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Placing Kalim’s headband and clothing on his tidy bed, Jamil mentally checked off one more item from his to-do list. Even though he mainly had to play with and watch over Kalim, there were some days when Jamil had to shoulder more than usual. As always, he had accepted the tasks without complaints, removing any bitterness from his mind. He knew his tasks would only increase when he grew older, reaching double digits…
Wiping his hands clean, his eyes glanced at the luxurious clock on the left wall. Perfect; if he continued at this pace, he would be finished just on time for his break in five minutes. As long as nothing interrupted his schedule—
"Jamil!”
Everything shattered into a million pieces, but it wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last.
Jamil turned in the direction of the voice just in time to see Kalim dashing from the main hallway into his bedroom. As usual, a wide smile accompanied his presence.
"Aha!” Kalim exclaimed, running over to Jamil. "I knew I’d find you here! Say, are you busy right now?”
There were two answers to his question. After spending almost a decade with Kalim, Jamil knew exactly which answer was the correct one.
"I’m not,” Jamil lied. "What happened? Are you hungry, or do you want to play mancala?”
A whine left the heir’s mouth. "Both of those also sound so good…” He shook his head as if to remove any distractions. "But I didn’t find you for that.”
"Then, what—” Jamil started to ask.
Kalim grabbed Jamil’s hand and began yanking him along, the abrupt action slicing through Jamil’s question like a sharp knife.
Knowing he had no authority to worm out of Kalim’s shenanigans, Jamil allowed Kalim to drag him along like a limp, powerless animal.
During the journey to wherever, Jamil managed to ask a single question: "Where are we going?”
"One of the storage rooms. You’ll never guess what you’re about to see!”
"It better not be an insect,” Jamil muttered. Shivers traveled down his back just from imagining it.
"No, don’t worry; it’s not an insect,” Kalim confirmed. "It’s a… actually, I want you to see it for yourself.”
Less than a minute later, they finally ended their journey, standing before one of the many doors in the estate. Kalim released his grip; warmth left Jamil’s hand. He stepped forward and pushed the doors inward. Instantly, recognition hit Jamil. Aligning with Kalim’s rushed answer, it was, indeed, a room. However, only Kamil would ever refer to a room full of treasures and stacks of riches as a 'storage room.' Dust clouds formed in the air when the lights turned on.
"Hi!” Kalim called out. "I'm back. You can come out now.”
The beat of silence made Jamil believe Kalim had lost his mind or was playing a huge prank. However, an object appeared from around one of the piles of gold coins. A red, black, and yellow rug floated up to Kalim.
The biggest grin formed on Kalim’s face. "Look at this!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands out as if presenting a grand prize. "It’s a magic carpet.”
As if on cue, the magic carpet flew over to Jamil, and one of its wool tassels was extended outward. An embarrassing amount of time had passed before Jamil understood the action: a handshake.
Taking the tassel in his own hand, and with a smile, Jamil said, "Nice to meet you.” Then, he instantly locked eyes with Kalim. "Can I talk to you for a second? Alone?”
The grin dropped for a hint of a second before reappearing once more. "Sure.”
Stepping outside of the room—hopefully out of earshot from the carpet—Jamil inhaled deeply, clapping his hands together in front of his chest.
"Explain.”
Kamil knocked his head to the side. "Explain?” A confirming nod prompted the heir to continue. "Ah, well, I was bored this morning, so I decided to walk around, and I stumbled in here. And I felt a poke on my shoulder; it appeared out of nowhere!”
As he carried on, rambling about his one-sided conversations with the carpet, Jamil’s mind began to run. He couldn’t recall a time when he had known the Asim family owned a magic carpet. Not that it surprised Jamil that one of the richest families owned a flying carpet…
"After that, I wanted you to meet it, and that’s the whole story,” Kalim said, tying his story up with a nice bow.
"You just wanted me to meet it?” Jamil asked. "Nothing else?”
"Nope!”
Still, skepticism remained in his mind.
"So, I’m not playing the role of a tour guide or anything?”
In an instant, it was as if a light bulb flickered inside Kalim’s head. "A tour…” he repeated with a murmur.
Jamil silently cursed under his breath; it was his fault for opening his mouth and planting an idea in Kalim’s mind. He braced himself, expecting Kalim to demand that he give it a grand tour of the entire estate or worse, of the entire land. But, apparently, it was nothing of the sort.
Another smile beamed up at Jamil. "You’re a genius!” Kalim exclaimed.
Hearing that simple two-syllable word made Jamil’s heart skip a beat. "W-what?”
However, he wasn’t in the mood to explain. "Jamil, I’ll see you later.” Kalim stuck his head into the doorway. "And, carpet, just sit tight, okay?”
With that, he was gone…
So was Jamil’s break.
*****
Jamil shifted the stack of bedsheets to his left arm, freeing his right hand to knock on Kalim’s door.
"Kalim? Are you there?”
Silently hoping the heir wasn’t in his room, Jamil waited a few seconds for a possible answer. It wasn’t that Kalim wasn’t the worst person in the world—although, sometimes, that could’ve been the truth. But lately, Jamil’s feelings about the white-haired boy had been in a mild disarray. Seeing his wide smile and happy-go-lucky attitude as his reaction to everything had always hit Jamil with tiny spells of annoyance. However, for some reason, a part of him recently wanted to experience more. It was as if the smiles, laughs, and compliments weren’t enough and were too much all at once. (Jamil blamed it on the stupidly simple "You’re a genius!” statement from a week ago; it had corrupted his mind and heart.)
Five seconds had passed before Jamil reached for the doorknob. Six seconds had passed before the door opened without Jamil’s influence.
"Ah, ha. I knew I recognized your voice,” Kalim said, opening the door wider as an invitation.
Jamil could feel his heart racing to calm itself from the sudden appearance. He shook it off, maintaining his collected dignity. Walking inside, he instantly approached the closet to deposit the sheets.
"Why didn’t you say anything when I asked if you were here?” he scolded after freeing up his hands.
The bedroom door shut behind him. "Sorry… I was busy talking to the carpet.”
Wait, what?
Jamil whipped around and came eye-to-eye (or eye-to-fringe?) with a familiar flying magic carpet, floating just outside of the open balcony. One of its four fridges waved happily at Jamil.
"Okay, okay,” Kalim said. "Before you get mad at me, I can explain. Do you remember when you mentioned giving the carpet a tour?”
"Yes, I do.”
"Well, I thought about what you said, and it seemed like the carpet really wanted to leave that storage room. So, I talked to my dad, and he eventually allowed me to have it! I simply have to take extra good care of it.”
The juxtaposition of one boy's excitement and the other's incredulity was extremely obvious. Kalim, as the proud owner of a carpet, was unbelievable to Jamil's ears. What was Kalim's father thinking? The heir couldn't even tie the bow on his headband without assistance!
"Anyway," Kalim said, pulling Jamil out of his stunned state. "You came just in time!"
"I'm going to regret asking this, but for what?"
Kalim made his way to his grand marble balcony. "As thanks for taking it out of storage, the carpet's going to give me a ride through the sky. I'm so excited!"
Even more disbelief entered Jamil. He'd only known the carpet for five minutes, but that was enough for Jamil to have a suspicious view of it.
"I'm against this, Kalim," he voiced honestly. "It doesn't seem safe."
A laugh was the reply to Jamil's concerns. "Don't worry so much. My dad showed me how to ride it, and it looked pretty safe to me."
Well, at least the head of the Asim family had expressed some of his responsibilities as a father, but it wasn't enough for Jamil.
"What if there are assassins—"
"Oh, I know what it is," Kamil suddenly said, turning back to Jamil with another one of his too-much-and-not-enough smiles. "You're jealous."
That had been the most surprising thing Jamil had heard of today.
"Huh? No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are! You'll get your turn in the skies after me. Maybe next week, we can try to fly on it together."
Out of all the possibilities Kalim could've landed on, this was on the absolute opposite end of the spectrum. Jamil didn't care about getting his turn, or sharing the carpet, or experiencing five minutes of imaginary freedom. It was Kalim that Jamil cared—
"Okay, carpet; I'm ready!" Kalim exclaimed, already placing one foot out of the window. "Let's go!"
It was as if ice had frozen Jamil to the wood flooring. Only when Kalim and the carpet disappeared behind the windowsill did the ice thaw. A thunderous exclamation grew quieter as the seconds passed.
Rushing over to the window, he squinted against the blazing sun. Jamil's eyes darted everywhere until they landed on the only moving object in the sky. A faint "This is awesome!" was heard in the distance. For the next minute, Jamil watched them flying like a bird. Part of him didn't want to admit it, but maybe Kalim had been right about the jealousy comment. Jamil's hand reached out, trying to imagine himself with that amount of freedom… With Kalim…
However, the vision was whisked away when Kalim started falling to the ground.
"Kalim!" tore from his throat.
The carpet was speeding after Kalim, but a section of the estate obstructed Jamil's view.
As if on instinct, Jamil raced like the wind out of the bedroom. Luckily, no one paid any attention to the young servant running down the halls. They were all unaware of his destination. His heart was pounding, but the adrenaline was overpowering exhaustion.
Heat attacked Jamil when he left the air-conditioned estate. The sun's mild discomfort was the least of his worries. If Kalim had gotten hurt (or worse), what would happen to Jamil and his family? Nothing that would allow them to see the light of day, Jamil knew that much for sure.
However, just a tiny piece of his heart reached out for Kalim, and only Kalim. It was strange—Jamil had never solely cared for Kalim without worrying about the negative effects on his family. What was this unusual (even illogical) change of heart?
Jamil shook his thoughts and feelings away once he spotted Kalim on his knees in the middle of a sandy area. The carpet hovered to his right. From a distance, red was void from sight. However, Kamil was holding his head in his hand, which kept Jamil's worry lingering.
"Kalim!" Jamil rushed to the heir's side, kneeling before him. "Are you okay?"
Grains of sand decorated his hair and clothing. Everything was a mess compared to his appearance minutes ago at the estate. When he moved his hand from his face, pink colored his cheeks, and a red mark covered part of his forehead. It wasn't blood, perhaps a friction burn, but it was still an injury, nonetheless.
Instantly, Jamil snapped at the carpet. "You! What were you—"
"Wait, Jamil!" Kamil interrupted. "It wasn't the carpet's fault. I think I leaned too far on one side and fell off. It managed to catch me before I hit the ground! But I think I smacked my head on it…”
All the anger shifted into disbelief. Jamil didn't even want to imagine what had prompted Kalim's empty mind to lean so far he'd fall off. However, Kalim was alive. They would need to visit the hospital wing to obtain lotion and cream for Kalim's injury and create a cover-up story about the incident, but Kalim was all well and good, like always.
It was fine. Nothing terribly horrible had happened. In terms of injuries and worse events that had impacted Kalim, this was on the lower end. Kalim was fine.
He's okay.
In the middle of Jamil's storm of emotions, Kalim had managed to stand up, his sandals sinking slightly into the golden sand. His jewelry clanked together. The sounds multiplied when he brought one hand up to his forehead again.
Jamil sighed and pulled Kalim's hand away from his face. An impulse thought rushed through him—a rarity for the collected and careful servant. Acting upon said impulsive thought was an even greater rarity.
Jamil had always been taller (maybe Kalim would have a growth spurt in the future). So, he had to lean down just a bit to plant his lips on Kalim's forehead. It was quick, only a flutter. However, it was enough to make the sun's heat feel ten times stronger. Red began to touch Kalim's cheeks. (Jamil was certain the same was on his own face.)
"W-what?" Kalim stammered. For once, the heir was at a loss for words.
"Haven't you ever heard of people kissing injuries to make them feel better?" Jamil asked; his voice came out more murmured than originally expected.
His shocked expression transformed into one of realization. "Oh, yeah; thanks, Jamil! You always think of everything."
It was a compliment Kalim had exclaimed endless times before. However, this time, it made Jamil feel floaty.
"We should kiss each other's injuries all the time from now on!" Kalim said without hesitation.
Now Jamil felt red—red and floaty. It was as if he were flying on the magic carpet, and it had lifted him too close to the scorching sun.
Speaking of the magic carpet, Jamil glanced over at it. For some reason, if it had a face, Jamil swore it would be smirking knowingly at him.
"Shut up," Jamil whispered to it.
"What'd you say?" Kalim asked with a head tilt.
"Nothing. Let's get you back before someone notices you're missing."
Another one of Kalim's bright smiles shone up at Jamil. "Sounds good to me, and then, afterwards, we can fly in the skies together! Just you and me!"
That actually sounds nice.