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Zolf’s always had ice coursing through his veins.
As a child he would sneak away from his father and feryn in the mines to go read. He could sit for hours down there, letting the cold of the stone seep into his skin as he turned the pages. Quiet and alone, he could place himself in the minds of pirates and adventurers and mercenaries. The idea of being able to choose his own destiny instead of having it carved out for him made him feel free. Made him feel hopeful.
What he didn’t like was the feeling of getting caught. Of feryn (because it was always feryn) finding him and snatching his book out of his hand. His brother would always sneer, mocking Zolfs tastes before attempting to mutilate it. Zolf would do everything he could to get it back but feryn would just laugh and laugh and laugh, this wicked spark in his eyes. he’d shout and yell with a voice like a blazing inferno until their father heard and screamed at them both. He raged like a volcano.
It was one of the worst things he could experience.
So, as he grew, he learnt how to get away, how to leave behind people and places without a second thought. He flowed through the world like a frigid stream, blocking any connecting estuary with ice. He only really talked with those he needed to or those whose presence also shimmered with frost. he swept through the crowds like a flurry of snowflakes, never letting himself stick or melt to anyone else.
Some might say it was a lonely way to live, zolf included, but it was the only way he found worked for him. He wanted to live a life so different from his childhood. He wanted to live a life so far removed from the heat and smoke of that somerset mine. He wanted to protect himself from those hated sparks, those people he knew could become his funeral pyre.
So, when Zolf sees an inferno, he just wants to douse it out.
That’s the feeling he has with Hamid.
From the moment they met, Zolf knew that Hamid was a firecracker. A stick of dynamite just waiting to go off. He was young and naïve and privileged with an annoying belief that power was owed to him by right. It made Zolf furious, and he hated being furious.
In many ways hamid was even worse with it than bertie. Because Hamid seemed to actually believe that he was good. That what he was doing was good. That his inherited wealth and power somehow made him better than everyone else and the good he did more impactful. At least bertie knew deep down that he was an awful person.
Zolf hoped that eighteen months might have changed Hamid. It didn’t.
And it’s not as if he didn’t try to mend bridges. Really, he did. But Hamid was still so naïve, so quick to see this whole thing as one big adventure instead of the apocalyptic disaster that it actually was. he was quick to challenge his authority, acting as if he knew best, acting like he knew how to lead. They could just lead together, but now, it had to be all about Hamid. It made Zolfs blood boil. It still makes Zolfs blood boil.
So, he just keeps pushing him away.
And He doesn’t even know if he dislikes Hamid, doesn’t know if he actually wants Hamid to dislike him. He just wants Hamid to feel someway about him. Someway that isn’t just hot ambition, a half-arsed hero-worship that has nothing to do with him as a person. He wants Hamid to see him as an equal instead of a spoiled childish brat to be looked down on and bossed around.
He wants Hamid’s bonfire to fizzle down, to burn out in a chill wind and iced water. He wants Hamid to stop reacting. No more blowing up and arguing. He wants to have a reasonable conversation with him. Just too people on the same team trying to do what’s best.
He wants what his brother never gave him.
Maybe then they could be friends.
***
Hamid’s always had fire burning in his gut.
As a child he would never be far away from mischief. It’s not that he wanted to cause trouble, not really. It’s just that the spark of adrenaline he got from his little adventures lit the tinder in his stomach so perfectly. Running through the corridors, jumping the courtyard walls, sneaking into the kitchens, it made him feel exciting. Made him feel powerful.
What he didn’t like was the feeling of getting caught. Of being found out and reprimanded. A shiver still runs down his spine when he knocks on the door of his father’s office, memories of past reprimands flooding through him like ice water. The way his father would stare coldly at him, never once raising his voice, never once showing any emotion. Just giving Hamid his punishment and sending him alone to his room to think on what he’d done.
It was one of the worst things he could experience.
So, as he grew he stopped being the cause of problems and started hanging out with them instead. Hed find other people who harboured bonfires and help feed their flames. Hed give them the kindling and the wood to grow their pyres. Sometimes he’d even give them the spark needed to ignite.
Some would say it was a dangerous way to live, Hamid included. But it was the only way he found that worked for him. He wanted to live a life so different from his childhood. He wanted to live a life so far removed from the frigidity and chill of that Egyptian mansion. He wanted to protect himself from those hated icicles, those people he knows could give him frostbite.
So, when Hamid sees a glacier he just wants to melt it down.
That’s the feeling he has with Zolf.
From the moment they met, Hamid knew that zolf was an ice sculpture. An avalanche just waiting to crash down. He was old and set in his ways and burdened, with an annoying belief that power was owed to him through experience. It made Hamid retreat, and he hated retreating.
In many ways Zolf was even worse with it than Sasha. Because zolf seemed to actually believe that he was good. That what he was doing was good. That his difficulties and experience somehow made him better than everyone else and the good he did more impactful. At least Sasha knew deep down that she was an awful person.
Hamid hoped that eighteen months might have changed Zolf. It didn’t.
And it’s not as if he didn’t try to mend bridges. Really, he did. But Zolf was still so set in his ways, so quick to see this whole thing as one big disaster instead of finding ways to cope. he was quick to assert his authority, acting as if he knew best, acting like he knew how to lead. They could just lead together, but no, it had to be all about Zolf. It made Hamids stomach freeze. It still makes Hamid’s stomach freeze.
So, he just keeps pushing him away.
He doesn’t even know if he likes Zolf, doesn’t know if he actually wants Zolf to like him. He just wants Zolf to feel someway about him. Someway that isn’t just cold passivity, a disconnected distaste that has nothing to do with him as a person. He wants Zolf to see him as an equal instead of a spoiled childish brat to be looked down on and bossed around.
He wants Zolfs icy walls to crack, to crash and evaporate in heat and fury. He wants Zolf to react. No more deflecting or hiding. He wants him to just let go and finally be honest with how he feels. Just too people on the same team trying to do what’s best.
He wants what his father never gave him.
Maybe then they could be friends.
***
Wilde’s always had a soft spot for juxtaposition. For foils.
He thinks it’s what originally endeared him to Zolf all those years ago. Their differences. The fact that they were two completely separate people united in the same goal. That no matter how varied their view on the world was it was still similar enough to see eye to eye more often than not.
Zolf was a breath of fresh air, so different from everyone else Wilde had to deal with. He knew how to calm that restless little spark inside of him when it started to get too big. Knew how to blow out that candle he burnt at both ends so that he could finally rest.
He was a great partner.
And maybe it’s the same reason why he’s manged to stay such good friends with Hamid over the years. Because despite their glaring similarities they were two very different people at heart. Wilde had built his little empire from the ground up whereas Hamid had been handed his on a gold platter. It meant they both enjoyed the finer things in life but in very different ways.
Hamid was a warming presence, so different from everyone else Wilde had to deal with. He knew how to shatter that slight layer of frost Wilde had to keep people away from him. Knew how to stop the snow in his brain covering and hiding all of his own passions.
He was a great friend.
They were both such important people in his life in such different ways. And it infuriated him to no end that they just refused to meet each other in the middle. Wilde knew deep down that if the two of them could just put their differences aside they would make such great friends.
When Wilde sees two foils, he wants to bring them together.
So, he hatches a plan. It’s quite a good plan if he does say so himself. Since Zolfs come back to live in London, he’s been itching for a new problem to solve. And since Wilde met back up with Hamid, the two have been in discussion over how best to find Hamids skill set.
And Wilde just so happens to have a task that would be suited to the both of them.
Its long a long and arduous process, tough going, but most of the best plans are. He starts small, mentioning little snippets of his rebuilding work to Zolf over dinner, chatting restoration efforts with Hamid in little London cafes. Slowly, he builds up to hinting at needing help, a difficult thing for him to do at the best of times. An offhand comment about needing more muscle as Zolf stirs a stew, a complaint about the lack of good recruitment scouts while Hamid licks at an ice-cream.
Then the grand finale. Offers of jobs over chopped vegetables and Michelin star meals. The eager acceptance. The awkward reveal of ulterior motives, of third parties not mentioned. The hesitant reassurance of acceptance. The caveat that they can’t make any promises, that there’s a big chance this won’t work.
But he doesn’t care, his plan’s finally coming off. And if it fails, well… at least he’s been well fed.
It doesn’t fail though. no, it succeeds with flying colours just as he’d hoped. As he’d suspected.
Wilde smiles to himself as he pads down the corridor to the joint kitchen and dining area. The sound of laughter emanates from the open door along with the smell of rich spices. it’s followed by the sound of upbeat conversation, two voices, so tonally different, blending together into a beautiful melody.
Its quickly becoming one of Wildes favourite sounds.
The conversation continues as he reaches the door, curiosity getting the better of him as he peers in. he’s greeted by the sight of Zolf and Hamid, both perfectly suited to the setup of the kitchen, peering over a large metal pot. Zolf stirs the contents while Hamid overlooks. Wilde thinks he’s giving instructions, miming movements for Zolf to follow and pointing towards a book crammed with his ridiculously curly writing.
Wilde considers announcing his presence then thinks better of it. he finds little need to be an active participant in this interaction. In fact, he thinks he much prefers being an observer, watching two people he cares about deeply get on so well. He lets himself stay there a little longer before heading back to his office, smile never fading.
And when he’s eventually called for dinner, the Ful Medames he’s given is exactly the right temperature.