Chapter Text
Hermanubis doesn’t speak to Cyno often. Only when he finds himself in a predicament would Hermanubis impart with him some advice. Once, the spirit told him long ago in a voice that was clear and deep and with a certain degree of firmness and confidence fitting of the Scarlet King’s greatest sage,
“Cherish the people who truly care about you. Keep them close to your heart and your life. You’ll not know when they’ll be gone.”
It was basically a chicken soup for the soul.
Cyno learned how to cherish the people that managed to worm their way into his heart. Maybe it started when he was taken away from the desert, from his tribe who gave him away to the scholars who wanted to study the power of a god.
Arguably, he did not remember much of his past living in the desert but he did have a lasting impression, a vague thought that stayed with him for the past years; he remembered, as he was being pulled away from the tribe, as he looked back to those he considered family, thinking why are you looking at me like that?
As more time passed and as he grew up, he learned to not take these things for granted. As he grew up, the hostile stares and scowls faced his way began to be more apparent. It became easier to notice as he grew up and how it mostly stemmed from fear. The more exposed he was to this treatment, the more closed off he became until not even an opening could be seen in his heart. Not even a crack.
Faced with this, the spirit within him bristled in offense on his behalf. He took comfort in the spirit’s worry. He supposed that was just how it is.
But sure enough, he found people who would stay by his side, regardless of Hermanubis and his desert origins. He found safety and comfort in Professor Cyrus, then his student and Cyno’s new senior, Lisa, then a passive aggressive Amurta student, Tighnari, who had been one of the few Sumerians that bothered to talk and get to know him.
And recently, there was Alhaitham, sort of, Cyno didn’t really know where they stood.
—
There was a cut through the silence as an angry yell from a stranger made him and the Haravatat scholar stop from their readings. Anxiety clawed their way into Cyno when it was clear that the voice was stomping towards their direction ( did Cyno do something? ). He calmed down somewhat when Alhaitham covered him from sight and fully when it became clear when it was Alhaitham, Cyno’s … companion? Reading partner? A sort of friend where they barely spoke to each other aside from a modified version of morse code?, who the stranger was looking for.
Cyno, after calming down, listened in to the conversation and the familiarity of the situation spoken by the stranger was the only thing that gave Cyno confidence to communicate his half-joking conclusion.
“Maybe, he was half asleep? ”
Cyno tapped unto Alhaitham’s back in code, mind going back to the times his adopted father, Professor Cyrus, would fall asleep in his office this past few weeks. Whenever Cyno would wake him up to ask him for something for a few minutes like teaching him a topic Cyno hadn’t quite understood and, after that, he would go back to sleep again, clearly still tired. The professor never quite fully remembered those waking moments.
Alhaitham tilted his head a little back to him and Cyno, a tiny bit amused, could almost see the gears turning inside his head to process his answer. He must have decided to humor the silver haired boy, when it was this answer Alhaitham provided to his apparent project partner.
After said partner left, a moment of silence engulfed them. Alhaitham’s hand moved to place Lisa's purple rose (It was definitely her handiwork. Did Alhaitham’s partner deliver it on her behalf?) on the book he put down prior while the small piece of folded paper with it was kept in his hold.
Cyno was so very curious about what it was about but he knew, firsthand, how it feels to have one’s privacy… intruded upon. So as Alhaitham read Lisa’s note he reclined his back against his chair and picked up his book. Continuing to do what they originally came to the library for, reading together in this secluded spot. Although, his curiosity on why Lisa would send a note made focusing hard.
Alhaitham’s other hand found its way to Cyno’s own, the sudden skin to skin contact shaking him out of his distractions.
The images, memories…
Alhaitham never initiated any form of physical contact. It was the same with Cyno, the first being the code a while ago.
They were only two people who shared this secluded spot in the library, which with time, turned into a sanctuary where they shared companionship in silence. Cyno tried to not flinch or freeze at the touch but it only seemed to make it more obvious to Alhaitham that something was wrong.
A reassuring squeeze then a tap of Alhaitham’s index finger on his hand and only then was Cyno grounded with the bigger hand’s warmth, then another, and another, transforming into words in Cyno’s mind.
The last of the tension he didn’t know he had disappeared.