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They’d only been officially dating for two weeks the first time Floyd told Jamil he loved him.
They were in the Scarabia kitchen, Floyd sitting unhelpfully on the counter while Jamil cooked for the two of them and Kalim. It was becoming more and more common for Floyd to come over after club practice and stick around for dinner; he would help Jamil cook sometimes, or even offer to take over entirely when the mood struck him, but more often than not he would just sit and watch. Jamil didn’t mind. He would be making dinner regardless, and it wasn’t like he hated Floyd’s company.
“He’s being sooo annoying,” Floyd whined, swinging his feet back and forth. “He keeps gettin’ on my case about missing shifts because I’m spending so much time with you. I’m so over it.”
Jamil hummed, distracted, as he adjusted the heat under the water he was boiling. “You shouldn’t skip out on your responsibilities on my account,” he said mildly.
“Ugh, it’s not even a big deal, there’s plenty of help at Mostro Lounge,” Floyd said irritably. “I swear he’s still just got it out for me ‘cause I snatched you up before he could.”
Jamil made a face. “Don’t make it sound like I would’ve just gone along with whoever got to me first,” he scolded. He had always been perfectly aware of Azul’s interest in him, but it could never have been mutual. Not when Jamil had been too busy trying to get through even a single basketball practice without agonizing over the way the blood rushed to his face whenever Floyd so much as looked at him.
A slow grin spread over Floyd’s face, his mood visibly shifting as he rested his chin on his hand and regarded Jamil slyly. “My bad, my bad,” he said. “Just wanted to hear you say you only had eyes for me.”
“I didn’t say anything like that,” Jamil said flatly. He scooped a spoonful of tikka masala from the pan in front of him, holding his hand beneath it as he brought it up to Floyd’s face. “Try.”
Floyd took the bite obediently. “Could be spicier,” he said. Jamil hummed, reaching for the chili powder. “It’s fine, I know even if you don’t say it. Sea Snakey is totally head over heels for me~”
“Cut it out,” Jamil snapped, well aware that Floyd was just trying to embarrass him. They didn’t talk about things like this, feelings and such, and Jamil preferred it like that. It had been hard enough for him to even admit to himself that he liked someone that way, that he liked a boy that way, that balancing everything he already had on his plate with being someone’s boyfriend was a risk that was worth it. Anything beyond that was far too much to ask of him. Floyd was hardly the romantic type, anyway; he knew how Jamil felt, and Jamil knew how Floyd felt, and that was enough.
“So mean,” Floyd said, but he didn’t seem particularly affected by the conversation. He reached over to grab a pinch of rice and pop it in his mouth, and then promptly froze as he noticed what Jamil was doing. “Hey, wait—”
Jamil ignored him, proceeding to dump the bowl of mushrooms into the sauce. “They’re good for you,” he said, unconcerned.
Floyd stuck his lip out in a pout, thumping his head back on the cabinet behind him. “You ruined it…” he complained.
Jamil sent him a small smile, shoving at his knee. “I already separated out your plate,” he said.
Floyd’s eyes lit up, and his expression turned so fond that Jamil had to look away. “Aha, no way, really?” he said brightly. “So considerate. That’s why I love ya, Sea Snake.”
Jamil dropped the pot lid in his hand, the shrill ringing of metal against linoleum echoing through the kitchen for several long moments.
Floyd stared at him, somewhere between amused and concerned. “What happened?” he asked.
Jamil shook his head, trying to clear the static that had consumed his brain. “N-nothing,” he said, picking up the lid, his heart pounding and his mind racing. “Dinner’s done.”
It was always just like that. Floyd would say it often, and always so casually, as if it took no thought or effort at all. Before they hung up their call for the night (goodnight, love you), when Jamil asked Floyd to kill a spider on his ceiling while hiding under the covers in the most dignified way possible (you’re lucky I love you), in response to Jamil asking why he would bother walking him to class when it was out of his way (duh, because I love you). He said it like it was nothing, but even so, Jamil knew that he meant it. He knew that it was something.
He hadn’t said it back. Not necessarily because it wasn’t mutual, but because he didn’t know. All of the feelings or behaviors involved in being in a relationship, or even a friendship, really, were alien to him. He’d certainly never loved anyone before; besides his sister, and maybe Kalim, in a convoluted way, but those were hardly the same.
He knew that he liked spending time with Floyd. That he made him feel happy, and seen, and free, in ways he couldn’t remember ever being before. He looked at Jamil like he could see everything inside of him, even the ugly parts, and still wanted to see more. And unlike with anyone else he’d ever known, Jamil felt like he could show him.
Was that love? He had no idea. He wasn’t even sure that it mattered. Floyd lived in the ocean, and Jamil couldn’t see himself slipping out from under the heavy thumb of the Asims any time soon. Things were fine for them now, but outside of Night Raven College, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
Often, late at night, he would run that thought over and over again in his mind until he couldn’t breathe.
It was the first warm day of the year.
Winters at Night Raven were often long and harsh, considering its location on top of a mountain, but it seemed that spring had finally arrived. For Jamil, the improved weather was bittersweet; spring meant the end of the school year, which meant two months confined within the Asim estate. Two months away from Floyd.
The students had gathered in throngs in the courtyard to enjoy the sunshine, and Jamil found himself there as well, his back against the fountain as he browsed the history study guide in his lap. Floyd was laying on his back on the fountain’s ledge beside him, quiet for once as he enjoyed the spring breeze. Jamil would’ve thought he was asleep, if it weren’t for the fingers occasionally reaching over to brush through Jamil’s long hair.
Jamil set his pen down, glancing over at the boy beside him. He took in his features: his closed eyes, his skin golden in the afternoon sunlight, his hair haphazardly framing his handsome face. Jamil’s breath caught in his throat. He was overwhelmed, suddenly, by a feeling he couldn’t name.
He had never put much thought into Floyd’s appearance, especially considering the fact that he knew this wasn’t what he actually looked like, that a majority of his features were simply the result of a potion. It didn’t matter to him at all, but there was something in the way Floyd looked now that stilled him. His expression held a peace with the world that Jamil had never known. Like everything was exactly as he wanted it, and he would never allow it to be anything but.
In that moment, Jamil decided that he wouldn’t either. He would run away, he would risk it all, he would hold his breath all the way to the bottom of the Coral Sea if he had to. This feeling was his, and he was going to keep it.
“Hey,” he said. Floyd cracked open his green eye and tilted his head toward him slightly. “I love you.”
Floyd opened his other eye slowly, staring at Jamil like he wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Then, a wide grin spread over his face, with no sign of the slyness or mischief the expression usually held; only pure, unadulterated fondness. Normally, the unfiltered attention would cause Jamil to look away or change the subject, but now he held Floyd’s gaze firmly.
There were a few moments of gentle silence between them, before Floyd let out a snort of amusement. “Seriously? Gross,” he said, still smiling so widely Jamil could count all of his sharp teeth. “Don’t get all mushy on me out of nowhere.”
Jamil deadpanned, hesitating only briefly before shoving him bodily into the fountain.
Floyd came up spluttering and laughing, looking far more pleased than someone who had just gotten drenched had any business being. Something sinister flashed in his eyes, and Jamil knew what was going to happen before it did. “Wait, don’t! I have my—” he attempted to protest, before recognizing the lost cause and managing to push his school work from his lap just before Floyd grabbed him under his arms and hauled him in after him.
Jamil glowered as he resurfaced, shaking water from his hair. He vaguely registered Riddle shouting something about rules in the distance, which he opted to ignore. “I don’t think I really deserved that,” he said, but he was smiling, unable to conjure up any actual annoyance. He felt remarkably warm in spite of the cold water.
“Too bad,” Floyd said, gathering Jamil’s shaking, wet form into his arms. “You gotta follow me everywhere I go.”
Jamil rolled his eyes, but didn’t protest as he felt Floyd’s lips slide against his. Normally he would be firmly against any public display of affection, especially with such a sizable audience, but he didn’t feel the need to object this time.
In spite of Riddle’s scolding and the occasional horrified complaint from Ace, Jamil found himself without the desire to leave the fountain or separate himself from Floyd. When he grew tired of splashing each other like children, he turned and allowed Floyd to embrace him from behind, leaning his head back against his chest as the taller boy settled his chin on his shoulder. They stayed like that, the sun warm on their skin and the water cool around them. This is it, Jamil thought. It had to be.
“Love you, Sea Snake,” Floyd muttered into his hair. “I’m not ever gonna stop.”
Jamil smiled, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. He thought of the things that went unsaid, and he said them.