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"Well," Jamil said, almost idly, casualness forced with ease into his tone, "I suppose this is it."
Jamil had been half-tempted to let himself be drawn into drowsiness by the soothing rhythm of Leona's fingers stroking through his hair, splayed between them loose and soft. Jamil now felt those fingers still. Leona was quiet long enough that Jamil wondered if he would say anything at all. "What's that s'posed to mean?"
Jamil hummed, and then, keeping his tone carefully light, "This isn't going to last much longer, is it?"
There was a shift behind Jamil, the mattress dipping with it, not enough to disturb Jamil, but enough that Jamil could feel the difference. Leona's fingers had left Jamil's hair and curled now around Jamil's shoulder with the lightest of pressures, a clear call for Jamil to turn. Jamil did not turn. "Jamil. Jamil. Viper, for fuck's sake."
Jamil did not try to resist when Leona pressed down on his shoulder, turning Jamil onto his back. Leona sighed above him irritably when Jamil still refused to make the last turn to face him. Leona propped himself up on one elbow instead, gathering Jamil's hair with a careful hand and pooling it over Jamil's shoulder so that he did not catch and pull at the strands. Jamil stubbornly stared past Leona at the ceiling when Leona loomed over him. He only caught the faintest echoes of Leona's frown, the furrow of his brow. He did not want to look at him. "Yes?"
"Look at me, damn it." Leona forced himself into Jamil's field of vision, half-sitting up, twisting in a way that can't have been comfortable, to cage Jamil in with a hand on each side of his head. Jamil looked. Leona was close enough to touch, to kiss. The curtains were drawn, which meant that light passed into the room like an afterthought, soft and hardly illuminating, but that which did pass through alighted on Leona's face with a careful hand, brushing him half-golden. It was unfair. Shadows gathered at the bow of his lip. Jamil wanted to reach out and turn his head, turn it further towards the light, so that he might see him better. Jamil wanted to close his eyes. He held Leona's gaze. "What brought this on?"
Jamil said, shrugging best as he could against the sheets. "You're leaving."
Leona stared at Jamil. Jamil broke eye contact. It was laughable. Eye contact was exactly where he held the most power, and yet, here he was, weak to it. "So, what, you're breakin' up with me?" Leona asked, finding the gall to sound surprised, somehow.
Jamil stared. Leona stared back down at him. Jamil felt his mouth open. He did not know what to say. Only minutely disastrously compared to the rest of the conversation, he ended up with, "We're not together."
Leona blinked. Jamil stiffened. He looked away, looked to the side. The cold stone of Leona's wall greeted him. He hadn't meant to say that, or at least not quite so plainly. The silence that followed felt like a hand around Jamil's throat. Jamil swallowed through it. A long moment passed, long enough that, in any other situation— any situation that was not Jamil in Leona's bed, Leona braced over him— Jamil might have left. Leona shifted again, the mattress dipping again with his weight, and a finger lightly tapped against Jamil's chin, nudging until Jamil gave in and looked at Leona again. One of Leona's furrowed eyebrows had unfurrowed only to raise incredulously.
Jamil sighed. "We were never meant to stay together," he amended, although that did not smooth out Leona's expression any. They stared at each other for another long, tense moment. Jamil broke first. "You know this. You've always known this."
"Have I," Leona asked flatly. "First I'm hearin' of it."
"Stop playing dumb," Jamil snapped, irritation drawing red-hot lines down his back. Jamil moved to sit up, and Leona moved back to accommodate for the change, but did not let himself leave Jamil's line of sight, moving to settle right in front of Jamil. Jamil crossed his arms as though that would offer any sort of barrier. He was tempted to draw his knees to his chest, but that felt too vulnerable a pose to lull himself into. "You know we wouldn't work long-term."
Leona studied Jamil in that way of his, unsettling, as though Jamil were simply a book to be pried open and read, as though Jamil had held his soul up for inspection with both hands. Leona leaned back on his palms, head tilting. His expression was now carefully blank. "You do realise I exist outside of this place, right? Or is object permanence not a thing for ya?""
"Piss off, Leona," Jamil said, but it lacked any real venom. "You know what I mean."
"No," said Leona. "No, Jamil, I really, really fuckin' don't."
Jamil stifled another sigh. He made a half-aborted gesture with his hand, letting his arm drop. Leona watched the movement with eyes too intent. "Never mind. Forget it."
"Jamil."
Jamil was already inching forwards, erasing the careful distance Leona had put between them, hands sliding over Leona's shoulders like habit, knees bracketing Leona's hips. "Forget I said anything," he said, brushing a feather-light kiss over Leona's cheek like an apology, and then lower to the corner of Leona's lips. Leona did not resist, hand resting easily on Jamil's waist, but he did not turn his face to meet Jamil.
Leona squeezed Jamil's waist and, again, said, "Jamil."
Jamil took in a calming breath, fighting himself to not grit his teeth. "Yes?"
"I'm not going to just ignore that—"
"What the fuck do you want?" Jamil snapped, drawing back. Leona did not look even remotely surprised by the outburst, which only riled Jamil up further. "I give you realism, you say no. I say, alright, denial it is, then, and you say no to that, too. What do you even—"
"Realism to you is us breaking up?" Leona interrupted, eyes narrowed.
"I think you're forgetting who we are," Jamil grit out. He tried to back away, but Leona's hand held him firm. Jamil huffed. "You're a prince, Leona. And I'm—" Jamil broke off, biting into his cheek, hard. There was something bitter rising up his throat, something familiar that he knew to swallow back. If he bit his cheek hard enough, the iron of it might mask it.
"Jamil," Leona said, and his palm was warm where it rested against Jamil's waist. Carefully, with intent, he met Jamil's eyes. "You're not gettin' rid of me that easily."
Jamil pressed his lips together. Slowly, inch by inch, the tension from his shoulders bled away, and Jamil sighed. It wasn't his fault that Leona insisted on living in fantasy. His face bloomed with heat. Leona did not break eye contact. "We're not possible," he said, but even he could hear the fatigue in his voice, the subtle plea in it.
Leona raised his eyebrows. "We'll see about that."