Actions

Work Header

Once In A Lifetime: JamiAzu Prompts

Chapter Text

His worst class is undeniably flying. He just can not do it. Another factor being he also just doesn't like it. Only in recent years he has fully adapted to walking on only two limbs. How could he possibly adjust to keeping balance mid-air? Only a few metres off the ground and his stomach would fall deep. His feet would ache as blood rushed to them almost immediately every time. And even a little speed, his glasses would fog from his heavy breathing.

Azul knows he sucks at physical education, but it isn't a priority so he doesn't care to try harder in the area. Which has been a fatal mistake.

Vargas had taken notice of Azul's apathic attitude to flying and was somewhat personally insulted by it. After a melodramatic conversation, Vargas decided Azul needed one on one time with flying assistance. But of course Vargas didn't want to help himself. So, he turned around, pointed, and deemed a rando student to 'tutor' Azul. Said random student turned out to be Jamil. Of all people... Though it could be worse...

Now the two stand together in the center of the large green oval. To be fair, Jamil doesn't look pleased either. He probably has much more important errands to run, (Kalim).

"Did you even pay attention to how to a hold a broomstick?" Jamil curls his lip downwards. Honestly, he wasn't born with eight limbs to get him around. What does he know?

"You need to keep up your balance." Really now?

"I'm trying to do so." Azul tries not to come off as upset as he rocks around tremendously on the broom. This is already so awkward.

A tired exhale is let out as Jamil wipes his forehead. 

"Whatever, just get on the back of my broom and watch what I do." Oh no, this could not be worse than anything else. 

Azul knows Jamil is a good flyer; possibly due to his natural athleticism or because of the magic carpets in Scalding Sands. He knows he can trust Jamil to not let him fall, but the thought still made Azul quite sweaty.

Jamil has already gotten on his broom and lifts up an eyebrow. Swallowing his pride, Azul sits behind him, making sure not to inch too close. 

Another exhale. "Put your hands on my shoulders, you already have bad enough balance." Azul does so. His skin has seemed to become the start of slim waterfalls. 

Jamil kicks off the peaceful ground and Azul's stomach eats itself instantly. The two are no more than five metres of the ground when Azul feels his clutch tighten across Jamil's shoulders and scoots cautiously forward. 

His glasses cling to face for dear life. Why on earth didn't he take them off? Idiot.

Jamil doesn't seem to care about Azul's tightened hold. 

"You see you how I'm placing my hands on the stick? You don't have to have that much of a firm grip; that'll create sweat and unwanted friction. So it's better to- Azul? Are you listening?"

Bile has filled every corner of Azul's mouth. Tasting of deep fried crab and acid gut fluid. 

He feels as if his mind has been emptied out completely. Eyes will not move from the scene below him. 

Everything is so very far away. Unreachable by hand. All the strength in Azul's limbs start to feel sickeningly light. 

Azul can not do this. He is going to faint. Or vomit first. This wasn't a good idea. Why did he agree to this again? Well, Jamil's hair is very soft against his cheek.

"Azul?!"

Consciousness falls away...