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Jamil Viper was walking through the hallways of the opulent Asim mansion. The towering marble columns, adorned with meticulous gold details, surrounded him imposingly. Hand-embroidered carpets stretched beneath his feet, guiding his path with a familiar softness. In his hands, he held a silver tray with a steady grip, carrying a cup of herbal tea and a steaming teapot. Upon reaching his destination, he knocked on the door with his knuckles; at the second knock, a muffled voice answered from within.
"Come in."
He stepped inside and immediately noticed something strange in the air. The atmosphere felt heavy, completely devoid of the usual vibrant energy that typically accompanied the heir.
"Kalim?" "In here…"
His voice drifted from the bedroom balcony, weak and slurred, so Jamil set the tea tray down on one of the coffee tables and approached quickly. Kalim was sitting on a cushion on the floor, his gaze lost among the stars illuminating the night sky. Jamil noticed right away that there was a glass bottle beside him, reflecting the moonlight. But there was no need to guess what it was; just looking at Kalim, the unusual glaze in his eyes and his flushed cheeks said it all.
"Where did you get that?" "From the kitchen! Do you want some, Jamil?"
The long-haired one took the bottle with a stern expression, only to empty its contents over the balcony into the garden, listening to the liquid splash down into the bushes.
"Why—"
"How much did you drink?" Jamil interrupted. He stepped closer to Kalim, taking him by the face firmly but without roughness, forcing him to look at him; the scent of alcohol was strong, intoxicating.
Kalim, with a goofy smile and heavy eyelids, held up a single finger.
"Just one glass? Fine."
"Actually, it was a whole bottle… This was the second one."
"Kalim!"
"I know it's wrong," he admitted, standing up as best he could, swaying comically as he lost his balance. Jamil grabbed him by the arm with quick reflexes to pull him inside. Due to the momentum and the weakness in his legs, the young master fell heavily onto the bed. "But… I think I needed it."
"Needed what?"
"Not to think," he replied with a melancholy smile, an expression so foreign to his face that it caused a knot in his companion's stomach.
Jamil let out a heavy sigh, sat on the chair across from him, and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to contain the frustration and growing worry invading him.
"The wedding is in three days."
"Don't even remind me," Kalim answered, averting his gaze toward the sheets, losing all the false joy of his intoxication in an instant.
The long-haired youth stared at him, analyzing every feature of the other's face, the tension in his shoulders, the helplessness in his posture.
"It's because of that, isn't it?"
Kalim didn't answer with words. He turned his back to him and pulled his knees to his chest, shrinking into the vastness of the bed.
"I… it's already too late. I can't say no. And once I accept it, there will be no turning back."
Jamil straightened up in his chair, crossing his arms. His gray eyes sharpened, fixed on Kalim's hunched back. It didn't add up. Kalim had always accepted his destiny with a goofy smile, as if the world were a fairy tale. Seeing him break the rules like this, secretly getting drunk, betrayed a much deeper panic.
"You've always known this day would come, Kalim. You've been prepared for this since we were children," Jamil said. "Why does it scare you so much now?"
Kalim buried his head deeper between his knees, curling up further. "You don't understand… It's not that simple."
"Then make me understand," the long-haired youth pressed, confronting the heir. "You didn't get like this even when you were kidnapped or poisoned. And that happened several times. What is it about this wedding that makes you want to drink until you don't even remember who you are? Is it because of her?"
"She isn't the problem…"
Jamil frowned, genuinely baffled. His analytical mind searched for an answer it couldn't find. "Then what? If your fiancée isn't the problem, what terrifies you so much?"
Kalim lowered his gaze sorrowfully. He couldn't say it out loud. And least of all to Jamil.
"I just... I don't want things to change," Kalim whispered, half-lying and quickly shifting his gaze toward the window, fearing Jamil might read the truth in his eyes. "I don't want time to pass. If I could freeze the world right now... at this very instant... I would."
Jamil let out an exasperated sigh, interpreting the words through his own cold logic. "Kalim, life isn't a fairy tale."
He didn't answer. Jamil cleared his throat uncomfortably.
"Perhaps… it won't be as terrible as you think. Some couples fall in love after getting to know each other better…" Jamil added, trying to use a softer tone to calm him down.
"It's not because of that…"
"Then why?"
Silence fell once more. A deathly silence settled over the room, broken only by the gentle swaying of the curtains in the breeze. Kalim's shoulders rose and fell as he visibly trembled. Weak sobs escaped his lips, and something in Jamil's chest softened completely. His relationship with Kalim was… complex, to say the least. Sometimes he felt like strangling him for his naivety. Sometimes it pitied him to see him so innocent against such a cruel world.
And this was one of those occasions where resentment ceased to exist for a little while.
"Kalim…"
The boy turned his head upon hearing his name. His ruby eyes, clouded with tears, wept inconsolably, reflecting absolute vulnerability. He was visibly surprised to see Jamil with his arms open wide, breaking his usual distance, inviting Kalim into them.
He didn't hesitate for a single second.
He lunged into Jamil's arms, crashing over him onto the bed without a care for propriety or titles. He buried his face in his chest, soaking the expensive fabric of his clothes with his desperate tears. He inhaled deeply the scent of the first friend he had ever made in his life, that unmistakable fragrance of incense, spices, and herbs. That scent of home. A scent he knew all too well that, after the wedding, he would never be able to feel this way again. He sobbed for a long time, releasing all his pent-up anguish, while Jamil silently stroked his hair with long, measured fingers, offering him the only real sanctuary he possessed.
"It's okay…" Jamil whispered against his hair.
"No, it's not."
"I know," Jamil acknowledged, tangling his fingers a little deeper into the other's light strands. "But it is what it is."
"W-Will you stay with me?" Kalim asked in a thread of a voice, his judgment clouded by tears and alcohol, searching for a desperate promise in the other's eyes.
"Always," Jamil replied quietly, a word that could sound like a romantic promise and a life sentence all at once.
As they slowly parted, the gray-eyed one gently wiped the ruby-colored eyes. A lonely tear was caught on his thumb.
"Jamil…"
Kalim approached first with fear, as if he wanted to touch fire. He moved forward inch by inch, closing the distance with a shyness that didn't belong to him, until he briefly pressed his lips against Jamil's—a warm, desperate graze that left the other completely stunned. After the fleeting contact, he wrapped his arms around him again, clinging to his neck desperately. Jamil, while his heart pounding hard, realized after a few minutes that Kalim's body had relaxed completely; he had fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion.
With utmost care, he adjusted him and laid him down on the bed, covering him with the heavy silk blankets to protect him from the night chill. He tiptoed across the room and blew out the candles, plunging the place into a protective darkness.
When he closed the door upon leaving, the click of the lock echoed. Jamil paused and touched his own lips with his fingertips in the absolute solitude of the hallway.
They tasted like liquor.