Chapter Text
Alhaitham decides to do it on an unremarkable and unsuspecting Saturday. It's early morning, the day is wet and insipid, and he hasn't slept at all. In his head, he plays a play-by-play script of how this morning is going to go and he tries, and fails, to settle his nerves. He reviews his lines, organizes the possible reactions he might receive as a result and attaches his responses to each scenario, and tells himself it’ll be fine, that it’ll be okay, that he will be okay.
Today is an unremarkable and unsuspecting Saturday, and today he is going to confess to Kaveh after loving him in silence from afar for nearly a decade. He thought he could carry that weight forever until he inevitably died with it, but now, with Kaveh living in his house and witnessing him do even the most mundane things, Alhaitham has fallen further, harder, and every morning the weight on his chest becomes more crushing, more unbearable. He looks at Kaveh and desires him in a way words fail to describe and he can, cannot die with this, he realized, but it might kill him well before anything else does.
Today is the day, he tells himself.
Once more, he goes through his mental script and tells himself, like a mantra, that the worst thing that might happen is rejection, which he’s braced himself for. This, he expects more than anything else and has made his peace with it, even if the thought is enough to send ripples of pain all throughout his chest.
Morning sun rays filter in through the sheer curtains and the clock on the wall opposite of his bed reads early, but not so early that he is the only one awake. Beyond his bedroom door he hears the quick, muffled slaps of feet against the wooden floor and here, again, his chest constricts.
He pulls himself out of bed, his body leaden and begging to climb back under the covers. That won't happen, his heart tells his mind, today is the day. Quickly, he throws on a plain shirt and a proper pair of sleep pants as opposed to his underwear, to save Kaveh the embarrassment —he does always blush so nicely for Alhaitham, though一and heads for the kitchen where Kaveh is sure to be.
And sure enough, there he is:
Blond hair is in a tight coil on the top of his head, loose strands spilling free along the sides and back, revealing the dozens and dozens of freckles scattered along his tanned skin like stars in the sky and oh, how Alhaitham has dreamed of connecting each one like a constellation. He, too, is dressed casually in his own sleep clothes, but the shirt is a little too big and occasionally slips from his shoulder, resulting in muttered disgruntlement as he fixes the small error, and loose fitting pants. Kaveh moves with practiced ease and Alhaitham wonders how many times he’s stood here in silence watching as Kaveh goes from the stove to the small area dedicated to their coffee to the sink and back again, blissfully unaware that he’s being watched.
Until he isn’t.
Until he turns around and startles at the sight of Alhaitham in the doorway, a hand flying to rest above his chest in a show of surprise. A dusting of pink spreads across the bring of his nose and tapers off on his cheeks, illuminating more freckles. He offers a smile, a cock of his head towards the table as a way to tell Alhaitham to sit and, without an ounce of hesitation, he obeys.
Somehow, without ever uttering a word about it, they’ve fallen into this routine and Alhaitham adores it, but he craves more. He wants to wake up to Kaveh, not in the kitchen serving breakfast but in his bed, instead, wrapped in the blankets and tucked perfectly against his chest. He wants more than what he has and he knows it's greedy, he knows he should be content with this after everything that’s happened. Yet, he finds himself longing.
Kaveh slides a cup of coffee across the table, stopping once it's in front of Alhaitham, and sets a plate of fresh fruit and some kind of foreign breakfast on the center of the table. He sits in the chair opposite Alhaitham, and they don’t say a single word.
Not for a long while.
Right when Alhaitham is about to speak, Kaveh beats him to it and一
Stop.
Stop time stop the world stop his heart because it is beating wildly in his chest, so fast and hard he can hardly hear Kaveh as he speaks and then, there’s the distinct sound of it breaking, the familiar feel of it growing so heavy it threatens to kill him.
With each word that leaves Kaveh’s lips, a knife digs deeper and deeper into Alhaitham’s chest until he’s reached bone and instead of continuing to cut, the knife is pulled back and his skin is pulled aside, revealing the cracks and splinters in his heart. Here, the thin thread holding him together snaps and there his heart goes, rolling from his chest and landing on the floor in a pathetic splat, beating beating beating until it stops, until Kaveh stops speaking.
This is not a scenario Alhaitham thought of. He did not prepare himself for this and he knows he only has himself to blame. It was naive to think such a thing wouldn’t happen for several more years, if he were lucky, especially knowing Kaveh has been doing well for himself. He should have known.
“Alhaitham, I’m going to be moving out.”
The words that once lived on the tip of Alhaitham’s tongue have died, gone and far from his mind. His mouth has suddenly gone dry and he grips the coffee cup so hard he worries the force of his grasp might crack the clay. Air escapes him in an unsteady sigh and he forces his eyes to focus, to root himself in the moment.
“Okay,” Alhaitham says slowly. “Do you have a move out date?”
Kaveh’s nod is firm, which means he’s given it some thought. No, it's more than that. It's beyond a thought and is more of a concrete plan that's now slowly morphing into reality. “In two weeks.”
Two weeks. That's so much time and not enough time.
“And you have a place to live?”
Not once does Kaveh meet Alhaitham’s gaze. His eyes, in all beauty, either stare into the dark liquid in his cup or at a point just beyond Alhaitham’s head, but their eyes never properly meet, no matter how much Alhaitham silently begs him to. It is of some comfort to know that this is, at least, a little hard for Kaveh to say. His words wobble as he says them, his tone something close to sorrow. It's human, Alhaitham knows, to feel sad when moving from a place you’ve resided in for so long and he knows that it's just as human to want to move on.
“I do. I’ll still be in Sumeru City so we won’t be far from each other,” Kaveh reassures with a smile and as much as he would like to, Alhaitham can’t bring himself to believe it. These are the kinds of things you say to someone as a way of damage control, whether or not it's true is a different matter entirely.
Again, Alhaitham says, “Okay.”
“You’re not mad?” Kaveh asks softly.
Alhaitham is as still as stone. “Why would I be?”
“I mean, you’ll be losing my rent money and the house work will be solely your responsibility.”
“I was well off on my own before you moved in,” Alhaitham replies, struggling to keep his voice as even as possible,”and I can assure you that I will be fine when you move out.”
Financially, that is. And he’ll be just fine taking care of all the housework on his own too. He only collected rent because Kaveh insisted, and Kaveh was saddled with most of the housework because he took it upon himself to do so. Alhaitham is fully aware of the guilt that Kaveh carries, that the guilt would only grow if Alhaitham took complete care of him, so he allowed him to pay rent and take care of the chores. He never argued with Kaveh when he came home, overworked and exhausted, and threw whatever mora he earned at him.
“You sure? I know it's sudden一”
“Yes, Kaveh. I am sure.”
A brief silence, then, a nod. “Okay. Okay, that’s good to know.”
“Mhm.”
“Alhaitham?”
“Yes, Kaveh?”
“Thank you. For helping me.”
Alhaitham’s heart breaks all over again, and it pains him just as bad as the first time. “They say earnest thanks should be given thrice.”
Kaveh rolls his eyes and nudges the plate in the middle of the table a little closer to Alhaitham. “Just eat your breakfast.”
He does. Alhaitham eats and he savors every single bite, until he’s too full to eat anything more, and he tries to think of this moment, this breakfast, as the countdown to the end.
One down, fourteen more to go.
***
It's three a.m., and he hasn’t slept at all.
It's three a.m., and he’s thinking of hearts. The anatomical shape and how people ignore it for the cutesy ones you see carved into trees or sprayed painted onto walls or molded to make chocolate.
He pushes his ear against his hand. Here it is.
Beatingbeating beatingbeatingbeating skipsabeatbeatbeat
beaingbeatingbeating.
Hearts hide under ribs, pumping blood. They can be loved, they can be removed and squeezed until they pop. Broken, shattered, crushed. Mangled and torn and sliced. Held in tender hands and destroyed all the same.
Alhaitham’s heart is broken. Someone took a saw to his ribs, gave up somewhere along the way and grabbed a hammer instead, smashing smashing smashing until finally the bone broke enough for them to grab his heart. With perfect calculation, right before his own eyes, they took out the smallest knife he’d ever seen and created the biggest wound he ever felt. Right down the middle, splitting it in two. Discarding one half and setting the other back inside, messy and lopsided and out of place. With nails, his ribs were put back together. The job was poor and most of the bone had splintered, chipped away, leaving gaps and entire missing sections.
And it was Kaveh.
Kaveh couldn’t tell as his hands plunged into the depths Alhaitham’s chest and mangled his heart just how hard it was beating for him. He didn’t know, he couldn’t have known, and Alhaitham has no one to blame but himself.
He waited too long.
He drove Kaveh away.
It was everything all at once and now he finds himself wishing he’d cut Kaveh off to tell him the truth.
Maybe that would have made the difference.
And maybe it wouldn’t have.
***
There’s never enough time. There’s too much and too little in equal parts.
It's moving slow, it's moving fast, and before Alhaitham knows it, the time he had left with Kaveh is up.
Two weeks一two weeks of packing and cleaning and more packing一go by in a blur that leaves Alhaitham grasping for any thread he can find to stop time, to buy himself another week, another day, another hour, but time bends to no one’s will.
It is an unforgiving, cruel monster.
Alhaitham stands outside the small house Kaveh will be renting for the foreseeable future with one of the final boxes in his hands. He should take it inside, he tells himself, so he can head back to his place. He won’t be woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of tools and Kaveh’s disgruntled groans. He’ll be able to leave his books wherever he pleases without being shouted at for being messy. Finally, he’ll have his peace and quiet back.
Joy should be flowing through him. Instead, he’s left with bitterness on the back of his tongue and an ache in his heart.
“Alhaitham,” Tighnari calls out, Cyno trailing close behind him as they leave Kaveh’s new home, “are you okay? You’ve been standing there for quite a long time.”
“It's weird,” Cyno adds and Tighnari is quick to scold him with narrowed eyes. Cyno doesn’t take it back, though, and offers something like a shrug in response.
Tighnari sighs. “Seriously, are you okay?”
He adjusts the box in his arms, pulling it up a little more and hugging it tighter against his chest. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Cyno and Tighnari share a knowing look, so brief it would have otherwise gone unnoticed, and when they look back at Alhaitham, all he finds is pity in their eyes. It makes his stomach churn until it's in one massive knot and he wants to puke. The last thing he needs is for these two, of all people, to feel bad for him.
“The love of your life just moved out of the home you used to share.” Tighnari’s ears twitch, his tail sways from side to side, and he’s still looking at Alhaitham with sympathy. “Honestly, I would be concerned if you weren’t at least a little bothered.”
The love of his life? That seems… dramatic.
“I’m not.”
“Don’t lie to yourself,” Cyno chimes in, crossing his arms over his chest. “He may be oblivious to it, but we aren’t.”
“You didn’t deny that he’s the love of your life,” Tighnari notes, a little teasing. Then, more seriously, he says, “You’re allowed to be upset. You lived together for so long, it only makes sense.”
“Kaveh said you didn’t react much when he broke the news to you.”
Alhaitham rolls his eyes, feels his shoulders drop ever so slightly. “What was I supposed to do? Stop him?”
Quickly, before Cyno can answer, Tighnari says, “No. This was bound to happen sooner or later, you both knew that, and I’m sure it was hard for him to decide to do this. You did the right thing by not making it any harder than it needed to be. Still, it's normal to feel sad.”
“I’m not sad.”
Tighnari does not fight it and silently motions for Cyno to take the box still cradled in Alhaitham’s arms. He does without a fight, and Alhaitham gives it up without an argument. “Sure, Alhaitham. It might be best for you to go home now, or else you never will. You’ve already been standing here for, like, fifteen minutes.”
Has it really been that long? It felt so much shorter to him.
“We’ll help with the last of the boxes,” Cyno tells him, stepping back through the open doorway.
“I’ll tell Kaveh you had to leave early to run some errands or something, okay?” Tighnari’s ears, which were once perky and alert on the top of his head, have flattened. His pity for Alhaitham has only grown since the start of this conversation and, now, Alhaitham regrets having it all.
“If you say so.”
Alhaitham turns on his heel without a second thought and heads down the street, away from Kaveh’s house.
Someone calls out to him, the voice belonging to neither Tighnari nor Cyno, and when he turns around he’s met with Kaveh’s usual smile, the one he always showed him at breakfast. “Take care of yourself, Alhaitham.”
He stares. Blinks once, twice, three times, and turns back around without responding. He can’t bring himself to say goodbye to Kaveh, or whatever else you’re supposed to say in a situation like this, and so he won’t.
He doesn’t.
Goodbye has always carried the implication that they won’t meet again, even if that’s not always the case, and he fears that if he were to tell Kaveh goodbye, it would be forever, whether they realize it or not.
Alhaitham doesn’t want it to be forever.
*
The quiet follows Alhaitham as he moves through the now empty house, trailing just behind his steps. It's in the darkest of corners, the most loneliest of places, and it's distracting.
Before, the constant mutters and clanking of tools flowing from the office kept Alhaitham up at night, pulled him away from his books. He longed for the quiet, then. He longed for a silent night and a quiet, peaceful life.
For a while, at least.
Slowly, gradually, Alhaitham became accustomed to the sounds of Kaveh. His mutterings, his clank of tools as he worked, often times late into the night. He couldn't sleep without it, couldn't read without it. He couldn't focus without what had become the soundtrack to his home life and he learned this indisputable fact the first time Kaveh left for an over night trip. Alhaitham had been restless in bed. He waited and hoped for the office to be filled with noise, for the sound of the floorboards creaking not to each within his skull each time he took a step.
For Kaveh to come back.
Its late and Alhaitham cannot sleep. Head pressed against his hand, all he can hear is the cracking of his heart each time it beats and the steady falls of his breath. Wind rushes outside his bedroom window and he waits for his soundtrack to kick in. He waits for something, anything. A shout of frustration or paper being hand-torn to shreds or the careful sound of a door being closed as Kaveh creeps out of the study.
Alhaitham is met with silence, the dark as it whispers to him from its shadowed corners.
The moon hangs high in the sky when he gets out of bed, deciding that rotting isn't going to do him any good. Continuing to lay in bed, staring at the shaking tree branches and listening to his stupid heart will only serve to make him feel worse. He's quick to throw on a pair of casual cotton pants before stepping free from the confines of his room. The floor creaks with each step, the sound seeming to grow in intensity as he moves through the house.
There are traces of Kaveh everywhere. A select few paintings he insisted on buying are still hanging on the wall and a blanket he'd been charged way too much for is draped over the arm of one of the divans. The books on the shelves remain frozen in time, organized in his particular way. Even the scent of his handmade cologne still lingers about within the air. So much of him is still within the house as proof that he was once here, that the last few years of Alhaitham's life hadn't been a dream.
It makes this all the more difficult.
Alhaitham doesn't know if he's supposed to act like nothing happened or if he could if he were expected to. He does not know how to move on from the years built up between him and Kaveh as he wasn't able to do that the first time they parted ways all those years ago. Even then, a piece of Kaveh never left Alhaitham, and neither did his regret for his words that day.
He then wonders if this could've been prevented. Perhaps if he hadn't been okay with Kaveh taking on all the chores or paying rent he might've found it in him to stay a little bit longer. Or maybe offering him more support in anyway he could might've made the difference.
Instead, Alhaitham had been indifferent, complacent. He let Kaveh do as he pleased even if he thought it a detriment to his well-being and he never said a word about it unless Kaveh approached him first, and even then, he'd been scarce with his words, worried he might scare Kaveh off once more if he said the wrong thing too harshly.
Maybe.
Perhaps.
Maybe things could've been different. Perhaps nothing could've been changed at all.
For all Alhaitham knows, Kaveh might be destined to leave him, back then, now, and forever.
*
Alhaitham had his first encounter with loneliness at a young age. It was a fleeting thing, a void filled by his grandma and forgotten, a distant memory that feels more borrowed than true.
The second was the death of his grandmother. That lingered, following him, a constant whisper on his shoulder and a twisted companion to keep him company in her absence.
The third is Kaveh, only the difference between him and the others is that he is not dead. This loneliness is a result of him leaving and, for some reason, it is far more strangling than any of the others. It has seeped into his skin and cuddled next to his bones, woven around his heart and tightened. It is here, like a ghost, like a phantom pain. Kaveh is alive and still, Alhaitham mourns him.
*
A month goes by.
A month of creaky floorboards and the absence of the scent of freshly brewed coffee in the morning.
A month of deafening silent nights and an empty house that greets him when he arrives back from another long day at the Akedemiya.
A month, and Alhaitham hasn't seen Kaveh at all.
Sumeru City is large enough that one could go their whole life here without seeing the same person twice, but not so large that people within your orbit completely disappear at the drop of a hat. But then again, maybe Kaveh isn't within Alhaitham's orbit anymore.
Maybe he never was.
Alhaitham always thought they orbited the same sun, that even though Kaveh no longer resided in his house they'd occasionally run into each other, either at the Akedemiya or elsewhere. Even if it was a shared look across the street or a brushing of their shoulders as they walked by each other in a hallway, Alhaitham was under the impression they'd cross paths.
A month goes by and there isn't a day that goes by with it where Alhaitham's mind doesn't wander to Kaveh.
Today is no different.
To Alhaitham's dismay, Treasure Street is busier than usual. Bodies move up and down the cobbled road, pausing to admire jewelry on display or sniff fleshly put together flower bouquets. These people bare no resemblance to Kaveh, not in the slightest, yet that is where Alhaitham's mind goes.
Shopping with Kaveh was always a time consuming nightmare. He couldn't take five steps without stopping to run his fingers over the weave of a textile, to compliment on the vendor their handiwork, and Alhaitham loathed it. Crowded and loud streets were—and still are—a thing plucked straight from Alhaitham's bad dreams. Kaveh knew this more than anything, but he always insisted Alhaitham accompany him to the market on the days he did the shopping. Most of the time, Alhaitham declined the offer with the kind of tone that said Why do you continue asking? Sometimes, and only sometimes, he found it within him to give in, to say yes, if to only see the wistfulness on his face be transmuted to a smile.
As he shops, a lone basket left behind in the move hanging from the crook of his elbow, Alhaitham imagines the people around him to be Kaveh. Stopping to chat up a vendor, to feel the softness of a piece of fruit, to stare in awe at freshly dyed silks.
Its all in his head, the kind of daydreaming he was privy to as a child.
Until it isn't.
Until this daydream escapes from his head and is suddenly, alarmingly real.
Kaveh, the real Kaveh and not some stranger who stopped to smell flowers, is standing on the other side of the street, his attention on a particular vendor's displays. A look of thought has been etched onto his face, a finger tapping his cheek. Its a look Alhaitham knows all too well, a look that Alhaitham used to dread because it often meant they'd be standing there a while until Kaveh decided if he wanted to by something or not, and if so, it would be another long while until he decided on what.
He turns his head.
Between the heads of the strangers crowding the streets, their eyes meet, and the air is knocked straight from Alhaitham's lungs.
They hold each other's gaze and a look of shock takes over Kaveh's features, completely changing him.
In the event Alhaitham saw Kaveh again, he thought Kaveh might've looked at him like a stranger. Like he didn't know him.
But here, now, Kaveh looks at Alhaitham like he knows him. Like they're anything but strangers.
He does. They are.
They're so much more than that and they both know it. You can't throw away a decades worth of friendship and hatred and joy and heartache away in a single movement.
They knew each other. They know each other now.
But the difference between now and then is that today, instead of going home together, they will go their separate ways.
Alhaitham, to the empty home they once shared.
Kaveh, to the new life he's building.
They might see each other tomorrow. They might not. It's not as certain as it once was and it's enough set ripples of something deep, sharp, through Alhaitham's heart.
Kaveh turns on his heel and disappears into the sea of bodies between them.
*
That is the first.
*
Lambad's Tavern is as busy as ever when Alhaitham arrives. The sun has kissed the sky goodnight and sank behind the horizon, telling the world that the day is over, it's time to rest. And what better place than the best place for a drink in the city?
Alhaitham isn't the type to spend his nights drinking away at a place that isn't home, not usually, but regular TCG matches with Kaveh, Tighnari, and Cyno have, slowly managed to convince him it's not as bad as he thought. Though he doesn't lounge here for hours on end like others he does and doesn't know, he's no longer opposed to sticking around with a good book for as long as it takes him to finish a glass of wine. Perhaps two if the mood calls for it.
But never alone.
He's sat at a table in the middle of the room, legs crossed underneath it. Thirty minutes have passed and his glass of wine remains half empty. His book, which he's been trying to read for days, remains mostly unread. By now, it would have finished and tucked away on one of his many shelves with the rest of the books he's read.
Trying to read in Lambad's was a mistake.
Trying to drink alone was a mistake.
Sighing, Alhaitham gathers his book without bothering to bookmark his place and grabs the stem of his wine glass. He's going home.
He's setting his glass on the bar when the door opens and closes.
Kaveh.
Kaveh, who looks more run down and exhausted than ever.
Kaveh, who looks as though he's the inspiration for historical portraits, exhaustion and all.
Kaveh, who looks less shocked this time around to see Alhaitham.
There's only a few feet separately them and given the prolonged eye contact, Alhaitham knows he should say something. He wants to say something, to ask Kaveh how he's doing. Are you eating? Have you slept for a proper amount of time? Are your clients being difficult?
Will you come back?
I miss you.
The questions pile high inside of him, threatening to drown him.
He asks none of them.
Instead, Kaveh says, "Alhaitham"—its just his name, the name he's heard so many times he's begun to hate it, but there's always been something in the way Kaveh says it. A kindness, a tenderness he's seldom heard, and it nearly knocks him off his feet—"what're you doing here?"
Swallowing, his mouth suddenly dry, Alhaitham says, with a shrug, "I came down for a glass of wine."
Kaveh doesn't seem to buy it and Alhaitham can't blame him because he hardly believes himself. They both know he didn't come here, at his peak hours, for some wine.
Not alone.
Alhaitham does not ask Kaveh why he's here. The answer would be embarrassingly obvious: it's Friday, the end of the week, and as all weeks tend to go for Kaveh, it was probably difficult so he's looking to unwind with good drink and company.
Awkwardness is thick in the air, leaving Alhaitham sticky with it. They've never been awkward, the two of them. Even after their reconciliation all those years after their big blowup fight while still attending the Akademiya they weren't awkward. A little strained, perhaps, but it wasn't like this. They don't know what to say to each other. Kaveh can hardly look at Alhaitham and all Alhaitham wants to do is drink in the sight of him until he's falling over from intoxication.
Biting the bullet and reeling himself in, which takes a great amount of effort, Alhaitham says, "I was just on my way out."
Kaveh hums. "I could tell."
Of course. Alhaitham's dissatisfaction with the growing crowd and loud clank of utensils, the laughter, is written on his face in big, fat inky letters.
"I'll see you around," Kaveh adds, as if he knows Alhaitham is struggling to part ways with him again. It's both comforting and depressing.
Alhaitham hums. "See ya."
And he walks out of Lambad's, leaving Kaveh behind.
*
That is the second.
*
Today, Alhaitham expects to see Kaveh.
It's, of course, not set in stone, but the very notion that they might run into one another had Alhaitham up earlier than he wanted, and given his lack of sleep since Kaveh's vacancy, it was less than ideal. His heart was a violent thing against his bones and his stomach was tied in an impossible, guy wrenching knot.
It is nearly noon, Alhaitham has been up since before the sun, and nothing has changed. His heart is on the verge of breaking through his bones and he fears his stomach is never going to let him eat again.
Twice now, he's seen Kaveh unexpectedly, and each time was more strained than the last. Though today a potential meeting is expected, Alhaitham doesn't imagine the air between them will be any less heavy, that the unspoken strangeness between them will not suddenly vanish. The phrase "the third time's the charm" will not prove itself to be true.
Nothing will change.
Sunlight spills in from the large windows on either side of his office and casts itself upon the many papers scattered about his desk in the Akademiya. He has buried himself in his work—yes, he knows how unlike him it is to bother himself with more work than what's necessary—to distract himself from the impossible plausibility of Kaveh being in the same building as him today, teaching a class on art or architecture or engineering to promising students. He's bore witness to Kaveh standing before an attentive class, completely and utterly consumed by what he's teaching, in what Alhaitham has silently referred to as Kaveh's flow state. The worlds tumble from his mouth quickly and concisely, however, not in a way that is difficult to understand, and he all but shakes with passion, his eyes alight with the prospect of striking in young minds a similar passion for them to build their lives around, just as he had.
The sight had been nothing short of stunning, to see Kaveh engrossed in his work was always something worth seeing, and Alhaitham mourns not being able to wander into Kaveh's classroom today. There's too much to do and he knows it wouldn't be a good idea. Kaveh's students could pick up on their awkwardness and, for those curious enough, pester him the questions regarding the matter. Besides, Alhaitham has no real reason or excuse to sit in Kaveh's class today, nothing that could be easily explained in a way to make both of them believe it.
It's half past noon when a heavy knock on the door closing Alhaitham off from the rest of the Akademiya rings throughout his office. He looks up, his heart skipping a beat because he knows it before he sees it, knows him before he sees him.
Throughout the years spent together, Alhaitham had grown accustomed to Kaveh's knock. More times than not, he knocked before entering their shared study despite Alhaitham's insistent reassurance that it was just as much Kaveh's as it was Alhaitham's, and he always knocked before entering Alhaitham's bedroom, no matter the reason, even if he was trying to escape a nightmare that woke him. It was heavy, the way in which his fist made contact with the wood, but there was uncertainty in it, an unmistakable shyness.
This knock is unmistakable.
In the moments that follow the initial knock to Alhaitham, without much thought, giving Kaveh permission to step inside, he uses the brief window to ready himself for this, as if he hadn't been doing so all day. This is different: before, Alhaitham wasn't sure he'd actually see Kaveh given the large expanse of the Akademiya's grounds and their workloads so his preparations were rather sad. In several milliseconds he does now what he'd been half-assing all day.
Kaveh is breathtaking when he walks in, the light catching his hair in a way that turns the blond golden and shining, carrying a covered plate in one hand with a talk coffee cup wedged into the crook of his elbow. His cheeks are dusted the faintest of pink and Alhaitham isn't sure he's breathing anymore.
He takes in a deep breath just to double check.
Alhaitham is the first to speak.
"How can I help you?" he asks, the words coming out with more of a punch than what he intended.
Kaveh shakes his head and shuts the leave door behind him. He moves across the space between them with caution, stopping just before the grand desk Alhaitham is sat at. "I don't need anything in particular," he says and glances down at the covered plate. He lifts it, as if to bring Alhaitham's attention to it and the cup. "I just… brought too much lunch with me and figured you'd probably hadn't eaten yet."
This isn't sudden or new. It's a learned behavior, a habit Kaveh picked up when they still lived together. On the days he worked in the Akademiya, Kaveh would pack enough lunch for the both of them and bully his way into Alhaitham's office so they could eat together, even if it was in silence. It's better than eating alone in the classroom, he'd say, and set a cup of coffee in front of Alhaitham like a peace offering.
The idea of Kaveh thinking of Alhaitham at all breaks his heart in more ways than one, but the fact that he acted on his thoughts is a stark reminder of what they were and what they no longer aren't. It reminds Alhaitham of the simplicity of their life, of how natural it felt to be within Kaveh's orbit, and how he's been flung out into space by him. Life is still simple, but it is far too quiet now. There's too much empty space between them and he isn't sure it'll ever ebb.
"That isn't necessary, Kaveh." The food. The kindness.
Kaveh pouts and Alhaitham wants nothing more than to kiss each corner of his lips until they quirk up into a smile. Hell, he'd take a grin. He's not picky.
"I know," Kaveh says firmly. He sets the plate and the cup just in front of the paper mess on Alhaitham's desk. "But I wanted to."
Alhaitham squeezes his eyes shut, for just a moment, and reopens them. In that time, he silently hoped this was a dream, a hallucination, even, but it is evident that this is reality. A cruel one no less.
"I see." He eyes the plate and steaming cup. Kaveh went out of his way to come here, to set aside extra food and get another cup of coffee when it wasn't expected of him. Alhaitham cannot say no, not to this, not to him. "Thank you."
Kaveh gives a curt nod and clasps, unclasps, his hands in front of him. "You're welcome."
He turns, then, and heads for the door.
In his head, Alhaitham tells him to stay, to eat with him like they used to. He wants Kaveh to tell him about his day and his life.
Alhaitham wants to keep Kaveh near, to somehow end up in his orbit again, even if it's as a tiny piece of distant space dust because at least that way, he could see his light. He could dream of the warmth like he once did. He could close his eyes and imagine what it might feel like upon his skin.
Instead, in reality, Kaveh has already turned on his heels and left, leaving Alhaitham alone in the cold and quiet dark, but with a little bit more hope than before.
Hope for what? He's not sure.
But it's there and that is enough.
*
That is the third.