#wssatm

“Here. You can use this one,” Jamil directed towards the plain (compared to the rest of the dorm) laundry… mat? There were several industrial sized washer and dryers, a couple moderate-sized one’s that would fit a regular apartment complex, and a long wall designated area for hand washed items. Jamil was keeping the door prompt open with his hips; his slight frown of concentration and the flick of his Magic Pen were the only signs of the current spell he had going. Turning around, MC was slightly surprised by the massive piles of fabric that was being corralled in via multiple a massive sheet tied to multiple brooms. They still couldn’t fully grasp the concept (and power) of magic and seeing it so casually performed on a day-to-day basis was kinda daunting.

“Thanks again for letting us use the space along with showing me how to properly clean all these fancy duds and whatnot.” the Ramshackle Perfect awkwardly trailed off. Their focus was split between stealing peaks at the Scarabia Vice Warden, not wanting to bother the already busy Sophomore, and surveying over the dusty, damaged antique pieces the two stripped from the halls of the previously abandoned dorm. Rugs, carpets, curtains, furniture covers (in varying state of disrepair) dulled of their once rich and vibrant color. The patterns were a mix of stuffy academia and the quiet comfort of a grandparents cottage living room. Both extravagant, yet understated. It’s a style lost to time, but not quite a revived ancient aesthetic.

At this point MC was fully lost in thought; they desperately needed to clean, fix, organize and decorate the dorm in preparation to host so many guests. Even with his limited memories, they had a feeling they’d never hear the end of it from his parents.

“Don’t worry about it much.” Jamil said, interrupting their musings. “Honestly, I’m doing this as much for myself as I am helping you.

With a flick of his wrist, Jamil organized the seemingly random crumbled piles of fabric by condition, color and use. His movements while cleaning were quick, smart, and efficient-- all while patiently showing Mac which order to start in along with the best way to clean them.

“Ya’ know…” MC broke the relative quietness between the two workers, “Even with everything thing that happened over break, I understand why Kalim still trusts you; I almost can believe that you’re not that bad of a guy.” Jamil gave xem a startled (and exasperated) look, but they continued before he could respond: “I fail to see how helping the person who ruined your ‘world domination’ plans—”

“They were hardly World Domination level!” He quickly snapped. His embarrassment led to him tugging his hood further down his face, teeth slightly clenched, and dilated eyes as MC continued listing all the ways he’s “helped” them out.

The magic-less Perfect laughed to themselves the more conflicting emotions flew across Jamil’s face. Eventually those same emotions were compressed behind a cold, smooth mask. Limestone slabs and stiff mud brick walls were swiftly constructed between the two working-class students. Something about it didn’t sit right with Mac.

“Hey I’m not saying what you pulled wasn’t a dick move! But you’re also not the first overly-traumatized teen boy I’ve had to deal with… and between what you’ve said about yourself, plus thing’s I’ve heard and seen, I’m starting to think you’re not nearly as complicated as you think you are.” The longer they argued *to* him, the more Jamil’s mask began to crack; there were a few holes in his walls he didn’t account for. Xe’s a tad more observant than I remember, but weirdly just as persistent, Jamil internally rolled his eyes.

“I could still change my mind and send you back to deal with the Pomefiore Wrath(tm),” He mumbled while gracefully lugging the newly cleaned (and damp) furniture coverings into an empty drier. Despite his harsh threat, MC still remembered him assuring the other this laundry room was only ever used by him after Kalim’s parties.

The large machines and larger working space was specifically added for the servant to clean and repair any decor or Asim Family Treasures when Kalim’s recklessness caused a larger mess than usual. This meant that Mac and Grim (who was originally supposed to be helping… where the hell was he anyway?) could do as many loads needed without worry. On top of the borrowed space, the Housewarden himself had cheerily has assured them, his Oasis Maker would replace all the water used ten times over!

Mac’s thoughts were interrupted once again as Jamil relented, “I told you, I’m doing this to help me.” After receiving an unconvinced eyebrow raise, Jamil began to explain, “Kalim might’ve announced us as equals but I still have a job to do. If he got sick while spending Allah knows how long in a dusty, dirty, shabby condemned building like Ramshackle I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“It’s not nearly that bad anymore!” the sole-human resident of said dorm argued, but was quickly shut up with a tired gesture towards the untouched loads of laundry left to be done.

“On top of that,” Jamil smirked “Even a common peasant like myself wouldn’t sleep in a rundown garbage heap if I can help it.” His smirk slowly slide off his face from his face as the insulted Perfect almost ripped the handful of soapy doilies, that they were previously scrubbing by hand, as xey prepared a retaliation.

“OK, first of all! This whole Inferior-Superior shtick isn’t going to prove your point. If I’m being totally honest, I’m pretty used to the bratty, arrogant attitude of teenagers by now (even if I wasn’t Leona is a thousand times worse).” They turned their full body to face the 2nd year boy before continuing the assault. “Secondly, even just doing the bare minimum would’ve been fine, considering I’ve slowly been deep cleaning them place room by room. This is just last minute cleaning considering I wasn’t expected to host six extra people in two days.”

The shock of Mac’s care and attention to detail couldn’t win over Jamil’s newfound freedom to be right… and sassy while doing it. “Keep in mind you wouldn’t be the only one having to deal with Vil. His expectations are much higher than my personal standards—”

“Getting there!” MC interrupted again. “It’s not like Vil and whoever else couldn’t magic things better or get things done over at Pomefiore.” However, their fire started to die down with their obvious lack of understanding of magic. Not that Xeir level of intellect ever stopped them from talking out of their ass during debates… even if this wasn’t exactly shaping up to be anything like Debate Club back home.

“Not the point!” Mac built back their steam after thoughtlessly shaking off any internal distractions. “Third of all,” Jamil groaned not-so-quietly, “third of all, you didn’t have to show me how to do it. Nor did you have to continue helping me. There’s only so much I could pay you back in favors and it’s not like you’ll make back the time and energy spent. You’re obviously a bit of a piece of shit but I don’t totally blame…”

Jamil suddenly gave Mac his full attention. He smoothed any emotional tells from his face and readied himself to actively dissect what ever left xeir mouth and any messages in between the lines. The silence prompted Mac to drip extra sincerity as they begin to ramble without thinking.

“… I get why you did what you did. You’re not totally forgiven, but it’s not like I’ll hold a grudge over you forever. Whenever I joke about Winter Break I thought you knew it was just that: a joke.”

The two stared at one another for a few beats. Jamil betrayed nothing that he was thinking, but Mac could practically feel the exasperation flooding off of him in great waves. The disbelief pushing and pulling off of him, despite remaining stone cold to zeir admission. So, of course, they continued with slight for fever:

“Yeah, okay, you held us all prisoner, enslaved via hypnosis your entire dorm, and nearly killed multiple students. Twice.” Mac cringed at their own blunt statement, “… But why would you go as far as you did, if you didn’t care! What your parents, and more specifically your culture, put you through wasn’t fair—but you obviously still love and cherish them!”

At this, he seemed to get even more guarded. It felt patronizing to be hold how he supposedly felt or why he should feel a specific way. They hadn’t been there. They hadn’t grown up as a Viper in the Desert, constantly reminded by Kalim’s Mirage of wealth what he could never have. They didn’t know the FIRST thing about the Scalding Sands—!

“… How do you know anything about my parents? Did Kalim--?!” He choked out infuriated at the mere implication.

“Relax Viper! It’s all in the Secret of The Ooze™”

“What?”

“Never mind…”

The usual absurdity of MC’s references (much to xeir chagrin that no one seemed to understand them) Jamil allowed himself a shadow of a smirk. Right about now they’d drop what they were saying and instead empathize with him over terrible bosses. They’d both fall back into a familiar pattern of quiet understanding while making playful small talk; maybe Xe’d make a remark over how “hellish” the desert temperature is and moan about being “a poor Northern forced into the sun” before dragging them both off to grab an abominably sweet drink that Kalim would still put sugar in. Xe had always been could at mediating with the other students at NCR.

However, they didn’t drop it. They continued to push him… especially when they realized that he expected the conversation to have ended and started to relax. Xey pushed and pushed and pushed. Finally, they had circled back to him rebelling from his status.

“What? You think I’d be Happier staying a lowly servant?! I’d rather cut my own tongue out than remain bending to Kalim’s will for the rest of my days.” He huffed, still not stopping his assault on the pile of laundry in front of him.

A frustrated sigh left Mac as Xey tried to get their point across, “THAT’S NOT WHAT I’M SAYING!… Obviously, you don’t love being forced into child labor or having to pretend to be something you’re not, but that doesn’t mean you’re totally being honest with yourself either. Rebelling adolescents often do a complete 180 of who they once presented as in an extreme action to feel validated.”

Jamil scoffed in indignation at the impromptu therapy session he’d been forced into.

“Just because you were forced to lie sometimes as ‘Servant Jamil’ doesn’t mean those memories or feelings weren’t authentic!”

“My Childhood, my Pride, my ENTIRE LIFE was stolen from me before I could even open my eyes, Mac! Who could cherish that sort of future?”

“I’m not disputing that! I’m not trying, in any way, to imply that what you went through didn’t fucking suck. But just because you’ve started saying the quiet part out loud doesn’t mean you’re being totally honest either. Switching one mask for another just means nothing has changed but your ability to bitch about-it to the kid you literally Grew Up With, Jamil.” A tired resignation was growing in their eyes as they headed to the end of xeir rant.

It was clear MC was starting to speak in circles and xey weren’t going to be able to get through to them. A heavy weight sunk deep in their chest, slowly sliding to xeir stomach the more he misunderstood the magic-less student. I saw him drown in the depths of his own helplessness and self-pity, but even after he’s been pulled out it’s like he can’t help but dive back in for a swim. It was a suffocating thought while Mac watched as Jamil once again went stone-faced… Like what he was about to say would be his final shield before walking away. It’s a shame that the Ramshackle Resident had become too used to throwing bombs over walls and blowing verbal shields to smithereens after months of being stuck in Twisted Wonderland.

“I’m not sugarcoating or bowing down to anyone anymore. I won’t bite my tongue. I won’t put on a Happy Face to Kalim’s idiotic, half-thought out ideas again. I’m slowly gaining my freedom, something you clearly don’t understand. Just because you’re as blind as he is doesn’t mean anything! What more could you want from me?!” He hissed his final insult before finally stepping away from his station. Not leaving the room, he aggressively got himself a cup of water from one of the sink and gulped the unfiltered water down.

“Just because you’re not hiding your bitter, knee-jerk reaction from an unfair world doesn’t mean you aren’t still hiding away and lying about your more vulnerable emotions.” Mac whispered in an emotionless tone. “Cutting a part of your past off and pretending it was never there is doing yourself a disservice and lying to those that still care about you… And there sure-as-shit isn’t much that I hate more than a Fucking Liar.”

. . . . . .

The lacy doilies sat in a sudsy basin, left forgotten as the two students stood a mere paces from each other—both maintaining an uncomfortably intense eye contact. The sloshing thump of the washers and stirring hum of driers harmonizing were the only song to accompany the two’s stare down. A short hiccup as Mac took a drawn out breath was the only reaction between the two of them. The combined heat of Scarabia’s sun (barely past 10am) and the humidity of continued use of machinery didn’t help the suffocating air in the wide laundry room. Not to mention the loud, stifling silence to boot.

MC usually held back such honest commentary (not that they weren’t blunt) unless Xe deemed it necessary: think high stakes and a sense of urgent drama. But something about Jamil and Kalim’s situation reminded them of himself. The two’s intertwined dance of class, history, loyalty and betrayal, friendship and loss, and such overwhelming guilt reminded the dimension hoping stranger of home. Whatever that meant.

But this was no time to get lost in their own problems and Trauma’s. They’d went too far (again) and that means xey should be the bigger person (again) and deescalate the situation before he hated them (AGAIN). Which means, MC would be the one to break the silence and run away again.

“Ya’ know what? Grim’s probably burned the school down already. Don’t worry about,” Ze gestured blindly to the numerous stations they’d started, “this mess. I’ll rope my little Rat Gremlin and the Freshies into finishing this up. Hell, I could probably convince Rugs to pitch in for lunch or something. Bully the Music Club with helping in exchange of random sheet music I still remember from home.”

Their rambles became more spastic as they noticed Mr. Sugar, Spice and Not-So-Nice break out of his own trance and try to reply. “Seriously! Just enjoy the break… Not that it’s my place or responsibility to be butting in anyway. I will be back in, like, 10 minutes and from here-on-out minding my own damn business. Sorry. Whatever. See you sometime after Sunday, I guess?” Their entire monoluge Mac was slowly backing out of the room before turning around in xeir spot and just short of sprinting their way out of the dorm. A few passerby Scarabia students stopped to eavesdrop on xeir muttering… watch them leave.

Without getting a word in Jamil stood unmoving, watching the Ramshackle Perfect leave swifter than the desert wind shifting the dunes. Almost on auto-pilot, he simply left to go back to his room and do as he was told; enjoy his break. His day off. The day he could do what he liked and didn’t necessarily have to prioritize work. A day he spent working to help and assist the pitiful, magic-less loser that was dropped-kicked into another reality and forced to play nice with a University filled with overpowered and hormonal teenagers while having no way home… And in return was insulted, psychoanalyzed, and thrown aside before he could get a word in edgewise.

The cream stone walls, lined with gold and crimson ceramics, provided an open, airy atmosphere to the Scarabia’s main Kitchen. Gentle breezes shifted Jamil’s long, dark hair while his busy hands expertly prepared baked pakoras. Their delightful deep-fried scent filled the air, making Mac’s already dry mouth water. Another beat or two of awkward silence oppressed the two as the Ramshackle Housewarden lightly sipped at the nearly empty glass of pink lemonade (including a few tiny chunks of dragonfruit).

“If you would like a second glass, there’s plenty left in the pitcher; second fridge to the right, middle shelf. I’d offer to pour but I must make sure these don’t burn.” Jamil finally broke the silence with more than the single-worded responses Mac was using. Xey supposed they couldn’t run away, least they be called out for being a hypocrite.

“No worries, I mean, I wasn’t really expecting you to serve me hand and foot,” they attempted to joke as a way to ease back into conversation.

“Scalding Sand hospitality would say otherwise,” Jamil easily shot back with a hint of mirth in his tone.

“Well,” Mac dragged out in a tired sigh, “I’m not royalty or a wealthy merchant. Besides, I’m not exactly fluent in any desert customs, Twisted Wonderland or otherwise… Kinda the opposite in fact! So, really, it’s no problem between us. I mean! You don’t need to feel like you have to go through any extra effort or ceremony for my sake.” Their hesitant eyes flicked fervently between filling the lemonade and the calm, sturdy back of the Vice Warden. A panicked symphony of little anxieties added an extra depth to xeir already drooping eyes.

Jamil remained calm. So fucking calm and put together that the Ramshackle Perfect could feel xeir anxiety almost turn to frustration. Almost. That deep well of guilt and shame kept them ‘grounded’ while waiting to hear some type of response.

“No need to concern yourself so much, it’s more force of habit than anything else.”

Mac huffed hardheartedly, “Trust me. I’d rather kill myself than even consider being a bother.” It was meant to be a more lighthearted joke but from Jamil’s reaction, he wasn’t used to such crude self-deprecation. A wide-eyed panic flooded his own eyes quickly as if mentally preparing to start damage control.

“Relax,” Mac continued with a snort, “nihilism is like breathing where I’m from.” A domino effect went through xeir body following their wave of flippancy. A harmless eye-roll, followed by a slightly less strained side-smile, the finishing with a light shrug into a slouch. “Besides, you can only have so many near-death experiences before beginning to think about death with casual indifference. You should try it sometimes… might loosen you up a bit!”

“It seems I’ve gotten too used to Kalim’s more literal style of speech.” the Vice replied through lightly gritted teeth; completely omitting any comment about how he did almost die during his overblot. The forced politeness remained and insisted on the reconstruction of his peripheral walls. It was really starting to piss Mac off. Good thing ze were a nosy bitch!

Fiddling in their lap, they sent a quick message to the ‘Ramshackle Freshies’ group chat letting them know not to wait up. Ze suddenly had a new, and challenging, job to do.

“… Considering how well you two got along I thought you shared that similarity,” the second year whispered under his breath, likely meant just to himself. Seriously, Mac thought, was he really meant to be sneaky? How’d he ever get away with it in the past?

“I was a lot like Kalim when I was younger,” xey replied just to watch Jamil startle out of his thoughtful pout. “Yeah, back when I was 15 before… a lotta things happened. It’s why I can, well, I think I can understand your whole dynamic.” They started rambling again and sporadically moving their arms. It was too easy for him to overshare nonsense that had nothing to do with the conversation at hand.

At least xeir slip of the tongue caught the desert snake’s attention. These two working-class students were both so emotionally huddled up in on themselves, manning their defenses, to properly have a conversation. Both desperately trying to claim secrets and information from the other. (The elder trying to understand and provide comfort while the younger planning to gain back some trust, solve their puzzling nature and…. A little of something else).

Becoming so lost in their own thoughts that the clinking ice cubes in xeir drink began to melt. The only other sounds were of the occasional Scarabia students shuffling path the doors, unwilling to enter the dorm kitchen. It was well-known that the kitchens were Jamil’s domain and kingdom. Add-on the weirdly tense vibes emitting from the two beyond the door. Yeah, this wasn’t the ‘Dorm for Mindfulness’ for nothing. No one would be stepping a foot inside until the other two were long gone.

Looks like it was cafeteria of food from the Lounge this weekend.

By this time, the deep-fried delight was finished and barely cooled down before being devoured. Continuous awkward silence would give the poor magicless Perfect indigestion at this point. I guess I’ll bite first, xey thought, making up his mind.

“This…,” a deep, yet hollow sigh, “isn’t gonna work.”

“What won’t work?” Jamil cautiously prompted, taking his time to search Mac’s body language.

“If we can’t chill out and come to some kind of understanding, everyone will be bugging us for weeks. Or worse… they’ll come up with some stupid, half-baked plan to force us to work it out.” They both felt a disturbing shiver imagining their resident idiot(s) locking them in a closet, or something equally cliche. Not that Mac hadn’t tried the same exact thing before realizing set-ups only work in movies and shojou anime. That would be ridiculous.

“And what do you suggest?” He replied after thinking it over for a moment.

“Twenty questions.”

“Huh?”

“You heard me.” zeir shit-eating, mischievous, obnoxiously lighthearted grin was practically audible at this point.

“You think some adolescent party game to learn each other’s favorite color will smooth over our interactions enough to fool Vil or Rook?” was the apathetic, snarky argument the Vice Warden shot back.

Mac released a playful gasp as xey jumped to reply, “How DARE you mock the sacred ritual of 20 questions. Or how much a favorite color can provide a little insight. I would know, I passed my Intro to Psychology class in High School.” Their easy wink was all the transition needed to put the testy air behind them. Besides, there might’ve actually been a small bit of truth in xeir joking attitude.

“You’ve tested it?”

“Online dating was a complete bitch and a half. Any ‘simple question game’ keeps the conversation going and vets out creepy weirdos.”

“But I already know how strange you are,” Jamil scoffed out the quip like second nature.

“Sorry, Babydoll, but you have no idea how much of a Freak I am.” Mac shot back with a laugh at the embarrassed look ascending Jamil’s neck and over his face. He seemed to tense on instinct, but decided to push through while he could still look his older underclassman in the eyes.

“Did these type of lines actually work for you?” He asked, standing up to try to brush of his initial reaction and to get started on their dirtied dished.

“If that’s your first question, then yes! I’m pretty good at adjusting to all sorts of personality types, which is great for a hook-up but doesn’t last long when it comes to serious relationships.” Xey answered somewhat matter-of-factually but still tasted of insecurity. Mac wasn’t ashamed, per say, of the occasional good time, but was borderline unhealthy with their distraction of choice.

With that the young servant raised a judgmental eyebrow that arched with a misplaced possessive jealousy, before becoming slightly thoughtful. Jamil had gone through extensive training in order to gain (and retain) a similar skill, he supposed. Not that it was anything he’d revel to the Perfect sitting across from him. Nor did he have to explain or like the venomous feelings he was actively shoving down the back of his throat. Just another poison to keep from spilling over, he thought trying to ignore the blatant irony of the whole situation.

“How about you?” Never mind!

Mac motioned xeir hand out expectantly. Behind his smudged glasses were gentle, pleading puppy dog eyes meaning to encourage Jamil only made him curl in on himself all the more.

“Is that you’re question? Seems hardly fair to just project the same question back,” He responded in a jilted, caved-off taunt. “Shouldn’t you have enough braincells to think of your own questions… instead of making me do all the work.”

Instead of backing off—or acting offended or snapping back with an equally sarcastic response—they simply laughed. Just… laughed. It wasn’t a patronizing huff like his own or a naive giggle like whenever Jamil said something that went over Kalim’s head. Xey laughed with a heavy nostalgia and in relief of finding the groove of conversation once again.

“Sorry, sorry! The version my… friends, I think, played we’d always have to answer whatever we asked. Prevents anyone getting ganged up on or an imbalanced type of questions.” Xe replied with ease.

Jamil answered dryly in response, “I spent the majority of my life following in Kalim’s shadow; we did grow up together after all. When I wasn’t by his side I either had work, chores or school. This didn’t exactly leave a lot of room for deeper friendships, let alone dating.” Surprisingly, the majority of what he said was the true.

It wasn’t the whole truth, but true nonetheless. Equal measurements of shame and embarrassment for being a servant always made the young Viper hesitant to pursue any real relationships while in middle school. Casual friends were one thing, superficial and somewhat difficult to maintain, but achievable. Dating, however, would take his focus away from his duties to Kalim (and possibly endanger the heir)

While Jamil’s thoughts were grim and filled with resentment, the other student hummed in consideration. How the two connected to people; how they both learned how and when to respond to the people they’re forced to be around felt oddly similar. Not the same, not by a long shot, but definitely similar.

“Well isn’t that just completely depressing,” Mac started to say under her breath before quickly transitioning to their own question: “Okay, well, how ‘bout your favorite type of music?” The answer they received back was a ‘cut-the-bullshit’ type of frown. Clearly, he didn’t consider it an equal exchange.

“Okay! Fine! What was your dream job as a child?”

This time Jamil couldn’t control his reactions so seamlessly. The Vice Warden’s eyes bulged as the startled intake of breath entered his body. His entire body took on a different type of hardheadedness to guard compensate his apparent embarrassment. He’s been feeling embarrassed a lot lately.

“Oh c’mon~ Every kid had a silly dream job! I probably went through a dozen, at least. So just spill already.” Ze said, trying to urge him to uncoil the tension from his jaw.

“It doesn’t matter! I knew I was destined to remain a servant my whole life, there was no reason to bother making silly plans.” Jamil hurriedly snapped in a desperate attempt to change the subject.

“Doesn’t mean some 5-year-old Jamil didn’t want to be a firefighter at some point.” Mac countered.

“I never dreamed of being something so foolish and mundane as a firefighter…” Jamil said, raising a defiant eyebrow.

“But you dreamt to be something or the other! C’mon, Viper, throw me a bone here wouldja?”

The two stared the other down, prepared to go back and forth. Clean-up had already been finished by the end of the first question and now Jamil brought out two, small fruit plates. It was a nonverbal offering to keep the conversation going despite his own dodgy replies. How was it possible that relatively harmless banter could be pulled from a subject as touchy as his lack of childhood?

Mac’s ease and understanding, even with their awkward or overbearing, of conversation had charmed the Viper’s unsettled and distrusting nature. If xey weren’t painfully honest (and particularly bad at keeping secrets for long), Jamil would have been worried she was a spy. Whatever I tell them—Kalim’s probably already told his club members, so there’s little harm to be done, he thought begrudgingly.

“A dancer,” his soft whisper blew past the lightly dripping faucet and over the desert’s dunes. In the heart of his answer—an unexpected level of raw honesty—cascaded over the billowing heat in a brutal, stubborn calm.

Mac wasn’t surprised, but he smiled at the second year anyway. That soft look, a fresh morning dew covering the forest floor in the late spring, both cooled and energized the flustered boy. It was an expression he wasn’t often familiar with; such genuine patience and pride over 3 short syllabus was uncalled for when it came to a servant like him. Such an insignificant moment held so much weight when they looked at him like that. A sight and experience that a much younger Jamil would’ve thought impossible to even dream of.

“I’m pretty sure I wanted to be a ballerina, for a time.” A hushed excitement at their shared interest.

“Really?” He’d seen them dance and… never got that impression before.

“Yeah, for like a week. Then it was a police officer, before I found out how much running around I would have to do. After that it was an engineer; who knew there was so much math involved? For a little bit I was dedicated to become the President.” Xeir answers tumbled out easily with plenty of humor behind each one.

“… President of what?” Jamil asked in confusion.

“Of the country! There’s not a whole lotta royal families back on Earth, but anyway, Politics is messy and absolutely soul-crushing. I would probably have twenty breakdowns a month even attempting to jump into THAT cesspool!”

“Ah…” Jamil mentally noted the casual explanation over the bewildering differences between Mac’s world and his own. It wasn’t the easiest to wrap his head around a country with no king, queen, or Sultan.

“Right?! Felt like I wanted to try a little bit of everything, but I always came back to performing on a stage…” For a moment there was a wistful look in their eye before quickly being pushed away.

“… In what way? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, anyway I can. A pianist, an actress, a singer; all I wanted to do since I could remember was to entertain a crowd of people on a stage while I felt those warming lights beaming down on me.” The wistful expression was back with a small tug of a smile.

“Why tell me all of this in the first place?” Jamil knew he had already asked multiple questions at this point, but he had to know. He had to know everything that made up the strange magicless student across from him even more than he wanted to conceal himself. There was just an insatiable need to be their confidant, an archive of Mac Trivia, to just be anything xey let him be. It was strange and powerful and scared him almost as much as they intrigued him. It was an emotional tight-rope he never expected to need to walk, even now, as he studied his companion’s reaction.

“Because even if I do forget it all again, maybe I won’t have to loose myself entirely. Maybe then at least a part of my story will live on and be remembered. Why would people tell stories or gossip or do anything at all, if not for it to be at least remembered by someone?”

They both took a quiet moment to contemplate the sudden serious tone. It wasn’t the fighting or finger-pointing from earlier, but the air felt different from before. Like the next topic, which was Jamil’s to choose, would make or break the tension that was floating around all day between the two of them.

But what in the Twisted Wonderland was he supposed to ask zer after all that?!

There were so many things that still remained a mystery when it came to who Mac was or where they were from (or even why they were sent here in the first place). An uncountable amount of possible questions sped through the 2nd year’s head, trying desperately to pick the right one.

But this—this moment—was an opening to move forward from any awkwardness. Moving past the caring, nosy nuisance to a bond made of understanding. And if Jamil was honest, something he rarely was but making an effort today, than there was really only one specific he needed to know in the moment:

“The sun or the moon?”

“Huh?”

He had blurted it out less like a question and more as an overall demand. An unconscious hiss slipping from between his twisted lips and tempting tongue. Truly, an oversight considering how much the Scarabia resident was overthinking his options… he somehow lost control of his words.

“Sorry! Um… I meant to say, are you a day or night person? Basically do you prefer the Sun or the moon?” Jamil internally cursed himself as he back-pedaled. The earlier courage lost and desperately hoping to skirt passed awkward tension that might follow.

“Bullshit.” Oh for Seven’s Sake!

Mac slowly let xeir eyes glide over each of Jamil’s facial features. Thinking. Analyzing. Committing to memory the very real, very vulnerable intensity the original question had posed.

“The Sun and Moon are considered two halves of a whole, even if they aren’t necessary opposites; why should they be compared in the first place? Why put two celestial bodies against each other? Figuratively or metaphorically.”

Suddenly, the non-native Twistian held the same intensity as Jamil’s initial slip had if not more. It was the stubborn authority he felt in the laundry room—the same focus and need to understand. To be understood. To struggle with the truth while desperately, insistently, needing it to be said.

It scared him. More than hostage situations or poison testing, Mac scared and impressed Jamil more than he could describe. The fact that they were saying exactly what he needed to hear since he was 6-year-old.

“What’s so special about the moon? The sun will always outshine the moon—it can’t even make it’s own light. Then forced into the shadows without the Sun’s light.” He stated in response, trying to opposing his shaken heartbeat, but his tone sounded recited. It was a line he’d told himself time and time again as a mantra from his parents.

“I don’t think so,” the Ramshackle Perfect answered as simply as breathing, “because the moon is beautiful and mysterious and needed. It can do things even the sun cannot. Yes, the sun is beautiful and lovely and celebrated—but I don’t think you understand just how important the Moon is!”

Jamil responded in the last possible way either students expected him to: laughing his ass off. It was hand to describe any undertones of his laughter, but it wasn’t cruel or crazed like when he overblotted. A familiar bite of bitterness lingered in the air while the body of his laughter rang with astonished sincerity.

This was not the same Vice Warden that had tried to scheme against his childhood friend for a small taste of freedom. It wasn’t the snippy, exasperated retainer simply building back his reputation. Nor was it the frustrated, closed off second year that had been yelling all bout how the Perfect didn’t understand him.

He finally felt a little more free, placated and relieved, now that he’s taken a moment to grow. To learn. To feel and be validated in being his own person. Allowed to be better and show it to someone; show himself, at least partially, to Mac.

------

True to word, Mac had practically dragged Adeuce and Jack, along with a ragtag group of other NRC students, apparently “following orders” to finish the cleaning process. Kalim had also insisted that they could still use the laundry room even though Jamil was taking the rest of the day off—which meant all he could do was stew in his room while going over his prior conversations and figure out the best way to ignore how much it affected him.

But just because he was (stubbornly) ignoring running into the Perfect again doesn’t mean he wouldn’t listen in. Jamil knew the dorm’s infrastructure before it was even built! Every keyhole and secret passage way was at his disposal.

On quiet feet, and motivated by a raging headache, the dark-skinned Vice Warden slipped through the halls and walkways of Scarabia. He made sure to have a pair of wireless headphones resting around his neck (to slip on for a believable excuse). They were currently off, so he could keep his ears open to any disturbances, but his right hand hovered nearby just in case.

Mentally, Jamil took note of the heat rising with the desert sun. MC was smart enough (and willing) to start early in the morning. Even with how drowsy xey were, barely dressed and pathetically trying to make the numerous piles of laundry look presentable. They were an idiot. And apparently an observant, suffocatingly kind, filter-less, crass, overbearing Auntie of an idiot as well. So much like Kalim… Uncomfortably close to Kalim’s personality but more matured. Understanding (as much as he hated to admit it).

“So stupid,” Jamil whispered under his breath with a frown. Even still, the long track combined with swirling heat only fueled his practiced, calculating mind. This would be the least opportune moment to evaluate his observations over all the nonsense that Mac had been saying over the course he’d ‘known’ them… He was FAR too worked up in his room to think properly, but now his brain foolishly circled back to early that morning in-time with his silent steps.

. . . . . . .

Before the magicless (legal adult) freshman made their stiff exit, back when Jamil was analyzing each and every twitching muscle in xeir clenched jaw, Jamil was attempting to fire back with a quip. There would be no way for the two to be able to continue working in such tense atmosphere MC had created. He was about to tell them off or make up an excuse, when his more childish monologue betrayed his consciousness.

Everything they said was so unfair. So blisteringly close to the truth, but blunt and lacking the usual grace, empathy or even a teasing lilt. Mac’s usual tired, dragged out fond sarcasm, like an older sibling trying to teach the youngsters without sounding too parental, was long gone. In it’s place was the same forceful, pinprick power int their eyes he’d seen through the cloud of Blot. Somehow, between hallway conversations and Jamil threatening their life, the Ramshackle Perfect had found a crack in his wall and stared him down.

Dishonest. He’d called Jamil out for being dishonest as if it wasn’t just the ingrained second-nature of a resentful servant, born and breed to stalk any threats to the boy that owned his life. His falsehoods had only ever hurt fools and ruffians who vied for Kalim’s life. No one else minded his shifting tongue or blank and burned-out eyes. No one bothered. This was what he was made for.

“Just because you’re not hiding your bitter, knee-jerk reaction from an unfair world doesn’t mean you aren’t still hiding away and lying about your more vulnerable emotions.”

They had no right—no FUCKING RIGHT—to say any of that to him. What could they know about being someone’s shadow? About being stuck shadowing the overbearing rays of the sun? Bound by the pull, the gravity of the two boys birth, Jamil would forever be orbiting just outside of what he can never have. Denied the attention, the affection, the true praise for all the great accomplishes he had to forefeet to a spoiled, airhead brat! Everything he’d been denied since he was just a child…

And yet, there was some part of himself that couldn’t lie about how they were right. How xey might know, at least to some extent, what he had been through. The tiredness, the pitiful, the soulless look deep in his eyes that would fade in and out of reality hinted to just how cruel of a life Mac must’ve had (or at least what they remembered of it) lived. Did he know what it was like to be used? To be looked past? Could their life had led to perpetual people pleasing or hiding xemself for survival or constantly worrying about what would happen if xey ever upset anyone… ever made a mistake?

Could they be so similar? Even with how happy and carefree and Kalim-like they were during the day?

They were infuriating… Oh, Great Merciful Seven, he had never felt so invigorated. It was frightening. It was exciting.It couldn’t go any farther than this moment or else all that he’s worked for would simply disappear.

An eight year old Jamil, shoved deep down in the vipers den, was screaming and flailing his arms to be noticed. To be recognized by such ad honest and trusting and supportive figure like--

Jamil’s mind had already been jumping through extra hoops than his regular mental gymnastics in order to process and combat the Perfect’s comments. It was making him feel far too vulnerable. Like a mothering hen, Mac couldn’t keep out of anyone's business. Even when they were so clearly already run ragged and probably on the verge of snapping.

It was almost ironic, how overly worried and caring and just… persistent they were when it came to the students of NRC. Especially towards the ones that had gone out of their way to hurt xem. How could it be possible that this nosy stranger, that came out of nowhere, could simultaneously be so cautious and caring towards someone they obviously… didn’t deserve their kindness. Jamil had received constant reassurance from the paradoxical force of nature that is the Ramshackle Perfect.

It was so unfair. How Jamil was this dark & twisted, manipulative asshole who’s had to pretend to be the perfect, caring servant. AND MAC! That moron got to be the enamored exasperated force that everyone flocked towards without having any real skill? Xey had even less to their name than Ruggie and yet the charisma and favor that only Kalim could harness. Was that how the two became friends? Some secret power those two perfected at their bullshit “Music Club” in order to blind the rest of us peasants to bend to their will!!! (Of course not Jamil, neither are smart or cruel enough to pull something like that).

Even on days like this, when the Perfect was snappy and apathetic, they were 100x more genuinely thoughtful and kind. What gave him the right to be so bitchy and always know better? MC couldn’t possibly be that much older…

. . . . . . .

Just as Jamil was getting frustrated with trying to rearrange his thoughts, he heard Mac directing the small herd of students.

“Okay, Sebek and Jack! You two can carry the most—”

“What about the Great Grim Hench human! Myah!”

“—and have pretty decent control over that floaty spell—”

“Human! I have already informed you—”

“Can it, you unfriendly Green Giant! Once more, the two linebacker fuckers (seriously how are y’all 16 and NOT on steroids) and Grim, I guess, will grab the thick curtains and the runner rugs. Ruggie could run—heh—run down to Sam’s to grab whatever fancy thread and whatnot to fix the throws. That pile of blankets aaaaaaaaand that miscellaneous crap also needs so mending, right Rugs?”

“Shye shee shee, sure thing Boss! An’ who’s tab will our order be account’d for?”

“Ughh, if Sam won’t let you put it directly on Crowley’s personal account then tell him it’s for the school…. It’s technically not a lie so~”

“Gotcha!” There was already a sound of shuffling and light small talk, but the easy banter and direction between the two made Jamil restless. When had MC and Leona’s hyena lackey become so close? When did they start working together so seamlessly?

“OK… Silver. You up for a quick fetch quest?” Silver’s soft yet serious reply also shocked the Vice Warden. Why were the Diasomnia students even HERE? Jamil had thought Silver was visiting Kalim?!

“Of course. Fa—Lila had instructed Sebek and I to assist you in any way we can. You’re a valuable friend of his after all.”

“Kid, chill. Lils and I gossip and rock out in club together. We don’t have a Blood Oath or something,” Mac huffed out a small, tired laugh, “But thanks for the help anyhow! All I need you to do is run over to Heartslybul and check if Riddle would be willing to check over the china and silverware in Ramshackle. The main dinning room is just left of the Kitchen, down the hall a ways. The door should be unlocked (not that that would stop any of you crazy ass wizards) but if not, just let the Ghosts know you’re helping out. I let them know we’ll be busy for the next coupla months.”

“And how are you planning to get our tea-sized tyrant to do all that?” the red-headed Freshman asshole asked his friend with a snarky tone.

“Ace…!”

“Knock it off Ace!”

“You’re not funny man.”

A cacophony of voices followed in argument before the someone let out a snort, “… It’s a little funny.”

“Guys, just ignore him. Anyway, Silver, on the long table has all the bit and bobs of dish sets I was able to scavenge so far. There’s also a few boxes of stuff crammed in the hallway closet, but I haven’t had time to check if they’re in good shape or not.”

“Trey-Senpai said something about convincing House Warden Riddle to lend you an extra tea set. Who knows how many we’ve got stored away in the dorm, I mean, we’ve used a different set with every Birthday and Unbirthday!” Mac’s Freshman blue guard supplied with earnest.

“Oh la la~ Deuce, could you go with Silver and track Trey and Cay down as well? Cater already promised to help touch up the ballroom in exchange for some behind-the-scene selfies, but if y’all remind them I’ll be taking care of Heartslybul Resident Troublemakers for a while I could talk Trey into updating the kitchen a little!”

“And I guess that means it’s just the two of us~” One half of the Trouble Makers teased.

“Ace… You get to help Rugs! And I think we could use some extra soap and—look at that! It’s practically lunch! Everyone, let’s meet back at Rams in 30 so Ace-kun can treat us to some lunch.”

“What’re you planning to do, Perfect!” He snapped back in retaliation.

“I still need to collect what’s out on the clothes line, fold ‘em and wait for this last load to finish drying. After lunch, a few of us can finish mending what can be salvaged and iron or steam whatever needs it. If this takes longer than an hour, just start putting shit away and I can fix it later.”

“Grrrmph… This’ll take all day!” Grim whined at nearly a decibel only dogs could hear.

“Relax Grim, you already got to nap half the day. Think about it this way… by this time Monday the dorm will be halfway livable!” Mac sarcastically cheered in response.

After a moment of two of grumbling from the first years, and a few goodbyes, Jamil could hear the mages-in-training all leave Scarabia’s laundry room and make their way through the commons. Instead of heading back to start lunch (it is TECHNICALLY his day off), he continued to listen to the shuffling of cloths being handled. Which was quietly drowned out by the sound of Mac humming to xemself.

Really, he should have left by now. Why would he want to risk the chance of being dragged into more cleaning that wasn’t even his priority. (Why did he still feel the need to manage and control other’s work?! It’s just adding more stress to his already full plate by sticking his hand in--)

Starling Jamil out of his thoughts, Mac started to sing lightly under their breath. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the Sophomore remembered Kalim excitedly prattling on about how Xe’d become an “unofficial member” of the Pop Music Club. The quartets sporadic sleepovers (for gossiping, exchanging new music, watching movies, light partying) had recently become a bi-monthly event.

“You are so much more than your father’s son/ You are so much more than what I’ve become/ Long before you were born there was light/ Hidden deep in these young, unfamiliar eyes/ A million choices, though little on their own/ Become the heirloom of the heaviness you’ve known.”

Mac knew they were close to dissociating. It was why they made sure to kick everyone out before someone commented on it. Xe’s pretty sure either Ace or Jack were on the verge of probing them when it took them a full ten seconds for xem to laugh at Ruggie’s joke (something about Grim getting his fur all over the white sheets while napping).

After finally having a private space to breath, the pent up guilt and anguish came back to bite them like a vengeful bitch. Hot pressure, like a balloon expanding in his chest, ready to burst even from the tiniest prick, closed their throat back into a steady hum. Hot pressure. Hot machines. Even the humid air made Mac feel like zey were floating and melting at the same time. Xeir hands continued the practiced motions while screeching words resonated deep in their head. Xe kept humming even as a play-by-play echoed back all of his worst apprehensive and aggressive and obnoxious comments. By now the room must’ve been bubbling, threatening to boil over and pop the picturesque serenity; sunlight stabbed through the windows enough to blind the rooms image and even making it impossible for Mac to simply see the cloth in zeir hand.

Gasping for breath, they finished singing: “… When you inherited/ A fight that you were born to lose/ It’s not your fault/ No, it’s not your fault/ I put this heavy heart in you/ I put this heavy heart in you.”

At some point, Mac dropped whatever aged silky item they were mindlessly folding to scratch at xeir arm. It was a practiced movement; a purposeful, forceful movement that left harsh, heavy, thick red lines up and down his rough, patchy forearm… just barely grazing a faded tat in the center of their wrist. Up and down. Up and down. Up and Down. Jamil decided to take his chance now, before their blood could dye the freshly cleaned laundry.

“It’s getting late, isn’t it?” He tried to stay cordial and neutral to not startle them too bad, but Xe still practically jumped while turning around. How troublesome. “Why don’t you go meet up with the others? I’ll just take care of what’s left here.”

“Shit! J-Jamil, you sneaky sonuvabitch… One of these days I’mma put a bell on you!” The startled Perfect rambled a little breathlessly. They were still trying to come back into their own body that zey hardly realized what Jamil even said. After a few moments they finally processed the emotionless order that was given. “Dude, I already made you get up early on a Saturday morning. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Jamil huffed at the verbal side-step. “MC, you’re about ten minutes from heatstroke,” He gave zem an annoyed, unimpressed frown when they tried to retort. “I was about to make some lunch and brew a little iced chai. You might as well have some before you finish up for the day.”

“Not a Chai person,” they replied in a rush.

“Scarabia is fully stocked with all of Kalim’s guest’s favorite drinks. At least drink a glass or two of water before the desert sun dries you up.” The banter Jamil returned sounded stiff, but encouraging; So inviting, even after Mac picked him a part like an entitled, wannabe Psych Major. It didn’t feel right to already be in his company again. Then again, xey were already pretty dizzy—dissociation, a mild panic attack, and dehydration paired with a casual case of overheating was a pretty gross cocktail for their body to handle.

The stress was really starting to affect xem lately. More nightmares, more… memories and fitful sleep led to a lower tolerance to the usual Hell that is NRC. On top of all that, it seems he might further fuck up the already unstable ‘friendship’ the two hardworking students had.

“Seriously, Viper you don’t have to feel like you need to smooth things over or take control to handle everything. What I said was none of my business, and all of this mess,” Mac stumbled towards the unfolded bundle they had been working on before feeling so woozy, “is my mess to deal with. I can grab a snack or something a little later.” They tried to put up a bigger front, but it was clear that their all-persistent (stubborn) resilience was breaking down with each degree raised in the room. It was an act coming to a close… And the only way for them to give in willingly was to force his hand.

“Mac. As the Vice Warden of Scarabia I can’t have you passing out.” Jamil blankly stated.

Fuck. The quiet tension edged with anxiety was not aided by their usual jokes. Both students were stubborn, but the magicless Perfect was tired and, as much as they did want to admit it, about to tip over any second. Better get it over with….

“Just for a minute.” Xey gave in.