be brave, have faith

by BoiTobio

Summary:

For all his desperation to keep Kaveh by his side, Haitham has still yet to make a move.

Man up, Alhaitham. Kaveh won't be there forever.

Notes:

Aaaah I finally get to post this after so long!

This work contains a kinda major OC. Please do not hate her XD she is cool and she is my child.

I hope you enjoy reading!!

“Really? I’ve never met anyone who liked this style as well!” Giggles and excited squeals can be heard from the corner of the library. It’s quite annoying for anyone to be talking in a place purposefully designated for quiet reading--and it is even more so that it’s the two seemingly loudest people in Sumeru. Alhaitham’s hands curl against the rich wood of the table. Of all days not to bring his headphones.

“That’s just amazing, Senior Kaveh. I know you probably hear this all the time, but truly, you’ve been one of my greatest inspirations. For such a young architect to be so accomplished is admirable. It really is my greatest honor to meet you!”

Haitham’s mouth twitches. 

Kaveh blushes like a fool, always having been the type to be embarrassed by compliments, no matter how well-deserved. He tucks a strand of loose hair behind his ear and says softly, “I wouldn’t call myself accomplished, per se. But thank you for thinking so highly of me.”

His companion then starts fidgeting, growing restless in her seat. She’s a small lady, a student from Kshahrewar, most probably. The subtle red in her ears tells Haitham what she’s about to say before she even says it.

“I-If you wouldn’t mind, Senior, could I invite you for coffee sometime…? T-To talk about architecture, of course!”

As for Kaveh, Haitham already knows him well enough to predict his answer, even without looking at his face for visual cues. 

“Of course, I don’t mind at all! It’s a pleasure to talk with a like-minded individual.”

Haitham scoffs internally. He may be the more emotionally unavailable one, but Kaveh-- for certain-- is the more ignorant of them. 

"You'll lose him, Haitham," Cyno's voice suddenly pops out of nowhere, all solemn and serious. He has helped himself to the seat beside Haitham, so stealthily that Haitham wouldn’t have noticed if it weren’t for the shifting of the air and change in the lighting. Haitham doesn't understand why he'd bother sticking his nose in their business when it's clearly not anywhere near a General Mahamatra's area of concern. Instead, he does not heed his colleague’s foreboding warning and continues reading his book. Even if he has to drown out Kaveh’s lilting laughter.

“Idiot,” Cyno says, pulling out a book of his own, but even that goes into one of Haitham’s ears and out the other.

 

…

 

“Well if it isn’t Al Haitham! I haven’t seen you enter the tavern in a while--your friend there, however, has been coming nearly three times a week,” Lambad greets amicably once Haitham walks up to the counter. 

“Yes. I have been…entrusted with a lot more duties. I’m afraid I no longer have the same schedule as before,” he replies. Lambad is a good man, and even if Haitham is averse to making pointless small talk, he owes a lot to the barkeep, may it be from personal favors or official matters.

“I see. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, huh? Bet people congratulate you for your promotion, but it must be pretty difficult, no?”

Haitham’s mouth quirks upward slightly. Lambad is difficult to dislike. He’s one of the few people who aren’t performative in giving their regards. Anyone who even had a smidge of understanding of Haitham’s character would know that being designated as Acting Grand Sage is the last thing he’d want. Yet all the people he has interacted with in the Akademiya have been assuming that this burden was a pleasure for him. They think it’s a reward when it’s actually a curse. He has barely had the time for leisurely reading lately.

“It is part of the Acting Grand Sage’s duty to reassure the people, so the answer for that would be: it’s nothing that can’t be handled.”

Lambad laughs free-spiritedly. “Oh, I’m sure. Though I do hope that that friend of yours is also something you can handle.”

As if on cue, a loud clatter arises from one of the booths. Haitham doesn’t have to turn his head to know who it is, or for a headache to start. 

He sighs. “How much is his tab this time?”

Lambad’s eyes crinkle in a mischievous way that Haitham can’t completely read. “Oh no worries, Grand Sage. Mr. Kaveh’s beautiful companion has got it covered this time. I just worry that an inebriated grown man would be too much for her.” 

Haitham’s headache transforms into something more like a cramp in his stomach. He turns his head faster than what might’ve been considered natural, and sees Kaveh struggling to stay up, arm slung over the shoulder of an admittedly pretty lady who’s one whole head shorter than him. He recognizes her from that time at the House of Daena.  At the sight of his roommate dragging his feet, something in Haitham’s chest lurches. He should help him. He should carry him home and reprimand him for drinking himself to a barely-functioning mess. He should be the one that takes care of him, the one to wipe the sweat off his nose and the one to tuck him into bed. He should move. He should intercept. He should--

“Aren’t you going to help him?”

Haitham just watches them stumble out of the tavern. Kaveh hates letting people know he lives with Haitham, so he definitely didn’t tell his companion his address. And Haitham is sure as hell this tiny girl has no way of knowing where he lives, so there’s only one place she could take Kaveh. 

“No need. Looks like he’s got somebody else to help him.”

Haitham turns his back on them, orders a drink, and downs it in one go. 

 

…

 

Her name is Sasani; Haitham learns that two weeks into their…well, whatever she and Kaveh have going on. Haitham learns this because he sees her name in one of the applications for a volunteer post at the House of Daena administrative office. Haitham isn’t normally one to give a second glance at these applicants, but seeing her long, doll-like lashes and caramel eyes on glossy photo paper cut into 2x2 squares sent a violent shock along his spine. It’s embarrassing. But in his lonesome in the Grand Sage’s office, he has no one to fool that reading the lady’s file is purely out of academic curiosity. 

She is quite a decorated scholar--one with numerous undergraduate awards and with even more recognition under her masteral program. Rising star of the Kshahrewar, as they’d have it. Haitham rationalizes that must be why Kaveh likes talking to her--she shared the same accolades as him, and perhaps they could bond over being architectural and engineering prodigies. Still, Haitham does not particularly like her vibe. Or whatever. There’s a list of projects she’s been involved in over the course of her enrollment. Charity, internship, outreach programs and a winding list of research projects with a 100% publish rate. What.

Haitham sets her file back down. But then he still sees her pristine smile pasted on the form, so he strategically plops the pile of research proposals he has yet to approve on top of her. No malice. Just. 

Just. 

 

…

 

When Haitham wakes up, there’s a pouch of mora sitting nicely atop a note with Kaveh’s handwriting on the table of his study. Here’s the rent for this month, it reads. Odd. It’s on time for once. 

It’s a Sunday, so more often than not, Kaveh stays home to tinker or work on his other projects in the dining room, because it has a table big enough to accommodate his blueprints and tools and whatnot. Haitham has already commissioned a carpenter to make him a wide drafting table he could use instead of hogging what is supposed to be a place to eat--under secrecy, of course--and it would be ready by Kaveh’s birthday. Coincidentally. 

Haitham himself enjoys being home as well for the weekend, cozying up with a book he had been eager to read all week but couldn’t due to his busy clean-up work at the Akademiya. He’d put on his headphones, recline on the couch and bury his nose in a book until Kaveh tapped him and reminded him to eat dinner. On most Sundays, he’d cook something up for them, and he’d have a companionable conversation with Kaveh over their hot food. If he’s too tired to cook, Kaveh would drag him out to eat somewhere, insist it’d be his treat, only to end up losing that debate against Haitham when it was time to pay. 

But for this Sunday, seeing as Kaveh has taken it upon himself to leave a note instead of paying rent in person, he seems to be uncharacteristically away from the comfort of their home. There’s an emptiness in the halls that can come only from the absence of a roommate who, without fail, seems to make sound from everything he does. 

Haitham does not like to make unfounded assumptions. But he thinks he has an idea about where his roommate is. Something tells him he should go. Maybe disrupt them a bit, see what they’re up too--possibly finally get a clear picture of just what they are, if it’s just purely an academic association or if there’s canoodling going on--

There is no meaning behind it. Haitham is just curious, the way a man would if they suspect their cat to be chumming up with the neighbor’s cat. Yes, that parallelism is so straight Kaveh can use it as a ruler. 

But then again, even if he does go and try to find Kaveh, maybe observe them from afar, what’s the point? It’s not like he can interrupt them and join them. That’d be petty and immature. And even if he does thicken his skin enough to face them, what would he say? ‘Stop this at once!’ or ‘What is the meaning of this?!’ like some scandalized woman catching her husband in an affair? 

Besides--this is what he has always wanted since Kaveh moved in. Peace and quiet. Peace and quiet and uncomfortable stillness. He eats his brunch wordlessly and tries to finish a few more pages of his new book. Alhaitham stews all alone on what should have been a pleasant Sunday. 

 

…

 

In light of Kaveh’s frequent absences and Haitham’s inability to Do Anything About It, the latter has decided to look at this situation from a different point of view. That is, to say, that Haitham has taken it upon himself to convince himself that whatever this phase Kaveh has going on will pass. 

Except it has been two months. 

And it just keeps getting worse. 

“I’ll be staying over at Sasani’s tonight and tomorrow night, so you can lock the door right away once you get home later. Oh! And a client gave us two boxes of baklava. Sasani says she couldn’t finish hers, so I left mine in the fridge for you. I’ll just share with her. You can have it. Take care, Haitham!” 

Kaveh says all that without even sparing a whole second to look Haitham in the eye. Not that he’d be able to read anything from his face anyway, always the perfect picture of stoicism. But perhaps he wished that Kaveh would look at him for longer than a fleeting, distracted glance and see something in Haitham’s eyes that would seem to say I don’t want you to leave. 

Alas, Kaveh is already out the door before Haitham could make so much as the decision to quirk his brows a little to show displeasure. He always seems to be too slow, too late when it comes to Kaveh. 

It’s fine. Alhaitham waits two days so that he can suggest to Kaveh that he can work here in their home.

“But Sasani doesn’t know we live together. And I can’t work alone in the project--I need her consent and opinions for this part since it’s a core principle of our framework…” Kaveh proceeds to go on an unsolicited lengthy discussion of their joint project on adapting Deshretian tech into modern aids for the disabled. Since those with speech defects had relied on the Akasha terminal to communicate, its cessation has brought upon a need to develop new ways for the mute to convey themselves. Folks from King Deshret’s time have been recorded to have utilized handheld devices that displayed texts and basic images, and these were primarily used to send messages and store reminders. Their goal now is to figure out a way to incorporate or redesign that device into something that is more functional, convenient and cost-effective. Haitham listens, of course, because as often as he chides and teases and mocks Kaveh, he does give a fuck. He always gives a fuck. And everything about Kaveh is stocked in his big database brain for Haitham to use for and against him. 

“That doesn’t matter. You’re never home.”

Kaveh blinks at him. “Isn’t…Isn’t that a good thing for you?”

Haitham panics. He is running out of bullshit excuses. “I’m just concerned that you might run off without settling your account.”

Kaveh scoffs. “What account? I’ve been paying on time these past two months!”

A lightbulb dings inside Haitham’s mind. “Lambad’s still got a tab under my name.”

“Then I’ll pay him myself. Listen, Haitham, I’m grateful for the things you’ve done for me ‘til now, but I’m getting back on my feet, alright? I get it--taking me in was a huge burden on you--but you don’t need to hound me so much anymore. We get a lot of donations for this project, and if we manage to patent it and actually come to produce it for sale, that’s going to be good for us!”

Haitham’s chest twinges. “Us”, referring to Kaveh and Sasani. 

“I can pay you, Haitham, if that’s what you’re so worried about. And then I can finally get out of your hair.”

Kaveh is an idiot. He doesn’t see that as much as Haitham has faith in Kaveh’s skills as the Light of Kshahrewar, he still has a long road ahead. He doesn’t realize that he’ll probably sell it for cheap anyway, because this is for the disabled, and Archons know that Kaveh can’t ever bring himself to charge the needy. He doesn't see that when that happens, when people inevitably take advantage of his kindness, he’ll be barely breaking even. 

Kaveh doesn't see that Haitham isn’t hounding him for fucking debt. He doesn't understand why Haitham would just let him into his private space and let him call it his home (despite how he has never called it that, not even once, even though Haitham wouldn’t mind). He doesn’t see that Haitham isn’t trying to be his enemy. He’s just--he’s just--

Haitham’s just being needy. 

Haitham deflates like a tire caught on a spike. Now isn’t this funny--turns out, for all that he’s been mentally berating Kaveh, it’s actually him who is foolish. Foolish Haitham, who doesn’t realize just how much he wants Kaveh around. Foolish Haitham, who can’t seem to admit to himself the obvious, obvious attachment he has to Kaveh, whose “roommate” status is dangling precariously off a cliff. Foolish Haitham, who can’t even do anything, say anything, for it to get through Kaveh’s thick, thick skull. Foolish Haitham, who is grasping for straws trying to come up with reasons why Kaveh still needs him, why Kaveh shouldn’t leave, why Kaveh should stay.  

Foolish Alhaitham, who is realizing only now that Kaveh doesn’t need him anymore.

Haitham’s throat dries. He should say something. He should have the last word. But Kaveh is already halfway out the door. He should say something--anything! Even an insult would do! But it’s always like this; always tongue-tied and paralyzed and so, so helpless.

Foolish Alhaitham, who has let the moment pass him once again.

 

…

 

Unlike Haitham, Sasani is brave. She is proactive and straightforward. She makes clear, confident moves on the chess board. (Metaphorically, of course. Haitham has yet to find anyone who can best him at his favorite game.)

Sasani closes in on the king when she schedules an appointment with the Acting Grand Sage to discuss her project proposal. 

It’s a semi formal affair. Sasani is seated in front of the Grand Sage’s table, hands perched gracefully on top of her lap. She really is a striking beauty. She has handed her documents to Haitham, who is perusing them with a blank face as always. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Acting Grand Sage. I have heard your feats surrounding the exposition of Azar’s misdeeds. It’s truly remarkable.” Standard kissing-up. Haitham ignores it. 

She shifts in her seat and tucks a hair behind her ear. She may be unconscious of it, but it makes her look more feminine than she already is. “I’ve also heard about you from Kaveh himself. He says you used to be in the Akademiya together. I am quite envious; I would have loved to have known Kaveh earlier.”

There are so many things Haitham wants to say. One: Save the small talk and keep this professional. Two: Why are you telling me this? Three: What else has he said about me? Four: Since when did he let you call him by his first name?

But he says none of those things. Instead, he plays the part of a good Acting Grand Sage and goes for the diplomatic reply. 

“Kaveh is the genius of his generation. I suppose the gods have made it so that there is one in every batch.” 

Sasani preens, the subtle praise not lost on her. She doesn’t say thank you--if she’s humble, she shouldn’t--but the brightness in her eyes is reminiscent of the way Kaveh would delight over freshly prepared coffee delivered to his room. 

Haitham reconsiders--had that been too kind? He supposes she does deserve it. The proposal is sound and well-written. It’s praiseworthy, even, miles away from the poorly written applications turned in by naive scholars with ideals higher than the clouds. And that is precisely why he must resist the temptation to undermine it more than ever. 

If only her proposal didn’t involve roping Kaveh into a two-month desert expedition. 

“Given the risks posed in your proposal,” Haitham starts, but it’s only the beginning of a long throng of utter bullshit. “This has to undergo review first.”

Sasani looks surprised, like she hadn’t expected her proposal to be delayed. If it had involved any other person, maybe Haitham would’ve granted his approval straight away, but this is a secret between him and Celestia above. 

Haitham erects castle walls built of lies:

“The desert is a perilous place.” So what? Kaveh has a vision. 

“We have received a detailed report from Madam Faruzan that there have been more ancient traps uncovered in the desert lately.” Whatever. Kaveh has the brains to figure it out. 

“Our contacts at Aaru Village have also relayed dangers of increasing leyline disturbances that induce sandstorms.” Half-lie. These leyline fluctuations are rooted in the north. Kaveh is southwest-bound.

“So for those reasons, until I’ve ascertained that the desert is once again safe for researchers, explorations beyond Aaru Village’s surveillance will have to be postponed.” Flat out lie. He had just approved Hat Guy’s haughty request to investigate the cause of the sandstorms right before he welcomed Sasani inside his office.

He watches as Sasani's face morphs between placid and bemused, like she can't decide if she's going to show her disappointment or not.

“Forgive me, Grand Sage, if I act out of line, but I've already conducted surveys of my own about the safety and feasibility of this expedition. Kaveh and I have already approached Madam Faruzan and consulted with her the possible traps we may encounter on our way. Aaru Village’s peacekeeper and I also keep in touch regularly, so I do know that those mysterious sandstorms are kept at bay far from our target location. Furthermore, Kaveh has Mehrak, his briefcase-shaped mechanical assistant which essentially functions as an all-around navigator, weapon and storage--it’s quite impressive, actually, you should see it for yourself--”

“I know what Mehrak is, Miss Sasani,” Haitham grits out. It’s pathetic how his argument just crumbled in the face of a prepared scholar. 

“Then you must know how capable Kaveh is, and that an expedition is no real challenge for him. Now, Grand Sage, I hope you see where I am coming from when I ask this. I understand that your decision comes from concern for the safety of your people, but if all obstacles on the path of my research have been cleared, then why must I be held back?”

Haitham feels it. There is a headache coming.

“Pray tell, Grand Sage, is it because I’m a girl?”

Haitham grits his teeth. “Misogyny is an enemy of the pursuit of knowledge. It has no place in the Akademiya.”

Sasani stands her ground. “Grand Sage, you and I have no personal relationship. But you and Kaveh seem to go way back. If it is not I who am the problem, then am I right to assume that it’s Kaveh?”

He stills. And that moment of uncertainty seems to be all Sasani needs to draw her conclusions. 

“Kaveh speaks of you quite fondly,” she says, soft and quiet, unlike the strong delivery she used when debating with him. Any Haravatat scholar can tell she is also a master of speaking.

“It’s often disguised as a complaint or bemoaning, but his affection for you is undeniable, especially after a few drinks.”

Haitham’s eyes snap toward her. This is bordering on dangerous territory. He is adept in matters of the classroom, of white paper and offices and discourse and the simple honesty of academics. But he is no expert on the intricacies of emotion and relationships. He is teetering into a battle he has no chance of winning.

“Rationally speaking, someone who holds you in high regard must be someone who respects you. And you, Grand Sage Alhaitham, seem to be worthy of that respect. So I therefore reject the idea that you are doing this to sabotage Kaveh.”

Sasani does not verbalize her final conclusion. She grants him the same subtlety as he had when he complimented her. Her subtlety is an act of mercy, whereas his had been almost arrogant. 

“I digress. Thank you for the opportunity to be in your audience, Grand Sage. Perhaps we could discuss this again over coffee? After your review, that is.”

If Haitham could, he’d’ve just told her a flatout no and that could have been that. But their research is outstanding work. And he knows how much this means to Kaveh. But what can he do? What can he do when he’s only got so much time left before he's left with nothing?

“Give me some time, Sasani.” 

Just a little more time.

 

…

 

“...You’re here.”

“Hm? Oh yeah. Sorry. With the postponement of our expedition and all, I don’t really have much to do.”

That really shouldn’t make Haitham as happy as it did, but whatever. Kaveh is home on a Sunday.

“Do you mind me staying? I can hang out at Sasani’s place if--”

“It’s fine,” Haitham says a little too quickly. “...Help me with the laundry?”

Kaveh’s face lightens up. “Oh. Sure!” 

Haitham doesn’t know why doing the laundry pleases Kaveh so much, but it anchors him by his side, so he doesn’t question it. 

It’s during this--in the quiet but not silent midmorning, in the still but not empty halls of the house, in the sweet sound of Kaveh’s humming, in the soft cotton smell of the detergent they share--that Haitham allows himself to finally feel it.

He really loves Kaveh.

And when he admits that to himself, it’s not like much has changed. Kaveh is still singing his little song. He’s still rubbing dirt off the clothes. And he’s still hoping for his proposal to be approved. And he’ll still be leaving him, when this is all over. 

The only difference is now it hurts just a tad bit more. 

“You have a lot of clothes in the laundry. Is everything okay? Too busy with work?” 

Haitham hums in response. “I sleep in on the weekends.” 

“I see.” Kaveh wrings the excess detergent from the shirt and transfers it to Haitham’s basin for rinsing. “As a scribe, you were always so strict with your 9 to 5, but I’m guessing the Grand Sage doesn’t get that luxury?”

“It’s the workload. If I remain stubborn about that 9 to 5, I’d never make deadlines.” 

Kaveh smiles. “Ah. So you do know how to compromise.”

Haitham’s neck warms. “...you make me out to be so evil.”

Kaveh plunges his hands into the water, making a bit of a mess. He probably meant to slam his hands against the table out of reflex, but failed to account for the basin. Haitham is not surprised; Kaveh is expressive to a fault. 

“I never said you were evil! I was just teasing-- that wasn’t a jab at you or anything!” 

A smile blooms across Haitham’s face before he realizes it. And Kaveh, who is unsuspecting, gets a bit of a fright when his gaze lands on his roommate. He clears his throat and focuses back on washing the clothes with extra vigor.

“You know, I was upset at you at first for delaying the expedition,” Kaveh murmurs, and a stone sinks in Haitham’s stomach. He doesn’t want to talk about this topic.

“But Sasani said that her friend from the desert had updated her about the sandstorms, and that their area of effect had been crawling towards south. So…sorry to doubt you, I guess. I know you were only looking out for us.”

Oh, Haitham wants to throw up. Reports from both Aaru Village and Hat Guy have confirmed that the sandstorms have been resolved. So Sasani had lied to Kaveh, and Haitham can’t think of any reason why than to preserve Kaveh’s faith in him, and to keep him in the architect’s good graces. It only makes him hyper aware of the invitation to get coffee sitting on his desk in his study. It seems that she’s giving him the chance to make the right choices.

Sasani is a fearsome woman, one of whom Haitham does not want to make an enemy. 

Haitham doesn’t grant Kaveh a reply, but selfishly, he wants him to keep talking. He wants Kaveh to enjoy his presence even though he does not particularly intend to do anything to make him happy. Haitham is selfish like that, spineless and cowardly when it comes to his one Achilles’ heel. 

He is good at studying. He knows 54 languages. He can cook. He can fight. But he’s never been good for Kaveh. He always seems to make him sad.

“Haitham? What’s with that look on your face? You’re acting pretty weird. Usually you’d say something to harass me at this point, but you’re not. And you’ve been…strangely placid lately. What’s wrong?”

Haitham wants to say many things. One: I’m sorry I lied to you. Two: It sucks that you’re always with someone else. Three: I don’t want you to leave me. Four: I missed you. 

But of course, he says none of the things he actually wants to say and simply dismisses Kaveh’s concern.

“Work tires me out. Forgive me for trying to save energy.”

“Ah, sorry. Maybe you should go lie down and rest. I’ll finish this up for you,” Kaveh offers, always so kind and sweet even to the undeserving. 

“No, I can handle this.” Haitham declines. Then he thinks of another bullshit reason to sway Kaveh. “I can’t let you wash my underwear.”

But Kaveh is unfazed. “I don’t really mind, Haitham. It’s just underwear.” Then he gets a really mischievous look on his face, one that immediately rings warning alarms in Haitham’s mind.

“Oh, Haitham, that’s disgusting! ”

Blood rushes to Haitham’s cheeks in a flash. “It’s not like that!” 

“Does the Grand Sage not even have enough time to make it to the bathroom?”

“Archons, Kaveh, stop it. You’re disgusting.”

Kaveh’s laughter rings like bells in the still air of their home. He gives life into this abode, his very presence like a beacon of warm light. Suddenly the floorboards are shinier. The sun dances through the stained windows a little more joyfully. The wind from the window whispers its blessings. This is what he’s been living for. 

Forgive him, for trying to preserve it the best he can.

 

…

 

Haitham has been trying so hard to protect his home. One day, someone throws a rock into his window. 

To start off, his day had already been shit. He woke up with a sore throat and heavy limbs, and it was with great difficulty that he hauled himself off the bed and into the bathroom. As he walked up to the Akademiya, he was panting by the time he got to the top, and his eyes were burning, like someone had placed steaming hot soup made of jueyun chilis in front of him. And once he got into the office, every staff member commented on his pallor, and was then promptly sent home for the day to get some rest. He would’ve stubbornly stayed, had it not been for the childlike voice of his archon whispering in his mind to not push himself and go home, so he figured it was fine. 

So now he’s back in his house with a fever of who-knows-what because he doesn’t know where Kaveh kept the thermometer. He’s in the living room divan because it’s equidistant from the bathroom and kitchen, it’s more spacious and well-ventilated, and he wants Kaveh to see his sorry state the moment he comes home so that he can take care of him. 

He sleeps the morning away, but when the ache of hunger rouses him, he cannot bring himself to stand and make himself food. He wills Kaveh to go home, even asks Nahida’s assistance. When the jangle of keys unlocking the door enters his senses, he finally allows himself to relax. 

Except the footfalls of the one who enters the house is unfamiliar, lighter and unsure in place of Kaveh’s more confident gait. Haitham sits up in alarm despite how it nearly breaks his head open. 

“Who's there?”

The intruder squeaks and jumps like a mouse. “Sorry! Kaveh told me there wouldn't be anybody home. I was just-- Grand Sage?!”

Haitham blinks his bleary eyes and slowly recognizes the trespasser to be none other than Sasani herself. 

“What do you think you're doing here?”

“Have…have you been living with Kaveh all this time?”

“No. Kaveh's been living with me.” Haitham tests his weight if he can stand up to look a bit more intimidating, but he can do no more than simply cross his arms. Hopefully she can't see death on his face from where she is. 

Realization strikes her, and a steely look takes over her face. 

“Grand Sage, you've been ignoring my invites for the past month. Progress on my research has been delayed for so long. There are people waiting on us, you know.”

“Let me ask again, scholar. What. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Home?”

“Kaveh asked me to retrieve some files from his room. He didn't know you’d be here at this time,” Sasani explains. Just how much does Kaveh trust her for him to let her so close to his most guarded secret?

“Then get the files and get out,” Haitham grits, voice strained. He can feel his fever getting worse the longer she's in the room. 

“Sorry, Grand Sage, but I cannot let this chance pass me by. You've been actively ignoring my attempts to contact you. This may be the only time I can get to you.”

“This is not the time or place to talk about this.”

“In the first place, this had never been a professional issue, correct? This has always been personal. What better time and place is there than now in the house you and Kaveh share?” Sasani is like a sandstorm herself, stubborn and unrelenting. 

“Out of respect for you, I gave you as many chances as I could to set things right. I tried to give you space so you can try to sort things out. But Sir, I will not let anyone push me around, not even the ineffable Grand Sage.

“I have people waiting on me. They need my help. I carry their hope. I cannot let a man who's too afraid of his own feelings get in the way of that.” Sasani pants a little bit. Then she looks him straight in the eye.

“You are not the only one who loves Kaveh. I respect you, Grand Sage, and I think highly of you, but I can’t--I can’t let him go. I can’t give him to you. I will make him happy. Unlike you, who is unsure and hesitant, I have always been certain and steadfast in my love for him.”

Haitham is sure--he has never been more certain of anything in his life--but he isn’t doing anything. Why can’t he do something? What is he doing?

“Kaveh deserves someone who’d go lengths for him, doesn’t he?” 

Sasani excuses herself to Kaveh’s room. Haitham remains on the divan, too tired to think, too feverish to feel. He hears the ticking of a clock somewhere. He’s hungry. He wants to go home. He is in his house, but it’s never been a home without Kaveh. There is stinging in his eyes. It’s just the fever. It’s just the fever.

“Thank you for your time, Grand Sage,” Sasani murmurs before leaving and locking the door. 

Haitham waits all day, but Kaveh does not go home that night.

 

…

 

His fever gets worse. But he hasn’t eaten anything for a whole day, so unless he wants to die, he has to force himself to make food. He can wait for Kaveh to return when he inevitably comes for a change of clothes, but he has troubled him enough. Haitham can just go die. He deserves that much.

He settles for rice and ready-to-mix soup. It’s bland and a disgrace to the nation of Sumeru, whose cuisine is anything but flavorless. Haitham feels worse.

He settles back on the divan with his stupid bowl of soup and a blanket he brought from his room. He wishes he could read, but he can barely keep his eyes open. 

He thinks he falls asleep while eating his soup, because when he comes to, Kaveh is taking his shoes off by the door. He hadn't even heard him come in. 

“Hey Haitham…we need to talk. Sasani told me there’s--” Kaveh turns around, sees the state of him, and notices his illness right away.

“Haitham! How long has this been--oh, I should've known when Sasani told me you were home yesterday.” Kaveh rushes to his side, pressing a cold, cold hand against his forehead. 

“You poor thing. I'm sorry. You must have been waiting for me.”

Gods, Haitham wants to cry. 

Kaveh gently takes his half finished bowl from his weak hands and replaces it with his own. Kaveh’s skin is colder than Haitham’s, but it’s invigorating. This is the most grounded he’s been since the onset of his fever. 

“Would you like me to help you to your bed?” 

Haitham feels the scratchiness in his throat, so he opts for a shake of his head instead.

“Okay. I’ll get you a better pillow. Have you taken any medicine? No? I’ll get you some too then.” 

Maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe if he’s sick for a little longer, Kaveh would stay by his side like this. Maybe he’d hold his hand and brush his hair. Maybe if Haitham keeps Kaveh stuck to him long enough, he’d fall in love with him too. 

Kaveh takes too long. It’s been too long. So Haitham calls his name despite the ache in his throat. No response.

A chill wracks through Haitham’s body. This sucks. 

“Kaveh…”

The familiar patter of his feet calms Haitham down. 

“Sorry, sorry. I got Mehrak to tell folks at the Akademiya that you won’t be coming in. Here’s your medicine, Hayi. Drink up.”

The old nickname from their youth slips out, but Kaveh makes no move to rectify it. Haitham doesn’t want to drink it. Haitham doesn’t want to get better. 

“What’s with you? Don’t you want to recover soon? Come on, drink the medicine. Don’t be difficult.”

Yes, difficult. He’s always been difficult. Good at many things but never good for Kaveh.

“Okay, fine. I won’t force you to drink your meds. I’ll just leave this here and--woah!”

Haitham makes a grab for Kaveh’s hand, but the water he was holding spills onto him. He shivers; the water is cold and it’s soaking the blanket around him. 

“Geez, Haitham, why’d you do that? Ah, you’ll get cold. Wait for me, I’ll get you a change of clothes.”

Haitham is starting to realize that he’s not a good person. He’s being a big baby acting on his Id, inconsiderate of the people he’s inconveniencing. He’s selfish. Selfish. Selfish. Kaveh deserves someone who’d go lengths for him. Haitham can’t even stand on his feet. He can’t even make Kaveh smile. All he does is trouble him and hinder him and chain him down to keep him from flying away.

“Let go of the blanket, Haitham. Change your clothes. Come on now. Your fever will get worse.”

That’s a good thing. No, it’s not. It’ll keep Kaveh by his side. Kaveh won’t appreciate being a caretaker for so long. Haitham just needs a little more time. He’s troubled Kaveh enough. Haitham’s trying his best. 

He’s trying his best.

Kaveh sighs, exasperation bleeding into his voice. “I’m taking this off whether you want me to or not, okay?” His tone suggests forcefulness, but he peels off the blanket ever so gently. He lifts Haitham’s clothes and wipes him dry. The cloth against his face is cool to the touch, and it eases the tightness in his head a bit.

Kaveh is nice. Kaveh is so, so kind. He doesn’t deserve Kaveh.

His weak gaze follows Kaveh; the glide of his hand, the slight tension in his brow, the flutter of his lashes, the redness of his cheeks--oh.

He’s blushing.

“Are you sick too?” Haitham tries to say, but he isn’t sure if it comes out clearly.

Kaveh chuckles softly. “No, I’m not. You’re delirious.”

“Oh.”

Kaveh hums amusedly. “You’ve been working hard, Grand Sage. Get some rest.”

You are my rest, Haitham wants to say. Instead, he says, “ Acting Grand Sage.” 

“I won’t even argue with you this time. You look like you’d benefit from stepping down. You need to regain your immunity,” Kaveh murmurs, as if speaking with a child. 

Suddenly, Kaveh stops wiping him with the cool cloth. Haitham looks at his face, trying to make sense of what he sees there, but it scares him. Kaveh looks troubled. Has he messed up again? Has he done something to upset him again?

“I’m really worried about you, you know. You’ll probably make fun of me once you’re all better, but something has been weird with you, and I feel like you’re keeping secrets,” Kaveh starts. So he’s right. It is Haitham’s fault again.

“I know--who am I to pry, I’m just someone taking advantage of your act of charity, but--I also want to help you, Haitham.”

Kaveh is an idiot. He doesn’t know that he’s everything to him.

“I feel like you’ve been shouldering a lot lately, and I thought that by giving you space and letting you do things as you’ve always done before I intruded in your space would ease your burden but I’m realizing that maybe I shouldn’t have left you alone,” Kaveh continues. He lifts his hand and starts caressing Haitham’s unruly hair. It feels divine. Haitham feels like crying again.

“Idiot.” Oh. Oh. Haitham didn’t mean to say that.

Kaveh scoffs. “Well, sorry for caring, I guess.” He makes a move to stand up, but Haitham uses all his strength to grab his shirt.

“W-What? Haitham--oh, you’re crying…! Does something hurt? What is it? Should I take you to Bimarstan?”

“Don’t,” Haitham croaks, his face wet with tears he didn’t know he had shed. “I-It hurts, so don’t leave.”

Kaveh softens and all but melts back into Haitham’s side. “Okay. I won’t.”

“Don’t go into the desert, Kaveh,” Haitham says. He hadn’t meant to say that either. Kaveh flinches.

“What do you mean?”

This is why Haitham doesn’t want to--is too afraid to--say anything. This scandalized look on Kaveh’s face as he asks for something more than he can give--he’s been fearing to see that.  

“What? Wait, Haitham, you can’t just go quiet after saying that! Is this…Sasani told me that you had something very important to say to me. Was it this?” 

Haitham doesn’t know what to do. He’s crying. He hasn’t cried this much since his grandmother passed. Now he’s on the brink of losing someone again. 

“Come on, Hayi, what is it? You’re starting to scare me.”

Kaveh repositions himself so he can sit cross legged in front of Haitham’s face. He takes the cloth from earlier and uses it to wipe his face. It hurts; his head hurts, his sinuses are clogged, he’s dizzy. 

“Okay. I’m sorry. I won’t push you. But do me a favor and drink your medicine please?” 

Haitham nods; even doing just that hurts his head. 

“Great. Let me help you sit up.”

Kaveh stands and slips his arm under Haitham’s back, and with gentle pressure and support, he guides him up. But Kaveh’s touch is so nice, and his chest is just right there. When Haitham’s head lolls into the crook of Kaveh’s neck, Kaveh doesn’t shy away. Instead, he keeps him there, cradling Haitham’s head with his hand. 

“Drink up, Hayi. Here you go. Finish your water. Okay, good job.”

Kaveh lets him cry against his chest for a good hour, perhaps more because when he comes to, the sun has begun its descent, and Kaveh himself is dozing off. He’s all bent up in an awkward fashion just so Haitham can keep resting on his shoulder. 

Haitham wishes it’d be like this forever. But there is no way Kaveh could be comfortable, and he’d rather kill himself than subject Kaveh to that kind of suffering. That’s why now that his mind has cleared a little, he knows what to do. 

“Kaveh,” Haitham whispers. He is stuck between the backrest of the divan and Kaveh, immobilizing him, but he doesn’t mind one bit. 

“Kaveh,” he repeats, and this time, Kaveh jolts awake, leaning over and assessing Haitham’s condition. 

“What’s wrong, Haitham? Does anything hurt? Do you need anything?”

Haitham drinks Kaveh in: his sleep-swollen face, his messy hair, his rough voice, his half-awake eyes. This may very well be the last time he sees him like this. 

Kaveh’s eyes lose their haze when realization dawns upon him. “Are you ready to tell me now?”

Kaveh lifts a hand and brushes the hair away from Haitham’s face. They’re so close like this, so intimate. Why can’t it last? Why can’t this be right? Kaveh looks so beautiful and so warm. He’s so patient and so kind. 

Haitham has many things he wants to say. One: I’m sorry. Two: I wish we can stay like this forever. Three: I love you. 

This time, he has to tell him all. 

“Thank you for taking care of me,” Haitham starts, because his grandmother had always taught him to be grateful for the blessings he has received, and because he hasn’t really expressed his gratitude to Kaveh, even though he has already given him so much. 

“Of course, Hayi. You take care of me all the time.”

Haitham chokes up. No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t do it nearly enough.

“I’m sorry for being stubborn,” he continues. “I…acted selfishly and I wronged both you and Sasani.”

“What do you mean?” Kaveh asks, gentle and soft. 

“Your expedition…you’re cleared. You can go as soon as you’re ready. Forgive me for holding you back for so long.”

Kaveh looks down at him, with the patience of a god. “Did you not want me to go to the desert?”

“Yes,” Haitham says, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“Were you worried about my safety?”

“I didn’t want you to leave me,” Haitham finally admits, and it sends a wave of anxiety over him. He doesn’t want this anymore. He wants to pull out and run away and live a new life as anyone other than Alhaitham. 

Kaveh is quiet after that, which doesn’t help the sinking feeling in Haitham’s stomach. He hides his face in Kaveh’s chest, unwilling to show how he’s about to cry again.

“I’m sorry, Kaveh,” Haitham says, muffled in Kaveh’s clothes. 

“...Is…Is that all you wanted to say?” 

Haitham grasps onto Kaveh’s clothes, loath to have him slip away. “I always want you around, Kaveh. I know I’ve done a shit job at showing that. Maybe if I did more for you, you’d realize that.”

Haitham doesn’t know if it’s him or Kaveh who is shaking, but Kaveh holds him tighter. Gods, Haitham doesn’t want him to let go. 

“I know how much this means to you. So you should go, Kaveh. More than anything, I want you to be happy.”

“You say that as if I’d never return,” Kaveh says, and Haitham feels it more than he hears him. The rumble of Kaveh’s voice as they are chest to chest is comforting, as if his words are permeating through his bones. 

Haitham’s breath staggers. “You can if that’s what you want.”

Suddenly, he’s being pushed away; Kaveh’s warmth is lost as he sits up abruptly, and the cool gush of wind only emphasizes the sudden space between them. 

“Why would you say that, Haitham?”

Haitham’s heart breaks. “You’ve been wanting to get your own place for a while now, right? I’m telling you that you shouldn’t let me stop you from doing that.”

“Are you an idiot? I can’t just--”

“Nevermind the debt, Kaveh. There was never a debt. I never welcomed you into my home with any other intention than to give you a roof over your head.” 

“No, listen to me, Haitham. And tell me if I’m getting this right.” Kaveh pulls Haitham’s face towards his so that they can meet eyes. Kaveh’s irises are fiery and fierce. Haitham has seen these eyes before--when Kaveh would call him out on his bullshit. 

“You mean to tell me that all this time, you’ve been delaying our departure because you didn’t want me to go? Yes or no?”

“Yes,” Haitham croaks out.

“And now you’re telling me that I can go? What, because you’ve given up on me now? Because you’re ready to move on with your life without me now?”

Haitham gets riled up by the accusatory tone of Kaveh’s words. “I never said that, Kaveh. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Kaveh pushes off of Haitham again, and takes to his feet. Haitham reflexively leans forward, eager to be near Kaveh, as embarrassing as it is. 

“Then take responsibility, Haitham! You've already come this far--why back out now? You're always, always backing out, you foolish coward!”

Haitham is confused. He is so confused. What does Kaveh want him to do? What course of action would make Kaveh happiest? What should he say to keep Kaveh by his side? Has Kaveh known, all this time, how hopelessly and helplessly in love he has been with him? All this time, had he just been waiting for him to say something?

“I can’t ask you to stay,” Haitham says, unable to push off the couch like Kaveh had, his strength still escaping him. “I can’t ask you to stay with me. I’ve been far too selfish--you don’t deserve that.”

“Selfish? Who told you were selfish, Haitham?”

“No one needed to. I’ve always…I’ve always said the wrong thing and I’ve always ended up hurting you. And despite that, I keep trying to make ways to shackle you down inside this house--I’ve always wanted this to be a home for you, but it's a cage, isn’t it?”

“ No, Haitham, no, ” Kaveh says, as if Haitham’s words had given him so much despair. “That’s not true at all! How could you be when after I've lost everything--my family, my house, my direction in life--you'd given me a place to rest?” Kaveh walks towards him and kneels at the foot of the divan. He grasps Haitham's hands so tightly in his own, eyes wide and desperate to convince Haitham of his kindness.

“I’ve known you for years, Hayi. I know you have trouble saying what you truly mean. And it frustrates me sometimes! I won’t deny that--you’re always making me guess and I’m always so unsure around you. That's why I thought you didn't want me around--because you've never tried letting me in,” Kaveh's voice breaks, and the hands that grasp Haitham’s nearly falter, but Haitham holds on more tightly. 

“But Hayi, your actions have always been honest. You’re always so unbelievably generous. Your words may be cold but your kindness is always warm. Your heart can never lie to me.” Kaveh presses his forehead against Haitham’s. The remnants of his fever are probably still there. Haitham can feel it in the burn of his eyes and in the dryness of his throat. Or maybe it's something else.

“It's funny, now that I know how you've never realized how good you are to me.” 

Haitham’s heart aches. He’s good for Kaveh?

There’s a knock on the door, and Haitham curses the world for jarring them from this intimate haze that has wrapped around them. He bites his cheek, but he lets Kaveh stand up and answer whoever was unfortunate enough to interrupt them. 

Kaveh opens the door, and from Haitham’s position on the divan, he can see half of the face of who it is. Karim from carpentry. Realization washes over Haitham, along with a sense of dread. 

“Delivery for Alhaitham--your drafting table is finished, Sir.”

Haitham isn’t ready to see Kaveh’s face yet. He tells the carpenter to leave it by the entrance and thanks him for the service. Karim leaves and the shutting of the door bathes them in silence once again.

Of all days, why does it have to be today? He hadn’t checked the calendar in a while, and getting sick has muddled his brain so much that it can barely function. But that doesn’t matter now. He should say something. Speak, Haitham. Just speak .

“Happy Birthday, Kaveh,” Haitham rasps, breath hitching in anxiety. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t realized the date.”

Kaveh is silent for a whole minute, eyes trained on the drafting table, and it scares Haitham so much that he forces himself to stand up just so he can at least look like he’s fixing things. 

“It’s, uh, you were using the dining table for your designs, so…” 

“Haitham, you’re an idiot, ” Kaveh says with so much vehemence that it takes Haitham aback. 

Kaveh pivots, and Haitham is forced to see his brows furrowed, eyes ablaze and teeth gritted, but oddly enough, there’s no anger there. 

“What are you even doing!? Seriously! You go on this speech about being selfish, and then you go and pull something so inconceivably kind ? You’re always so sure of yourself, so confident and strong and self-aware, but you don’t even realize how good you are?” 

Haitham gapes, speechless. He doesn’t know if he’s being reprimanded or complimented. 

“Don’t just look at me, Haitham! Tell me, honestly, what do you want me to do? What do you really feel? I want to hear it from your mouth--tell me, loud and clear, so I’d know .” Kaveh runs a frustrated hand through his golden hair. “Have a little faith in me.”

Have faith, Kaveh says. Haitham obeys. 

He walks forward, knees shaking, but powering through. Kaveh steps back as Haitham crowds him, closer and closer until his cheeks are red and his back is pressed against the door. Haitham locks the knob behind Kaveh, and he sees the little gulp he tries to hide. Haitham touches Kaveh’s hair, twirls it around his fingers and tucks it behind his ear--he has always wanted to do this, but was always so sure that Kaveh would hate it and look at him funny.

Have faith, Kaveh said. Haitham tries praying. 

“I will be honest,” Haitham says, voice low and quiet due to their proximity; they are so close that he can hear the shortness of Kaveh’s breath. 

A prayer comes in parts, his grandmother had taught him. To pray to a god, you must show them your reverence and unwavering faith. You must verbalize your worship. The first part of a prayer is adoration:

“Your…your presence has always been very important to me. Your coffee cup in the sink, your shoes by the door, your keys on the hook--those are all things I’ve come to cherish. Everyday, my soul searches for you, and I can’t seem to rest on the days you don’t return home.”

Kaveh’s crimson eyes are shaking. 

Second, contrition:

“I confess--I am full of flaws. No matter how kind you make me out to be, it doesn’t change the fact that I wanted you selfishly; that I wanted you to be mine, solely mine, and I refused to share you to other people who loved you, and to people who needed you. It doesn’t change the fact that in the process of trying to make you stay, I’ve hurt you with my words and made you think that all I cared about was your debt. I’m sorry, Kaveh. I’m sorry I’ve been too much of a coward to spare any honesty. I’m sorry that I hurt you repeatedly with my reluctance to take any responsibility.” 

Haitham hangs his head like a sinner; he is losing strength in his legs. He shouldn't force himself, but he's been so utterly weak for all these past months that he cannot stand another moment of powerlessness. Have faith, Kaveh had said, but in the light of his sins, he is starting to falter. 

Third part, thanksgiving:

“The truth is, I’ve always tried to be needed by you. Because if you needed me, that would mean you wouldn’t leave me. And just having you here would have been enough--having you talk to me and fight with me and debate with me and scold me would have been enough. I would have said ‘thank you’ in ways other than words, and you wouldn’t have heard it, and you wouldn’t be sure, but I would always hope you’d feel it. And I’d give you anything you want or need, because you’ve already given me everything I thought I’ve lost--” Haitham rushes through his words. He can feel the tears coming again. He has to say it now, or he’ll get overwhelmed again. “I would have tried to make you happy in my own messed up little way. I would have done everything, just as long you need me as much as I need you in my life. I’d have given you my thanks threefold, tenfold, a hundred-fold, because as long as I have you, I’d be happy. I’d be so fucking happy.”

Kaveh doesn’t say anything, and Haitham wouldn’t have let him anyway, because he has not said everything he wants to say. 

“But that wasn’t right. I don’t own you. I can’t own you. If you choose to push me away and leave and never come back, I can’t stop you. I can’t lock the doors and throw away the key. I can’t do that to you. Because I know that as much as I want you to be with me, you belong to the world--where you’ll bring life everywhere you go. You belong to where you are needed, where you’ll make people happy. I have to accept that I am just one of your stops. I should be grateful to have come across you in this lifetime. I should be humble, know my place. I have been blessed for way too long. I know I should give you up. I should understand that the time has come--you don’t need me anymore.”

Haitham’s lips are wet with tears. He didn’t even realize they had already fallen. He shakes--both in exertion and emotion--and falls to his knees. He grasps the hem of Kaveh’s shirt, and he clings like a believer needing a savior. 

Final part. Supplication:

“But please, ” Haitham whispers brokenly. “Stay with me. Stay with me. Even if it hurts us both. Don't go. Please don't go.” 

Haitham doesn’t dare look up at Kaveh. He has just laid his soul bare for him to see, to pick and prod at, to tear apart. Haitham’s tight grip on the fabric of Kaveh’s clothes is the only thing tethering him to this earth--he’d have dissolved long ago if it weren’t for him. In many ways, Kaveh had just been that to him--an anchor, a safe place, home. 

Kaveh shifts his weight, and Haitham moves with him, loath to let go. Soft, long fingers circle his wrist, urging Haitham’s hands to loosen. It’s kind. Even now, Kaveh is kind. Kaveh sinks to Haitham’s level instead of pulling him up, and before he can even see Kaveh’s face, arms have engulfed him into a warm hug, as fierce as it is gentle. 

“You…you finally said it,” Haitham hears from behind his ear. Kaveh sounds a little breathless, as if he had run miles just to get here. In some way, he had. 

“Not all of it,” Haitham murmurs. There is nothing more to hide. He wraps his shaky arms around Kaveh in his own desperate version of Kaveh's embrace as he lets out the last trickle of truth from his shattered bottle of feelings. “I love you, Kaveh.”

And then Kaveh finally looks at him--pulling away and cupping Haitham’s face so fast it makes him dizzy--and he gets an eyeful of Kaveh’s rosy cheeks and tentative smile. His crimson eyes are bright, so bright that birds of old might have mistaken them for rubies and plucked them out of his golden face. Haitham feels his blood warm, as if magma coursed his veins. This must be the gaze of a god. And Haitham, devout and pious, worships him.

“Oh,” Kaveh suddenly exhales, as if caught by surprise by the look on Haitham’s face. “You mean it,” he mumbles, like he can’t believe it. 

Haitham chooses not to comment on his disbelief. Instead, he asks something more important: “Does that make you happy?”

Kaveh laughs, and the joyful little sound floods the house like music played from a gramophone. “Yes. Very much. Very, very, very, very much,” Kaveh says, emphasizing each repetition with a smooch on his forehead. Haitham is about to combust.

“Will you…” stay, Haitham is about to say, but Kaveh’s face is steadily getting closer, and for each millimeter that decreases between them, Haitham loses focus tenfold. By the time Kaveh’s got his forehead pressed against his, his brain has become filled with cotton. There is nothing in the world but Kaveh, all senses, all of his realities and abstracts are all encompassed by the heat of his exhales, the flutter of his lashes, the slight chapping on his pinkish lips. Kaveh is someone that demands to be looked at, a sight to behold. And he is in Haitham’s arms. He is finally in Haitham’s arms. 

Kaveh hesitantly tilts forward, testing the waters, showing intent but not resolutely acting upon it. Haitham follows like a man starved for days offered fruit for the first time. The first touch of their lips is shy, almost negligible, almost accidental. The second is more sure, unguarded, and the third and fourth and everything blends into hunger and wandering hands, fingers running through silver hair and around petite waists. Haitham kisses a little desperately, like each may be his last, but Kaveh indulges him each time. Kaveh gives back the same fervor, the same clenched fists against his collar, the same avarice with each glide of his lips. 

Haitham forgets that his prayers go unanswered. 

 

…

 

Haitham doesn’t dream often. 

Even after the Akasha system had been dismantled and the people of Sumeru are free to dream again, the colorful worlds of the sleep realm rarely visit him. So when Haitham finds himself in the Sanctuary of Surasthana, lucid and vividly aware, he wastes no second in concluding that this must be Kusanali’s doing. 

Just as he thinks that, he hears her soft childlike voice chime from within his mind.

“Hello, my Grand Sage.” Kusanali is there when he turns around. 

“Lord Kusanali,” Haitham greets with a bow. The archon waves her hands around.

“Just Nahida will do, Alhaitham. Have we not gone through enough together to warrant a more friendly address?”

Never one to overcomplicate things, Haitham humors her request. He feels the urge to sit down, and before he can even start looking for a seat, he is already seated in a chair made of woven twine. 

“Is there any reason you wanted to talk to me?” A sense of serenity fills his body, making every muscle relax. Perhaps this is part of Nahida’s power, granting him awakeness even as he sleeps. 

When Haitham blinks, Nahida appears before him on a glowing Dendro swing that seems to hang from all the way to the dome of the Sanctuary. Her gentle sway is almost like a visual lullaby. Never before has he felt so well rested. 

“Although I have the capacity to immerse myself in the minds of Sumerians, I usually leave you lot to your own devices. But it had been two days, and my dutiful Grand Sage had yet to return to his office, so last night, I took the liberty of checking up on you,” Nahida explains. She kicks her feet a little, showing a kind of excitement whose source is lost to Haitham.

“Apologies. I have not been in good health. I was--” 

Memories of last night come flooding back into Haitham’s mind, catching him off guard. A sudden bashfulness takes over him, and he finds it difficult to meet Nahida’s eyes. 

To his mortification, Nahida giggles. “Sorry, Haitham. I didn’t mean to encroach--but trust me, I left once you started getting more intimate--”

“ What,” Haitham breathes, probably red and embarrassed, but he’s still suspended in this dream-state of relaxation, so it’s almost like he’s a bumbling inebriated fool trying to defend himself. “There was--nothing happened.” 

“Would you like to talk about it? I am quite interested in this type of emotion you display--I’ve seen people fall into romantic love before, but I have not seen it this intense. And it’s also a little special, since I know how guarded you are.”

Haitham feels like a specimen under observation--or rather like a child under the interrogation of their parent. He tries pinching himself to escape, but it’s to no avail. 

“Is this all you wanted to talk about?” 

Nahida smiles. “No, but you’ll have to earn that!” 

Haitham watches Nahida, who is both so childish and wise, who is both like a little sister and a remnant of his grandmother. He supposes this dream realm wouldn’t take up so much of his time. So he relents.

“...I…I don’t know what to say,” Haitham starts, his voice a little higher than usual. 

“You do, silly. You’re just always so afraid of saying it.”

Haitham feels a bit affronted. It’s one thing for Kaveh to say it, and an entirely different thing altogether for Nahida to agree. 

“I’m just not good with words.”

“You’re a Haravatat scholar, Haitham. What are you if not good with words?” 

Haitham knows when he is defeated, though it is not a feeling he experiences too often. “It is precisely because I'm a Haravatat scholar that I know all too well the power that words hold.”

Nahida smiles at him, urging him to continue. 

“There’s a power to words. Once they are expressed--whether through writing or speech--they have immediate effects. There’s a sense of permanence that you cannot take back or retract. That…that intimidates me.” 

Nahida swings back and forth slowly, but her attention is all on him. It makes Haitham feel seen. “How so?”

“I…I feel--I’m terrified of how much I feel for Kaveh. It’s like there’s always something clawing at my chest from the inside. I feared that if I let it out, it’d scare him away. I already did that once--I said a bunch of things I didn’t really mean, and I ended up hurting my only friend.” There’s a quiver in Haitham’s voice that surprises him. He thought he had had enough of emotional vulnerability for a lifetime, but it seems like whatever Nahida is pulling on him is wrenching his feelings out from the depths of his soul. Haitham wonders if it’s good for him that he’s revealing this much. But then again, what is there to hide from the god of wisdom? What can he possibly know that she cannot find out herself?

“I didn’t want to lose Kaveh then. And now that I finally have him back, I thought it would be better to hold my tongue for once, to maintain the status quo, because I didn’t want to mess up anymore! I didn’t want to lose Kaveh again. I can’t scare him away again!” Haitham’s hands grasp the fabric of his uniform, shaking in his seat. 

“But what good did that do? I made him think that I don’t care about him. And then this girl had to go and try to take Kaveh away…what was I supposed to do when what I thought had been the best way to keep Kaveh by my side was what was actually driving him away?” 

Haitham’s lips tremble. He is feeling unusually more than he regularly does. There’s a fire burning behind his eyes and petulant pride in his pout. Nahida hops off off of her swing and walks towards him, plants sprouting from each foot fall. She takes his hand in hers, and it is only then that Haitham realizes that his hand does not completely dwarf hers. Suddenly, he is all too aware of the pitch of his voice and the awkwardness in his posture. He doesn’t know when it had happened, but suddenly, he is fifteen year old Alhaitham again--young and bullheaded and proud and curious. Back when he believed he could do no wrong. Back when he thought he knew everything about the world. 

“And? When you confessed to Kaveh, what were the effects of your words?” Nahida’s touch is gentle. Haitham feels like a boy again, back in his grandmother’s graceful care. 

“He was happy,” he responds meekly. Perhaps it hadn’t really sunk into him that Kaveh did not push him away. He is happy that Haitham loves him so. 

“Indeed. You were both very happy together. Anyone could tell, even before you knew it yourself.”

Haitham’s throat closes up. He doesn’t remember being this emotional during his teen years.

“He will still leave,” he says quietly, with a bit of indignation and sadness bleeding through. “I know him well enough to expect that.”

“There is life after his expedition, Haitham. You know that.”

“And during? I’d be suspended in a state of comatose.”

Nahida giggles, hopping back onto her swing. She kicks off the ground more strongly this time, and she lifts into the air with glee. When Haitham looks down, his seat too has become a swing, and he finds himself even younger. This is a body that has yet to meet Kaveh, one that does not know of the warmth of his smile. 

“I didn’t think you’d be such a drama queen! Is this what love does to someone?” Nahida urges him to swing as high as she does, and at this point, they can barely hear each other as they converse. But the swooping in Haitham’s belly makes him laugh, and the air blowing his hair away is laughing with him. Here, Haitham is a child having fun, free from his duties as Grand Sage, or the headaches associated with that line of work. In the middle of swinging, he starts wishing Kaveh were here in this dreamscape too, and that they can swing together on a seat of Dendro and fly even higher than Nahida. 

“What do you really want, Alhaitham?” Nahida asks. It’s a familiar question. Haitham finally has a clear answer. 

“I understand that I’d be putting you in a difficult position, but I’d like to be lifted from my post as Acting Grand Sage.”

Nahida’s smile is kind, as if she had expected that, even as she tells him she cannot honor his request just yet.

“I have a prime candidate who can--”

“I understand that, Haitham. But right now, Sasani is not the one Sumeru needs. We need a decision maker, not a dreamer.”

Even though Haitham has viewed Sasani as a rival all this time, he feels a little indignant over Nahida’s opinion of her. Of course, he himself thought she’d be perfect for the role, so it's mildly disappointing that the archon doesn’t seem to completely agree with him.

“Besides--I have an inkling that your request isn’t quite as selfless as you make it seem.”

Well. She got him right there. Not that he'd admit that out loud or even make any effort to save face. There is simply no point--Nahida's already got him figured out. 

“You asked me what I wanted,” Haitham says, stubborn to a fault. “I want to be with Kaveh. It's only natural that I’d want to remove everything that can hinder me from that.”

Nahida giggles, all giddy and childlike. She starts swinging her legs vigorously in the air, finding Haitham's answer to be satisfying.

“Be patient, dear Haitham. All your hard work will bear fruit, I assure you.” 

Then Nahida walks forward, her steps suddenly sounding otherworldly, like music plays with every footfall. The world around Haitham blurs like a mirage, and just as the Dendro Archon touches his forehead with the tip of her finger, Haitham falls back into a dreamless sleep. 

 

…

 

Alhaitham wakes up to an unfamiliar weight crushing his chest, and an uncomfortable crick in his neck. The first tendrils of clarity returns to him and tells him that he fell asleep on the divan sans pillow, hence the stiff neck. The next thing he realizes is that his migraine is completely gone, and aside from a slight soreness from his sleeping position, he seems to be in perfect health. Lastly--and one that seems to be the most unfathomable --the weight on his chest is actually Kaveh , who seems to have gotten the better side of things since he at least has Haitham’s plush chest to rest on. 

…It’s Kaveh. On his chest. Wow. 

Haitham looks down and gets an eyeful of golden hair arranged like a bird’s nest. Apparently, Kaveh tosses and turns a lot in his sleep, and every single hairpin that used to be artfully arranged on his braided locks has somehow disappeared. 

Haitham reflexively reaches up to brush his unruly hair into tameness, but he catches himself--would it be out of line to do so? Would he wake Kaveh? If he awakens, would he recoil and push him away? 

So Haitham settles on watching Kaveh’s chest rise and fall, content with just having him so close. Kaveh wakes up not long after him, eyes still half-mast. He seems to be free of the reservations Haitham has about their new…whatever this is. Kaveh snuggles into him comfortably, as if completely unbothered, as if Haitham wasn’t losing his mind from wanting to touch him but being unable to. 

“Silly. Your heart has been racing for the past five minutes.” 

Haitham would die of mortification if he could. 

“You’re awake,” he says with disdain. 

“And your heart rate is abnormally high for someone who has just woken up,” Kaveh teases, not even bothering to open his eyes completely yet. But there’s a content smile on his lips. The browns of his lashes are kissing his cheeks so sweetly. Haitham’s breath is suspended in awe. 

“I…have no excuses,” Haitham says and leaves it at that. Kaveh seems to delight in this quiet morning moment. The blond presses a kiss against his chest, as if kissing through his shirt, muscle and bone to get through his heart. Haitham wonders if he’s allowed to do that too.

“Sorry,” Kaveh mumbles. “I know you’d like to address the elephant in the room. But can we just stay here for a little while longer? Just until the sun completely rises.” 

Kaveh kisses him then, all soft and indulgent, despite the looming farewell that’s hanging above their heads. Haitham kisses back, just as softly, just as intently. He’ll take what he can get. 

 

…

 

Alhaitham is a man of his word, even if his word is not tantamount to what he’d actually prefer. He keeps his promises. It’s part of his honor. 

He wakes up at 4 am just as he promised, and he walks with Kaveh all the way to Caravan Ribat, just as he promised. The sun is up by the time they get there, and Sasani is already waiting by a Sumpter Beast. Her pretty face is unreadable. Perhaps a part of her had already expected Haitham to arrive with Kaveh, and is trying her best to mask the sourness in her mood. 

Kaveh greets Sasani with his usual cheery countenance, blissfully unaware that neither she nor Haitham is happy with what is going on. Haitham wordlessly piles Kaveh’s stuff--ones he had insisted on carrying despite Kaveh’s protests--onto the docile beast. It’s annoying; the sun is up so brightly and the skies are clear and the people around them are happily talking, but there’s only gloom and doom in Haitham’s mind. 

Kaveh leaves for a bit, presumably to pay his half of the deposit for the Sumpter Beast, leaving Haitham and Sasani alone in their respective broody silence. 

Sasani breaks first. “I still won’t give up on him, you know.” Tone insolent and a whole lot more rude since the first time they met. If he’s being really honest, Haitham kind of likes her more like this. 

“Didn’t think you would. I’d do the same,” Haitham replies. Right now, as he towers over Sasani’s small frame despite her standoffish stance, it all the more emphasizes his seniority over her. Now that the imminent threat on Kaveh’s affections has more or less been neutralized (for now. Who knows? Sasani might be hiding something up her sleeve), Haitham kind of feels a bit silly for beefing with--well, not technically a child, per se; Sasani is an adult--at least someone young enough to make Haitham feel stupid. 

“I’m going to make him forget about you,” she says, all fire and snark--it’s funny how all this was hidden away during their first interactions. Perhaps she has come to realize the Grand Sage is also just Some Guy in love with his roommate and isn’t actually worthy of her respect. 

“Okay,” Haitham says blandly. He is not about to get into a squabble with a girl. 

“What, not even gonna fight back? Do you not see me as a threat anymore?” 

Haitham understands what she’s doing. She’s trying to gauge him, and how far he’s gone. She may have sensed that something is different between them now, but she’s still hanging onto the chance that nothing actually bloomed between them. Haitham doesn’t want to be the bearer of bad news. He’d rather leave the heartbreaking in Kaveh’s hands. Instead of rising up to her taunts, Haitham says, “Take care of him. Don’t let him starve. Or die of thirst. It’s very likely he’ll do that unintentionally.”

Sasani’s glare softens ever so slightly, but her sneer doesn’t waver. She harrumphs and sticks her nose up. “Of course. I don’t need you to tell me that.” 

Haitham smiles at her, fondly, now that he’s found his peace. 

Kaveh returns and it’s almost a little pitiful to see how Sasani’s iciness all but melts in the presence of a sun. Instantly, she’s milder and a whole lot more excited, and the blush is evident on her cheeks. Haitham would laugh at her for it if he weren’t in the same boat.

“Ready, Kaveh?” Sasani asks, a little breathless.

“Yup! I’m all set!” Kaveh stands by Haitham’s side, too close to be just roommates, too close to be just friends. Anyone with eyes could tell that he’s asking for some time to bid farewell to Haitham in private, but Sasani stares at them with eyes that seem to say, ‘I am not giving you time alone!’

That’s not really unfavorable for him. It’s not like he’s got anything more to hide now that he’s bared his heart to Kaveh.

“Be careful,” Haitham starts. Kaveh looks up at him with sunlit eyes, and it--the morning sun, the orange shift of his irises, the surprised, slightly expectant intake of breath--it catches him like a stray bullet, captivating him, stunning him.

“Don’t neglect your health. A dead man can’t help other people.” 

Kaveh rolls his eyes at that, but he clings onto Haitham’s cloak. He can feel the way his fist shakes. Is he nervous? Scared? Excited? Anxious?

“I will miss you, Hayi,” Kaveh murmurs with a wobbly smile. “Wait for me, ‘kay?”

Haitham merely nods, doesn’t offer any more words like “I’ll miss you too,” or “ I love you.” Kaveh knows that. Kaveh knows that now.

“Here. Keep this close.” Haitham digs into his pocket and slides a jade colored shard in Kaveh’s hands. It pulses gently with Dendro, imbued with a part of Haitham. 

“Break it if you are ever in a situation you’d need me for. It’ll take me to where you are,” Haitham explains, cheeks warming with each word. When he had been developing it, it seemed like such a marvelous idea, but now that he’s presenting his work, it feels like he’s an overprotective mother who can’t bear to be separated from her child. But who cares--if it’s to keep Kaveh safe.

“Oooh, fancy,” Kaveh remarks, admiring the solid shard between his slender fingers. “Tell me how you made this when I get back.”

Haitham’s throat dries. This farewell can only go on for so long. “Alright. Come back safely.”

“Here’s one for you too.” Haitham unceremoniously tosses an identical shard to Sasani, who fumbles the catch after getting caught off guard. She blushes in embarrassment, eyes looking simultaneously distraught and touched and bewildered.

“Take care of her, Kaveh,” Haitham says, genuine in his request. Both of them seem to be bullheaded and stubborn--maybe they’d learn to rein themselves in if they have to look out for each other. 

“Oh? This is an unexpected development,” Kaveh teases. Haitham has a feeling he’s trying to extend this exchange for a little longer too.

“You have a vision after all. And you’re the senior. You should do the heavy lifting, Senior Kaveh.”

Haitham doesn’t know what it was in what he said, but Kaveh whips his head away violently as if his words had burned him. When Haitham tilts his head, he sees the blond’s ears turn as crimson as the cape billowing behind his back. Ah. How cute. 

“Okay! Okay, we’ll return safe and all that. Any more talking and we’d be leaving at nightfall. We should get going now. Treat us to an expensive meal when we return, alright, Grand Sage?” Sasani pulls Kaveh’s other wrist to unglue him from Haitham’s side. She’s right; they’ll never leave if things continue at this rate. 

Kaveh helps her up the Sumpter Beast, and just as Haitham was about to do the same for him, suddenly, Kaveh grabs his hand and yanks him off to who knows where. Haitham hears Sasani’s indignant exclamations, but it’s quickly drowned by Kaveh’s mischievous laughter. Kaveh runs through the crowd and turns corners and Haitham would have been able to see where they were going if he wasn't so affixed by Kaveh’s trailing golden hair. Running is exhilarating, with Kaveh’s bubbly voice stealing the air out of his lungs more than physical exertion does. Kaveh turns a corner and comes to an abrupt stop; Haitham could only process the sudden lack of sunlight in this secluded area for a second before soft, warm lips are on his mouth. He melts into it, hands searching for Kaveh’s waist. Kaveh’s fingers find his jaw, pulling him closer, closer, until their noses dent into the other’s cheek and their teeth clack and their lashes touch. Kaveh kisses him quickly and impatiently, aptly so, for the rush he’s in, but he can’t seem to stop, coming back for more each time he pulls away. 

“Ka--mmmh--veh--” Haitham tries to say, but Kaveh’s just so insatiable that it’s starting to be a little silly. Haitham has to pull his face away to get him to stop kissing him, and he makes a pouty face at him for cutting his indulgence short.

“You’re being rude to Sasani,” Haitham says as he fixes Kaveh’s hair which had gotten ruffled in the middle of their frantic, impromptu makeout session.

“You’re right,” Kaveh groans. He cups Haitham’s face in his hands again, but this time, he does not succumb to his desires. Instead, he looks at Haitham in the eyes and says, “I will be back. And when I return, I will take you on so many dates. And I will kiss you silly.”

Haitham, no matter how much concrete is stacked around his heart in layers, will always melt at the sight of Kaveh’s heart eyes. 

“Okay. So leave now so you can come back sooner.”

Kaveh beams, so bright, so bright.

“I will!”

 

…

 

Haitham feels a little miffed. 

No, not a little--not even just miffed-- he is downright irritated. 

Because Inazuman relationships have been improving lately, there has been an influx of applications for sabbaticals, expeditions, and vacations that are poorly disguised as research proposals with Narukami Island as a locale. Haitham can easily see through which are legitimate and which are playing him for a fool, but it’s so utterly droll to sit through a mountain of paperwork when he could be reading his own books instead. When Nahida had rejected his request to relinquish his position as Acting Grand Sage, she told her that he only had to be patient for a little longer. He didn’t think he’d still be fulfilling his ever important duties of stamping poorly screened applications with a big red “DISAPPROVED” after three months . 

The fact that he goes home to a lonely abode after work does not help at all. Kaveh’s expedition was only meant to last 2 months. Haitham had been eagerly counting down the days that lead up to Kaveh’s return (well, eagerly was a strong word--it would seem to denote that he had been expending energy doing so, but really, all that manifested from Haitham’s “eagerness” is an intense staredown with a calendar, and a slightly improved mood that didn’t make him want to throw his stamp pad at the nearest stained window,) but with each damned day that passes and exceeds Kaveh’s arrival schedule, Haitham’s mood sours like a bottle of milk left out in the sun. Cyno has commented on his “wifeless” behavior (his words, not Haitham’s) numerous times, even citing the worries of anxious nail biters lingering outside Haitham’s office who all bow their heads in prayer that the Acting Grand Sage is not in a frightening mood. The General Mahamatra would then excuse himself with a pleased look on his face after rubbing it into Haitham's face that he is going to go to Pardis Dhyai to visit his lovely Tighnari—which is fair, because Haitham would have done the same had their roles been switched because they both express their friendship by being little shits—but that doesn't make Haitham any less pissy for the rest of the day. 

Kaveh's safety isn't the major concern. Haitham can still feel his elemental energy resonating with his own through the jade shard. It pulses like a steady heartbeat, sometimes getting a little excited, and glowing so luminously all throughout. Haitham can tell Kaveh’s having the time of his life, and when it’s put in that context he can hardly be upset over how long it has been since he has last seen him, but still. Isn’t it a little cruel to separate them for so long after they just realized they could have been closer all this time? 

Haitham has to wonder if Kaveh’s thinking of him too. Perhaps not as frequently and with as much boredom as Haitham does, but Kaveh has got to remember that he has someone waiting for him at home from time to time right? The most childish, greediest part of Haitham sulks over why Kaveh couldn’t just use the shard at least once, even if it isn't an emergency. Why couldn’t he be like, “ The emergency is that I missed you so badly,” or some other corny shit Haitham would have gladly lapped up like a starved dog? Haitham wouldn’t even be mad if he wasted the shard. He could give him countless more. Sure, he’d have to travel from the desert and back to Sumeru City each time Kaveh would summon him, but what is half a day of walking in the hot desert sand if it meant getting to kiss Kaveh again? (Or miss out on Grand Sage duties. Two birds.)

At this point, Haitham wishes he had made a shard that he could use to take him to Kaveh. What if Kaveh likes it there so much that he finds himself not wanting to leave? He does tend to get absorbed in his work, and in an environment where he immerses himself in ancient texts and techs and history on a daily basis, he’s bound to get lost in it. 

And what does it make of Haitham? It makes him a forlorn maiden who can only wait until his husband returns from war. How unfair. 

The door to his office opens, and Haitham doesn’t have to look up to see who it is. Only the archon is allowed to enter without so much as a knock. Sometimes, she doesn’t even grace him with her presence, opting instead to whisper inside Haitham’s mind. He isn’t very fond of that; there have been too many embarrassing thoughts in there lately, and although Nahida is technically hundreds of years old, it still feels quite weird to subject her to those kinds of thoughts. 

“Hello, Alhaitham. I have come to relieve you of your duties today,” she says pleasantly. 

“I am not protesting, and I am willing to leave right about now, but I also have to ask--why is today so special when you insist on working me to the bone everyday?” 

Nahida huffs lightheartedly, putting her hands on her hips in mock exasperation. “You and Hat Guy are so similar. So snarky. I just worry that you might fall sick again. I know work has been hard on you lately.”

Hm. There’s some instability in that claim; Nahida knows full well that Haitham is not one to neglect his health over Grand Sage work. (That last time was an exception--he was going through what might have been the roughest patch in his life.) Kaveh left him a bottle of multivitamins before setting off. Yes, work is hard, but it’s not because it’s particularly difficult or taxing, just annoying. Haitham is healthy as a horse. There's no reason for Nahida to be shooing him away, unless it’s something she’s hiding from him. 

“Don’t overthink it, dear. Everyone deserves a break once in a while.” A kind smile passes over the archon’s face, and, well, it seems genuine enough that Haitham makes no other delay to set off for his house. 

It’s an odd feeling to walk home so early. There are many people out and about as it is only around lunchtime. It must be such a weird sight for the Acting Grand Sage to be sauntering around at such an hour with his work bag already hitched on his shoulder. Haitham can see them whispering and pointing, but his headphones block out all the noise. He doesn’t really give a shit about how people perceive him anyway. 

He makes it home in no time, and, to add to the inherent liminality of it all, his skin prickles like a sixth sense of his has been triggered. Something is off. As if all the furniture has been shifted one half inch to the right. There’s something weird that Haitham can’t exactly pinpoint. He feels like if he calls out a “Hello,” into the hallway, it wouldn’t echo--there would be something to absorb his voice. More specifically, someone who would hear it.

Haitham tries to not get his hopes up, but he wishes for it anyway. Now he’s torn between moving from his spot and actively looking for someone , and staying still. After all, it’d be all too disappointing to run around and expend all that energy only to be met with empty rooms. Wouldn’t it be better to stay still and act ignorant so that he can preserve his dignity and perhaps spare himself from the embarrassment he is sure to feel when he acts like a desperate dog looking for its owner?

Somewhere far inside the house, Haitham hears some keys jingle. And pride and dignity and all that bullshit be damned--Haitham runs straight to Kaveh‘s bedroom.

The distance between Kaveh’s room and the front door is very minute, and the fact that Haitham had run all the way there means that there was no time at all to form any expectations. He doesn’t envision a changed Kaveh, or anything at all, really. He just moves and lets his heart take him to where he should be. Haitham pushes the door open.

And--this must be what it’s like to love someone, because it has only been months, and yet--it feels like Haitham hasn’t seen Kaveh in years.

Shock paints a tanned face as the door crashes against the bedroom wall, and it’s the first thing that registers in Haitham’s mind. Kaveh’s surprised to see him this early. Then his heart beats once, twice, and immediately, everything Kaveh rushes in. His hair is shorter, chopped just under his chin; his skin looks more golden, obviously bearing the rays of the sun and becoming one with its radiance. His lips are chapped--there’s little water in the desert, he supposes, but they’re still pink, so that’s good. His hands--closed around the strap of his yet-to-be-unpacked rucksack--look a little weary, like it had borne stress and overuse and all sorts of nicks and bruises. Haitham wants to kiss them. Haitham wants to kiss him , in all his beauty and grace in the midst of the damage of the desert. Kaveh has been through sandstorms and perilous ruins and yet he still looks like a gift from Celestia. That's rather unfair, isn’t it? Even with his hair short and admittedly uneven--he’s still so charming. He’s changed, but he’s still so wholly Kaveh , still so sparkling and brilliant. Haitham’s heart feels like it’s about to give out from the way it’s been pumping. His ears, his cheeks, the back of his neck all feel so hot--is he about to have a heart attack?

“Well this is embarrassing--I didn’t think you’d be home so early! I can’t believe you’re standing there looking like a movie star while I hardly look presentable!”

Haitham blinks. Oh this idiot. Had it not been obvious in his starstruck eyes that he had been marveling at his beauty? If only he had known--but Kaveh’s ignorance is a good thing, and it is in Haitham’s favor to maintain that.

“Hm? Haven’t had a shower in three months, Senior?” 

Like a wick catching fire, Kaveh’s cheeks light up with a reddish glow. 

“What are you talking about! Of course I have! And w-what’s with the ‘Senior’? You never call me that. The last time was…” Kaveh trails off, looking to the side, and Haitham sees the exact moment he realizes just what the circumstances were and what he had done after the last time Haitham had called him senior. Kaveh clamps his mouth shut and turns his body away. His hair doesn’t swish all fall behind his back like it used to, but it keeps his nape exposed. Haitham comes to discover that Kaveh’s nape turns red when he’s embarrassed too.

Seeing him so flushed like that makes Haitham’s heart skip a bit. Weird. He didn’t really think it would feel like this. It feels like every cell of his body is vibrating with too much energy. Haitham feels compelled to move ; he doesn’t know how he’s supposed to, not quite, but there’s a strange magnetic force that seems to pull his arms, his feet, his chest towards Kaveh. So he lets it. He presses against Kaveh’s back, shy and a little unsure, but so, so eager. 

“If-if I didn’t know better, I’d s-say you missed me,” Kaveh stammers, pointedly refusing to turn around. Haitham’s lips quirk upwards. He was not like this when he had left. Why is he being so skittish? Does he feel it too? The thundering pulse and the wasteless energy buzzing under his skin? Does he too feel moved by the gravity of their bodies? Is he excited to see Haitham too?

“Why are you stuttering?”

“Sh-shut up, you! Who said you could just--how can you just burst through the door looking all--goddammit, did you grow even taller? You’re not even a teenager anymore; do you ever stop growing? And has nobody told you that--that scruff on your jaw should be kept neat? My, I wonder how the Akademiya thinks of you as the Grand Sage, when you’re all sloppy like that--” 

Haitham presses his nose against Kaveh’s hair. He smells like tea. “I did miss you. Did you miss me too, Kaveh?”

And just like that, Kaveh crumbles. He turns around and buries his face against Haitham's chest.

“That’s--that’s not fair, Alhaitham! You barge in here looking like you were hoping to see me, and you look so fucking handsome and you’ve gained some weight, archons, fuck-- I wasn’t ready! I was going to make myself look pretty! My skin tone doesn’t even look homogenous, not to mention my hair that I had to chop off because resin had gotten into it when I had dozed off on a workbench--anyway! The point is you should stop looking so good when I'm not!”

Haitham smiles, unbeknownst to Kaveh, because the blonde is busy hiding his face from him. “...You like that I gained weight?”

Kaveh makes a garbled string of unintelligible noise that sounds like a mix between a groan and a whine. Suddenly, Haitham feels hands squeezing his ass, his sides, his chest, until they eventually land on his face. And holding his face means Kaveh finally looks up from where he was hiding. And Haitham gets to stare at the blush dusting his cheeks and his dilated pupils. He bites his lip. How can Kaveh say he does not look pretty when it’s all Haitham can think about?

“You drive me crazy,” Kaveh says, but it comes out as a whisper, like it's far too intimate to have the words escape this rapidly decreasing space between their bodies. 

Haitham doesn’t know what else to say, so he just smiles. 

“W-what? What are you smiling at me for? That’s--Ha, you look so strange. I literally have never seen you smile like that before. That's funny. You look so funny--” Kaveh rambles on and on--very on brand of him, really--but he's smiling too, wide and bright and lovely. Haitham doesn't know why he's being so shy right now, as if he wasn’t unapologetically all over him before he left. The Kaveh then gave in to his greed and desires. So why is he all timid now, when all Haitham wants is for Kaveh to kiss him silly in that same starved way he had three months ago? 

“You missed me,” Haitham states. It's not a question this time. His hand rests over Kaveh's weary one, gentle and encompassing.

Kaveh rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Then why aren't you kissing me yet?”

Kaveh stiffens, and Haitham doesn’t know if he would pull away in embarrassment, so he prevents Kaveh from getting ideas by pulling him close, until their torsos melt into a single entity. Like this, Haitham feels their hearts beating against each other. Haitham feels electric, alive, fulfilled. This is what it means to be in love. 

“If I do, I fear I won't be able to stop,” Kaveh says into the millimeter distance between their lips. His chapped lips are trembling, eager but constrained. 

“Go ahead, Kaveh. You’re home. You don't need to stop this time around.” 

When Kaveh’s lips finally touch his, Haitham feels like his feet are lifting off the ground. Haitham holds him tighter, as if Kaveh is the grounding rock that would tether him and keep him from floating away. There's nothing timid in Kaveh's kisses. He moves his lips with the desperation of a parched man drinking all that he can. Kaveh pulls away for just a second to catch his breath before he's diving in again, desperate to not be even a second apart from Haitham. Haitham lets himself be kissed the way he had waited so long for, the way he had only dreamed about. Kaveh feels real and solid in his arms. Kaveh is here. Kaveh is home. 

Kaveh’s hands touch him everywhere, and Haitham notices the way he holds on just a little harder, just strong enough to hurt, but not enough to bruise. Haitham understands; he is the same--laying his palms flat against the surfaces of Kaveh’s body, just to have as much of his skin touching Kaveh’s as possible. Haitham takes what he can, because Kaveh’s so willing to give him what he needs, because it’s been so long since he has felt happiness like this. 

Haitham doesn’t know how long they stand there in each other’s arms just kissing and kissing and kissing. He doesn’t get tired of it. He doesn’t want it to end. But Kaveh’s giggling and smiling into the kiss, wanting to talk instead of just making out, and Haitham surmises that he must be tired from the journey back home so he begrudgingly relents. 

“It’s alright, Hayi. We can kiss a whole lot more later, right?” 

Haitham’s eyes crinkle. He likes the sound of that.

 

…

 

There’s something about setting the table that gets Haitham feeling things. It’s such a mundane task, one that’s been done so many times that one could do it on autopilot. There is nothing special to it--one might even call it tedious. In fact, during the times he lived alone, both long ago and recently, Haitham didn’t even bother setting the table. He usually would scoop his food into his solitary bowl and then take it to his study so he can eat while reading or finishing more paperwork. The dining table was seldom graced with his presence, maybe because subconsciously, he knew that sitting in such a large table all by his lonesome would only make him miss Kaveh more. But today is different. The karmaphala wood is alive and happy. The padisarahs in the glass vase are standing tall. The afternoon sun is gentle and kind on the surfaces it touches. Today, Haitham sets the table for two. 

He cooks up a feast. He’s lucky he had just stocked up on his groceries just two days ago, and normally he would budget all he bought for the entire week, but nevermind that. Today is meant to be celebrated. 

Kaveh walks out from his bedroom just as Haitham sets the last dish on the table. He made way too much for two people, but that’s fine. Haitham hasn’t cooked in a long time, because really, Kaveh’s the only one worth the trouble. 

“Wow! You didn’t hold back at all,” Kaveh remarks gleefully, already eyeing the array of his favorite dishes with a hungry gaze. He’s wearing a nice yellow blouse that makes the red of his eyes pop. Haitham notices that his complexion is more even now, and with the faintest rose blush and glitter on his eyelids. Kaveh is wearing make up, even though it’s only the two of them and they aren’t even going to leave the house. It isn’t even the fact that Kaveh looks so lovely that makes Haitham’s heart race. It’s that he knows that it’s for him, and that Kaveh wants to look pretty for him. It’s endlessly endearing. 

“Should I also wear something nice?” Haitham quips. That in itself is already a compliment for Kaveh, no matter how understated. Haitham doesn’t have to worry; Kaveh is fluent in the language that he speaks. 

As Haitham expected, Kaveh’s eyes light up in excitement. 

“Yes, definitely! Wait, I’ll choose an outfit super quick for you--oh, but the food will get cold. But I want to dress you up…”

“Dress me up some other time,” Haitham offers. It’s easy to heed Kaveh’s requests when he smiles like that. “I’ll just be quick. You can start eating now, while the food is still hot.”

It only dawns on him once he enters his room that he does not in fact have any date attire whatsoever. His wardrobe consists of his daily work attire, training gear and sleepwear. The most he has are robes for a funeral and it would be very inappropriate to wear that, so. Haitham very nearly upheaves his entire closet for anything presentable, and he can’t take too long or Kaveh will get suspicious or worse, upset, so he throws everything non-presentable onto his bed and hopes for the best. In the middle of his scour for a date attire, he comes across a white shirt that he hadn’t seen in a while. It’s of a loose, billowy fabric, not unlike the blouses Kaveh likes to wear. It has a slightly raised collar, stiffened with starch, open at the middle leading to a low neckline that bares his collarbone. He tucks the hem into his pants and wraps an embellished sash around his waist, hoping it would look nice enough for a scholar of the arts. He hangs his arms by his sides and lets the sleeves fall just above his forearms. He looks young. He hasn’t worn this shirt in many years. 

When he returns to the dining table, he sees that Kaveh has been waiting patiently for him, food untouched and hands nervously picking at each other. Haitham makes his way over, and Kaveh seems to pick up the sound of his footsteps because he snaps out of his daze. As usual, his mouth moves before anything else. “You sure took your time, huh, Hai--”

Their eyes meet. Haitham watches recognition grace Kaveh’s eyes like a key slotting into a lock. Suddenly, Haitham is nervous. A lump forms in his throat. Should he not have worn this after all? 

“...that shirt actually fits you now.”

Haitham swallows. “Yeah. It was my dad’s.”

Kaveh blinks the shock away then he smiles. It’s incredibly warm, like the first rays of morning sun dispelling the cold night’s grip on the land. Kaveh looks lovely.

“You used to drown in it. Who would’ve thought you’d grow to be this big?”

Haitham plays with the opalescent beads dangling from his sash. He’s just happy that Kaveh is actually here to have seen him grow up. 

“I didn't think you'd recognize it. I didn't know you had seen me.” 

Kaveh's smile shakes. His emotions are washing over him in waves, and Haitham can see that it's hard for him to speak about it too. Years have passed since they had fallen out, but it still stings to remember how fiercely anger had burned between the two of them. They never talked about it, not even after they crossed paths again and Haitham offered his home. It was never brought up, not even in their worst, most scalding arguments. But here they are, skirting around it, circling, circling; stalking the periphery until one of them is brave enough to plunge them right into the middle of a maelstrom. 

“Of course I saw you. I can find you in the middle of a sea of people. I remember thinking why you were wearing a dress.”

“I didn’t have formal clothes to wear,” Haitham says sheepishly. He still hasn’t taken his seat. He feels like he has to earn it somehow. Kaveh is smiling so lovingly at him, yet for some reason Haitham can’t bring himself to enter his orbit. 

“Eight years later and this is still your sole formal wear?” There’s a teasing lilt to Kaveh’s voice. He’s looking up at Haitham with an amused smirk, looking so beautiful that Haitham’s chest is seriously starting to hurt. Haitham feels like he should be the one to plunge them into the deep. It is only fitting. 

“Kaveh,” Haitham says solemnly, and it softens Kaveh’s face into something more neutral, more attentive. His smile, though kind and sweet and beautiful and distracting, was skittish enough for Haitham to know that it was an attempt to keep things light. Kaveh was giving him a way out just in case he didn’t want to talk about it. Still so considerate, so kind to the very end.

“I’m sorry for the things I said to you when we were young,” Haitham starts. It’s uncomfortable. He wishes this shirt hung off his frame like it did years ago, maybe then it’d be easier to breathe. “I know we never talk about it. But I’ve come to learn that I have to say these things out loud, or else you won’t know.

“I’ve never once hated you for anything. I was immature and selfish and was so hellbent on preserving myself that I ended up hurting you. The truth is, I--”

Haitham has to stop and recollect all the air he's lost. It's just an apology. It doesn't have to be so difficult. 

“The truth is, I just really, really wanted to be with you. You were my first friend and you understood me in ways nobody has ever bothered to try, but I didn't know there was a limit to that understanding. I can't just expect you to know everything about me.” 

“I want to, though.” 

Haitham's head snaps up. Goosebumps rise everywhere along his skin. He had more words to say to Kaveh. He was going to detail an apology about his specific weaknesses like failure to communicate, arrogance and overall lack of emotional quotient, but suddenly Kaveh is rising from his seat. Instead of earning his spot on the dinner table, Haitham is instead approached by Kaveh himself. There is a metaphor there somewhere.

“I want to know everything about you, Hayi,” Kaveh says tenderly as he lifts a hand to cup Haitham’s cheek. “So tell me lots. Talk about your day. Tell me what you feel. What’s on your mind? Tell me. I want to know.”

Haitham rests his forehead against Kaveh’s and closes his eyes. 

“Ask then.”

Kaveh makes a sharp breath. Haitham feels like he has always wanted this opportunity. Haitham can sense the questions spilling from the brim, things that Haitham had been too shy, too prideful, too scornful to reveal. Perhaps before, Haitham would have felt scared about being so exposed, but now there is nothing but liberation. There is great comfort in wanting to be known.

“What made you come to my graduation?” is Kaveh’s first question. It’s loaded, a question asking more than those exact words.

“Because I didn’t know if I would ever see you again,” Haitham answers. “I was angry, but the thought of…the thought of losing you terrified me. And I knew your mother was in Fontaine, so I thought I’d--” Haitham pauses to swallow the lump in his throat. “I thought I should at least come to watch you march.”

“I saw you before walking to the stage,” Kaveh admits, eyes looking somewhere else. “You were at the very back of the hall, wearing this exact shirt. I remember because you were short and lanky back then and these collars reached the bottom of your ears.” 

“You sure took your time looking at me,” Haitham says as an attempt to loosen up his tautly bundled nerves, but it greatly backfires on him when Kaveh replies: 

“Of course. The guy I liked for so long and had the argument of a lifetime with showed up to my graduation just when I thought I’d be going alone. Of course I wanted to savor the sight of you.”

Something in Haitham shifts. Like he had been a rusty robot who had his parts replaced with new ones. Like a blind man miraculously seeing for the first time. Like rain gracing the desert after years without it. Like entering a house that has become a home. Yet all that he can say about it at that moment is, “What?”

Kaveh grins, big, wide and all teeth, and gives Haitham a smooch. “I had already forgiven you, you know. As much as I fight with you and throw snark at you--because you are very much insufferable--I’ve always known you didn’t mean all that. Because if you had, you wouldn’t have shown up, and you wouldn’t have clapped when they called my name. And for so long, since I met you until now, you’ve always showed up.” Kaveh kisses him again, on the cheek this time. “It's why I have a roof over my head. It’s why there is a drafting table in my room, eagerly waiting to be used. It’s why I am so impossibly happy, and despite the rockiness of the road that led me to you, it’s why I will always love you.”

Oh. Haitham really didn’t expect to hear that. After all, Kaveh didn’t reveal anything when he confessed to him, sick and vulnerable. And although they’ve been really affectionate towards each other, Haitham didn’t really bet on Kaveh saying anything of the like. Everything feels like a dream. 

Honestly, Haitham would’ve been fine even if Kaveh never said it; even if he keeps him wrapped and dangling off his pretty finger. If he can hold Kaveh’s hand and he lets him, that’s fine. Haitham could be content with that. 

So for Haitham to hear that Kaveh loves him--and for a long time now, at that--it drives him a little nuts. 

He grabs Kaveh’s face and just plants his lips on his mouth, uncaring of the mini shriek Kaveh lets out. He kisses him like a man high on forbidden knowledge because what else can he do? What else could he possibly do when the love of his life tells him that he loves him too? Is there any normal way to go about the most extraordinary thing to ever happen to you? Is there any other way to express how much Haitham wants him at that very moment?

Kaveh pulls away first, dizzy and lips all puffy from all that kissing. His hair is a mess, and quite frankly, he looks even more dazzling like this. He asks in between pants, “Why are you acting so surprised? You should've already known this!”

“How could I have known you felt that way?”

Kaveh gapes at him. “I've been kissing you so much! I literally cannot keep my hands off of you! What the hell did you think I did all that for?!”

“...because you liked kissing? And I was all too willing?”

Kaveh gasps, scandalized. “You thought I was taking advantage of you?”

Haitham blinks. “No? I can hardly call that taking advantage if I was perfectly willing and consenting to it.”

“Hayi, noooo!”

Then things click inside Haitham’s brain and-- “Kaveh. You also cannot expect me to understand you all the time. You have to tell me these things too.”

Melodious laughter akin to the chime of bells fills up the warm air of their home. Kaveh’s laughing so happily, and as Haitham gazes at him adoringly, he finds himself smiling along. How lucky is he to have Kaveh all to himself? His feet feel like they’re floating off the ground again. It feels almost criminal to be this happy. 

“Alright! Let’s do that,” Kaveh says once he finally settles down. “I love you, Alhaitham.”

Oh. Haitham realizes perhaps he can’t handle the full force of Kaveh’s affection after all. It is simply too much, too unreal, too dream-like that he feels like he has just somehow conjured all of this up out of his loneliness. 

“What? Hey, Hayi--say it back!”

To say it back--he really does have that privilege now, doesn’t he?

“I love you,” Haitham says, with the heat and intensity of a thousand suns. Kaveh melts.

“Ah. I see. Ahem. Uhm,” Kaveh’s face is an artwork of red paint and gold. His cheeks are burning so hot they might as well have been used to reheat their already cold food on the table. 

“You’re right, Haitham. Maybe we shouldn’t go saying these words after all--”

“I love you, Kaveh,” Haitham repeats, because it’s true and he loves getting a rise out of Kaveh. 

Kaveh’s so embarrassed that he stuffs his face into his favorite hiding place (Haitham’s chest) once more. It's so cute, heartachingly so. 

“Stop,” Kaveh mumbles, muffled by Haitham’s chest.

“I love you, Kaveh.”

“I love you too,” Kaveh replies so quietly that Haitham nearly misses it, but his heart jumps, and Kaveh for sure hears that. 

“We should eat.”

“Yeah.”

And yet. They stay there for at least ten more minutes, just savoring each other’s embrace.

 

…

 

“Grand Sage.”

“Sasani.”

“It’s nice to see you again.”

Now, months ago, Haitham would have been so sure that the tone she uses must be sarcastic, because she was a lot more direct and aggressive towards him then. But now, Sasani regards him with a mellow kind of smile and an even voice. Haitham does not know how to read that.

“I…same,” Haitham replies, without any more elaboration. Though short on words as he may be, he finds himself genuine in his regards. 

“Oh? That better not be a lie.”

Kaveh is in the restroom taking care of a coffee stain as they speak. Haitham, true to his word, is currently in the middle of fulfilling his promise to treat the two to an expensive meal upon their arrival. Since he has been living like a lonesome loser for the past three months in his house, he has hardly spent his hefty Grand Sage paycheck. This meal is no big deal. He has never been one to skimp when it comes to people he cares about anyway. 

“It’s true. In fact, I have some news for you that might just convince you.” 

Sasani narrows her eyes at him. Her skin has developed creases around her eyes in just three months. It could have been from a lot of different factors--the arid weather, the ultraviolet rays, the stress. Haitham feels like he is just about to add to that.

“Would you be interested in inheriting the position of Grand Sage?” 

Then Sasani guffaws like he just made the funniest joke to man. Haitham stares at her blankly. What was so funny? She seems to realize the confusion on Haitham’s face and abruptly stops.

“Wait. You weren’t kidding? Grand Sage, you can’t possibly--I mean, I am flattered, but--”

“Calm down. I’m not asking you to be the Grand Sage. I’m simply asking if you would take it up if given the chance,” Haitham says, now kind of ticked for some reason. These young ones sure are brazen. 

“Well you worded it out to be--anyway, why are you asking? All jokes aside, do you really think I’d be qualified…?”

Haitham raises an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m qualified?”

Without missing a beat, Sasani says, “ Yes. Lord Kusanali was right about appointing you, in my honest opinion. Although you seem very adamant about keeping the ‘Acting’ part of your title, I think the whole of Akademiya has already accepted you as Grand Sage. While yes, you may be a little difficult to get along with, nobody can really deny that you make things happen.” 

Haitham…doesn’t know what to think. This is not the reply he expected. Was this not banter? Is she being sarcastic?

“What? Why are you suddenly at a loss for words? Where did all your ego go?”

“I suppose thanks are in order. But that is besides the point. The point is I don’t want to be Grand Sage anymore, but Nahida doesn’t seem to want to relinquish her grubby hands on me because apparently I am the only one in Sumeru with a brain and a half. So--”

“Who’s Nahida?”

“Lord Kusanali.”

Sasani’s eyes widen comically and she nearly ejects herself off of her seat. “Kusa--you speak about Lord Kusanali with that mouth?!”

Haitham glares at her. “You are missing the point again.”

At that time, Kaveh makes his return to their table, and Haitham’s glare softens like a flower petals at the sight of him. It’s a little ridiculous how mushy his insides feel just by hearing the footfalls of his lover. It’s a strange but lovely feeling. A little scary. Haitham doesn’t want it to end.

“What he means is that he wants to take you under his wing,” Kaveh sing-songs amusedly. His smile is making the apples of his cheeks protrude. It’s cute.

“What? What?”

Haitham is starting to get annoyed at this point. What about it does she not understand?

“Hayi believes in your capabilities and thinks that you’d make a prime candidate for a position as Sage,” Kaveh translates Haitham’s silence once more. He really appreciates this. He could say it himself--there’s really nothing embarrassing about saying it, but he is also kind of relishing how Kaveh knows him like this. Like they’re a unit, interchangeable and homogenous.

“Okay, forgive me if I sound ungrateful, but why are you so adamant about resigning? You’re doing a great job! The Akademiya has never run this smoothly before!”

Kaveh rolls his eyes, already aware of the reason Haitham is being so hard-headed about it, but there’s also a dusting of pink on his cheeks. “This idiot is just lazy.”

“I want to spend more time with my boyfriend. Is that so bad?”

Sasani gags. “Are you for real?”

Kaveh groans in secondhand embarrassment. “Ugh. He keeps saying that. I still have to work too, you know, so it doesn’t matter if you resign.”

Sasani shifts restlessly in her seat. “W-well, jokes aside, I’m not even qualified to be a Sage yet, let alone Grand Sage! Why…”

“I was impressed by your work ethic and your CV. Even at such a young age, you’ve already accomplished so much, and you seem to actually genuinely care about the general populace unlike me. Also, you have excellent taste in men.”

Sasani actually guffaws at that last quip while Kaveh is none the wiser. Kaveh looks at him for an explanation, but Haitham just smirks at him with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“This is so weird. Do you guys have some inside joke I’m not privy to?”

“Yes. Sasani and I are friends,” Haitham says with a straight face, and Sasani rolls her eyes fondly. 

“You’re just saying that because we’re not rivals anymore. I wonder if I would’ve still gotten this offer if I was still trying to actively pursue Kaveh.”

Kaveh’s eyes bug out of his head and he very nearly chokes on the wine he had been sipping. Haitham offers him an unhelpful pat on the back while Sasani just enjoys the chaos she had let unfold by dropping that bomb out of nowhere.

“WHAT?”

Sasani smiles at him, and maybe at some point it could have been wistful, but there is nothing of that sort in her face. She is at peace and content. “Yeah. I used to like you that way.” 

“Uhm, wow. I don’t--I don’t know what to say. I’m honored!”

“I don’t understand why you’re so surprised. It was so obvious,” Haitham says, partly just to teasingly spite her.

Sasani sticks her tongue out at him like a kid. “Yeah, and who got so jealous he refused to let us go to the desert?” 

“Wow. And I thought we bickered a lot. You guys look like siblings,” Kaveh comments, and both Haitham’s and Sasani’s faces morph into a cringe almost in complete synchronicity.

“Well, whatever. It was just a case of admiration and awe turning into a fanatic sort of crush. It was hard to maintain my feelings anyway, not when every second of the day I was reminded that you are the only one that occupies Kaveh’s heart.”

A pretty blush blooms across Kaveh’s nose at that. His hand shifts closer to Haitham's under the table. Haitham can feel his pulse jump. 

“Oh? Please elaborate.”

Sasani sneers. “And feed your ego? I’d rather choke.” For all the daintiness in her pretty face, Sasani sure can be pretty crude. She’s kind of like Kaveh in that sense.

“Oh…I kinda want to know too…” Kaveh says shyly, ears as red as his downcast eyes.

“A-ah--ugh, okay, fine then,” she mumbles, all too powerless against Kaveh. That makes two of them. 

“Kaveh’s just always, always talking about you. He somehow finds a way to sneak you in every single topic, no matter how far I try to veer away from you. Kaveh is always, ‘Haitham this,’ ‘Haitham that’.”

Kaveh looks like he is about to combust. “Okay--! We can stop now--”

“Then he insists on taking food out for you every time we eat out. And don’t even get me started when we finally got to the desert after whatever happened between you--Kaveh looked like those mourning flowers up north--always droopy and depressed because he misses you--”

“Oh my god, Sasani, please stop--”

“--He’d ask me relentlessly-- ‘ Should I break the shard, Sasani?’ ‘Do you think he’s busy, Sasani?’ ‘Would he get mad if I summon him here for no other reason than the fact I miss him?’ It was absolutely dis gusting!”

“I would not, for what it’s worth,” Haitham comments, mood pleasantly lifted by the idea of Kaveh being just as crazy over him.

Kaveh sneaks a glance up at him before he prettily blushes away. 

“Lord Kusanali. If I agree to study under you, will I be subjected to this everyday?”

Haitham’s heart quivers. Tonight, when they sleep, Kaveh will be snuggled by his side in his room. Tomorrow, when he wakes, Kaveh will still be sprawled out and drooling in bed, but he’ll hum contently if Haitham kisses his forehead in his sleep. When noon time comes, he’ll go to Puspa Cafe to meet Kaveh for lunch. In the afternoon, Haitham will be working, but Kaveh will be on his mind every time he starts feeling tired. When evening comes, Haitham will walk down the path towards the home he shares with the love of his life, and Kaveh will be there to welcome him home. They will get started on dinner together, and will finish washing the dishes together. As they settle in the bed, Kaveh will tell him about his day, and Haitham will tell him about his. At night, when they sleep, Kaveh will be snuggled by his side in a room that is equally Kaveh’s and Haitham’s. In the morning, when he wakes, Kaveh might surprise him with pancakes. And this will go on again the next day, and the next day. All his Sundays will be with Kaveh, and Grand Sage or not, by the end of the day, Kaveh will be lying next to him as they come to rest in each other. 

And he’d say his “I love you’s” like a daily prayer, so that Kaveh won’t ever doubt, so that Kaveh will always be sure. He’ll always be the first to say sorry. He’ll say his “thank you’s” with reverence, with proper words chosen carefully and sincerely, because he is no longer afraid of the power they hold. And he’ll grant him whatever he wants, needs and more; all he asks is for Kaveh to stay, to remain by his side. To hold his hand and kiss him right. To do the neverending laundry with him. To always set the table for two. 

Everyday. With Kaveh. His everyday is with Kaveh. His everyday is Kaveh’s. His everyday is Kaveh. Oh. How wonderful. How perfect. 

Haitham grins. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Notes:

The end!!!!!! What do u think abt it? How do u feel?? Tell me!!!! Comment!!! I wanna knowwww!! 🫶🫶🫶

Also tidbit--Sasani can actually be found in game hehehehehe I won't say where so you can look for her yourself :P

Thanks for reading !!!!