, attractive in the conventional way that seemed to matter to most people. She was flushed, trembling slightly with the effort of the confession.
Zandik, standing before her, seemingly more upset that he was being stopped for such a thing more than anything. A manuscript open in his hands, he barely even looked up.
"I'm not interested" he said flatly.
"Oh, I—I know you said that before, but I thought maybe if gave it some thought!–"
"Not in you, not in anyone, no matter how much thought I give it. I'm not interested in romantic relationships whatsoever, its not a matter of finding the right person. I'm simply not interested in the concept. I'm too busy and..." he trailed off, finding it that he didn't have to explain himself further to the person.
The student's face crumpled slightly. She opened her mouth as if to argue, then seemed to think better of it and hurried away, clearly convinced Zandik was being kind in some roundabout way.

Pantalone remained hidden behind the corner for a moment longer, watching Zandik return his attention to the manuscript without apparent concern for the emotional devastation he'd just casually inflicted.
Then he stepped out.
"That was brutal" he said clearing his throat. "I was just passing by and heard it."
"I was honest" Zandik corrected. "She'd prefer a comforting lie, apparently. I find that counterproductive."
Pantalone sighed. "She was trying to confess her feelings, Zandik. That takes a lot of gut.
Zandik glanced at him. "I told her the truth. I'm incapable of reciprocating romantic interest. It's not a personal failing on her part."
Pantalone felt something twist in his chest, a feeling he was becoming increasingly familiar with.
Would he receive the same answer?
"What if" he began, choosing his words carefully "someone already knew that about you and confessed anyway?"
Zandik considered this, his eyes searching Pantalone's face. "That would be foolish. They'd be attempting to change something about my nature, which isn't possible."
"Right" Pantalone said quietly. "Not possible."
He picked up the manuscript Zandik had been holding, needing something to do with his hands that wasn't reaching for his friend in ways he suddenly couldn't articulate.
So that was that, then. The universe had a sense of irony after all.
...

Well, now that he remembers it, it would be stupid of him to overstep such a boundary. They were friends, just, friends.

Pantalone's hand, which had stilled slightly when Zandik actually surrendered to sleep and when his flashbacks hit, began moving again, but differently now. Where before it had been soothing, now it was simply... touching. His fingers traced the line of Zandik's arm, from shoulder to elbow, feeling the old raised scars underneath the Akademiya uniform. A rather personal subject between him and Zandik he'd rathee not dwell on for too long.
In short, there was nothing soft about Zandik's body, everything about him spoke of intensity, of someone too focused on internal pursuits to spare much thought for physical comfort or care. His hand now moved upward, brushing across Zandik's shoulder then he let his fingers drift across Zandik's cheek, once, twice, with a gentleness that he would have been embarrassed to exhibit had anyone been watching. But no one was watching. In the sheltered space beneath the ancient tree, there was only the two of them and Pantalone allowed himself to simply... feel.
It was strange, this thing between them. They'd grown up together, navigated the treacherous waters of the Akademiya side by side, existed in a space that most people would struggle in. It wasn't quite friendship, though it was certainly that. It wasn't quite partnership, though they functioned as such. It was something older, perhaps, or something newer...something that didn't have a name just yet.
There was an intimacy to this that went beyond the casual touches they'd shared before. This was deliberate. This was Pantalone allowing himself to acknowledge what he usually kept carefully hidden, that he cared about Zandik in ways that transcended mere friendship. But what could he do, confess and ruin their friendship? Lose the one person he truly cared about? He couldn't and wouldn't.
His hand moved back to Zandik's shoulder, settling there with a certainty.
"Pretty" Pantalone murmured, the word escaping almost without his permission. "You're so pretty when you're not trying so hard. I wish I—..."
He sighed, a sound that contained more than simple observation, it held the weight of difficult realizations, of feelings that didn't fit neatly into the structure he'd built for his life. Pantalone was careful about his emotions the way he was careful about money, he allocated them strategically, ensured they served a purpose. But Zandik had a way of disrupting those careful allocations. He shifted slightly, moving his free hand to rest against the tree bark behind him and let his head fall back against the trunk.

The afternoon was warm and Zandik's weight on his lap was comfortable. His hand never left his friend's shoulder, maintaining that physical connection even as exhaustion began to creep over his own consciousness.
He'd been awake since before dawn, navigating the social dynamics that kept him in favor with the Akademiya's administration. He'd been performing the careful balance of ambition and deference, confidence and humility, that kept people like him on the ascending trajectory. It was exhausting work and he'd been running on the energy of caffeine and sheer force of will.
But here he could simply stop.
His eyes grew heavy, the situation creating a pull toward sleep that Pantalone found difficult to resist. His fingers continued their movement across Zandik's shoulder even as his own eyes began to drift closed.

-
Time moved strangely under the tree. The sun shifted its angle and both young men slept, one with his head pillowed on his friend's lap, the other with his head tilted back against the bark.
Zandik woke first, the way he woke from good sleep, consciousness returning in layers rather than all at once. His body felt heavy and restored and for a moment he simply laid still.
Then he looked up and became awfully aware of something,
a leaf.
Yes, a leaf.
It was on Pantalone's head.
It was a small thing, really, just one of the many leaves that drifted down from the tree but this one had specifically fallen on Pantalone's head. It would have been easy to leave it there. Easy to simply get up, stretch, return to the library and the waiting research.
But Zandik had never been good at taking the easy path.
He shifted, trying not to wake his friend, and reached upward. His hand moved and he carefully pinched the leaf between his fingers. But the movement jostled Pantalone and as Zandik withdrew his hand, his friend's eyes began to open.
The space between them had collapsed.
When Pantalone's eyes opened fully, they were very close, close enough that Zandik could see the exact shade of his eyes, could count the individual eyelashes. Zandik's hand, still holding the leaf, was frozen between them. His arm was still extended, and his face was only inches from Pantalone's.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Pantalone's expression shifted from the relaxed softness of sleep into something more like...surprise.

"There was a leaf" Zandik said, which was perhaps the least important observation he could have made given the proximity of their faces, but it was also the truest. His voice came out quieter than usual.
"I see" Pantalone replied. His eyes tracked the movement as Zandik's hand came down, the leaf still pinched between his fingers.
Zandik could feel his own heart rate accelerating, could feel the sudden awareness of every point where his body was connected to Pantalone's.
Pantalone's gaze didn't move away from Zandik's face. "Thank you."
It was such a simple response.
Zandik found himself unable to look away. This close, he could see the moment Pantalone became fully awareb not just of his surroundings, but of their proximity.
Zandik's breath caught slightly and he realized that Pantalone's hand, which had been resting on his shoulder during sleep, had tightened fractionally.

"I thought you were—" Pantalone began, his voice full of assumption, his cheeks reddening slightly.

And then Zandik panicked.
It was sudden, the kind of panic that seized him when confronted with emotional situations he had no way of understanding. His body went rigid, his mind scrambled, and words began tumbling out in a desperate rush that bore no resemblance to anything approaching coherence.
"I! Wasn't!" His voice cracked slightly and he pushed himself backward with enough force that his head nearly struck the tree trunk. "Just a leaf! I mean, not that you're ugly or anything—"
Pantalone's expression shifted from red to something like confusion, though he didn't move away. He simply watched as Zandik spiraled, his eyes tracking every frantic gesture.
"—You know I think you're very pretty—" Zandik continued, "No I mean you're not! Ugh!" He made a sound of frustration that was entirely inarticulate and pressed the heel of his palm against his forehead. "I wouldn't! I swear, you're my friend!"
The word 'friend' hung between them with a weight that suggested it didn't quite contain everything Zandik was feeling, but it was what his panicked brain had grasped onto. A category. A definition. Something safe and comprehensible.
Pantalone was simply sitting there, watching his friend's complete and utter unraveling with an expression that was somehow both patient and deeply amused.
"Zandik" Pantalone said, and his tone suggested he was trying very hard not to laugh. "Breathe."
"I am breathing! I'm breathing fine! I'm extremely fine!" Zandik's voice had reached a pitch that could probably be heard across the courtyard if anyone was listening, which, thankfully, they weren't. "That was about a leaf. A physical object. That fell on your head. From a tree. Which is what leaves do. Fall. From trees. Because of gravity."
"Yes, leaves do tend to fall from trees" Pantalone agreed and now he definitely was laughing, though he was trying to suppress it. His shoulders shook slightly with the effort of maintaining composure.
"I wasn't trying to—I mean, I didn't—" Zandik's hands had begun moving in wild gestures, as if he could physically push away the misunderstanding if he moved them fast enough. But there was no actual misunderstanding, he just thought there was one. His hair, which had been somewhat disheveled from sleep, stuck up at odd angles now from where he'd run his fingers through it in agitation. "You're my friend, Pantalone. My friend. The most important person to me, yes, but that's what friends are, right? Important. That's a normal thing to feel about a friend."
Pantalone was definitely laughing now. His hand had come up to cover his mouth and the shaking of his shoulders was no longer subtle.
"Are you—are you laughing at me?" Zandik asked, his voice reaching a new pitch as panic began to shift into defensiveness. "This is not amusing, Pantalone. I'm trying to clarify an important misunderstanding."
"I can see that!" Pantalone managed, lowering his hand from his mouth. "You're doing an excellent job. Very clarifying. I now fully understand that you were removing a leaf from my head and that our extreme proximity had absolutely nothing to do with any alternative intentions."
"It didn't!" Zandik started up once more and then immediately seemed to realize what he'd said, because his face flushed an impressive shade of crimson. "I mean—it's not that I—I mean, you're attractive, obviously, anyone could see that, I'm not denying that you're aesthetically pleasant to look at, but that doesn't mean—"
"That doesn't mean?" Pantalone prompted, there was something in his tone that suggested he was genuinely curious about where this sentence was going.
"That doesn't mean that I was attempting to kiss you!" Zandik finished, the words emerging in a rush. "I was removing a leaf! A single leaf! That was the entire interaction. Leaf removal. That's all this was. I'm very sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I assure you, I was not trying to kiss you."

There was a pause. A long pause.

"You're very insistent about this" Pantalone observed and the amusement had taken on a teasing edge. "Most people who aren't considering kissing someone don't usually need to clarify it seventeen times in rapid succession."
"I'm clarifying it because you clearly misunderstood the situation!" Zandik's logic was spiraling and he knew it, but he couldn't seem to stop. "Just because someone's face is close to someone else's face doesn't mean there's romantic intent behind it. Faces can be close for many reasons. Proximity. Accidental proximity. I was reaching upward to remove an object from your head, and you woke up, and our faces happened to be in the same general vicinity, but that doesn't mean—"
"That doesn't mean you want to kiss me" Pantalone finished for him. "Yes, you've established that. Multiple times. With increasing desperation."
Zandik opened his mouth to protest further, then closed it. Then opened it again. His face was still flushed, he was running his fingers through his already-disarranged hair in a gesture that suggested he had no idea what to do with his hands.
"I don't know what you want me to say" he said finally, and for the first time, the panic in his voice had shifted into something more vulnerable. "I panicked. I'm not good at... this. Whatever this is. Social situations. Intimate situations. Situations where someone is looking at me the way you were looking at me."
Pantalone's expression softened slightly.
"How was I looking at you?" He asked, now his voice was softer, curious. He was certain the students who confessed to Zandik often looked at him with loving, soft eyes and he never turned flustered before them, yet now...
"Like you wanted to—" Zandik started, then faltered. "Like you were considering—...I don't know, Pantalone. Like you wanted something I don't have a way for understanding!"
Pantalone chuckled as he watched him
"And that frightened you? The way I was looking at you that is."
It was a question Zandik found he couldn't lie about. "Yes."
Pantalone nodded in reply. "Does it disgust you? The thought of kissing me."
"No! I mean, yes? Maybe?...I don't know. I wouldn't k-kiss you because you're my friend! And kissing is only done between lovers." Zandik explained. "Kissing on the mouth, that is."
"So kissing is a lover's privilege. But on the cheeks and head its fine?" Pantalone asked to confirm.
"Yes" Zandik said, relief flooding his expression at being understood. "Exactly. You're my friend, and kissing is only done between lovers, and I'm not—" he gestured vaguely at himself, "—capable of being someone's lover."

That part stunned Pantalone for a moment, 'not capable of being'? He wanted to ask more, to get to the bottom of just what he meant but suddenly the silence became too much for Zandik to bear. The realization of what had almost happened, what Pantalone had been suggesting, what he himself had been contemplating in that moment before panic seized him, it all came crashing back with renewed urgency.
"I'm leaving!" Zandik announced abruptly, as if the declaration itself could undo the previous moments. He scrambled to his feet with considerably less grace than he typically exhibited, his body moving in the jerky, uncoordinated way of someone operating purely on instinct rather than thought. The books he'd brought to their little sanctuary, the ones he'd been pretending not to think about for the past hour were scattered on the grass beside where they'd been sitting and he lunged for them with the desperation of a man grabbing at lifelines.

"Zandik—" Pantalone began while making no move to stand up himself.
"I need to—there's research—I have work!" Zandik said, his words tumbling over each other in haste. He stuffed the books somewhat haphazardly into the satchel he'd brought, abandoning any pretense of organization. One corner of a particularly thick manuscript stuck out at an awkward angle, but he didn't bother adjusting it. "The library will be closing soon, and I haven't finished my notes on the theoretical frameworks, and there are cross-references I need to verify, and—"

"Zandik" Pantalone said again, clearly finding entertainment in watching his friend's complete and utter dissolution into panic.
"I'm going!" Zandik declared, as if saying it twice made it more true, more final to closing the door on whatever had just been opened between them. He hoisted the satchel onto his shoulder without properly securing it, which was a decision he would immediately regret.
He turned to leave, his movements still carrying that franticness, and took three rapid steps away from the shelter of the tree before his foot caught on an exposed root that snaked across the grass. It was a small obstruction, really, barely noticeable to most people but Zandik was operating in a state of pure adrenaline and panic, his coordination entirely put to the urgency of escape.

His body went down hard.
Thud.
The fall was embarrassing.
He stumbled forward, his arms windmilling in an attempt to catch his balance that came too late...he landed on his hands and knees in the grass with a sound that was somewhere between a gasp and a grunt. His books scattered across the ground, pages fluttering open to random locations, and for a moment, Zandik simply remained there on all fours, staring at the grass directly in front of his face as if it had personally betrayed him.

From Pantalone's position beneath the tree, his laughter rang out, genuine and filled with the kind of delight that only someone watching their friend completely and utterly humiliate themselves could experience.
"Are you okay?" He called out, his voice bright with barely suppressed mirth. The words themselves were solicitous, concerned even, but the accompanying chuckle completely undermined any pretense of actual worry.
Zandik remained on the ground for a moment longer, clearly contemplating the possibility of simply remaining there indefinitely, perhaps becoming one with the grass, perhaps achieving transcendence through sheer mortification.
"Are you okay?" Pantalone repeated, not bothering to get up from his comfortable position against the tree trunk. He was still watching with that expression that suggested he was thoroughly enjoying this entire sequence of events– Zandik's panic, his hasty departure, and now this spectacular fall.
Zandik noded, the motion jerky and aggressive, as if he could transfer some of his embarrassment into the movement. He pushed himself upward, brushing grass and dirt from his uniform with sharp, angry motions that suggested he was taking his humiliation out on his own clothing. His hands were slightly scraped from the impact, small red marks appearing on his palms, but he didn't seem to notice or care.
He got to his feet, swaying slightly as if the world had shifted. Around him, his books lay scattered like casualties of some academic disaster. One had landed open, pages down, bent at an angle that would give any librarian heart palpitations. His satchel hung askew across his body, the corner of the manuscript sticking out at even more of an aggressive angle than before.
"I'm fine" Zandik called back, his voice tight in a way that suggested he was anything BUT fine. "Everything is fine."
Pantalone chuckled as he watched.
"You fell rather spectacularly."
"I'm aware" Zandik bit out, begging to collect his scattered books. He wasn't looking at Pantalone, hr was deliberately keeping his gaze focused on the ground, on his books, on literally anything except the figure still lounging beneath the tree. "The grass was uneven. My attention was divided. A simple loss of balance, nothing more."
"Mmhmm" Pantalone agreed, in a tone that suggested he believed absolutely none of that. "And you're rushing off to the library because you suddenly remembered your research?"
"Yes!" Zandik said, too quickly. "That's exactly why. It has nothing to do with our conversation. It's entirely about the research. Which is urgent. And requires my immediate attention!" The thing was, whenever something happened Zandik would often say he was busy or had something to do, or start throwing out big and fancy words. All to avoid an awkward situation. Not to mention he'd stutter a lot more, which wasn't bad but it made it all the more obvious.
He stuffed the final book back into his satchel, not bothering to arrange them properly, and began walking away again, this time with considerably more caution regarding his footing. He was moving faster than before, taking longer strides.

"Zandik" Pantalone called after him, but the other was too far away to hear. "You can't study and preoccupy your way out of feelings, Zandik. Trust me, I've tried." He muttered to himself that last part. Then he glanced back down at his lap, resting his hand there as if Zandik's head was still on it.
"For what it's worth" he murmured to himself once more "I was considering kissing you. But I'm also not going to push you into something you're not ready for. Even if you're apparently so panicked about the suggestion that you've decided to verbally convince both of us that you weren't enjoying being close to me." He spoke as if Zandik could hear him.