Archive of Our Own

Jamil is running on his last nerve here.

The events of winter break have left behind a trail of debris left for Jamil to clean up. Broken trust, broken reputation, walking on more eggshells around Kalim. To this day, with the incident already three months behind, the student body of Scarabia are still divided on how they're going to treat the traitorous vice. While a sense of normalcy has been reestablished and some have been talking to him like usual again, some are hell bent on avoiding him entirely. 

It's not like Jamil can really complain, since they're all consequences of his actions. All he can do is pick up the pieces one at a time, and brace himself for whatever collateral damage that follows. Be it the general awkwardness around Kalim and his clumsy assistance whenever Jamil's running a task, or how most of his dorm peers jump whenever they accidentally exchange eye contact with him.

But there is nothing, absolutely nothing, that can prepare him for this. 

“Azul’s…kind of hot, don't you think?”

“You only noticed until now? Words have been going around ever since he came by during that time.”

“Remember when he cooked breakfast for us? He looked good without the ridiculous vest, not gonna lie.”

“Yeah. I didn't know he had all that underneath the jacket.” 

The poor page of Jamil's alchemy book crumples in his grip, and his entire body stiffens in an effort to not turn around to glare at the whispering students. As skittish as they are around Jamil whenever the topic of the last winter break arises, they seem to have no qualms discussing it now when they think he's out of earshot. 

Not to mention the audacity to talk about his boyfriend. 

“Jamil? Hello?” 

Speak of the devil. When Jamil peers up from the textbook that he's inadvertently torturing, he discovers a pair of icy blue eyes staring at him.

“Seems like someone's taking quite a while to examine the guides.” His remark weaves honeyed teasing between the tones, a song Jamil is too familiar with. 

“Or are you not confident that we can breeze through this assignment as usual?” 

“Keep dreaming about it, Azul. Someone has to keep track of the progress as they're mentioned in the text.” His face remains plainly neutral, ignoring the pinprick stares coming from two tables away on his back. 

“Ever so meticulous, Jamil. Octavinelle sure needs a diligent hand like you.” 

Azul ends the sentence with a sarcastic smile, but the way his tone lilts at the compliment, or how he bats his eyelashes, is not lost on Jamil. It's flirting disguised as their usual banter, if Jamil could ever differentiate the two.

All he does in reaction to Azul’s poor attempt at provocation, however, is to sigh and tell the other boy to focus on his work.

Somewhere during the SDC, Jamil finally gathers up the courage to ask Azul out. He doesn't know what possessed him to take action, Vil's pep talks reverberating in his head, or his own bottled up desire for a very annoying octopus that was blown aflame by adrenaline and self recognition. 

One thing he is sure though, is that he doesn't regret a single thing, when deep pink effloresce across Azul's face, and Jamil gets to witness the grandeur, professional ego of Azul Ashengrotto crumble in the seconds he shyly takes Jamil's hand and stutters out an “I like you too”. 

Still, they decided to keep their relationship down low. Jamil has enough eyes on him already, after that incident, so he expressed the idea to keep it a secret before things died down a bit. Azul had agreed, and it made sense since he had to run the Mostro Lounge and Jamil's not really out of retainer duty any time soon. It's a flawless mutual benefit. 

A benefit that Jamil now wants to throw straight in the trash, as Azul turns back to their joint Alchemy assignment, oblivious to the comments, and the looks, that their classmates are giving him. 

He can't blame them for noticing Azul more after what had happened, after all. Jamil might not admit it back then, but Azul and the Leech brothers had been a big help around the dorm during that time. Amidst the chaos of a fickle leader, with how Kalim had been acting (under his control), and how Jamil himself had been planting seeds of doubt, there's no lie that the Octavinelle trio must have felt like a refreshing breeze for the tense Scarabia students.

But, Azul is his boyfriend now. And he does not want anyone else to talk about his boyfriend’s body, or how pretty his eyes are, or how they're going to try and flirt with his very much taken man. It's taking every fiber in his body to not loop an arm around Azul's waist (yes, all that, underneath his labcoat), pull the housewarden flush against him and kiss him square on the lips. 

He transfers that pent up burn to stirring the cauldron, and despite better judgments, fails to ignore what those boys had to say next. 

“Next time, I’ll try and ask him to pair up in Alchemy. You think he’d pick someone else over our vice housewarden?” 

Not a fucking chance, when I’m still standing here. 

Jamil really, really regrets everything now.

♡

“Do you think I’d have a shot with your housewarden?” 

“With your test scores? Please. He's totally the type to prefer smart guys that can catch up with him.” 

“As if you one-in-a-thousand nerds think you can score when you can't even score higher than him.” 

“H-Hey! I’ve known him better than you do, anyways.”

Jamil grits his teeth. First Scarabia guys, now Octavinelle. The comments haunt him everywhere. More accurately, they follow Azul, and Jamil would rather catch a beetle with bare hands than let any of those slimebags cozy up to Azul when he's not around, so he accompanies Azul whenever he can. 

Azul is happy for the quality time together, which is one good thing to take away from this, but there's a nagging thought in the back of Jamil's mind that he won't be happy for long when he gets wind of the whispers. 

Thank the Sevens that right now, he’s too occupied on learning how to hover on his broom to hear anything else.

“Jamil, Jamil, I’m going to fall-!” 

“You’re not going to fall.” Jamil stays calm to Azul's helpless yelps, one hand taking in his octopus-strength death grip and the other over his midriff, steadying him straight on the broom. Azul mutters a weak, wounded thank you.

It's hard to believe that Jamil dreaded PE and these flying lessons only two months ago, because he's looking forward to every minute spent with Azul now. Sure, the first few periods were annoying, since it was a responsibility unceremoniously dropped on him by Coach Vargas, and Jamil had barely been able to stand Azul's face back then. Not to mention how neither of them had reached any sort of post-overblot self realization, grouping an insecure Azul and a hesitant Jamil together for the task.

But as time went on, Azul's stubbornness became perseverance in Jamil's eyes. Instead of nagging Coach Vargas to spare him from flying lessons due to his conditions as a merman, he is determined to take up the challenge by storm, no matter what anyone has to say about fishes flying. So now, it's endearment that Jamil holds instead of exhaustion whenever he looks at Azul, despite his progress still stagnating right where they started. 

And he’d take Azul holding on to him over anything any day, but he’d never admit that out loud, of course. 

“A confident posture ensures better control and movement over your broom, so you have to sit upright, Azul.” His voice softens when he notices Azul's pout, clearly not trusting Jamil’s process. “Your broom connects with your magic. If your magic wavers due to emotional instability, your grasp over the broom wavers too.” 

“You’re very much aware that I understand the basics, Jamil!” His irritated humph shrinks into a trembling whine. “I’m just…still not quite familiar with the sensation of flying yet…”

Jamil sighs. “Well, you wouldn't get a chance to if you can't really fly any higher.” 

While Azul grapples the handle trying to prop himself up, Jamil catches what the group of second years huddled nearby are hushing around instead of flying:

“Lucky Viper. Why does he get to touch Azul that way?”

“Vargas assigned him to be Azul's tutor. Bet he doesn't actually bat an eye on Azul anyways.”

“Imagine teaching Azul how to fly, though…Would he have to hold on to you if you're riding a broom with him?” 

“Sevens, wouldn't I kill for that…”

Deep breaths, Jamil. You have a reputation to maintain. But before his stretching patience snaps, his mind pops up an idea.

“Say, Azul.” He turns to his struggling boyfriend, voice one tone louder. “How about you fly with me?” 

“W-what?” Azul heard it well enough, and so did the group standing away from them. 

“Just think of it as exposure therapy. Perhaps you won't be afraid as much if you’ve been on the air.” 

Jamil summons his own broom. Envy paints itself on Azul’s face when he sees how well the object cooperates with Jamil, and on the faces of those students in the back, when Jamil holds out his hand for Azul. 

“And you don’t have to worry about balancing anything. I’ll make sure of that.”  

Azul wavers, and while he does not let his hesitance ruin his demeanor, it’s hard to miss how his eyes scan the surroundings for any potential audience watching the exchange. The Octavinelle student that was previously discussing dating his own housewarden is now intensely examining his broom, and the two Scarabia guys next to him are looking at the forest like Floyd is going to pop out and do a cartwheel anytime soon. 

Jamil knows their eyes are going to be on them the moment Azul turns away. Well, he’ll be sure to give them a worthwhile show.

“...Alright.” 

Finally satisfied with his own judgment, Azul takes Jamil’s hand. His palm is surprisingly soft, something he vehemently denies, and the blue veins slithering beneath his skin resemble porcelain cracks on his perfectly sculpted hand. Jamil revels even more in the fact that none of those slimebags would ever get a chance to hold Azul's hand bare of his usual black gloves, like him.

“Don’t you dare drop me.” The sea in his eyes glowers a threatening storm. 

“Wouldn't dream of it.” Jamil flashes a fang. “Hurry up, before Vargas spoils the fun.”

Azul tries to keep his distance from Jamil, and whatever’s left of his dignity, when he mounts the broom. They were all swiftly left on the ground when the broom took off to the sky, accelerating at breakneck speed that is certainly not familiar for an unprofessional like Azul. His weak screeching is whipped away by the wind, blowing currents through his hair, and air is almost squeezed out of Jamil's guts when two arms with inhuman strength wraps around his stomach. 

“Jamil, slow down!” Azul’s helpless scream punctures through the gusts of wind battering against them.

“Funny how I recall you saying the opposite last night-”

“JAMIL!” He feels the scowl burning into the side of his neck even without looking. Chuckling to himself, Jamil halts the broom to fly at a more leisure pace. 

Maybe he doesn't need to speed up too much just to get the desired reaction from Azul. Since, despite them going as slow as the clouds rolling above their heads, Azul's face is still buried in the crook of Jamil's neck, eyes definitely shut the entire time. 

For a moment, Jamil forgets his real petty reason for making Azul suffer like this. There's a twinge of guilt that takes root inside him, when he touches his boyfriend’s arms, coiled around his torso, and finds him trembling. 

“Azul, dear.” He coos, voice stripped of his previous teasing and down to the gentlest tone he can get. He's brought them far enough to avoid other students in the air, and it's not like anyone can hear them like this anyway. “It's okay to open your eyes now.”

Azul shakes his head.

“Well, how are you going to get used to the height without seeing it, right?” He gives Azul's arm a gentle squeeze. 

“We-We’re still moving.” He stutters. 

“Of course we have to. This is the minimum speed Vargas required to pass the class.”

“...Can you stop, for a moment?” Azul finally breathes out, after a minute of weighing his choices.

And because Jamil can hardly say no when it comes to Azul, he stops the broom and lets them hover. 

The face that’s burrowed into his shoulder shifts, inch by inch, away from the safe darkness of his hoodie fabric and out to the scenery that surrounds them. Azul's hold on his torso tightens when he peeks down, and Jamil laughs. 

“Try to focus on the front first before anything, hm?” He squeezes Azul's hand. 

“So you're saying just look at you?” Even when facing one of his deathly fears does Azul still keep his humor. 

“If that makes it easier for you, then sure.” He grins, and what he receives in reply is a pout and a huff coming from his dear boyfriend. 

Azul doesn't tear his gaze from the ground just yet. 

“Are you alright with us moving now?” 

Only a silent nod. They pick up a slow pace, basing on how strong Azul's grip gets when he moves.

When the silence stretches on after half a lap, Jamil speaks up.

“Everything alright?”

“There’s people staring.”

The line hits Jamil like a brick to the head. Right. Well, Jamil himself has orchestrated this entire thing to be spectated, obviously. The way Azul had been so impossibly close to him, how he can feel the other's chest rise and fall with every heave pressed into his back, how Azul's face rests on the perch that is Jamil's shoulder so fittingly, like it's made for him, had been a tad bit too good for him to stay sharp. 

“Imagine teaching Azul how to fly, though…Would he have to hold on to you if you're riding a broom with him?” 

“Sevens, wouldn't I kill for that…”

If there's anyone's ability that he wants to trade with right now, it’d be Rook’s. Whilst he wouldn’t succumb to his curiosity and give those peering eyes a glimpse of his attention, he still wants eyesight good enough to discern the jealousy and envy on their tiny faces at this moment. 

“Do you mind them watching us like this?” Azul prods at Jamil's side, and although his chin has left Jamil's shoulder, he doesn't inch away by any bit. 

Perhaps that might change, when they are back on the ground again, and Azul might retract his hand when Jamil offers, and they’d be back to being strictly platonic, reputation still intact. But isn't Azul the one that always starts conversations with Jamil, before and after they're dating? Isn't Azul the one who never tones down his banter any less when they're together, because he has always been so close with Jamil, going back months of persistent chattering and bickering even before they held hands?

“No.” Was Jamil's only reply.

Would Azul be alright with this? He hopes Azul would be alright with this. 

Because, with Azul still holding him close and tight, their hands interlocking, twenty meters away from prying eyes and hissing whispers, Jamil needs no broom or carpet to soar to the clouds. 

♡

“Dude! I want Azul to cling to me like that too. Shame that Jamil is indifferent as hell, man.”

Perhaps Jamil had given too much credit to this school’s overall critical thinking skills. 

“Yeah, Jamil even got to hold his hand and everything! Lucky bastard.” 

“Maybe getting Azul alone isn't that hard, then…What if I just ask him to work on a project and shoot my shot?”

“Sea Snaaake! What’cha looking at?” 

A pair of mismatched colored eyes pop out from over his head. 

“Out of my face, Floyd.” He grunts.

“Sheesh! Someone's grumpy.” There's the voice of Ace above them, followed by the sounds of a ball hitting a hoop and then someone’s face, coupled with a painful groan that's also very Ace-like. 

“Haha! That's not how you dunk, Crabby!” 

While Floyd spares him to go bully Ace around, Jamil retreats to a wall nearby, doing his best to distance himself from the chattering of some poor horndog excuses of his teammates. Their little stunt back in PE did travel around, but instead of clocking some senses into those delusional teenagers, it only helped increase Azul’s popularity, and prompted even more heated plans on getting the boy.

Which is just so fucking amazing, for Jamil.

So far, he has counted eight from Scarabia, six from Octavinelle, five from Savanaclaw, and even three from Ignihyde, for Sevens sake, talking about Azul. And that's just the ones that Jamil has encountered. He rubs his temples in exasperation. He has always prided on self control, but recently, his hand itches to just punch the living light out of anyone uttering Azul's name in the same breath as some inappropriate comment, or some plot to claim his heart. 

Azul in his PE uniform. Azul when he's concentrating on a tough chess game. Azul when he personally stepped in to take charge of the Mostro Lounge kitchen, prompting a string of requests for pictures of Azul in an apron. Azul's eyes, Azul's benevolence, Azul's beauty mark, Azul's figure in his dorm suit, the list goes on and on. It's nothing Jamil hasn't seen before, and nothing Jamil hasn't doted on, either. 

But he swears, if he finds out why they want Azul's pictures in an apron so badly, or if he catches even another pair of eyes on his boyfriend’s ass-

“Uh, Jamil? You look like you're about to crush that ball with your bare hands.”

Floyd and Ace are hovering in front of him now, their faces equal parts curiosity and concern. 

“Nothing.” He chucks the ball straight to Floyd's stomach, prompting a painful oomph on the corresponding end. He might be scowling, judging on how Ace jumps back in fright when he turns to the kid.

“Woah! No way that's nothing.” Ace crouches down next to him. “What happened? Wait, let me guess. Trouble in paradise?” 

Scratch that, now he wants to sack Ace first before anyone else. Ace wasn't one of the people who Jamil meant to let in on his love life, but one could only be so clueless after Floyd’s incessant teasing campaign. Jamil trusts Ace enough to keep his mouth shut, and Azul would kill Floyd himself if he ever so much as implies it to anyone else, but with Floyd and Ace being in on the secret just means double the people to annoy him about this. 

“Huh. Azul isn't whining about anything lovey-dovey, though.” Floyd drawls. “Just tell him if you have issues with him, Sea Snakey.” 

“Azul has nothing to do with this.” Actually, Azul has everything to do with this, but how exactly was he supposed to break the news to him? You’re too hot and perfect so now everyone wants a piece of you and it's going to send me to an asylum? 

It's not Azul’s fault. It's everyone else's fault, for even thinking that his boyfriend is up for grabs. 

“If not Azul, then wha-ohh.” Following Jamil's line of sight, Ace directly lands on the group of players hovering near the middle benches, all joined in on the same topic. The three of them can hear the name of a certain housewarden ring up across the stadium. 

“Now that I think of it, I caught some guys in my dorm talking more about Azul than usual.” Ace remarks. When he catches Jamil’s death glare now averted to him, he shrinks.

“Dude! It's not like I joined in on the conversation!”

“That doesn't make it sound any less incriminating, Crabby.” Floyd points out.

“I’m being real! I’m never getting over the fact he almost got us to do unpaid labor until graduation at his restaurant. And the sea anemone things on my head look stupid!” 

“Thank you for being normal, I guess.” Jamil grumbles, resting his chin over the ball. “As if sprouting a sea anemone would deter those sleazeballs from pining after Azul anyways.” 

“You couldn't just…tell Azul to scam those guys and see them scrambling off?” Ace scratches his head.

“He's no genie, Ace.” 

“Yeah, right.” Floyd lies down next to Jamil, sprawling a mess of his freakishly long limbs over the floor. “Though Azul would love that. If he did, then he’d basically have enough to make his own little army. Man, I’d be able to ditch so many shifts if that happened.”

Unlike Ace, Floyd shows no reaction upon facing the downright terrifying stare of a pissed off Jamil Viper. 

“What do you mean?”

“Sea Snake, you haven’t heard? I’ve come across sooo many small fries blubbing about Azul that it's getting boring. Can't even tease Azul about it.” 

Jamil groans into his knees. Great. Like he needed to hear how the Azul craze had broken containment from Scarabia and had spread to the better part of the school population. 

Of course, for the people who hadn’t done business with Azul Ashengrotto, he seems harmless, as far as the stupidity of these students could go to mask their own judgment. Jamil would go further and say the rumors of Azul granting wishes just adds to his allure: a charming, benevolent, beautiful young man who can give you anything you want. Siren-like, he’d remarked.

Azul would call that good PR. Jamil calls that his worst headache. 

“Why don't you just go public with Azul?” Ace asks. “Based on how you two are already acting, I don't think he minds.”

Now isn't that a thought. Jamil had been the one to suggest keeping their relationship a secret, since he's trying his best to stay away from prying eyes, with his fragile reputation only being rebuilt after the SDC. But does he really mind the PDA with Azul? Their little broom escapades just then show that he doesn't. Even to the smaller gestures, how Azul had always hovered around Jamil with too invasive proximity, Jamil had always been his enabler, never fully pushing him away. 

It's not embarrassment from the PDA that's holding Jamil back. It's the unwanted attention. It doesn't scare Jamil as much as it bothers him, irks him that now he’s suddenly tossed into the spotlight, when he's so used to being in the shadows. People watch his actions; they can guess his moves, his intentions, and suddenly Jamil loses control. 

Azul, on the other hand, basks in attention like it’s meant for him. He's no different from Jamil, with a carefully crafted image he permits the world to see. However, Azul doesn't step away from the spotlight; he embraces it. Takes it as just another fact of life that he can utilize. 

Jamil envies him, from time to time. How, despite all of their shared insecurities and similarities, Azul still manages to be so unafraid of the judgments that come his way. It’s comical to a point how conniving Azul blatantly is, but he doesn’t hide it like it’s a part of him that he has to repress. He’s ready to do whatever it takes, to be worthy of the attention thrusted on him. He shines like he is his own source of light. 

Sometimes, Jamil’s mind poisons himself with thoughts saying he doesn’t deserve to be near such radiant light. 

He’s a hypocritical man, to think he’s not enough for Azul, but still wants Azul for himself either way. When has Jamil Viper thought he deserves anything, when he has never gotten anything he wanted at all? Even now, when Azul is dating him, there’s still people vying for his hands, discarding the fact that Jamil has always been by Azul’s side, at all. Just like how everything he wants to have is ripped away from him, and how everything he wants to feel has to be hidden away to make room for others’ emotions.

But Jamil has never been this adamant, to keep something for himself like this. His glare bore straight into the group of guys in front of him, like hoping his Snake Charmer would work from this distance and he'd have them shut the fuck up about his boyfriend. 

For once, Jamil wanted to be selfish. Jamil wanted Azul to himself, as much as he still thinks he's too much of a coward to say it out loud. 

And by the Sevens, he is about to strangle those damned gossipers for even talking about Azul that way, and absolutely no one is going to stop him-

“Jamil!” A familiar voice, melodic and bright, echoes from the sidelines. 

Jamil pipes up immediately, only to freeze in shock and the instinct to hold himself back from doing something stupid when he's angry. 

There's Azul, who's also smiling back at him, and standing right next to him is some Heartslaybul nobody, who Jamil swears is too close to Azul for comfort. The looks they're giving Azul could be enough for Jamil to overblot all over again.

Jamil has half the court crossed in five strides, meets Azul halfways, and leads him to where his group is at with a hand on the other's shoulder. His eye twitches for a glare at those other guys, but he doesn't want to risk letting Azul catch on to his true intentions. 

“Why are you there with them?” He immediately questions.

“I entered from the other door, and just asked them where you were?” Azul raises an eyebrow at the hasty interrogation. 

“Ah, Floyd. Good to see you here too.” He doesn't seem to render the sudden proximity and physical contact in public with Jamil just yet, since he immediately turns to work mode without a hitch upon seeing Floyd. “Don't even think of ditching your afternoon shift today. You know how busy Friday is.”

“Boo hoo. I don't feel like working today. Jade can cover it just fine.” Floyd starts whining. 

“You can make whatever dessert you like for yourself after we close.” Straight to bribery. Jamil takes a guess that the only reason why it's a tempting offer was because Floyd has pulled a stunt like that against Azul's rules. 

“Nah, that sounds boring. Right, Crabby?” Naturally, it got uninteresting when Azul straight up allowed it to him. He loops an arm around Ace’s neck and starts choking the poor kid. 

“Agh-! Don't drag me into this, Floyd! And let me go!” 

“Why don't ya ask Sea Snakey to help you out? You two are practically joined at the hip at this point.” Floyd yawns, not letting Ace go any time soon. Azul tenses up next to him, and blue eyes glower in an attempt to warn Floyd of his mouth. Only then does he realize how close he and Azul have been standing next to one another, and Jamil removes the arm around Azul before he could shrug it off himself.

But is it really that big of a problem? Is it so big of a problem now to admit to the world that he loves Azul, when he's irritated that others can voice their wants better than him?

Before Jamil can land on a conclusion, Azul has already switched out of his hesitance and opts for that trademarked business attitude:

“Well, Jamil, if Floyd had said it. Octavinelle loves to have someone with your amazing skillset over as an extra hand!”

It's just their ordinary back and forth, a play the entire school has probably seen a thousand times before. Azul, the sly businessman, tries to hook Jamil, the reserved mystery card, into some of his business schemes. Jamil knows it, and Azul knows it too. Perhaps he's only setting up the ruse to play off the closeness between them, fearing it could set off suspicions coming from anyone else watching the exchange. 

Jamil's usual line would be one of denial, of shoving Azul away while the businessman is pleased to have struck a nerve into the quiet student's calmness. Easy to guess, easy to say. He’s “indifferent as hell”, as they have pointed it out. Indifference is the simple way out for half of Jamil’s problems in the world, like hearing an unsavvy rumor, or being forced to clean up Kalim’s messes with boiling impatience, or having an annoying pursuer who is convinced he’s not what he seems and is determined to uncover the truth. 

Well, it certainly didn’t work for the last one. So why should Jamil feign indifference now, to the world? To his world, standing so close next to him with a gaze so inviting and lips so easy to crash into?

“Hmm, I’ll think about it.” Jamil hums, then leans closer to Azul’s ear:

"If you come over tonight.” 

Azul’s self control really is something else, because if Jamil weren’t standing so close to him, he could never detect the slight shiver that runs for a fraction of a second through Azul, nor could he grasp how his words affected the merman thanks to his impeccable poker face. If anything, Azul’s smile is even wider, to the point of uncanniness for anyone else. 

“My, if you have said that yourself. Do we have a deal?” He spreads his hands open, and Ace flinches. Too resembling his signature spell?

“I just said I’ll think about it. Nothing more.” Jamil crosses his arms. 

“Well, what if I offer something that can change your mind-” 

“Ew. Can you guys go, like, canoodle somewhere else? There’s kids here.” Floyd frowns, and forcefully covers Ace’s eyes. 

“Ow-hey! Floyd!”

“Right, right, I’ll be off of your hair. I’d have to steal your teammate for a second or two, is that alright?” Azul tugs on Jamil’s wrist, and without waiting for Floyd or Ace’s delayed response, he drags him out of the gymnasium in the blink of an eye. 

Jamil doesn’t even register turning back to see the reaction of the other guys watching their exchange from afar. 

♡

They dip into the first nook in the wall they see and attach themselves to the other the moment they’re out of sight. 

“H-Haah…” Azul gasps, flawless poker face gone, his lips bruised red and wet from the entourage of kisses coming from Jamil, the afternoon skies from the window painting him in brilliant orange. Jamil probably isn’t any better, burning a hearth beneath his skin, and eyes drunk on the sight of Azul pinned against the wall, glasses askew, messed up and just right for him to hold. 

“Someone’s getting bolder.” Azul says, between held back whimpers, as Jamil sinks into his neck instead. “Standing-mmph…so close to me back there…and I never could’ve t-thought-!”

“Could’ve thought what?” He stops the flurry of kisses.

“Hah…I never could’ve thought that you were the one to suggest we keep it a secret.” Azul’s right hand follows a path from Jamil’s nape to his cheek, and he senses the heat of his palm even through velvety leather. His other hand coils around Jamil’s neck, octopus instincts rising as he closes the hug to bring Jamil impossibly closer.

“Do you not like it?” Jamil asks, now resting his chin on Azul’s heaving chest. 

“I never minded in the first place, dear.” Azul shifts to press a soft kiss on Jamil’s forehead. “But what about you? What prompted the change?”

Because you have secret admirers thirsting after you and I got jealous and possessive. That doesn’t sound like a good answer. Now that Jamil’s mind finally spares some space to mull it over, would Azul think it’s ridiculous that Jamil is this desperate for his sole attention? He would have a fucking field day with it. 

“Anyone would fold too, with you as a boyfriend.” He smiles. 

It’s not wholly a lie, but there’s no way Azul is going to settle with that. When he spots traces of doubt on Azul’s face, Jamil slithers a hand up Azul’s blazer, and gives his waist a squeeze. He swallows the whine tumbling out of Azul’s mouth and changes the topic before Azul could question him any further.

“And why are you here at the gymnasium? I’m sure you didn’t come just to reprimand Floyd.” 

“...Can’t I go see my boyfriend?” He still manages a grin, mischievous as ever, even when being pinned to the wall, flushing like mad. 

“Now who’s the bold one again?”

“Please. It's barely anything compared to what you did.” Azul giggles, playfully pushing at the vice's shoulder. “Now go back in there. I'm sure your teammates have noticed your absence long enough.” 

Believe me, they'll notice yours more. 

But what do those people matter right now? They're not the ones that get to make out with Azul in an empty hallway, see the coming dusk descend through the reflection of Azul's eyes, or wave goodbye to Azul with a promise of him dropping by their dorm tonight. 

Jamil takes a moment to fix himself, re-tying the ponytail that was done half loose by Azul, and shrugging himself off the dopey smile that's hurting his face, a side effect from just being with Azul. Ace raises an eyebrow at his prolonged absence, and Floyd makes some offhanded jokes about a snake eating its prey, but Jamil pays no mind.

What he does pick up is how some of the other guys look crestfallen when Azul doesn't return with him. They hound him with questions as soon as the team regroups. He makes up a lie about Azul trying to rope him in some Mostro Lounge business, paired with a deadpan expression to really sell the story, and he bites back a smirk once they turn away.

You wouldn't even be able to look into my eyes again if you just knew. 

♡

Whenever Azul comes by, it's usually midnight.

The school permits Mostro Lounge to open until 11PM on Friday and Saturday nights, and with the clean up after that Azul prefers to direct himself, it's always close to twelve when he finally gets to Scarabia. 

It still works, he'd say, since the less people who see a housewarden from another house sneaking around during late hours there is, the better. There's a part of Jamil that mourns the time he could've spent more with Azul, but he accepts the setback like it'll add more of its worth later on. 

Like how his roommate promptly moved out after the overblot, leaving Jamil with his own room. He wouldn't have to worry about leaving Jamil alone, though. 

But today, the clock's hand hasn't even got past ten when he overhears two familiar voices outside his door. 

“Hehe! This is so fun! I want to try sneaking out like you too, Azul!” 

“With all due respects, Kalim, Jamil will have a stroke if you actually do.” 

He opens the door to greet two heads of white hair, one giving him a warm smile as a greeting and the other looking like he got caught stealing from a cookie jar. 

“Aah! Jamil!” Kalim yelps, only to be shushed by both Jamil and Azul. “Right, right, sorry! We're supposed to be sneaking.”

“Why are you out with Azul at this hour, Kalim?” Jamil pinches his nosebridge.

“Aw, come on, it's not that late! And I found Azul on my way back from the hall!” 

“He was very helpful with the directions.” Azul smiles, as if he hadn't been to Scarabia a dozen nights before.

“We all know you don't need guides to find your way around here.” Jamil deadpans.

“Then he provided well-meaning company during our walk. Very useful company.” Jamil really doesn't like his tone and what it implies, but he decides to question that later when they're alone. 

Kalim beams to Azul. “Hope I did my part well enough! Azul, say hi to Jade and Floyd for me when you get back! You guys have fun!” 

And without a care in the world, he joyfully skips down to his dorm, which is just right in the next room. Sometimes Jamil is glad that the walls of Scarabia, even with as many windows as they have, are soundproof. 

(He and Azul have figured that out well enough.)

Jamil doesn't get much of a word out to interrogate Azul when the other crashes his lips to him, stumbling into the room. He welcomes the kiss, hands immediately flying to Azul's hips while he leads him inside. 

“Eager today, aren't you?” Jamil grins, already tossing the housewarden's school blazer to the ground. “Why'd you come in so early?”

“Oh, Jade and Floyd can handle the last hour well enough. And the after cleaning isn't anything unfamiliar to them, so I'd reckon I don't have to hover around today.” The smile he gives is a little forced. Of course there's no way Azul would one hundred percent believe that nothing's going to go wrong.

“Even if Floyd could blow up the kitchen? Or Jade could poison Floyd with some weird mushroom he found?”

“...Don't jinx it.” He frowns, and Jamil laughs. He adorns Azul's lips with a kiss, then another at his beauty mark, trailing lower and lower. 

“Well, I'm not complaining.” He rumbles against the heating up skin of Azul's neck, before being dragged back up for another heated kiss. 

Their lips and tongue lap together in a lazy dance, and time passes in a daze for Jamil. Every other action they do is on autopilot; Jamil undoing his hairstyle, Azul taking off his tie and shoes, them crashing onto the bed in a mess of limbs, before scrambling to cuddle to the other again. What else in the world should he care about, when Azul's here?

Jamil counts the seconds and minutes passing not by number, but by each of Azul’s small actions. When he climbs on to his lap, deepening the kiss to the point they could melt into each other like wax. When his hands grab at the soft material of Jamil's jumper, fumbling impatiently to pull it off. He can taste the tremble in his beat when Jamil's warm torso huddles with Azul's naturally chill body, now only separated by the thin layers of Azul's uniform. When his glasses knock against Jamil's nose bridge, and he whines when Jamil stops to fix them. Jamil feels a pout on those puckered lips when he returns again. 

Azul's more vocal than usual, too. Every hip grind against his thigh provokes a needy moan that echoes through the whole room, and they are just making out. Were they not careful, anyone outside could hear them if they walked by. But fear of being discovered is something shoved deep at the back of Jamil's mind right now. All he's thinking of is Azul, Azul, Azul.

And Jamil could only be so patient, with Azul as well. His right hand travels to the front of Azul's lavender vest, impatiently fiddling with the buttons while his tongue licks another hungry lap into his mouth. His other lands right on the swell of his ass, hooking a thumb near the waistband.

“A-ah, Jamil, wait-!”

Azul breaks the kiss, to Jamil's hollow letdown, right after Jamil manages to flay the vest open and starts working on his dress shirt. 

“What is it, dear?” Even so, Jamil doesn't let disappointment show on his face. 

Azul doesn't give him an answer right away. Slowly, too slowly to Jamil's liking, he takes off the black leather gloves and cups Jamil's face. Half-lidded blue moons gaze at him languorously, gliding the light from his kiss-bruised lips, to the deepening tone of his high cheekbones, to straight into the infinite dark of his eyes, even with the knowledge of his signature spell.

Jamil’s heart squeezes painfully for a moment, lost in Azul's cold ocean hue, and he pulls the body above him closer instead of trying to unravel him. 

Azul prints a soft kiss on Jamil's eyelids, then the corner of his mouth. Unhurried and saccharine, while still gazing at Jamil like he's the most captivating thing Azul has ever seen. Then, he descends right besides Jamil's ears, and whispers:

“There's people watching.”

Jamil jolts awake. 

In front of him is Azul, hair tousled, face battered in pink, wearing a Cheshire cat-like smile. And behind Azul, from the small crack of his room's door that Jamil never registered being closed all the way, are two pairs of horrified eyes. 

His next actions are scarily robotic, as if afraid that one stray move and Jamil will snap. He puts Azul down to the mattress while the boy barely stifles his giggles, grabs his magic pen, goes to the door, and when the owners of those eyes scurry away before he could get to them, shuts the door with a thundering SLAM before flicking his pen to cast a lock and a soundproof spell on it. 

When all is said and done, he turns to Azul, that damn smug grin on his face like the cat that ate the canary. 

“You knew.” It didn't come out as mad from Jamil, but more resembling an exasperated realization of another one of Azul's tricks. He had led them back. He meant to not close that door all the way through.  Jamil should be a little bit more annoyed, since Azul somehow still manages to play him even when sitting on his lap. 

“Is that why you said Kalim was ‘useful company’?”

“Hmm, maybe.” Azul keeps up that innocent tone, when Jamil is right by his side again, picking him back up in his arms. “Perhaps Kalim's enthusiastic chatter attracted some attention, and some people have opted to follow us, or more specifically, follow me. Whatever they accidentally witnessed was the cause of their own doing.”

“And,” Jamil continues. “you knew about the admirers.”

“Oh, that.” He giggles, and suddenly all irritation Jamil felt for being turned into one of Azul's play cards vanished into thin air. “I had suspicions, but it missed me, at first. Then I saw how you acted this morning, and it clicked to me why you were so possessive lately.” 

Sevens, was Jamil that blatantly desperate? He wants to bury himself alive now.

“Don't be embarrassed.” As if he could read his mind, Azul drags Jamil down for a kiss. “I find it sweet that you care so much.” 

“And I find it utterly ridiculous.” Jamil groans into Azul's shoulder. “I'm the one who wants to keep it a secret, and yet I jump and act like some overprotective asshole at the slightest mention of your name in someone else's voice. And even then, I still can't bring myself to just hold your hand, when that could've solved everything in a much simpler manner.”

Azul nods. “So singing and dancing in front of the entirety of NRC and RSA, plus on live television, is less nerve-wracking than being seen holding my hand in public.” 

“Azul.”

“I'm kidding.” His playful smile melts into something softer, more gentle. He coaxes Jamil to come out from his hiding place, and Jamil greets the wavering sea in Azul's eyes again, welling with sincerity. 

“Still, I imagine that it must've gotten to you awfully.” He strokes a thumb over Jamil's cheeks, sending kiss after kiss between his brows, easing away the creases they're making. 

“...It's nothing.” Jamil punches out.

“It can't be nothing. If it bothers you, it bothers me, Jamil.” 

Jamil's shoulders slightly tremble. His hand travels to Azul's hair, threading through white tufts and pressing their lips together. When they part, the two oceans before him ripple and swell, awaiting his response.

“... It's a bad habit.” The waves consume him, and Jamil finally blurts out. “There's something that keeps holding me back from admitting what I actually want, like I'm afraid of being perceived, and judged, because of it.”

“I should’ve spoken up earlier about your followers or whatever, but I was afraid admitting our relationship would just draw more attention to me. I've been so familiar with not being perceived. It's easier to grasp control if I just stay behind, and let someone else be the face standing in front. It's sickening, and it drives me mad that I have to constrain myself, but…”

Jamil swallows a tremulous breath. He peers up to Azul, searching for any waver of uncertainty, any signs that he wants to back off, but Azul remains unchanging, sincerity anchored on his expressions. Somehow, it shakes Jamil up even more.

“...But I was so used to it, that I never took the initiative to step forward when there's nothing else blocking my way. I just thought that I have to have someone to hide behind, because I'm not worth the spotlight they'll put me in. And I keep letting this anger fester like I can't do anything about it, when all I need to do is ask you to stop hiding with me.”

“Oh, Jamil.” Azul's eyes are devastatingly sorrowful, and before Jamil could regret ever opening up at all, Azul kisses him before tossing his arms around Jamil.

“I know it’s selfish to make you hide with me while also acting like some territorial animal around you. It’s pathetic. I’m sorry.” He mumbles into Azul’s chest.

“Don’t be, dear. It’s not your fault.” Ten fingers run up and down his scalp, drawing gentle strokes along the locks of hair. “I should’ve noticed what bothered you sooner, too.”

He inhales the soft cologne stuck on his clothes and collarbone, taking in lavender and sea salt one trembling breath at a time. It lulls his mind into a lighter state, more at ease, with the weight of his turmoil washed away by the tide. Smooth hands rub soothing circles onto his bare shoulder blades, while the stuttering breathing of the boy above him reverberates through his throat, each inhale and exhale syncing with the rhythm of his heart. 

They descend into a long interlude of silence, tranquil and comforting. Although he used to be one of two people that get on his nerves on a frequent basis, Azul now can unwind any tangled thoughts suffocating Jamil like it's nothing. No words spoken, yet the empathy felt stronger than anything needed to be said. From the gentle palm that untangles the snags of hair along his scalp, to the natural chill of his exposed trachea against Jamil's face.

Jamil could die like this, enveloped in Azul's embrace; cool and inviting like a burial at sea.

“...At first I was afraid that you might not trust me.” Azul speaks up, after a while. Jamil perks up immediately.

“Darling, I would never doubt you.” Not in a heartbeat. Jamil has called Azul untrustworthy of many things, both in the past and the present, but an untrustworthy lover, he is not. 

“I figured.” Azul pulls him in, their bodies flushed against each other. “Since you never looked like you were searching for anyone else's reactions when you're with me.” 

He laughs at the dumbfounded look on Jamil’s face. “Please, the flying lesson last week, you think I wouldn't notice that you had ulterior motives? It's pretty obvious that you forgot halfway, too, with how lovesick you sounded.” 

“And here I thought you were too busy screaming for your life to see.” Jamil smirks.

“That’s besides the point!” His frown does nothing to intimidate Jamil. If anything, it looks more adorable than reprimanding.

“The point is, even if you choose to hide this for the rest of our lives, I'd still be content to do that with you. But, if you're finding it hard to admit it out loud, it's alright. It takes time to undo what had been drilled into you, and I'll be there with you, no matter what.”

Azul's eyes glimmer with determination. 

“After all, you've always been the sole treasure I'm chasing.”  

One moment, his emotions are tamed to calm waters by Azul. The next, Azul himself dips his hand in and raises roiling waves, roaring and crashing into the walls of his heart. 

It's always been like that, hasn't it? No matter what he does, Azul always produces a prose, a compliment, a reason, to boast about him and attach himself to him. For a man who pursues treasures and wealth so restlessly, there has to be something he sees in Jamil that outshines every coin, every gemstone, that he owns or would one day own, to the point that he would go to such lengths to see Jamil's true colors. 

It means Jamil has to have something to deserve this attention. 

It means that he is worthy enough of Azul, too. 

“Jamil? Jami-Aah!” Azul yelps, when Jamil tackles him to the bed, white waves crashing deep red pillows. Sprawled beneath him, embraced between the crimson and indigo and gold of Scarabia, he looks right at home. Like he belonged to Jamil, and Jamil alone.

Like Jamil deserves to call Azul his.

“Thank you.” Jamil whispers, and presses I love you onto Azul's lips. 

“Thank you, dear.” He punctuates the line with another kiss. 

“It's-nothing-!” Azul gasps. He brings the rain of kisses to a stop by cradling Jamil's face, running a thumb over the smile Jamil has tried so hard to hide before. Cherry blossoms burst across his face, and he too matches Jamil with that lovesick grin. 

“Honestly, I never thought that I'd get admirers one day.” He suddenly blurts out, and Jamil looks at him like he's crazy. 

“Are my ears deceiving me, or is Azul Ashengrotto actually being humble for once?” He jokes.

“I'm serious! I don't always look like…” Azul trails off. A flicker of dejection flashes by, and understanding dawns on Jamil right after. 

“Azul, dear. You could look like a rock and I'd still be head over heels for you.” 

“Lies. You wouldn't if I looked like a bug.” He presses his index to Jamil's forehead. 

“I did make some exceptions to a certain eight-legged creepy crawler, right?”

“Doesn't count.” 

“Whatever you say. You’ll forever look stunning to me.” Jamil moves lower, directing his attention on Azul's neck. Azul doesn't have time to retort after, too busy singing weak whimpers and mewls when Jamil licks a stripe up his Adam's apple. Jamil runs the more prominent fang down his skin, gnawing lazily along the way, cautious to leave marks only where the high collars of Azul's shirt can hide. 

He travels down to Azul's collarbones, where he's left off undoing his shirt before being rudely interrupted. Something in Jamil boils up when he realizes those students might've caught some notes of Azul's moans, and he bites down hard. Azul tumbles out a string of eloquent curses, but his hands still thread into Jamil's loose silky locks and pulls the bite closer, deeper. 

He squirms a bit, when all the buttons are undone, and his milky torso is exposed to the deep charcoal blue of night. Jamil couldn’t hide his excitement at the thought that soon this pristine body will be wrecked red and bruised and littered in craters of his teeth and fangs. 

“I-I know, I sort of let myself loose lately, so my figure's not really-”

Azul's rambling is cut short with a high pitched cry, pain and pleasure fused into one, when Jamil bites on one side of his chest, running his sly tongue over a nipple. 

Jamil pays no mind to the comment. He squeezes his hold on Azul's waist, sure to leave red handprints where they've been. His thumbs absentmindedly run over Azul's sides when he leaves another two or three bite marks on his torso. 

Jamil remembers hitting a ribcage one time, and was so concerned when his hand traced prominent ridges on his body. Azul didn't even sound half as guilty as he did admitting that he skips meals compared to when he gained weight. When he rises to pull off Azul's pants and underwear, he's content to straddle thighs that aren’t sickly thin anymore. 

“You're doing so good, dear.” He kisses the knee hooked over his shoulder, drenching two fingers in lubricant. 

“So good, all for me.” Pressing his ear against Azul's neck, Jamil shudders at the vibration of the cry ripped out of his throat, as he dips his fingers into Azul. 

A traitorous part of Jamil still wonders, even when he works Azul open, whether any of his “followers” would admire Azul as his whole. Not to stroke his own ego, but Jamil understands the weight of trust that Azul has deemed Jamil safe enough to give him. It has taken an awfully long time for Azul to finally strip himself bare of any facade or protection in front of Jamil, and even when he’s confiding in to Jamil, he still does it with extreme caution, treading like an alchemy experiment that could go off with just one wrong step. 

He has to trust Jamil to not go off. He has to trust Jamil to not stand up and leave when he finally learns his real self. Just like how Jamil has put his trust on Azul, that he would not run away, even when he had found Jamil at his worst.

Would the people who fell in love with the impeccable model student also love the insecure person that he actually is? Would they treat him with the love and care that he needs and craves for, if they ever get to get a glimpse of the side of him that he thought should never be seen? 

What would happen if they shunned him instead?

What would happen, if they hurt him like so?

“Jamil.” He hears his name tangled in an airy breath, and catches Azul staring up at him through siren eyes and rippling lashes. Pinkish, pillow-soft lips pucker in feigned annoyance and pamper. 

“Stop thinking so much. Just fuck me.”

Jamil bends down to capture Azul’s moans right from his lips, a kiss that’s oddly tender and heartfelt when he’s hitting Azul’s prostate. 

There’s no way in hell he’s letting anyone else have Azul, if it means never letting anyone else hurt Azul. It’s selfish. It’s egotistical. It's borderline possessive. It’s not like there wouldn’t be anyone else out there that is capable of loving Azul. It’s not like Jamil could guarantee he wouldn’t accidentally hurt Azul too, with his sharp fangs and a generational difficulty to state kindness in its full form. 

But as long as Azul allows him to have him, he’ll never let Azul go.

Azul spills out another whine when Jamil pulls his digits out. His eyes lazily follow the movement when Jamil pulls down his sweatpants, the corner of his mouth curling upwards in a barely there smirk, watching his boyfriend smear some of the leftover lube on his already throbbing cock. 

Jamil’s grey meets Azul’s blue halfway. Even when being pushed deep into the mattress and being the visual definition of a mess, Azul still carries the poise of control. Smug satisfaction, like how one of his schemes is going right where he intends it to be. 

How much was Azul actually aware of, and how long has he picked up on this than he lets on? When they made out earlier in the night, did he mean to make all those exaggerated sounds to provoke both Jamil and the guys standing outside the door?

Truly siren kind, Jamil thinks, inviting yet cunning, luring others lower and lower until he has his tentacles around their necks. 

He's not fighting back on this one, though.

When Jamil plunges himself into Azul’s hole, every single reservation and jealousy that stains his vision are thrown out in a heartbeat. Nothing, nothing could occupy his mind as viscerally as Azul’s string of obscene moans, and the feeling of him clenching around Jamil. Each rolling of his hips sends shockwaves across Jamil’s muscle, and when he bottoms out, his hands clamp down on the other’s torso, fighting back the urge to just mercilessly rail him stupid. 

“Can I move, now?”

“Please.”

Jamil tries his best to go gentle first. It’s Azul who is no help to his pacifist cause. One leg already flung over Jamil’s shoulder, he hooks his other around Jamil’s midriff, octopus-like, fumbling to pull him in. He punctuates every one of Jamil’s thrusts with a beg and an open-mouthed moan, each please, faster, fuck yes, just like that, chipping away at Jamil’s already weathered sanity. 

Leave it to Azul to drive Jamil crazy, since there’s no one that could do it like him. And, Sevens, is he getting tighter on purpose? Even after all that prep? 

“Ah, ah, ah, Jamil! So deep…” Azul keens when Jamil’s tip kisses his prostate. 

His face is left with only needy pleasure with red-stained lips, cheeks ablaze, and drops of tears as big as pearls threaten to spill over the waterline. His body, borderline glowing silver in the night, arches over the sheets like a second crescent moon. Something caged and chained inside Jamil bursts, and he picks up pace, desperate to draw out more delicious cries and pleas falling from those bow-shaped lips. 

And it's so damn good. Azul feels so damn good. Jamil hastily pushes his hair out of the way, dipping lower to get a better volume of the sounds coming out of the housewarden. 

Even then, it's not enough. The hungry, guttural crave in him gnaws to sink himself inside further and further, until he and Azul molds into one, to liquefy like molten iron and then reforged in the fires of their tryst. The possessive hands on his Adonis belt are not for restraining, but assisting the aggressive thrusts that follow.

Soon, Jamil is hearing nothing but wet slaps and lascivious cries sung by the boy writhing beneath him. 

“Mngh, aah-! There, Jamil, that-yes, ah, ah!”

“Harder, please- fuck, oh god-!”

“Fuck, Azul…” Jamil, too, couldn’t hold his tongue. “Daring to let those guys tail you while looking like this…You’re going to be the death of me…”

He resumes the biting attack on Azul’s stripped body, licking and taking in mouthfuls of sweaty skin while fucking into Azul with growing fervor. Wherever on Azul that’s still left unmarked, Jamil moves to imprint his canines on. Azul hisses at the pain, which does nothing to stop his ravishing attack. 

Somewhere along the sides near Azul's jaw, he threads his hands into Jamil's dark, silky hair, and squishes his face closer, stabbing the dagger-like fangs deeper into his skin.

“More, Jamil, more-!”

“Your shirt won't be able to cover anything this high up if it gets too dark.”

“I-ngh! I want them to see-! I want them to know I'm yours.” Yours. His. His Azul. Jamil is getting dizzy.

“Mark me, darling?” And Azul still wants his Snake Charmer? He doesn't even need to look into Jamil's eyes to coax him. The hitch of breath in his voice, the tremble of begging echoing through his vocal cords, the way his hips grind forward are already too much. How could Jamil say no to that?

He sinks his teeth accordingly, alternating between biting and licking, only pulling away when the spot stains into a painful purple. It could be seen from miles, Jamil thinks. The whole damn school could catch this, a bitemark with the left row of canine leaving a more pronounced indent than the rest, and every single one of them who lays eyes on this will recognize the owner of those teeth. 

Might as well leave a few more, just to be sure. 

Azul is gifting Jamil with souvenirs of his own, as well. His teeth nip at Jamil's trapezius, and Jamil feels fingernails raking across the planes of his muscular back. Jamil grunts, as the stings pump adrenaline and clarity back to him, and power his thrusts to a new degree of roughness. His gentleness is a thing of the past, ramming with disgusting and merciless force despite tears running down Azul’s face. 

If he could, he’d mark Azul’s insides with the print and shape of his cock, too. Rearrange his guts to be tight for Jamil and Jamil only. 

The bed groans and creaks beneath them while Jamil fucks into Azul, the latter's sounds starting to grow hoarse and breathless. Tear streaks glisten on his face, as his neglected erection rubs between their stomachs, aching to the point of release when it hitches against the bulge Jamil makes through Azul's abdomen.

“Jamil! Oh,-ngh, f-fuck…I'm c-close…!” He screams, bucking his hips forward with what little strength left he has, determined to reach his orgasm at the same time with Jamil's rhythm. 

Jamil's not any better, himself. All of his senses are cranked to eleven, hyperawareness pricking at his skin and sending goosebumps straight to his brain. He might faint, from the humidity from his sweat-soaked hair clinging to his body, the slick of Azul’s walls, the wanton heat of friction inside Azul, the thick musk of sex and their own body scents. They clamp on his scalp and skin, tendrils entangling him and suffocating him senseless. 

Even so, he still craves for more, still burrows impossibly deeper into the crook of Azul’s neck, grasping at lavender and sea salt and faint iron to anchor him to consciousness one forceful thrust after another.

“Ah, aah-! Please, Jamil, I’m so close…p-please…!” Gone was the confident, directing attitude Azul held earlier that evening. He’s reduced to a pliant, sobbing mess begging for release. Fuck, if Azul keeps that pleading, whining tone, he wouldn’t last any longer. 

Jamil's left hand moves to Azul's forgotten cock, gives out one, two pumps in line with his erratic thrusts, and Azul spills over their stomachs with a broken cry, Jamil’s name strangled somewhere in that sound of ecstasy. He follows with a few more rushed jerks from his hips until he too gives in, mind blanked out in starch white lights as he fills Azul up to the brim. 

Jamil crashes down next to Azul, heaving in lungfuls of air like he had forgotten breathing all this time. In his haze, he catches a sob coming from the boy next to him, and absentmindedly pulls him flush to his chest. His fingers travel on their own, tracing thoughtless circles and lines across the span of Azul’s back, or tangle themselves through Azul’s sweat-damped white hair that’s stuck together like a bird’s nest. Azul’s face glows a feverish red, his eyes hazy and out of focus, and the noises that pours out of his kiss-bruised, parted lips is between short pants and soft whimpers. 

Even in this state of delirium and overstimulation, he’s still the most gorgeous person ever, in Jamil’s eyes. So beautiful, his mind bobbles in and out of incomprehension. He kisses Azul again, for the dozenth time tonight, kinder than the rest. Perfect, beautiful Azul. 

His Azul.

♡

“Are you-ah, satisfied with yourself?” 

Jamil pauses for a moment, like he is considering it at all, before dipping down on Azul’s ruined nape again with bared fangs. 

“Not quite.” 

In front of him, face out of view, Azul huffs, but Jamil could still see the reddening tip of his ears. He pulls Azul tighter into the embrace, the water around them sloshing with the movement. 

The Scarabia communal bathhouse at one in the morning basks in tranquility and restfulness, and with the entire place separate from the restrooms and closed off with only the housewarden (or vice housewarden who’s in charge of everything) with a key, it’s absolutely private too, when Jamil and Azul finally decides to sneak out to take a bath. Jamil has never even dreamed of abusing his authority and responsibility for something like this, not to mention locking up the bathhouse which is something that had seemed so unnecessary to him to do before. But then again, Azul brings out a lot of things in him that not even he knows he had. 

Originally, they weren’t planning to do anything here. Jamil and Azul have done many questionable and borderline stupid things, but they are not reckless enough to go to the extent of having sex in a public place, even if there’s no one around to potentially catch them. 

And they’re not going to, Jamil swears to himself. 

Not even when tension builds again around his groin, as Azul squeezes closer to him, letting him bite his initially unmarred shoulder blades and nape to ruin. 

“Mmph-! That’s- quite enough-!” Azul thrashes away from Jamil’s hold, splashing water everywhere, turning to face his boyfriend with an adorable scowl and a tomato-red face.

“As you wish.” Jamil grins, looping his arms back around Azul’s waist. He kisses away the brow furrows on his boyfriend’s face, fingers trailing over the prints of his newest pieces.

“Is it so necessary that you have to wreak havoc on my back too?” He sighs wistfully. Despite his words, Azul himself is thumbing at the still prominent bitemarks he’s left on Jamil’s shoulder, admiring his own work. 

“Can’t leave any empty spots now, can I?” 

And Jamil is determined to take that very seriously. On Azul’s front, red and purple rings of teeth marks litter his body, painful to even look at. They tread a pattern from his neck to his lower abdomen, and span across his chest and ribs. On his back, newly formed bitemarks from a few minutes ago bloom from his nape down to his shoulder blades. Not to mention handprints, appropriately Jamil-sized, brand themselves all over his waist, hips, back, and as low as his inner thighs. 

Personally, Jamil can still spot some more blank squares for him to fill in, but he’d reckon Azul’s already tired enough. His mouth is reserved for kissing Azul only, then. 

And kiss him, he does. Languid and more soothing than the salacious, messy face-devouring ones they’ve given out the entire night. Jamil allows himself to sink into the comforts of Azul once more, as their lips and tongue sluggishly lap against one another. 

He sighs as Azul gently threads through his wet hair with slender hands, and his thumb strokes the patch of skin somewhere around Azul’s lower hip that’s still left intact, caressing the surface that Jamil swears has a silkier quality when Azul’s submerged underwater. When they part, he’s pleased to find that even tenderness still managed to leave Azul in a trance-like, love drunk phase as much as before. 

“So.” Azul speaks up, after a moment of respite. He’s snuggled up comfortably between his boyfriend’s legs, letting his head fall on to the other’s shoulder. 

“So.” Jamil replies, fiddling with Azul’s hands, engulfed in his own. 

“I take it that this means we’re not going to hide anything anymore, correct?” 

“Hmm.” Jamil hums. “No, we’re not.” 

“And are you truly alright with that?” His grip tightened around Jamil’s hands. “If you feel like it’s still too much…”

“I did make a promise to fight for what I want now, did I?” Three months ago, choked in ink and tears, in front of Azul, Kalim, and everyone in Scarabia who has decided to avoid him to this day because of his overblot. 

Jamil hasn’t always been making good on his promise since then. From the way he still finds himself automatically prioritizing Kalim’s housewarden business over his own work, or even with Azul, how he lets envy twinges around his heart seeing his boyfriend accept the attention he’s given, yet still in denial of his own attributes when Azul cherishes it like he’s inadequate to such recognition. 

But if he’s so intent on loving Azul, on calling Azul his own, then he has to remind himself that he’s always had the power to do so. That he always had enough worth to stand and claim what he wants. Not just for Azul, but for himself, first.

“I feel like I’m pretty set on making that promise a reality.” 

His lips press against cold skin, which instantly heats up under his gentle touch. Azul doesn’t shy away like he does whenever Jamil’s affection catches him flustered, however, and instead cuddles closer into the embrace. 

“That’s good to hear from you.” It’s concise and rather aloof, but Jamil doesn’t miss the relief seeped in his tone, and how a smile peeks over the edge of his mouth. Azul had been waiting for this revelation to hit Jamil too.

“That’s all you have to say?” He still teases. “I thought you’d be more enthused, with how constant you are in invading my personal space every day.”

“Says the guy who brandished himself all over my body.” Azul leans back to meet Jamil’s gaze, a playful grin on his lips.

“Have to be sure they know you’re a taken man.” Jamil quips back, equally amused.

“And you say all you need is to hold my hand.” He follows up with a dramatic sigh. “I’ve fallen for such a greedy man. How much more are you planning to extort from me?” 

“As much as I have to trade to get you.”

“An enticing deal, indeed.” He turns over, bruised and bitten chest resting against firm, barren ones, pushing strands of wet hair from Jamil’s face. Blue finds grey, both gazes soft enough to make the hearts pressed against each other ache. 

“How about we open the offer with a kiss?”

“Gladly.”

♡

Turns out, things aren’t all that different as they were when Jamil and Azul are still hiding. The couple still go about their days as usual, sharing classes, separated by personal work, with Azul quipping something ridiculous and Jamil exasperated at it. It’s not yet a habit for Jamil nor Azul to automatically interlock fingers whenever they’re side by side, or plant a kiss on the other person’s lips as their new “hello”.

It’s only been a week, Azul convinces himself. Give him some time.

That doesn’t mean change is unnoticeable, for Azul. For one, he’s revelling in a new discovery: Jamil can’t seem to get his hands off of him. An arm flung over his shoulder, a hand on his waist. If he’s doing it on purpose, his face doesn’t show. Regardless, Azul had always found a warm grip placed over his side in every moment they sat together, no matter how crowded the area was. 

Perhaps Jamil has always been a little possessive, like this. From the hold on his body to the bitemarks he left ridden on him, it’s clear how Jamil wants to leave traces of himself on Azul, how he has always craved to shout to the world that Azul is his, even if it’s in the most subtle way possible. 

Azul finds it unbearably sweet, even if Jamil might say otherwise. He’d never let Jamil know how long he’s been waiting for him to take the lead, because Jamil would tease him about it until he turns red all over.

And he would also not let Jamil know how amusing it has been to watch the reactions of other students, especially the ones supposedly chasing him, upon seeing purple teethmarks peeking over his collar and on his nape. It might just provoke Jamil to produce even more next time, and isn’t that the last thing Azul wants, now.

“I see someone’s having a pleasant day today.” Jade’s voice hovers over his shoulder, nearly making him drop the glass he’s been cleaning. The sarcastic grin is evident in his voice.

“Might I guess the cause being a certain Scarabian vice housewarden…?” 

“Back to work, Jade.” Azul pushes Jade’s face away with the dustcloth still in hand. His stern face shakes under the smile he’s trying to hide.

“No need to be shy, Azul~!” Floyd leans backwards from the counter, hanging his head upside down to bear razor sharp teeth to Azul. 

“After all, you’re not the only one flustering over some little snakey, you know…?”

The lovestruck smile on Azul’s face hardens into one of sudden irritation and affrontedness. Trailing after Floyd’s line of sight, he spots two first years, sitting at the other end of the counter, thinking the busy atmosphere of the Lounge could cover up their little chat:

“...Okay, is that all the sophomores? The Leech brothers, that Savanaclaw guy…Wait, and what do you think about Jamil Viper?”

“Isn’t he the one with Vil Schoenheit’s group in the SDC? The guy with the rapping part?”

“Yeah, one of the three main centers, left of Vil. I get why Vil pushed him to the front. He’s a great dancer.”

“And he’s…handsome, if I had to say.”

“We don’t see a lot of guys around here that look good with long hair. I know he’d look cooler with his hair down.”

“He’s kind of lowkey, don’t you think? Bet a guy like him already has some sort of girlfriend outside of school.” 

“What, you’re thinking of shooting your shot with him?” 

“Come on!...But do you think I have a chance?” 

No, neither of you have. 

Jade cautiously retrieves the glass in Azul’s hands before he crushes it with his grip. Floyd’s shit-eating grin is not helping Azul cool down at all. 

“Ahahaha! Azul, you look like you’re gonna sprout tentacles and start throwing things soon!” 

“Please, Floyd, before he strangles you even without extra limbs to assist.” Jade’s mocking tone does not sound like he’s doing any help dousing the fire as well.

Azul inhales a sharp breath. Although the issue of his own admirers has somewhat been curbed, from the traveling words of the two “survivors” running away from Jamil’s rage that night, it seemed like it went over some people’s heads that he and Jamil are an item. 

For someone who’s as observant as Jamil, he seems to pick up nothing when it comes to his own gaggle of admirers. Participating in the SDC, as it turns out, has an even greater effect than just restoring Jamil’s image in the general public’s eye. Too great of an effect, Azul would say.

And Jamil thinks he’s the only selfish one here, grumbles Azul. It wouldn’t be too bad if Jamil had just stayed mysterious. Then Azul would still have the monopoly over adoring his boyfriend, and not having to hear some freshmen gushing about him in his own damn restaurant. 

“Azul?” 

Speak of the devil. 

Azul does a full 180, greeting the owner of that deep, smooth voice with pleasantries that weren’t present two minutes ago. Behind him, Floyd whispers something reminiscent of “just like a seahorse in love,” to Jade, but he pays no mind. He’s going to make the both of them clean the entire kitchen later. 

Jamil, for one, does not spare a glance for any of the looks shot in his way. Neither the fearful peeps from the ones that had heard of his and Azul’s escapade that night, nor the secret fawning gazes from his followers who are still living in blissful ignorance. His eyes are only on Azul, and Azul might overheat from the sheer thought of it. 

“Ah, Jamil. What can Mostro Lounge be of service to such an esteemed customer this evening?” He smiles, like he himself didn’t tell Jamil to come over tonight. But Jamil has dropped by earlier than planned, so why not entertain him? 

Jamil raises an eyebrow, but he caves in anyways and goes along with Azul’s stint. “Does the special menu tonight have the owner personally standing at the counter, or is this just an “esteemed customer”’s benefit?”

“Oh, I’d say it’s the latter.” Azul purrs.

“How lucky I am today.” Jamil smirks.

“You get what I mean now, Jade? And I just dealt with this last week.”

“Tragic for you indeed, Floyd. Alas, public flirting is the least we’d have to expect from these lovebirds.”

Azul angrily whips around to find the twins standing with inconspicuousness written on their faces. 

“Why aren’t you two gone yet?” He glares.

“You only need to say the word, Azul.” Jade gives his ever overly polite smile, before ushering Floyd into the kitchen, despite his brother’s protests. “Come now, Floyd, I need a taste-tester for this new recipe from a mushroom I recently foraged…”

With the duo finally out of sight, Azul breathes a sigh of relief before turning back to Jamil.

“So, where’s Kalim?” 

“He’s gone to bed already.” Azul briefly catches the tail end of his sentence: “Said I should have some time to see you earlier,” but he doesn’t show.

“Well then, what brings you here at this late hour, instead of calling off the night early?” He goes back to the customer service song and dance.

“Hmm, now that I’m here…” Jamil’s voice lowers to a rumble. He runs a hand up Azul’s arm on the counter, sending chills down his spine. “Might I ask, does the “esteemed customer” benefit cover personal services with the owner?” 

Azul’s customer service face is useless if his cheeks are as red as cherries. Despite his tone being lowered, it is by no means quiet enough for anyone in the vicinity to miss it. Judging from the smirk, the bastard is well aware of it too. 

Two can play at that game. 

He takes his hat off, covering their faces right before he leans in closer to Jamil. There’s no entertainment that could match watching Jamil leans closer as well, so expectant of a kiss, only for Azul to stop right over his ear and whisper:

“How about you find out about it in my room later?”

Before he could finish the stunt, Jamil has a hand on his bowtie, pulling him in for the kiss he was waiting for. It’s brief, barely a blink of an eye before they part ways, but Azul pays no mind. They’ll exchange much more, later tonight. 

“How about I join you on the after cleaning up? An extra hand wouldn’t hurt, right?” Jamil offers.

“Interested in the Mostro Lounge now, aren’t you? Octavinelle welcomes you with open arms.” He smiles against Jamil’s annoyance. 

“Azul…”

“In all seriousness, though, it would be nice to have you around a little longer.” His hand finds its way to Jamil’s, and they interlock fingers like an intrinsic reaction. “You don’t really have to clean. Just stay here?”

“If you’ll have me.” Jamil finally softens, and the smile he gives Azul is enough to send his heart to the moon and back.

“Wow, fooling around on the clock? Sure, but when I get off work for one afternoon…” Floyd pokes his head out of the kitchen door. It’s clear he and Jade have been listening in for quite a while now. 

“There’s still a difference, Floyd!” Azul quips back with irritation. Jamil laughs, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world, with him right here with Azul, neither of them without a care in the world. And the world still spins, the Lounge is still bustling with chatter and dishes clinking, with their love slinking in the scene like it has always meant to be there, and always meant to stay. 

But it’s not as if they’ve gone without observers, though.

Azul finally remembers the freshmen from before, after a too long period of them being blurred in the background for Jamil to pop out in Azul’s vision. Now, when Jamil is busy exchanging small talks with Floyd, he finally sneaks a glance to their sides.

Their reactions are priceless, he would say. Wide, shocked eyes, mouths hanging open in disappointment and disbelief. Poor little unfortunate souls. Azul has three hearts and yet he couldn’t ration any bit of pity for them even if they looked like that. And did he cover their faces right in their direction too? He didn’t mean it, because they weren’t in his mind for him to be conscious of the choice to begin with, but life has a funny way of producing coincidences. 

One of the kids catches Azul’s pointed stare, and he tugs on his friend’s shirt, and the two of them scurry away out the doors of the Lounge. At least they’re more sensible than the lot that Jamil had to deal with. Azul scoffs. 

“Anything wrong, Azul?” He is pulled back by the gentle sweetness in Jamil’s voice, carrying scents of jasmine and warm herbs. Jamil’s eyes catch the cool lights of the restaurant, giving them a sheen resembling the most precious and gorgeous moonstones Azul has ever found.

Azul presses a kiss on the corner of Jamil’s mouth. Informing Jamil of his admirers wouldn’t be any good to his already inflated ego, so he decided not to. Or he might let it slip later, when they’re finally alone in Azul’s room, treating it like an inside joke the two of them could laugh about. 

No matter how many admirers or followers Azul has, he knows there’s only one person in this entire world that can love his whole being, regardless of the persona he shows the world. And that person is sitting right across from him at the counter, holding his hand, looking at him like he’s his world, like he’s the only one that matters to him, too.

“Nothing, dear.” Azul’s grin is earnest and fond, leaning in Jamil’s affectionate touch for another kiss. His Jamil, he proudly proclaims.

“Everything is right where it is.”

♡