Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He had angered Alhaitham. Upset him. And Alhaitham had done so to him in turn. Despite this inkling that there had been more to Alhaitham’s reaction, despairing was a natural proclivity. Arguments between them were nothing new, nothing unprecedented, and yet it was inherently different. Where could they go from here? Had the bridge eroded away entirely?

Conclusions. That’s what Alhaitham had said. Kaveh would draw his own conclusions… on what? It had happened all so suddenly he couldn’t immediately recall.

He hadn’t stayed in the living room, instead following Alhaitham’s suit, returning to his own room. He had no energy to expend in leaving the house – to what avail anyway? Regardless of the liberation of walls, there would be no escaping from himself, the ever-present cloying stuffiness. He was to be stuck in his own confines.

Even when the morning dawned, his mind remained torpid, some unheeding mist bearing down upon him. Conclusions? They were impossible to draw. Alhaitham’s words seemed distant and yet they reverberated within him constantly; sleep was out of the question.

He waited until he heard the tell-tale closing of the front door before exiting his room. They were not to interact so soon, not when it could lead to another confrontation, or worse, nothing at all. He couldn’t face the silence, impassive and all-encompassing. It was better not to face Alhaitham at all. Not until he had come to terms with what had happened the evening beforehand.

Things were muddy for him, perhaps because he had been so capsized by Alhaitham’s mentioning of his ‘guilt’. There was no mistaking what that had been a reference to; the same words had been spat out at him years ago in a study room of the House of Daena. But what was the context? The intricacy of it had been swept aside, like a cobweb, without ever being truly glimpsed.

Priorities. Alhaitham had mentioned that term, alluded to it more than once, yesterday. Kaveh was to weigh his priorities, to consider himself more? It was typical Alhaitham, he didn’t realise how he hadn’t grasped it sooner. So much for setting aside their philosophies. Alhaitham’s perverse egoism was rampant in its corrosion. So he had perceived his individualism as correct over benevolence for others?

By absolving his guilt, the preferred weapon Alhaitham liked to point at him, he could become less himself, less flawed, more Alhaitham. The idea was so acetose that it was visceral. He nicked himself at the base of his chin with his razor. The sting was distracting and welcome.

Alhaitham’s audacity stumped him and then numbed him upon entering the kitchen and recognising the aroma of coffee; there was some left over. Alhaitham had brewed coffee for him.

Why? The trajectory he had settled upon was thrown off entirely. He had no choice but to pivot. It was an unexpected nicety - no, an action that was to be reciprocated. But that was a positive thing, no? There was something left to salvage, after all. Alhaitham still expected things of him, and therefore, they were to go on as usual.

But that was wrong. There was no attempting to retrieve civility between them, to manufacture something artificial when he was so at unease with himself, with Alhaitham, and this malaise that suppressed them.

Setting about scrounging together a breakfast, he forced himself to remember, to pinpoint the exact words that had been spoken. Kaveh’s guilt, the prospect of him considering himself more, the redundancy of his feigned self-reflection, his hypocrisy, a missed revelation, and a potential avoidance of the situation… This situation? In which they were at odds once more? Or did it burrow deeper? Knowing Alhaitham, of course it did. Things were never surface level, which was why it was virtually impossible to decipher his true meaning.

So, if the situation didn’t merely refer to their current misgivings, then perhaps it signalled to Kaveh’s actions? His reason for positing self-reflection as a means of pursuing mutual honesty between them?

Something settled within him, and he knew he had struck upon it. It was a freeing sensation, as if the limits of his being had widened, if only marginally. If he was correct about this, then he could gauge the cause of Alhaitham’s anger. Hypothetically.

Alhaitham had been agitated at Kaveh’s lack of clarity – that was when his frustration had been transparent, although, in Kaveh’s opinion, unwarranted and condescending. Still, pushing that aside for now, he attempted to glean something underneath the abrasiveness. Alhaitham had asserted that if Kaveh had some sort of revelation, then… there would have been no reason for him to approach Alhaitham with the guise of honesty?

He was correct. Or he has entirely in the wrong. This time, the innate truth remained unclear. Perhaps this was where Alhaitham’s grievances stemmed from; Kaveh’s inherent indecision, this turmoil of inner conflict. But, really, could he be entirely to blame? If Alhaitham didn’t have such a bizarre penchant for intermittently talking around his usual straightforward meaning, then perhaps they wouldn’t be in such a predicament.

If Alhaitham was so sure of Kaveh’s lack of clarity and his talent for stumbling across incorrect conclusions, then what explained his own lack of directness? It was paradoxical. There was no moving forwards from this point. He felt his own anger flare, scorned and insulted, in response to Alhaitham’s own. He left his breakfast half-eaten.

Despite his fuddled headspace, time spun out before him, and his schedule was to be tended to. A celebratory dinner was to take place for the library’s construction within the week, but a low maintenance drinking session had been planned amongst the willing builders for that afternoon. Making an appearance, no matter how brief, was mandatory, and it was in that time he could forget about himself, the harrowing pit donned in an unrecognisable, dizzyingly bright regalia. He disorientated himself, regardless of his refrain from excessive drinking.

He had excused himself for the day, having exacted his presence to be known for an acceptable amount of time before bidding farewell, only to encounter Cyno at the entrance way of the tavern.

“Kaveh,” Cyno greeted, as if running into each other during his untraceable work hours was a commonplace occurrence. Kaveh had initially had to blink Cyno into focus, unsure whether he had miscalculated in his alcohol intake. “Congratulations. I heard the construction was successful. You’re here celebrating?”

“Unofficially. An opening ceremony will take place later in the week.” Kaveh waved his hand in a farewell gesture to those he had departed from, keenly aware that he was still being surveyed expectantly. High calibre people often rubbed elbows with people in the same ranks – presumably this was what was being conceived of him. The aching of his innards returned full force. “Are you… on a break?”

Cyno had followed him outside, past the tables of customers basking in the sun. “I’m here to see you. You’ve been in the desert often recently. How are you doing?”

“I’m doing well; the sunburn is more manageable than last time, although I’m not sure that’s such a feat.” Cyno chuckled as he revealed the muted red of his forearm. “Anyway, how did you know where I’d be? Am I that predictable?”

“Perhaps not as much as you’d think,” Cyno replied, which wasn’t a yes or no, and therefore inherently disturbing. “Alhaitham told me you’d likely be here. I would have tried the café next.”

The mere mention of Alhaitham’s name had Kaveh souring. “Hmph. I suppose I truly am predictable then. Does that guy really think I do nothing all day but wrack up tabs?” His tongue was evidently looser with the drink; his petulance had been unmonitored, spontaneous. He glanced guiltily to the side at Cyno, ready to issue an apology, but it was quelled by a surveying stare. “… What is it?”

“So something did happen between you two.” They had stopped in the intersection of the street, leading to the harbour, by the side of the stairs.

Cyno’s uncanny perception was nothing unusual, but somehow always startling. “What gave you that idea?”

“I told you I spoke with Alhaitham earlier.”

Of course. If Alhaitham was disinclined to refrain from slandering Kaveh to their friends in front of him, what would stop him from doing it behind Kaveh’s back? “I assume he had a great deal to say about me then?”

“On the contrary. He didn’t mention you at all. So you two had another disagreement?”

“It wasn’t like that. It was… Well, I’m not exactly sure. Needless to say, we aren’t currently on speaking terms. But, anyway, if he didn’t mention me… How did you know?”

“Intuition,” Cyno replied, folding his arms, seemingly unimpressed. “Besides, regardless of how inscrutable a person is, there are always tells. Alhaitham is no exception.”

Despite the chilling line, there was some comfort to be found in the prospect that Cyno, at least, could read Alhaitham. Perhaps Kaveh was mistaken about his own preconceived knowledge, the memorisation of the inside-out of Alhaitham’s inner workings. The idea took root in his mind, refusing to be supplanted.

“Do you have a minute? I’d like to ask you something.”

“I have time to spare. What is it? Are you in trouble?”

“No…?” Cyno’s question had been expressed with such sincerity that it forced him to reconsider. “Not this time at least. Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

Tucked out of sight of merchants by a stack of crates, the two stood by the barrier overlooking the harbour below. The noise was distant, not enough of a distraction for Kaveh to stall. “Has he said anything to you about the Ley Line incident? Alhaitham, I mean.”

If Cyno was surprised, he didn’t show it. Most likely well accustomed to disguising any such ‘tells’. “Yes. Not by his own means, though. I asked him about it upon his return to the Akademiya.”

Of course. Just as with Kaveh, Alhaitham was reticent, even with others he acknowledged as his friends. “What did you talk about? If you feel you can share.”

“It wasn’t too long of a conversation, so I can recall it accurately.” Cyno tilted his gaze to one side as he contemplated. “I asked him if he was recovering, to which he replied that, as Lord Kusanali had said, there was essentially nothing to recover from. I asked if he had been affected in anyway, like if his sleep patterns were irregular, to which he denied. And then I asked him if he had any idea what had caused his transference of consciousness, to which he said he did.”

“Did he tell you?” he blurted out, startled at the mere notion of Alhaitham readily admitting to something which had taken him three months to prise out of the man.

Cyno shook his head. “That would be unexpected of Alhaitham. It was clear it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss with me, so I asked if he had talked about it with you.”

“With me,” he repeated flatly, only realising he had done so after a flicker of confusion was glimpsed on Cyno’s face.

“Yes, but he denied this.”

There had to be more. Cyno was paraphrasing, effectively defining Alhaitham’s meaning into streamlined words. Alhaitham was usually never so concise in his phrasing when it came to things of consequence, preferring underhanded tactics which allowed others to form assumptions on his behalf - as Kaveh had been a prime witness of last night. “What did he say exactly? Can you remember?”

Cyno nodded, and a clouded expression overtook his face. There was a heaviness in the air – artificially created. “‘Kaveh is prone to overthinking, as such, I’m sure he’s already made his own conclusions.’ Exactly like that.”

The words were less daunting than that of Cyno’s Alhaitham impression. There was an air of pride about him as Kaveh paused to manage the weight of it all. “I see… You really did remember it accurately. Too accurately, perhaps.”

“Was it helpful to you?” Cyno asked, his composed levity returning.

Kaveh, too, returned to normalcy, having put aside the shock. “Yes.” Had it? Well, not particularly. Alhaitham had used Kaveh’s ‘overthinking’ as a cover to avoid Cyno’s questioning. If he truly believed Kaveh had drawn conclusions as to the desire the Ley Line had capitalised on, then he had no intention in discussing this with Kaveh due to it being a personal reason – as had been established in yesterday’s conversation. In this, Alhaitham was utterly unrevealed. It was a dead end. “Or, rather, maybe not. Thank you anyway, Cyno.”

“I’m sorry  to hear.” Cyno’s sincerity uncoiled something within him, breaking through an unkempt bitterness.

“So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” Guiltily, he had just recalled that there had been an initial reason for their interaction.

“The pictures. There was no opportunity to ask you for your thoughts that night in the tavern, and I haven’t seen you since.”

“Oh.” They had been on a similar wavelength, both of their thoughts revolving around the same situation. It was unexpected. He was caught unawares. “Of course. Thank you for allowing me to see them. I’m aware that I may not have had the right to do so, considering.”  

“Think nothing of it. You would have seen the ruins anyway had our trip required us reaching the excavation site. Alhaitham said they would be of particular interest to you, and I understand why, granted your position in Kshahrewar.”

Cyno’s words were full of sound, but the meaning of them, the gravity, failed to seep into him. “Alhaitham? Wasn’t it you who cleared me so I could look at the photographs before they were sealed away?”

“Yes,” Cyno spoke slowly, “but it was Alhaitham’s suggestion that prompted me to do so.”

“It was Alhaitham’s suggestion.” It was all he could do but repeat Cyno’s words, in a fruitless attempt to inject sense into them.

Cyno’s gaze flickered over his face. It was the closest he came to unease. “I assumed you two had talked about it, considering that he had them in his possession upon setting out for his research trip.”

“Well.” His words were condensed and difficult to weigh out on his tongue. Cyno watched him evenly, his impassivity deliberate. “Not as extensively as we should have done, I suppose.”

Not as extensively as they should have talked about anything relevant. Alhaitham had gone out of his way to talk Cyno into issuing permission for Kaveh to look at restricted photographs? Perhaps not talked into, as Cyno had confessed that he believed Kaveh had the right to view them. But, suggested?

“Everything’ll fall into place, as how it usually goes between you two. When you’re done with your official celebrations in the desert, we should all meet in the tavern to toast to your success.”

Cyno’s hand on his shoulder did nothing to steady him, and he must have agreed somewhat vaguely. The two parted ways. Cyno had sensed his eagerness to depart, despite his concealment.

The city was stifling, too many people, too many expectant gazes, there was no place for him here which allowed uncertainty. He fled, opting to leave the city.

Alhaitham had known that Kaveh hadn’t had a chance to look at the photographs – them having been checked out of the House of Daena until prohibited, confiscated indefinitely by the Matra. Having complained about it on a rare occasion, Alhaitham must have noted this… had gone to Cyno, unbeknownst to Kaveh, and had discussed the possibility of Kaveh accessing the pictures, if only for a limited time, before they were locked away. And when Kaveh had quizzed Alhaitham about having thanked Cyno for doing such a thing, he had mentioned nothing of his own involvement. Why?

What was in it for him?

Conclusions. That’s what it came back to. Kaveh being left to flounder with assumptions due to Alhaitham’s lack of forthcoming. Yesterday’s conversation rushed at him with an astounding lucidity.

What was this revelation that continued to elude him? Something that Alhaitham wanted him to come to terms with? It was immediate and crushing, bearing down on him. His steps came quicker, as his breath, the city vanished behind him, but still he arrived at no answer.

Alhaitham would not talk about his speculation as to why his desire manifested him into a cat. He knew that Kaveh would have been dwelling over it, but made no move to approach him about it. Of course, that was Alhaitham, that was his egoism. It was Alhaitham’s egoism that wanted Kaveh to prioritise himself, to wipe away his past, to detach himself entirely. It was Alhaitham that wanted to be right.

But that wasn’t true at all. The contradiction was imminent. Alhaitham had said so himself, had agreed with Kaveh, that this situation had nothing to do with the correctness of their philosophies. So what did it come down to? Conclusions. Presumptions. Revelations.

Everything Kaveh had decided upon, his assumptions about Alhaitham believing his front of honesty, his perception that Alhaitham had gone along with it due to the supposed benefits he would procure from it, his belief that Alhaitham viewed him merely as a false philosophy, something to lord over – these had all proven to be incorrect. He couldn’t reason with it. The very fabric of these notions had been picked apart, ignited in front of him. So what was left?

That was what he couldn’t grapple with. If he had been wrong about Alhaitham, wrong about these core fundamentals which their relationship was comprised of… Then what?

There was no choice but to reel back to the start. The reason for this situation; the Ley Line, the unknowable desire, Alhaitham as a cat. Alhaitham had never answered his question, therefore he had no idea whether his assumptions in that regard were correct, that Alhaitham was, in fact, lonely, and craving human contact. When he had asked, it had been directed elsewhere, cast aside entirely. Why?

“We’ve long since moved past debating over who’s right and who’s wrong. Our philosophical beliefs are not the issue here.”

To address Kaveh. To glimpse the real issue. The real issue being… him? That was what Alhaitham had asserted, bringing up the potentiality of him absolving his past guilt. It wasn’t just an insult – it couldn’t be. Everything was centralised on this. Alhaitham had said Kaveh would have been able to prioritise himself, and this was why he was so amenable to the suggestion of Kaveh’s honesty. But Alhaitham had also assented when Kaveh requested they put aside their differences in philosophy. So if this wasn’t about Alhaitham being right, then the issue lay with Kaveh.

Two statements wound together until they were inextricable. Alhaitham wanted Kaveh to prioritise himself. Alhaitham didn’t care about being correct. They were contradictory in nature, but on the surface, there was nothing sinister, no slight, to be gleaned from them. And that was exactly the issue.

What did Alhaitham care whether Kaveh progressed or deterred himself in betterment? The answer that had ultimately been supplied over the years was rendered empty, without substance. Alhaitham only cared about being correct over Kaveh. But without the need to be correct, all that was left was…

It couldn’t be.

Alhaitham didn’t care for him. Not anymore. Hadn’t he made that abundantly clear all those years ago? Alhaitham had not only rejected his views, but he had also unveiled what Kaveh had desperately repressed, looked away from – that his unwavering beliefs were formed only from something curdled and sour within himself. A brazen selfishness. Kaveh was not who he claimed to be, kindness and benevolence; he was gutless and tarnished. His front had been seen through, cast aside, and all that remained of himself with it. Alhaitham had rejected him entirely. Hadn’t he?

Kaveh had rejected Alhaitham in turn, out of the belief that Alhaitham perceived his views as superior, had wanted to burn Kaveh over this, but really, when he recalled it all with a newly grasped clarity… Had there truly ever been a moment where Alhaitham had rejected him as he had Alhaitham? Alhaitham had no intention on rekindling their friendship once it had been desecrated, but he been the one to cause that, no? With his distasteful view of Kaveh and his hypocrisy?

But… Alhaitham hadn’t said that out of nowhere. Kaveh had been the one to criticise Alhaitham’s aversion of sociality, his insistence on being seen as ‘other’. Kaveh had been the one to tear the thesis, Kaveh had been the one to declare his regret of ever having befriended Alhaitham in the first place. The fact that he had retaped the thesis went unknown by Alhaitham. Why would Alhaitham pursue someone who had expressly denied all association with him? If Kaveh had been on the receiving end, wouldn’t he have behaved in a similar manner? And all the years following, all that silence, that unexpressed bitterness, that aching repentance… besides those gripes exchanged in academic journals, Kaveh would most likely never have spoken to Alhaitham again, if only Alhaitham hadn’t reached out first.  

Alhaitham had reached out. He had seen through Kaveh again. And he had listened. He had addressed Kaveh’s ideals, his bane, his essence, and had prompted that lucidity – that his ideals were sound, but his methods of achieving them less so. But how was he to redeem himself? To fashion a second chance out all that he had given away? And here, Alhaitham had offered him one, a house. A place to get back on his feet.

But this was Alhaitham. What use did he get out of keeping Kaveh around? Out of tracking his academic feats and progressions of thought through academic journals in the years following their parting? Out of approaching Kaveh in the tavern? Listening to him intently? Allowing Kaveh to impede on his revered personal space, those impervious boundaries? Talking the General Mahamatra – granted, their friend – into allowing Kaveh to see prohibited pictures? What did Alhaitham gain from him? If it wasn’t about being right, about his objectivity, his egoism being superior, if it wasn’t about Kaveh’s views, his ideals, his approach to life being sneered down at, then what was left?  

What was left for them?

The city gates swarmed to him in a puzzling swiftness. It was only when he was surpassing the idle crowds of Treasures Street did he realise where he was going.

Alhaitham was home. It was past six o’clock and his shoes were at the entrance, his cloak was displayed on the rack. These were secondary observations, coming to him in splinters. The stillness of the house, the hallway stretch separating their rooms, the turn of the bathroom latch and the opening of the door – these were all fleeting images, barraging into something whole only when locking eyes with an all-too familiar figure.

“‘I don’t hold hope they’ll be credible’? What was I possibly supposed to understand from that?”

Stepping out of the bathroom, it was evident Alhaitham had bathed. His hair was damp, his lounging clothes were fresh, his disposition unguarded. Steam wafted out of the closing bathroom door. Cursory.

“For a situation you supposedly wanted me to come to terms with, surely you could have afforded to utilise your brazen way of speaking. You’ve never had such issues before. How does this rest solely on me if you deliberately make it impossible to comprehend your meaning? Not only that, but you have the audacity to walk off mid-way through a conversation? What’s your deal?”

Alhaitham’s gaze faltered and the memory tore into him – the three-month old image of Alhaitham on the divan, shifting as Kaveh had overstepped, revealed too much of his concern for Alhaitham’s wellbeing. Guilt. He hadn’t misinterpreted. His presentiment had been correct. There was no glory to be found in this.

Alhaitham removed his gaze from Kaveh. “I take it this means you’ve come to your conclusions.”

Scoffing, he folded his arms at Alhaitham’s gall. “With no help from you, of course. Are you really trying to avoid this now after how you left yesterday’s conversation?”

His indignance faltered at the sight – Alhaitham’s hesitation. It was a gradual lift, Alhaitham’s eyes meeting his, but when their gazes aligned, he could see it. A yielding. It was unfathomable for Alhaitham to give into him, and he found himself silent. The sight of Alhaitham turning from him had never been so unwelcome; he followed Alhaitham’s pace towards the living room.

“I’m sorry.” Alhaitham had spoken these words, but they fell short of Kaveh’s understanding. It was Alhaitham’s eyes that caused him to falter, tremoring within himself. The guilt was unrestrained, seeming to find no place for cover in Alhaitham’s gaze. It seemed to twist Alhaitham inwards. It was sincerity. “My reaction was unprecedented. You expressed your honest perspective, and I disregarded it in favour of my own expectations I had mistakenly formed. It was wrong of me.”

Here was Alhaitham, shame-faced and sincere. Here was Alhaitham, proud and contemptuous. They were one and the same. He hadn’t been on the receiving end of an earnest apology from Alhaitham since they were students, and Alhaitham had somehow broken the nib of one of his favourite fountain pens, or were Alhaitham overslept due to reading until late and missed their agreed time to lunch together. Apologies had become scarce, mummering into non-existence when discrepancies were no longer fleeting and intangible. When arguments were based on individual pride and the lack of compromise.

“It’s…” It wasn’t fine. Looking at Alhaitham, registering the shame that ached within him, he knew they both felt the consequence of the damage. “Well, we both have our perspectives, and I can’t say I understand yours, only that you feel strongly about it. Still, it seems you’re aware that this doesn’t overrule my own view. I can’t say it sits right with me that someone who prioritises objectivity above all could succumb to their emotions in a conversation, especially you, of all people.” Alhaitham, who had been regarding him, arms crossed, towel useless in his hand, shifted, eyes slipping from Kaveh’s face. Guilt manifested. But ultimately, guilt and repentance could only get them so far. “… It seems we’re both in the wrong about certain things, or, at least, we believe the other to be, but if you’re sorry, then I assume this means we both want to work things out. Right?”

Alhaitham nodded, gravity centring within him as his gaze returned to meet Kaveh’s. An honest intensity. “Right.”

There. That was progress. Only now Alhaitham was staring at him like he knew how to go from here. The lull caused Alhaitham’s apology, still raw and unprocessed, to roll once more in his mind. “Wait a minute… What expectations?” Alhaitham didn’t blink at him so much as he flinched. “You said, you had mistakenly formed expectations. For me? That’s why you were upset? What did you mean by that?”

There was tensity to Alhaitham, some oddity that was uncanny – Kaveh realised that it seemed that Alhaitham wasn’t hearing him, wasn’t even thinking. The mere notion of an unthinking Alhaitham perplexed him. “Hey. You’re not wearing your headphones, so don’t pretend like you can’t hear me. I deserve answers.”

The tension was expelled in a tight huff, his eyes flickering down to Kaveh’s feet. “You do, and yes, I’ll tell you. But, first, what conclusions did you come to?”

Kaveh was still wearing his sandals. His cloak. He had torn in from the streets in a frenzy. He was everything he warned Alhaitham against. Disrespectful and uncouth. His hypocrisy was grating, as was Alhaitham’s deliberate silence on the matter.

The foolishness of the situation sobered him, stepping out of his sandals, hauling off his cape, stalking away from Alhaitham to right a routine that had been solidified into him since infancy. When he returned to the living room, it was to surrender to Alhaitham’s watchful gaze. The towel had regained purpose. He was drying his hair, seated.

Kaveh sat on the opposite divan, a worn routine that somehow now felt alien. Now he was here, the elation from his supposed epiphany seemed to have growing pains, stretching out uncomfortably within him, trying to accommodate itself in an ill-fitting vessel. What if everything he had realised was all a fabrication? A fancy conceived from his own poor ability of rationalisation?

Alhaitham said nothing. He watched Kaveh, waiting him out. Those eyes remained on him, intent. Not crystal grey, as that of the cat’s, but an emerald of a vibrancy so bright that it numbed him.

Alhaitham was here, he was here with Kaveh – had chosen to be.

“You want me to come to terms with my guilt.” He spoke quietly, and yet his own words sliced into him, smarting within the divots. “You want me to be able to prioritise myself more. It’s not about us being right or wrong.”

The towel had long been abandoned. Alhaitham had placed it in his lap. It remained forgotten. “Correct.”

“You…” He had spoken on an instinct in response to Alhaitham’s blunt tone. But now it had been reframed, recontextualised, and he had been displaced. Alhaitham’s gaze remained expectant; they weren’t done. But they would be only if Kaveh didn’t say it. “You don’t look down on my ideals.”

“No.”

How could Alhaitham continue to watch him? He felt like he had been hollowed out, drained into something insufficient – a fevered adumbration of himself. Alhaitham’s apology gathered something within him, coinciding with this otherwise harrowing sensation. Such thoughts he had never entertained to even contemplate being spun from his tongue, being affirmed into being, cementing his reality. This was a power unknown to him. Its raw strength only served to weaken him.

But still. He would try. “You don’t look down on me.”

“No.”

And with that, it wasn’t enough. The fear had been devoured whole, dissolved into nothing. But he forced himself to be still, to streamline himself into comprehensibility.

“And yet you actively propagate the opposite impression. I know that you don’t care about the opinions of others, and are perfectly happy to let assumptions be formed of you depending on your convenience, but since this is such an immediate instance, it’s a wonder why you let it carry on so long. Surely it would have been more convenient to correct me? And you wonder why I’m able to draw conclusions which supposedly lack any clarity! Let me ask, just so I can ensure we’re on the same level of illumination – you mean to tell me that you don’t derive entertainment from watching me suffer under these misapprehensions?”

There was a pause after his exclamation. A pause in which Kaveh forced himself to level, a pause in which Alhaitham shut his eyes, meaning that he was doing the same. When he next opened his eyes and met Kaveh’s gaze, it was clear that there was a reluctance to speak. A tentative Alhaitham was not one he needed in this instance, not when answers that he had been deprived of were still being withheld. “You have to answer me,” he asserted, because he was not so brittle.

Elucidation set in Alhaitham’s eyes, and he gave a brief nod – acknowledgement. He began. “Your misconception of me has been formed over many years – you yourself admit to your obstinance. Overturning such an impression would have been redundant, as well as counterproductive. Despite your firmly rooted belief that the collective effort can benefit all, your inability to accept the goodwill of others seems to defy this very concept. If you are able to come to terms with your past, you would have less reason to fixate on taking on the burdens of others which only serves as a detriment to yourself. This is a sentiment I’ve expressed to you once before, which was hardly well received. Conveying this to you again would have only served to hinder you in your own self-reflection, and in you agreeing to be my roommate. Think about it. If I had attempted to subvert your deeply engrained impression of me, would you have so readily assented?”

Kaveh didn’t have to think about it. The answer was evident; he was still reeling from the revelation of it, the aftershocks reverberating through him. Alhaitham, in his own words, did not dislike Kaveh’s ideals, his beliefs, his approach to life. So, then…?

“Wait, you genuinely wanted to have me as a roommate?” It was the wrong epiphany to have. The stiltedness of Alhaitham’s gaze, the sigh of the air between them, told him as much. “Alright, I get it… Fine. I suppose I wouldn’t have been easily swayed. I most likely would have rejected you, or thought about rejecting you down the line, believing you had some kind of ulterior motive. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t understand why you would even offer such a thing, to anyone, let alone me, but I wasn’t exactly in the headspace to think too much into it. At the time, I was suspicious of you because of this, waiting for the catch to happen, but… I suppose there wasn’t. A catch, I mean.”

His assertion was laced with an innate hesitance. Even though his words were being spoken, not being dismissed or refuted, but instead confirmed to be of value, of truth, his misapprehensions were firmly impressed within him. Could this Alhaitham sitting across from him, stating that he wanted Kaveh to prioritise himself for his own sake rather than as a triumph for egoism, that he wanted for Kaveh’s betterment, truly be his Alhaitham?

“No.” Alhaitham shook his head. Kaveh’s assertion was confirmed. There truly was no ulterior motive to their arrangement. “Although I’m curious to know what you surmised ‘the catch’ to be, we can put that aside for now. It seems you understand my position. That’s good.”

“I understand to an extent.” It was reassuring to know that Alhaitham’s audaciousness remained the same, regardless of Kaveh’s disrupted understanding of his true character. Was there no other reason that such a miscommunication existed between them? “I still believe there would be a better way of going about it.”

“Can you propose such a method?” Alhaitham’s tone was difficult to place, and therefore it always leaned into condescension. But his gaze was clear, as was his sincerity. It was a genuine question. He wanted Kaveh’s perspective.

Kaveh considered. Would there have been any instance of Alhaitham conveying any good intentions which he wouldn’t have outright rejected? Or assumed to be some illicit underhanded tactic to persuade Kaveh to do something in return? He had steeped Alhaitham in a place of distrust for too long. Every interaction he held with the man was underlined was scepticism. He hadn’t unpacked his belongings for the first few weeks of his residency with the secure belief that Alhaitham would be set on evicting Kaveh if he formed grand assumptions and took liberties. Even when a rapport of mutual exchange had slowly been established between them, Kaveh only perceived himself as something to be utilised, something that could provide Alhaitham’s convenience.

Even now, with Alhaitham expressing these sentiments of personal feeling to him… they were foreign and unintelligible. Words were one thing, to be crafted and moulded easily in Alhaitham’s possession, but actions were of another kind. They were not so easily shapable.

No matter what angle he positioned his focus, the facts remained that Alhaitham had approached Kaveh in the tavern that night; had expressed interest in Kaveh’s wellbeing; had delayed his own plans to listen to Kaveh unfurling his miseries into the stillness of the night; had offered Kaveh a place to live when he was under no obligation to do so. Alhaitham had curtailed the preferred peacefulness of his daily life to accommodate Kaveh, and had willingly done so for the past two years. Now his own assumptions had been stripped bare, what else could he make of that?

“… Not as of now,” he admitted, and a plume of recognition sunk deep within him. “So, it was more convenient for you to let me assume the worst of you?”

“I considered it necessary given the situation. As I’ve told you, it was counterproductive to attempt to overturn your conceptions. Your distrust of me was only inconvenient in that it disallowed you from truly contemplating the sentiment I had once expressed to you.”

There was so much to question, so much knowledge of vast significance, and those finite, scarce details which siphoned through him, as if he were sand. He didn’t know where to begin, didn’t know what he was allowed to hope to question.

The word ‘distrust’ had stood out to him. He grasped onto it. “If that was the case, then why were you so resistant to my proposition of honesty between us? If self-reflection was what you truly wanted for me, wouldn’t encouraging honesty have been a start in addressing these miscommunications?”

“If you’ll recall, it was me who suggested that the supposed ‘honesty’ should be mutual, as there was no evidence that your own self-reflection had benefitted you in the past. If you were accepting of my honesty in exchange for your own, I considered this to be a genuine step towards your self-acceptance, since you were less receptive of my concerns last time.”

“Your concerns?” He recalled the words, dug them out from where they had been smarting. “You said something similar beforehand, about you wanting me to prioritise myself being a sentiment you had expressed ‘once before’… What did you mean by that?”

He knew before Alhaitham spoke, before the mutual eye contact was briefly dispelled, before Alhaitham looked down to some non-existent distraction on the table. When Alhaitham next looked up, Kaveh knew what he was going to say; had heard it already. He knew that Alhaitham recognised this in Kaveh, too. But the intent was apparent on Alhaitham’s face. He said it anyway.

“I mean, your altruism isn’t always beneficial, or practical. In your methods of pursuing your ideals, they’ve come to serve as a detriment, rather than an aid. Your sacrifices, for yourself, and others, aren’t entirely based on your altruistic beliefs, rather they stem from an unresolved issue. You cannot effectively look to the future if you’re simultaneously dwelling on the guilt of your past.”

A fissure cracking beneath him, but no eruption, no plunge downwards, no scalded heart. Instead, numbness. A dumbing swell that tremored through him. And then nothing. He had heard these words before, of course, but the situation had been different, the context had been different, the room had been different, the people were the only thing unchanged, but was that true? Because this Alhaitham – this wasn’t his Alhaitham; the exterior untouched, but the inside, the meanings, the implications, the nebulous fibres, they were inscrutable.

“Regarding your point about using your supposed ‘honesty’ as a means of addressing the issues between us – I wouldn’t have been ‘resistant’, as you put it, had it been sincere. While it may have benefited you in the short-term, I had no interest in feigning the betterment of our relationship on your assumptions that failed to heed the true issues of our strife. This was what I should have expressed yesterday, which, because of issues on my part, I failed to get across to you. My point is, ultimately, it’s counterproductive to seek self-acceptance while prioritising the perceived needs of another.”

This Alhaitham wasn’t wielding his words as a knife, invasive and fatal. This Alhaitham wasn’t regarding Kaveh passively, as some detached, superior vessel, cutting down the very hurt that formed the make-up of Kaveh’s being.

“You mean to tell me,” he started without the realisation of doing so. Alhaitham, as ever, watched him, waited on him, listened. “This whole time, back then, you’d never intended your words as an insult?”

“No.” Firm and decisive. It sliced through him in a single breath.

The light outside was dimming, but it wasn’t enough to plunge the room into the darkness he craved. Alhaitham’s eyes were searching, finding, reading into anything that must have been plaguing Kaveh’s face.

“That was you showing concern.”

It hadn’t been intended as a question, more of an utterance. A realisation. Alhaitham answered anyway, as if chasing Kaveh’s words with his own.

“Yes.”

The past ten years. The gaping, remorseless wound, spirit siphoning out of it, the relentless pursuit for something unknowable, a dream, a fantasy for all, achieved at the sake of his necessary sacrifice, ideals spiralling from his tongue and dissipating into nothing, ideals for the sake of ideals, chasing for the sake of chasing, the wound unpatched and emaciating.

“Kaveh.”

There was the rustle of clothing – Alhaitham leaning forwards. Kaveh heard this rather than saw it; at some point his head had found his hands. He drew himself upright, head spinning, barely felt. He vaguely saw a shadow outstretching opposite – Alhaitham had stood with him.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine. Or, I will be. Just – can we leave this for today?”

“That’s fine.”

Alhaitham was not to be looked at, a hand placed at his temple, blocking the view opposite; a foolish attempt at containing himself? Not revealing something which had long since prised out of him? He was to leverage himself in. He needed to be himself, on his own, away from who Alhaitham understood him to be. Whoever, whatever, that was. He didn’t want to know.

He didn’t want to know how Alhaitham knew him more innately than he knew himself.

“It’s late. Have you eaten?”

Hadn’t he moved? Why was Alhaitham still in front of him? “I don’t think so. It doesn’t matter; I’m not hungry.”

“I went to Lambad’s. There’s leftovers in the kitchen.”

“Alright.” One foot in front of the other. Was it truly so difficult? Everything seemed to have stripped itself back, free of muscle memory, free of engrained contexts. Everything unfamiliar, besides the weight bearing against his neck. He had to look back, for something, anything, recognisable.

Alhaitham was there. For how long?

“Goodnight,” he forced out, the pause he had occupied spattering in his ears.

“Sleep well.”

Kaveh was gone before he could see Alhaitham say it. The familiarity of his bedroom did nothing to comfort him. The itch within him continued to flare.

A fear had clenched within his chest like a held breath. If everything he had previously thought had proved to be false, then how much did he really know about Alhaitham?

Just like his impassioned ideals, founded on some far-fetched dream drew up in the margins of his mind, never fully allowing its true, crooked, malignant origins to be glimpsed. He thought he had known best, had believed in the correctness of his ideals. He thought he had been right. In his ideals, in his perception of Alhaitham. But what had that perceived correctness accomplished for him? What had it all amounted to?

It seemed he would have to start at the beginning, like he had never moved forwards, like he had known it all along. And just as with himself, he would have to learn Alhaitham all over again. Like he had never known him at all.

It had all been for naught. The headache muddling in his left temple, a fatigued ache, the only fruit of another all-nighter. Lelah had been unconvinced at the start of the session, and maintained this view until the final stretch, sun drawing into its place in the sky, when Kaveh had pulled out the rune chart from his folder – the final topic to cover before the day’s group meeting. He had watched her eyes, lined with weariness, run over Alhaitham’s handwriting. It seemed to decide everything.

“I’m sorry, Kaveh,” she had said, scraping her chair back across the floor as she stood. One by one, she gathered her things, her voice almost soundless, dullened by the reinforced walls of the study room. “I just don’t think this is going to work for me. I’ve persevered until now only with your help, but now that Nahrin and Kazem have dropped out, you can’t keep making time just to help me. What does that mean for me as a scholar?”

“What do you mean? You’ve more than contributed to the project.” She wouldn’t look at him, her fingers fumbling with the strings of her satchel. “Your own personal research into rural village aesthetics in worship formed the bulk of the second chapter.”

“I can hardly call that my own now, can I?” Her eyes had flashed as she turned to him, and then hastily looked away. “Everything had been planned out before we even joined onto the project. Even assigning us tasks was more of a hindrance than anything. Really, there was never any space for extras. I mean, learning a new language for a Kshahrewar scholar is one thing, but constructing one? The only reason so many of us lasted this long was because of your support. There’s no point in dragging out the inevitable, is there?”

He had been at a loss for words. “Lelah-”

“I’ll take my name off the project before the next meeting.” She cast him one final look, a quick dart of her eyes. But even with that, he knew; her decision had been made. “You and Alhaitham are more than capable of finishing the thesis on your own. He certainly knows that. Clearly, he thinks you trying to help the rest of us is a waste of time and, quite frankly, he’s right. The rest of us will find a project more suited to our capabilities.”

And she had gone. The sleep which followed had been fitful and fleeting, but he had rallied himself. Samir remained, and was good friends with Nahrin and Kazem, knowing of their personal interest in the project. If Kaveh could find the right angle, if he could talk Samir to get them back onboard, there would be a way to fix this misconception that seemed to be shared amongst his groupmates. Knowledge wasn’t something to deem yourself unworthy of pursuing. A collective effort could ensure equality between all.

They could all finish this thesis together if he only tried a little more. Had he really put his best foot forward in order to convince the others of this? Evidently not. But he had a chance to try again at the morning meeting. After they covered the day’s itinerary, he would invite Samir for an early lunch, and he would approach the topic then.

He was so adamant in this that having reached the usual study room and finding it devoid of the person he was seeking, he had to blink to comprehend.

Alhaitham sat at the meeting table, as usual, his folder spread out before him. Besides this, the room was empty.

“Good. You’re here,” Alhaitham said, and dipped his pen nib in the inkwell, returning to note making. The chair two spaces down from him remained assuredly empty.

“Where’s Samir?” he asked, lingering by the open doors, in case he needed to usher in any latecomers.

Alhaitham looked up, then to the side where Samir would be sitting, as if only now registering the room vacant of people. “He joined Nahrin and Kazem.” Kaveh watched him turn back to his notes. “He stopped by earlier to say that he took his name off the project.”

“And what did you say?” The doors shut behind him as he stepped forwards, bag dropping onto the table. It shook.

Alhaitham sighed – it echoed in the large space. He placed his pen back in the inkwell. “I told him that it was fine.”

“You did?” Alhaitham wasn’t looking at him, as if his notes were inherently more enrapturing than whatever Kaveh had to say. “How could you?”

“We’ve discussed this. There’s no point in struggling to keep up as the project progresses. Hard work can only get you so far.”

The unspoken was so palpable that it was a wonder that Alhaitham spared enough tact to not voice it. “Talent is not the sole determiner in the pursuit of knowledge.” So it was left up to him to say. But there was more, he could feel it, had felt it bubbling as acid within him.

Alhaitham continued to sit there, utterly detached, as if unmoved from the events transpiring around him, as if their thesis wasn’t jittering on the precipice’s edge, as if Kaveh’s thoughts and feelings were intrusive and to be dismissed rather than to be heeded. It was something that had only became apparent within the year, as the project accelerated, Kaveh’s one-on-one time with Alhaitham became less and less. As such, he had tried to encourage Alhaitham socialise with the others, even outside designated meetings, but to no avail. Now, when they did encounter the other, he felt he was kept at bay, like Alhaitham had purposefully turned from him.

Now that he considered this, he realised this was their first time alone together in a month. And this was how Alhaitham treated him? To witness the vulnerability between them be snuffed out, like an obstructive flame, was frightening.

“We’ve discussed this,” Alhaitham said again, as if it was some kind of conclusion – the seal to Kaveh’s complaints. “It’s getting late. I take it Lehlah’s not coming?”

“No.” It was stifled in his throat, but how much longer could he avoid saying something? “She won’t be attending any meetings in the future.”

“Alright,” Alhaitham said, agreeably, like it meant nothing to him. Well, that was the exact problem, wasn’t it? “Then we can start. Did you compile the notes from last night’s session?”

So, they were to move on? Like nothing had changed? Like Alhaitham hadn’t actively pushed against the notion of collaboration? Like Kaveh’s efforts for holding the group together for so long meant nothing?

He struggled against the words in his mind, the ones that had been solidifying themselves for months, itching against his tongue whenever seeing Alhaitham break away from adjourned meetings without so much as an excuse, or when catching his junior leaving the lectures he seldom attended on his lonesome, head in a book.

Alhaitham had looked up, perhaps disquieted by Kaveh’s lack of response. Kaveh had walked mechanically to the chair opposite Alhaitham’s. “… You look tired. Did you not sleep well? Or were you trying to help Lehlah with her revision of the second chapter?”

“Both!” The frustration had mounted within him, and he knew, no matter how he tried to smother it, it was irrepressible. It had to make an escape. There was nowhere else to put it. But- It also wasn’t fair to place it on Alhaitham – who was looking at him with widened eyes. His fatigue was his own doing. With a hand to his temple, he tried to recollect himself. Quieter, he began again. “It was a lot for her to handle on her own. She already had to adjust her references from the following meeting.”

“But you finished your own work in time?” Alhaitham asked.

“Of course, so I had time to spare,” he said, because it was true. But the look Alhaitham gave him, something withering and yet utterly inexpressive, was enough for him to see his statement for what it really was – a defence.

“Then you’ll have more time for yourself in the future,” Alhaitham said, and that was that. “I assume Lehlah left you the rest of her notes? We can build on those today.”

How? How? It would come out of him – he knew it, and he couldn’t think to stop it. “How are you so unaffected by this? Every member of our group has walked out on us, and you’re acting like everything is fine.”

Alhaitham blinked at him – something he usually did whenever Kaveh said something which caused him to recalibrate so as to come up with a rebuttal. What had once been an endearing habit only now served as an incredulity. How was Alhaitham surprised at Kaveh’s upset at the situation? “Because everything is fine. This project was our own conception, and while it may have been of personal interest to others, they were incapable of contributing beyond a necessary threshold. We know what we need to do in order for a successful completion. Now that you won’t feel you have to cater to help others, we’ll be more than capable of completing the thesis by ourselves.”

The words struck him with a resounding force, nearly enough to collapse him into the chair behind. A smarting twinge ached in his chest, but he pushed through it. He knew that Alhaitham disapproved of his helping of others, viewing it as a futile act of charity. Kaveh’s help would be short-lived, bolstering the abilities of their groupmates temporarily before a new problem would crop up, and Kaveh would be bound to help them. As was in his nature.

But Alhaitham was wrong. Where would anyone be in life in not with the aid of another? It was cold, and it was callous, to assume that others were incapable of achieving great things, unlocking undiscovered wisdom, simply because they weren’t on the same perceived level of talent. Everyone had their own unique gifts and abilities, so who was Alhaitham to ordain what others were able to accomplish or not? If they all worked together, these perceived notions of gifts and merits could easily be overlooked, if only they all shared these things.

But Alhaitham hadn’t, had he? He had shunned the idea of collaboration and had stuck to himself – prioritising his own abilities, only for the others to fall behind. Of course, it would be a near impossible feat to be on the same wavelength as Alhaitham. Undoubtedly, he recognised Alhaitham as proficient and wholly capable of all that he set out to achieve. He possessed a unique rationality in which he surveyed the world; an ineffable understanding of the intricacies of human comprehension, the makings of the society around them, the ungraspable nuances of interconnectedness of people. And yet, where did that get him? He strove only to separate himself from others when he had all the potentiality of benefitting himself through the people he observed.

Alhaitham could help others, but he refused to. And yet he had agreed with Kaveh’s proposal of a joint project, had even conceded to supply their topic of study, had combined both his and Kaveh’s field of interest. Alhaitham was considerate, and he was kind, and he was Kaveh’s best friend. But Kaveh was Alhaitham’s only friend. And when presented with the opportunity to step out, to mingle with other like-minded people, Alhaitham had turned from the possibility.

So, here they were at the start, only farther apart from before. Kaveh had been brimming with hope, signing his name onto the project approval form, alongside Alhaitham, sharing a silent awareness of the implications. With the project’s completion as a secondary objective, they had mutually agreed upon establishing their bond to be one of family. Academic or not, Kaveh considered Alhaitham and his bond immeasurable by any convention or standard. Kindred spirits, he had once thought, only to be proven wrong. But that hadn’t been a negative thing – their differences only served to strengthen what they fostered between them.

But now… Alhaitham disagreed inherently with such a core principle of his own. Rejecting this felt almost akin to rejecting Kaveh.

“I didn’t ‘cater’ to anyone. I helped them because it was necessary. Not everyone can meet your ridiculous standards, Alhaitham.”

“I don’t hold standards for other people,” Alhaitham said, and as Kaveh heard him the hope that had once throbbed through him ebbed away. What replaced it was a guttural revulsion. “Despite your opposing view, that talent doesn’t ultimately supersede hard work, you disregard your own ability. Don’t you see the fallacy of your own assertion? You were only able to help the others because you were capable of completing your own work, as well as balancing their own workload.”

The claim that there was supposedly no point in holding expectations for people due to their inevitable failings flowed through him as a dread. “Because otherwise, how would we have all worked together? We would all be at varying stages.”

“My point exactly.” Alhaitham nodded, taking the pen from the inkwell to amend a note – Nahrin’s, by the look of the handwriting. “You deterring your own progress was needless in the end. There’s no logical way you would have been able to help everyone consistently through all phases of the project. Now we’re on the same page, we can progress quickly. This is a good thing.”

“No.” He asserted it with a staggering adamance. Alhaitham looked up to him – startled. “This is not a good thing, Alhaitham. Nobody wants to work on this project because of their perceived notion that they’re not good enough to be here.”

“Their conceptions are of their own making,” Alhaitham said, staring up at him fixedly.

Neither of them would budge. It was a realisation simultaneously observed. Alhaitham’s eyelids flickered, a momentary lapse of resolve. And then it was gone. Kaveh watched as Alhaitham regarded him – detached, stoic. Kaveh was merely an opponent in an irksome debate.

Now. He realised, as his mouth opened. Everything would be said now. “Their conceptions aren’t entirely unfounded given your treatment of them the entire duration of the project. Couldn’t you have at least been more…?”

“More…?” Alhaitham prompted, speaking the word as if he had tasted bitterness.

“More welcoming,” he finished. Alhaitham remained unmoving, although Kaveh could see his brow tighten, his jaw set. It was an expression that, under a year ago, he had never been on the receiving end of. Clearly, there was no retreating now. “You were dismissive of individual needs the entire time. You made no effort to truly get to know anyone beyond the arbitrary and as to what pertained to the project.”

“I spent time enough with everyone in order to achieve the best result for the thesis. It isn’t my responsibility to ensure everyone can keep up with the required workload. As a collaborative project, the least a participant can do is what is expected of them. If they can’t meet that requirement, then, ultimately, they’ll only serve as a hinderance.”

“That’s what you think of your peers? Truly?” It couldn’t be, and yet Alhaitham only stared defiantly back at him, pursed lipped, a young face which seemed a dire contrast to the iron-clad words seeping out of him. “How can you expect to go on with such an opinion? You had an opportunity to expand your circle outside of myself, and you pushed them away.”

“Why is who I choose to befriend an issue for you? Or is it because you value the opinions of others over your own?”

They were stepping over the line. The wincing of his chest told him as much, but he couldn’t stop, it was rushing out of him – there was no point to this unless everything had been expressed. “What does that have to do with anything? I just don’t understand why you have to hold yourself at such a distance, as if everyone else is beneath you! Everyone seems to be of the opinion you consider yourself above them, and right now, I can’t say they’re in the wrong. If you had just cared about helping out more, then there would be more of a chance of you fitting in.”

Alhaitham’s eyes widened. It were as if he had reached across the table and set ablaze to Alhaitham’s folder – the folder that Alhaitham’s fingers lingered over. Fingers that trembled. The defiant stare had melted into softened remains. To be on the end of such a look, the kind he had never seen fixed on Alhaitham’s face, twisted guilt within the thick of him. He had only meant it in kind. Could Alhaitham not see the limitations of his circle? Kaveh could not be the sole foundation of Alhaitham’s social life, he was restricted in what he could offer the ever bright, eager, genius that was Alhaitham.

Perhaps he should explain this, anything to stop Alhaitham from regarding him like that. He opened his mouth- and never got the chance.

The wounded gaze hardened.

“Perhaps you wouldn’t care about such trivial things if you weren’t insistent on denying yourself in order to fit into the majority. Your impractical idealism of achieving happiness for all serves as nothing but a flight from reality, in that you refuse to be part of the ‘all’ you incessantly advocate for, which will only serve to detriment you in future endeavours. Ultimately, your excessive altruism stems not from an innate desire to help others, but rather from your inescapable sense of guilt.”

Alhaitham sat before him, and his stare was severe. Honest. Alhaitham wouldn’t lie to him.

This was realised before the pain. It cut through the heart of him, a plosive gouging. And it kept on, knifing deeper, deeper, splitting into the very fibres. Everything was cursory but this – this whining, reverent hurt. It was an active ache, a constant splintering, lashing through him. It was gruelling. It was deserved.

It was Alhaitham. His junior. His best friend. His family.

Just how long had Alhaitham felt like this? Known this about him?

It wasn’t true. It wasn’t. There was innate goodness in him, there had to be.

But his father was no longer here, and only the pain remained. Every all-nighter, every favour, every trouble delegated to his shoulders, he bore it all willingly, because he believed in the good of banding together to achieve the best results, believed in the good of others. But was that really as there was to it?

No. He knew. Had known all along.

He believed in the good of others at the sake of ignoring the lack of it in himself. He held corrosion in him. The pain was both a reminder of this and an effective smotherer of the toxin. He had caused his father’s suffering, his needless passing, his mother’s displacement and misery, his family’s destruction, all because of a fleeting whim.

A diadem of wisdom, temporary in his possession, and cold? Or his family, solid, real, and warm?

He had made his decision, and he was to bear the weight of that with sullied hands. Every following torment was his own, and in this he found his worth. If he could mitigate suffering, taking it from the fates of others and placing it into his own path, then it was all he could do to repent.

Alhaitham had seen this. He knew. They both knew what he was. And Alhaitham rejected it. Rejected him. After forcing his hand inside Kaveh and raking up the grit and the poison, and forcing him to ingest once more, Alhaitham was rejecting him?

Kaveh’s world had ripped apart at the seams, being torn by Alhaitham’s sharpened words, and what was he to do? Who was he to become? He couldn’t do it. Whatever it was, it wasn’t for him.

Alhaitham sat before him, and his gaze was unfeeling. Of course. What did the detached, ever practical Alhaitham really care for Kaveh? If he had thought this way of Kaveh, with such disparagement, pity even, then what did anything really matter? Their friendship, long since eroding, had now fully dissolved. Did that mean anything to Alhaitham? Could Alhaitham even feel?

If he could, then it was only right that he should feel the same as Kaveh.

“I regret ever befriending someone purely governed by their own intelligence.”

He had never really known Alhaitham. The image of a considerate, attentive, accepting junior had siphoned through him, dust. The words of others were all he had left, and now, he knew them to be true.

And he reached for the thesis cover. "Decoding the Runes and Architectural Philosophy of the Ruins of King Deshret's Civilization.” It shredded easily with a single motion of his hands. So fragile. Futile.

He looked at Alhaitham, once more. Alhaitham had twitched at the ripping paper – of course; he was spurred into action by the eradication of knowledge. Alhaitham’s gaze was latched onto the torn paper. Aching. A triumph surged within what remained in Kaveh. And then Alhaitham’s eyes flicked upwards and met his, once more. They were hard. Empty.

Kaveh turned, and he walked away. Just as when they had met, the beginning of the end, Alhaitham was on his own.

The lethargy was viscous. It was as if his world were contained in a muggy slumber, even upon waking. The sunlight peeking through the gaps in the curtains seemed distant, even when it pierced through him. Perhaps he had drank more than he had thought; the dragging limpness of a hangover was contained in his left temple. Or perhaps not – yesterday was recalled with relative ease. Perhaps he was simply unused to oversleeping.

He knew he had overslept even before glancing at the timepiece on the deskside cabinet. Treasures Street was rampant and unrelenting with noise seeping through the windows, regardless of the thickness of the glazing. The fact that he could hear it, undisturbed, was another crucial detail. The house was empty. If it were early, tell-tale clinks from the kitchen, slippered footsteps on the panelled flooring would indicate another presence.

Also, he was hungry. So much so that he was squeamish, nausea rocking in his stomach upon rising. A quick check of the planner confirmed what he knew, that besides acquiring a late breakfast, nothing was lined up for the day – here was the anticipatory lull after having completed an extensive project. This time, however, it was welcome.

Flinging himself into work was an unappetising thought, alongside doing anything remotely productive. What had happened to him? Where was the incessant guilt that came from a stasis? Even though he knew that it was only wise to pace himself, section out mandatory breaks occasionally, there would always be an urgency looming, some part of himself that didn’t understand stagnation, could not bear it.

But this morning, he felt nothing of the sort, couldn’t even bring himself to dwell on it. Perhaps it was the consequences of oversleeping. One thought melted away as quickly as the other. Well, that wasn’t quite true. An image remained, stark and poignant, in his mind as he fixed himself breakfast. Yet again, Alhaitham had left coffee in the cezve. Alhaitham.

He was in no state of mind to work, and he wouldn’t be until this particular itch had cleared, until a balm could be supplied. The reveal of Alhaitham’s clarity had, in turn, impacted his own clarity, but there was no way to interpret whether it be for better or worse. He was still devoid of critical answers to questions he had never asked, hadn’t even thought about raising. But, somehow, here they existed, all with a startling lack of tremulousness, in the forefront of his mind.

Breakfast was an unfulfilling affair. Cleaning away afterwards just so. There was no presence to distract him; that was it. The kitchen was bare, and he found his eye training onto the patch of floor where the cat had sat in the hallway. Being watched and watching in returning. Something that had once been so disconcerting now seemed to be integral, at least, in this very moment.

What was this yearning? He had eaten, but it didn’t feel like it – something stretching and pulling at his stomach, pain-free and restless. What did he have left to do but think?

He would think, he settled on the decision finally. He lay back on the divan, rather melodramatically, he mused, and then smothered a laugh. A laugh. That was it, this stretchable fluttering of his stomach. It was beyond strange that he should feel an urge to laugh regarding what had taken place last evening. Clearly, it was true what Vahumana scholars asserted – the self was never to truly be understood. Too many layers and inextricabilities to separate, to gauge and analyse, to assemble back together. Right now, he felt something akin to whimsy, giddiness, when he should have felt despondent and mournful.

Last night he had wanted nothing more than to rid himself of Alhaitham, of this truth he was being confronted with, something new, unpredicted, that he had been forced to face, yet again. His ideals seemed to have been ripped away from him once more, laid out on the table in front of them, and then disregarded, knocked onto the floor, just as the cat had done to Alhaitham’s books.

Worthless. That’s what it had felt like – all that time spent chasing after fantastical illusions, thinning himself out for retribution, for happiness, for the sake of others. Alhaitham had once disparaged this, had ripped into Kaveh’s stitching, dug out that awful stuffing, full of hypocrisy and lament, all without so much as a thought. It was a simple observation. One he had known ever since laying eyes on Kaveh. It was plain and innate, that deficit within him.

But it wasn’t so straightforward. He had long since identified that. For, what did it matter whether his true intentions, ones he couldn’t even feel out, were inherently selfish or not, when he ultimately aimed to help others? If others benefited from this, then the answer was clear – his intentions didn’t matter. But his help did. If it was accepted when it was offered, then why complicate matters? Happiness had never been obtained by those skulking on fallacies, stuck in the downfalls of the human condition. Alhaitham would surely hold a similar sentiment.

He knew it wasn’t simple, but at times, it may as well have been. He wanted to help, so he did, where he could, where it was wanted. But at the cost of himself? Hardly. He was still here, wasn’t he? Yes, he assented that it may not always be convenient for him to insert himself into the lives of others – how many deadlines had he almost missed by helping out fellow scholars? How many sleepless nights had he offered? How many close-calls, scrapes with unsavoury Treasure Hoarders, Eremites, of mercenaries hired on the behalf of con-artists, for the sake of the benefit of the doubt? How many close encounters had he endured with the heat of the desert sun, having shared frivolous belongings, and his food, his water, with those who needed it more than him? Ultimately, he was unscathed, and the amount of time expended in the efforts never proved itself a hinderance. Life was nothing but time, after all. Although, he was certain Alhaitham would be quick to counter this. But with what? Examples? Hypotheticals? Answers?

Did it even matter?

The realisation settled his unsteady stomach, this insatiability within him. He had been more than content with spending the day idly, exercising the thoughts in his mind, working them through until they were coherent, complete. But the necessity of this had dwindled, had perhaps never been there.

He had been convinced that he needed space, time to himself. He was wrong.

Whatever Alhaitham supplied him didn’t matter – it was Alhaitham that mattered. Just seeing him, somehow, this felt like the right thing for him. It was what he needed.

He dressed for the day, readying himself internally, recalibrating – and then realised it didn’t matter. No matter how prepared he felt when confronting Alhaitham head-on, he was left disorientated and scattered. He would simply go as he was, no matter how the notion curdled within him.

His initial idea was deterred, however, by Maya and her kittens, now on the awkward cusp of adolescence. Enteka laughed upon seeing him waylaid outside of Puspa’s Café. “You haven’t been around recently, Mr. Kaveh. I think they’ve missed you.”

Well, if they had, they were certainly making up for attention lost. He had only intended crouching for a moment, barely a minute, but somehow he had been thoroughly accosted; cats peering out of shrubbery, dropping from the roof, pattering towards him in all directions to join the pile, to swarm over his lap.

“Hey.” Beyaz had taken it upon himself to poach the spotlight, catching Kaveh’s sleeve with his paw – claws outstretched to latch onto the material. Instantly, another paw accompanied this. There was a look of intent on the cat’s face. Surely, he wasn’t going to attempt the impossible? “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I might as well ask you the same.”

Kaveh would have startled if Beyaz hadn’t beat him to it. He launched himself upwards, skittering up Kaveh’s arm – only to lose momentum. His claws etched into Kaveh’s sleeve as he lifted himself from the ground. “Oh no, no, no. Not this again!” Just what was it with cats trying to mount his shoulders like he was a particularly plush dresser?

“He’s done this before?” And Beyaz was gone, no longer dangling haplessly from his sleeve. Alhaitham held the unruly cat in his arms, only briefly – Beyaz, seemingly mortified, jumped straight onto the ground. Still, it was an unexpected sight. Both Alhaitham, and Alhaitham voluntarily with a cat. “You said ‘again’.”

Alhaitham had had to clarify himself. Kaveh must have been staring. “Not him.” You. “That was his first offence. And last, I hope.” He was suddenly aware of the amount of cat fur clinging to his trousers. He stood up in double-quick time, patting himself down, uselessly.

Alhaitham merely hummed, turning his eye to regard the congregation of cats. The ridiculousness of the situation caught up to Kaveh, and he felt the heat of his neck fan up to his cheeks. He felt a swoon come on; he must have stood up too quickly.

“Anyway, are you free? I was hoping to talk with you.” Three cat hairs clung to Alhaitham’s gloves. They were brown, barely distinguishable. He felt the heat of Alhaitham’s gaze leave his face.

The malted fur was met with fingers. One by one, a hair was picked off, fluttering, unfelt, into the air. “Sure. Have you eaten?”

Shish kebabs were being grilled. It was a little before the buzz of lunchtime. There would be a portion for both of them. “I could eat.”

And so they ordered, after a minimal amount of teasing from Enteka, made worse by Alhaitham’s watchful silence. He hadn’t expected Alhaitham to see him with cats quite so soon, seen him lavish attention on them. He didn’t know whether he had erred or not, not understanding Alhaitham’s position. It was another matter that eluded him – what was the truth of the Ley Line? Of Alhaitham’s desire? Was it for him to know?

“So.” Kaveh started, once they had acquired a booth in the corner, out of earshot from any prospective customers. He had sent Alhaitham to claim the table as he washed his hands, securing the booth as Alhaitham left to do the same.

“Yes?” Alhaitham watched him, regardless of whether Kaveh reciprocated or not. He was always to be ascertained by Alhaitham, it seemed. He still wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Not that it mattered. Alhaitham was quite content with letting him think as he liked.

Ah. So he was angry. It was the one thing he knew for sure, therefore, it was trustworthy. “You are, quite frankly, egregious at communication.”

“… I thought I already explained my position,” Alhaitham said, simply, after an initial pause. Rather than perceiving this as bluntness - although, it was rather blunt – there was a distinct lack of edge to his words, which caused Kaveh to reconsider his meaning. Alhaitham was not rising to meet any sort of challenge.

Was this his way of mitigating a discussion, just to avoid a heated debate? Or was this energy conservation, waiting to exert himself over something of more significance than Kaveh’s disgruntlement?

“I’m not only talking about that,” although, now that it had been referenced to, the idea of Alhaitham having to talk around his real meaning solely for the sake of catering to him was rather sickening. Shameful. “I mean, that what you said all those years ago wasn’t a personal criticism, but actually your poorly worded concern? Extremely poorly worded, in fact, which is rather ironic giving your field of interest.”

As soon as he said it, what had been out of reach forced itself upon him. His hypocrisy. Hadn’t it been him who had initiated the argument? Despite his own designs, his words had evidently stirred something unintended within Alhaitham. He had been misconceived. He had spoken without tact. In that sense, hadn’t he gouged his stabbing words into the fortified cover of Alhaitham’s detachment, his disinclination to help others, first?

He faltered. “I- Of course, I’m aware that we were young and that tensions were high. I also said things that weren’t phrased ideally.” That was one way of saying that he had wanted to cut Alhaitham as deeply as Alhaitham had him.

“It’s fine. It was inevitable,” Alhaitham said, a statement of fact, or a dismissal? But for who’s sake?

It was clear that Alhaitham had no intention of discussing it. At least today. Kaveh felt he was gleaning the tremulous shield of Alhaitham’s inner apprehensions. The emotion that had burst from him two evenings ago during their conversation about the Ley Line, and with this evasion of their argument that clearly meant a lot more to Alhaitham than Kaveh had ever believed.

He could understand; Alhaitham was a rational person by nature. Emotions were felt, but never acted on, instead thought was prioritised, along with coherency and comprehension, which ensured an execution that perceivably led to the favourable outcome. It seemed, however, that there were instances in which emotion was at the forefront, which must have come at the cost of an inward struggle.

Alhaitham truly wasn’t a rigid machine as he knew many peers and scholars believed, and most likely still believed today, and was there any more proof in this than Alhaitham’s own inner torment? To want to provide the best achievable solution, but unable to suppress your own emotion, the emotion you prided yourself on containing? Kaveh felt he could empathise, without excusing. If Alhaitham truly wanted to express his concern, he would have to do so in a way that Kaveh could clearly understand.

To him, then, Alhaitham’s lacklustre explanation in no way meant his main contention had been shelved. “… But you must have known how I perceived what you said – and continued to perceive it. If you wanted me to realise something from this sooner, surely you could have corrected me?”

“We’ve been over this. You already distrusted me. There was no cause for you to believe me.” It was true, but that didn’t make it any less comfortable to bear. He huffed his discontentment, focussing on the incoming patrons picking a table nearby. Alhaitham made a half-noise, a note of indecision. “… I’ve upset you.”

“Yes,” Kaveh conceded. He folded his arms as Alhaitham scrutinised him, helplessly, it seemed. “I’m aware it must have been difficult for you, since, evidently, you had no way of expressing your concern, but I’m uncertain if you’re aware of the implications of this. You know I misconstrued you and perceived you in a negative light, and therefore, you must have known your words would have had the opposite effect of what you wanted to convey. Whether deliberate or not, we’ve not exactly been kind with each other in this way of communicating. And your reaction the other day wasn’t exactly helpful to your case. You’ve already apologised, so I’m not searching for further remorse. I suppose… Well, I want to know your thoughts. I feel like there are things you still haven’t told me.”

Kaveh’s gaze was retained, until it wasn’t, and Alhaitham dropped his eyes. They were mirroring each other, Kaveh released. Facing the other, arms folded, besides that aversion of eye contact – until it was regained. It was a slow drag, Alhaitham’s eyes meeting his again, but it felt loaded. Significant. “I’m aware of the dissatisfactions you’ve had upon living with me. Regardless of my intentions, I’ve failed both in understanding you and in communicating. Despite this, I’d previously formed my own assumptions of how to best approach certain situations. As you say, though, this has rarely been effective. And as for two nights ago, I didn’t use any such method. I prioritised my own conceptions of your behaviour rather than considering your perspective objectively.”

“Right, you mentioned this.” Alhaitham had apologised for this instance, which was only right. It wasn’t as if it were unheard of – their spats in their initial months cohabiting had been rather heated after all, but a mellowness had become them over the past year. Alhaitham’s outburst had disrupted their newly established mildness. In that case, his upset had triumphed over his logicality, and the regret of directing this at Kaveh had been palpable. However, it had yet to be fully contextualised. “What did you mean by ‘expectations’ you had of me? What had you so upset?”

“I…” It was chilling to see. Alhaitham was hesitating, his thought process halted, catching on the emotion bridling within himself. Kaveh could see it in the crease of his forehead, the uncertainty in his eyes. He closed them with an exhale, seeming to regain himself upon looking Kaveh once more in the face. “I believed you wanted to reflect on the issues of your past when you said you had come to terms with something. I assumed that you pursuing honesty was a means of looking to the future with yourself as a priority. You accepting my own honesty was perceived as a means of gaining clarity of the issues between us. As you were seeking to improve our relationship, I assumed that your future was something you factored me into, and therefore, my honesty would have been beneficial to you. Ultimately, though, I believed that your self-reflection was to focus on yourself.”

“I see…” It was perturbing to hear Alhaitham’s admissions of concern, so evidently dimensional, tangible. It seemed he truly occupied a large breadth of Alhaitham’s day-to-day life. It was inconceivable. But this was to be dealt with later, what mattered now was the discrepancies in their communication. “So when I told you that I had been pursuing honesty with you in mind… You were angry with me.”

“It’s not so simple,” Alhaitham said, hastily, shaking his head. It was more of a declaration than a statement, as when it pushed itself from Alhaitham’s chest, he followed it, leaning into the table. Kaveh found himself reciprocating, drawing towards Alhaitham – mirror images once more, he realised.

“You were upset with me, at least. Whatever it was, it overruled your incessant need of objectivity. For someone who’s apparently careful when it comes to our interactions, you certainly didn’t administer much restraint in berating me. And you wonder why I misconstrue everything you say.”

It seemed Alhaitham was experiencing the blows that Alhaitham so often plummeted onto him with his words. His eyes with ablaze with a vivid imploration, all the while his brows twisted, pained. “It was wrong of me. Any upset I held towards you was of my own making. I projected my own assumptions onto you, against my better judgement. I acted on my internalised anger that I had miscalculated in how best to support you. You were expressing a desire to be honest, and I refuted this due to my own preconceptions. That wasn’t fair on you. It wasn’t what I intended. For that, I’m sorry.”

He had specifically requested Alhaitham not apologise, and yet, Alhaitham had done so again. He hadn’t heard the words from Alhaitham’s mouth in years, since they were teenagers. The act of an apology nowadays was performed in bulk purchases of wine or indulgent spending at Lambad’s. Alhaitham truly regretted his conduct. It was disconcerting, dealing with a lamentable Alhaitham. Although, yes, it had been disarming and insulting at first to bear the weight of Alhaitham’s anger, his words, he had also dually understood that the true source of Alhaitham’s grievance hadn’t been him. Something had been simmering within Alhaitham the entirety of the conversation – it was personal for reasons Kaveh felt he wasn’t at liberty to touch upon. They had evaded the matter for so long, that actually broaching it was detrimental.

Oh. He realised it then, seeing the ache inside Alhaitham, gleaning the fear in him. It had been an instinct borne from experience. The worst had been expected. Alhaitham had evidently been terrified of revealing himself, revealing his concern for Kaveh – and this fear had served as a brutal rebuff, serving to separate them, before the imminent rejection. Alhaitham had, however subconsciously, despite himself, believed that Kaveh would reject him once more. In Kaveh overturning his false assumptions, that Kaveh wanted to pursue a path of betterment for himself, and seemingly considering Alhaitham within his future, Kaveh stating that this, in fact, hadn’t been his intention at all was bound to be disorientating.

But… Perhaps he was focussing on his own prenotions of Alhaitham’s self-prioritisation. Alhaitham had been particularly focussed on his hopes for Kaveh’s self-reflection and subsequent progression. Negating from this, in Alhaitham’s perspective, would be akin to Kaveh rejecting his bettered self. Perhaps, Alhaitham had been aggrieved by the notion of Kaveh both rejecting himself and any future in which mutual honesty positively affected the both of them. Kaveh’s true intentions, of solely focussing on Alhaitham’s perceived woes, forsaking his own self, would have been jarring – contradictory.

The more he contemplated, observed them with as much objectivity he could muster, he realised that he and Alhaitham truly were similar. They were both set in their own methodological approaches to dealing with the other, stuck in obduration that their perceived methods were carefully calculated in avoiding strife between them, all the while, simultaneously aware that they were at a perpetual standstill. Nothing, only an increased civility achieved with age, had progressed between them. They remained fundamentally misunderstood in the other’s eyes, all the while holding some intimate knowledge of the other that the rest of the world wasn’t privy to. It was infuriating. It was exhausting.

How were they to fix this?

Alhaitham continued to watch him, understanding that he was in a deep rumination. They both were considering the same question. They both wanted to address it. Wasn’t that the start of a new path for them?

“Look. It’s fine,” he accepted Alhaitham’s apology, to which Alhaitham blinked at, clearly taken aback. “Judging from your personal concerns, your conceptions of my proclaimed ‘honesty’ weren’t so far-fetched. I wasn’t exactly honest with you in that instance, and we were both operating under false assumptions of the other. I understand your own frustrations in that regard, especially considering my behaviour over the past months…” He paused, waiting.

Alhaitham noticed, gave a nod of assent. “It was rather troubling. Although I had no issue with us being open with each other, you resisted my own attempts to do so, and yet you persisted in accommodating to me. As such, I believed that your intention to self-reflect was personal to you, and that it was something I wasn’t permitted to know about, given our history.”  Alhaitham was referring to his father. It was indirect, an allusion, careful. It was Alhaitham’s consideration of him. “I had no problem with this, but it was… perplexing to understand your intentions towards me regarding your honesty, when your methods consisted of appealing to my taste in decoration – which is a subject that, on which, you’ve previously had no issue in conveying your disgust.”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” It was embarrassing to hear his attempts at establishing a deeper connection to be recalled with such lucidity. He could see them, limp and bedraggled, stretched out in front of him. “I’m sorry if I worried you with my misguided attempts, just… Give me a minute.” He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

There was time to consider as the food arrived. He was hungrier than expected, despite the late breakfast. Had that only been an hour ago? Merely the smell of the charcoal grilled chicken had his mouth watering. But he couldn’t let it distract him.

This would go how their usual debates over the dinner table followed – one would pick a topic, and then cut into their food, lather it with sauce, chew, sip their drink, whilst the other contemplated, before voicing their point, and then the positions were reversed. Depending on the general atmosphere, sometimes a simple dinner could last up to two hours.

But this time, there was a limit. He estimated they had thirty minutes of Alhaitham’s allocated free time before he headed back to the Akademiya.

He gathered himself. “Evidently, concern is at the forefront of this on both fronts…” Alhaitham, who had folded his arms, gaze intent on Kaveh, conceded with a nod. It was the confidence Kaveh needed. “I understand that it isn’t plausible to always remain level-headed, especially in confrontations. Emotions aren’t so predictable. I know that – although, admittedly, we feel things differently – you do take certain things to heart. You aren’t so rational as you like to believe of yourself. In fact, I’d imagine it would be accurate to say that’s exactly why you left the conversation the way you did. You said you miscalculated, and that you refuted me against your own intentions. Then, it makes sense, to me, at least, that you believed you had missed any opportunity in properly conveying yourself, and that no matter how you span it, I wouldn’t forgive you. You angered yourself in your lack of rationality. Does that sound right?”

Alhaitham didn’t seem to have registered the meal before him, his attention was attached solely to Kaveh. His eyes, previously widened, had returned to an inward scrutiny. Eventually, he nodded. “Regrettably, it sounds exactly right. In the moment, I felt it would be best to remove myself, but even so, I directed my emotions at you. I’m sorry.”

Had Alhaitham actually apologised to him thrice in total? “You really are earnest about this.” Alhaitham only blinked at him as Kaveh took to dismantling the cubes of chicken from the skewer. “You know that saying. Things said in earnest have to be said thrice.” It had been an observation of levity, in order to defuse the solemnity that had gripped them, but Alhaitham was imporous. He truly regretted having struck out at Kaveh. It was touching, but they couldn’t afford to dwell on it when the future had to be glimpsed. It would belong to the past, only to be reflected back on as a lesson learnt. “It’s fine. Really. You should eat something. You’ve answered my first question, so we can move on.”

“Is there something else you’d like to discuss?” Alhaitham asked.

The topic following Alhaitham’s outburst was weighing on him. “What do you mean,” he started, watching Alhaitham administer the garlic sauce on his rice, “when you say my altruism serves as a detriment rather than an aid?”

“Precisely that.” Alhaitham passed him the sauce. The tip of his finger caught on the side. Kaveh watched him remove the residue on a cloth napkin. “You prioritise others above yourself and you excel for a standard which does not exist – or, at least, isn’t practical in the long-term.” Alhaitham looked up, warily, from forking his chicken from the skewer. He met Kaveh’s gaze, and an understanding crossed his face. “… Perhaps this isn’t clear enough. Would you like specific examples?”

“It would help,” Kaveh grumbled through a mouthful of rice. It seemed Alhaitham was learning that Kaveh’s own clarity was to be further garnered by Alhaitham’s explicitness.

“There was that instance where you insisted on dropping into a concaved ruin to rescue a family of foxes, despite those present having informed you that the Corps of Thirty were on their way. You apparently justified this as ‘a matter of urgency’, even though you believed the ruins to have recently concaved and to have been the reason as to why the foxes were trapped there in the first place.”

Alhaitham poured water for him as he spluttered. “That,” he got out, when the rice had dislodged in the back of his throat, “was years ago. And taken completely out of context! How did you even know about that?”

Alhaitham continued cutting his cubes of chicken with ease, as if he wasn’t the sole reason why Kaveh had almost choked. “The Corps of Thirty who had to retrieve you from the ruins were particularly loud.”

After they had promised not to talk? They must have found it more amusing than they were letting on. Just how many people had they spread it to?

Flush with embarrassment, he focussed on his food. “That doesn’t count. That was ages ago, and you weren’t even there to understand the context. The ruins were stable in their formation, it was only the sand that had shifted. Besides, there was more than one family of foxes! They were attracted by the cries, and they kept dropping into the concave. The situation kept escalating, and I knew the Matra had been called, but I had to do something.”

“At the expense of yourself. You had to be rescued.”

“But I rescued all of those foxes. Besides, I knew help was on the way. I came out unscathed, didn’t I?”

The sigh elicited was heavy enough that he paused in his eating. Alhaitham had placed his cutlery down. His brows were down-turned, eyes closed. It was momentary. A blink, and his displeasure was gone. “Fine. Then there was that instance of you giving your Akademiya subsidies, and a job opportunity, to those craftsman, when, at the time, you yourself were out of a job.”

He had to pause at that, confusion twisting where his rice should be. “How did you know about that?”

Alhaitham looked up, brows knitting together. “Because we discussed it.”

“No, we didn’t.” And they hadn’t. On that, Kaveh was certain. He had ensured it. “I distinctly recall not telling you because, firstly, it’s none of your business, and, secondly, I already knew what your argument against me would be.”

“Perhaps you felt you knew because you did know. You responded to a message on the Port Ormos bulletin board. We discussed the issue on there. You really don’t remember this?” It was a strange sight. Alhaitham looked just as confused as he felt.

Until it clicked. Perhaps, he could vaguely summon the image through an alcohol laden daze of Alhaitham’s handwriting posted below his own on a bulletin board, vaguely recall a sense of incredulity, offence at Alhaitham’s unwelcome audaciousness.

Alhaitham could not know about his phase of drunken bulletin board perusing. “Responding to a message posted on a bulletin board is not synonymous with discussing something. This is just a demonstration of the efficiency of your so-called ‘communication’.”

The dig was unrestrainable. A small triumph preened through him, as Alhaitham searched his face, seemingly impassive, but he did nothing to challenge Kaveh. Evidently, it was acknowledged as a warranted remark. “Regardless, your actions remain. You only served to lose in that instance. What if you hadn’t had enough at the end of the month to make your debt payment?”

It was instinct to nudge Alhaitham’s foot under the table, to flick his eyes over the nearby patrons, ensuring that he hadn’t been found out.

“Not so loud. And I thought it was you who dismissed entertaining hypotheticals?” Alhaitham’s trained gaze flickered, a pulse’s tremor. Kaveh had caught him out, had maybe touched a nerve. He backtracked. “Anyway, I made the payment, didn’t I? The workmen secured a job, for that period, at least. Everything turned out fine.”

Alhaitham’s gaze turned hard. Or, more aptly, his eyes flashed. Unmistakeable. “You lent money, on various occasions, to a compulsive gambler, as well as offering to fix his house without receiving compensation. You were then targeted and attacked by a group of mercenaries, hired by the very person you sought to help.”

Inconceivable! “How did you know about that?” How? How? It had been a gruesome, tiring betrayal. The inner wounds inflicted had far outlived the physical. He had taken great pains to conceal this from the ever astute Alhaitham.

“You mentioned it in passing to Tighnari one night when you had more than a few to drink,” Alhaitham answered, smoothly, even having the nerve to meet Kaveh’s eye.

“So, you were eavesdropping? This seems to be another one of your unruly habits.”

“Hardly. You seem to be under the impression that you’re capable of being quiet when drinking. It would be more surprising if I hadn’t heard anything.”

Kaveh would have to take the remainder of the kebabs back with him. His cutlery was only to be gripped steadfastly, unmoving in his hands. “So that’s your excuse. Somehow it’s my fault?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Alhaitham sighed. From the looks of it, Kaveh would have to take both of their dishes home. There was little time to eat. The conversation was less spacious than he had predicted – food was an afterthought. “I’m saying, you provided your aid in a situation where you only served to lose. Your help wasn’t asked for, and yet you committed yourself to helping, without looking at the broader picture.”

It was strange. It wasn’t as if he were unused to explaining himself to Alhaitham, if anything, he was more used to doing so than not. The number of times he had to do so, by a perceived judging look, or a quirk of the brow, or an outright jab at Kaveh’s problem-solving abilities, was uncountable. Every instance blurred together, a mass amalgamation of his self-righteousness steeped in discomfort  - a keen sense of self-awareness. Alhaitham was one of the people who could do that to him, make him increasingly aware of who he was, what he had done, what he could do. For better or worse. Alhaitham was one of the only people who could do so.

He would be utterly aware of a potential hypocrisy within him – he had helped others for the stab of pain, the deserved retribution – and simultaneously convinced that there was something innate in him that caused him to expend himself for others, a pathological selflessness. He would defend himself, and he would know, and Alhaitham would know, that there was something undisclosed, unmentionable.

Now, however, the unmentionable was very much unveiled, very much present. They handled it between them. A claustrophobic softness, a sincerity. He didn’t know what was worse – Alhaitham’s scorn and arrogance, or Alhaitham’s concern and care.

He put it aside, focussing on what was before him. Alhaitham had stopped eating entirely. Kaveh occupied his focus. How long would it be like this? Until Kaveh misspoke?

There was nothing for it. There was no point in fronting. For Alhaitham, he would be himself. Had there ever been a choice?

“Look. I know what it seems like to you. I put myself in a difficult situation for seemingly no purpose. I can’t always understand why I do the things I do. Whether it be as a way to make up for the past, or because of genuine selflessness… I really don’t know. But I’ve long since decided that the intentions don’t matter so long as good comes out of my actions. If I can help someone, alleviate someone’s burden, why wouldn’t I at least try? It would be worse for me if I ignored the instinct. It might seem bad, but I guarantee, it used to be worse. That man in the desert, for example, that happened over a year ago, I wouldn’t go about the situation in the same way now.”

Now that he had finished talking, Alhaitham’s attention was rather intense. “Then what would you do differently?”

He had to look away in order to focus his thoughts. “Hmm. Well, I wouldn’t lend him Mora so willingly. I would try to learn more about his situation. If I was dubious, I would reconsider the reconstruction. If he truly were in desperate need of help, then escorting him to Aaru Village would be ideal.”

“Alone? He hired a group of mercenaries to attack you.”

“Not alone – with the Corps of Thirty.”

Alhaitham folded his arms, leant backwards, as if bending to the weight of Kaveh’s words, as if they had been impactful. His gaze was steady, but filling with something that caused Kaveh to bridle, an embarrassed heat building up from the nape of his neck.

“And if he refused? You’d be more than happy to leave him as he was?”

Kaveh opened his mouth – and then thought about it. He slunk backwards, his own argument, his own forthcoming, receding inside of himself. There was only one answer. “No.”

Alhaitham waited, or perhaps he was merely watching Kaveh for the sake of doing something. Kaveh couldn’t look at him. The teetering of something within him was raw and unnerving. He was a suspension – a long expanse of uncertainty. But in that, he was familiar. Whatever this was, this shaking disruption, nurtured by that knowing look in Alhaitham’s eyes, he wanted nothing to do with it.

“You continuously risking your own wellbeing to help someone else is counterproductive to your own ideals. Think about it. How can you afford to help others if you believe you can’t afford to help yourself?”

“I-” There was so much to say, so much to posit, so much to counter, that it stalled him. But with the hesitation came a roaring static, it deafened him. His own thoughts turned from him, elusive and disfigured. He couldn’t think of a reply.

It was Alhaitham’s egoism. It was a statement of concern. It was both and neither all at once. He had to look away from all potentialities.

“… You’ve answered my question. Thanks.” He forced himself to look up from his lap, only to find himself being scrutinised – uncertainly. Clearly, clarity was needed, for the both of them. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not agreeing with you in any respect. I just… Can we talk about something else?” Was that all he could do? Provide unsatisfactory answers and deflect?

Alhaitham didn’t seem to mind. “Anything else you’d like to ask?”

He chewed his half-eaten lunch for the sake of stalling. It was an open question, but what was to be addressed and what was to remain shrouded? It would never be so straightforward with them. And yet, Alhaitham had chosen this. The question revealed itself. He swallowed.

“Yes, actually. A few things.” He folded his arms, narrowed his eyes at Alhaitham’s suspiciously receptive demeanour. “For the sake of your clarity, I’d like straightforward answers. No evasions and no in-between statements that neither confirm nor deny. Can you promise me that?”

An unstartled, even gaze. Honest. “Sure.”

The question heaved itself from his tongue. “So, you don’t dislike me? In any capacity?”

 “No.” Clear and lucid.

Huh. “Huh.” A momentary lull. The connections scrambled to thread frantic paths in his mind. “So, does this mean you actually like having me as a roommate?”

Something was happening in Alhaitham’s eyes that he couldn’t identify, regardless of how familiar it may have seemed. There was some kind of warmth in them, mirth tinged emerald. “Yes.”

“But I make noise,” he rushed out. What did Alhaitham mean really? What was it he wasn’t getting? What was the catch? “You said that to me before, you know, but that was the first I’d heard of it. If it was such a hindrance, you should have expressed it earlier. I know I’m not exactly the easiest person to live with, given my habits.”

Alhaitham appeared to consider, hand to chin, although the laughter – it was laughter – was present in his eyes. “You’re tolerable.”

“Oh, and I imagine you view yourself as the paragon of tolerable.” If Alhaitham wasn’t going to take this seriously, then why should he? “You’re not exactly a delight to live with either, you know. Would it hurt you to take more time when it comes to washing? Considering that out of the two of us, I’m the one with more whites, I can’t spend all my time on the whites whilst you deal with the colours.”

“Then you can deal with the colours.” Quick, unthinking – Alhaitham’s retort.

“And leave you to the whites? Ha! Don’t think I’ll be making that mistake again.” Alhaitham’s eyes narrowed, but his expression remained. He was enjoying this, Kaveh realised, this familiar back and forth. But Kaveh? How did he feel about everything that had passed between them? It was easier to indulge than to think. Perhaps, he, too, enjoyed the normalcy of it all. Perhaps, right now, it was a necessity for him. “You never would have guessed you ever had to deal with your own whites judging by your methods of stain removal. I’m beginning to think you’re doing it on purpose just to slight me.”

“If it’s such an issue, hire a service. With your recent commissions and your lack of sporadic spending, I’m sure you’d have the Mora to spare.”

“What are you getting at? We can’t all be like you, getting paid a surplus for the bare minimum amount of work. Besides, I don’t spend sporadically. You really think I can afford to do that?”

“With how many dubious charities you’ve sunk your Akademiya subsidies into in this month alone? It appears you can more than afford to do so.”

Alhaitham’s gaze remained frank and disclosing, but there was something in his expression, something carefully concealed. The realisation struck. “Have you been reading my mail?”

Something slipped free in his expression – what Alhaitham had been holding back. A smile. But why? “You left it on the table. It’s customary between us to leave documents on the table for the other to read. If you didn’t want me to read it, you should have said as much, or left a note, as you’ve recently encouraged those to be exchanged between us. In that respect, it’s a surprise that you forewent the note, considering that ‘Free The Fungi’ holds a prospect of danger. It seems you’re more than willing to spend sporadically when considering falling for such blatant scams.”

“You-!” He had to cut himself off, disengaging from Alhaitham’s bait entirely. He was above aggravated rants of startling sobriety at the café. Perhaps the statement would hold some weight if he believed it. “You truly are incorrigible. How did we even get onto the topic of you wantonly invading my privacy?”

“You had questions. I assume you still do after derailing yourself?”

Was it self-satisfaction plastered on his face? Arrogance lathered in his tone? Did he think he had gotten one over on Kaveh? Where did his enjoyment stem from?

Kaveh was overthinking. Alhaitham was watching him and he was hesitating. Holding his tongue, it seemed there was no choice but to repress the unfavourable uncertainty.

But then Alhaitham’s expression clouded, and Kaveh saw that discomfiting uncertainty flare in his eyes. It was an expression which ill-suited Alhaitham.

“So,” Kaveh started, because he found he couldn’t bear to disappoint both of them. “If we’re finally on the same page, and you’re truly content with our living arrangements… What now?”

A question worth contemplation, it seemed. Alhaitham leant forwards with an audible inhale, gaze lowered, distant, as he searched inwardly. He must have come upon something; his eyes flickered upwards, intensity catching as a breath in Kaveh’s throat. When he spoke, it was light, but firm.

“As I’ve expressed to you, your own self-reflection would serve to ultimately benefit you – this is my opinion. If, and how, you decide to do so is your decision, however. Your path lies in your own hands, and opinions of others shouldn’t hold sway over the fate of your own choosing. Considering everything we’ve discussed, regarding your future decisions, I have no intention of imposing something onto you. As of now, if you’re agreeable to a change in our communication, I, too, have no complaints. There’s no reason things shouldn’t progress from here.”

The sincerity was crushing. There was no way to misconceive the density of it. The very fact that Alhaitham appeared to be earnest rendered him incapable of movement, of speech. He had to look past this, unprocessed, to hear the words.

He latched onto the last thing spoken, progressing from here... But what did that mean exactly? That they could establish a new, favourable, normal? That mutual understanding would eventually be possible? That they could be friends again? And if so, for how long? The question pronged his throat, too sharp to smooth over with comprehension, too cutting to speak aloud.

It seemed his turmoil was expressed inadvertently. His eyes must have revealed him; Alhaitham’s gaze ran over his expression, reading him, deciphering. A dip cut into Alhaitham’s brow, his mouth pulling down, ever so slightly, as his attention slipped, turning inwards. They sat in a dissatisfied quiet as the distant roar of people bludgeoned against them.

“Whatever you decide on,” Alhaitham started, so finely that Kaveh almost missed his words, “I have no intention of passing judgement. There’s no meaning in repeating past grievances. For as long as you’ll accept it, your place in the house will remain. Your presence has never been an inconvenience.”

A stabbing twinge in his chest. He was welcome. Alhaitham really wanted him there, in the house. But why? It still didn’t entirely align.

A sigh from Alhaitham broke the reverie. He realised he was watching Alhaitham, realised Alhaitham was looking over his shoulder to the clock, realised that Puspa’s Café was heaving, all the booths and tables surrounding them were full. It was remarkable they had even heard each other, let alone had a full-fledged conversation.

“It’s time.” Alhaitham rose from the booth. Kaveh remained seated, not that it was an active choice. He was still coming to terms that Alhaitham had spoken the words, had meant them.

Any distance between them was crossed, Alhaitham stood at the head of the table, and Kaveh felt his world siphon down to the hand placed before him. The tips of Alhaitham’s fingers, skin against wood, pressed near the coaster of Kaveh’s goblet. Their sudden proximity was less disarming than the weight of Alhaitham’s solemnity. “Will you be alright?”

“I’m fine.” A habitual impulse. Alhaitham lingered, waiting out Kaveh’s instinct to cover, to deflect, to conceal. He stayed. “Really. You should get back. I’ll get these packed to take back to the house.”

Urging himself, he stood, finally. Alhaitham cast a fleeting glance down to their unfinished food, but reverted immediately back to surveying him, eyes sharp, with a softened centre that caused his stomach to twist. Was it pity? Did Alhaitham pity him? Was that why he was allowed to stay on, by Alhaitham’s side? But, no, that didn’t sound like Alhaitham at all.

None of what had been relayed to him sounded anything remotely like Alhaitham. Wasn’t that the problem?

“We can talk some other time,” he said, because he had to say something. He had somehow craved it this morning, but Alhaitham’s stare could truly be unnerving. He was continuously aware of every possible twitch of his expression.

“Sure. Anytime you want.” With Alhaitham’s assent, his dissembling of Kaveh’s inner walls appeared to halt. His hand departed from the table, the one thing somehow centring them. He turned, away from the table, away from Kaveh. “See you.”

“Alhaitham!” The outburst flung itself from his chest, dissolving soundlessly into the din. But Alhaitham looked back, brow furrowed. He had chased Alhaitham, only by a few steps, and yet he was breathless. The embarrassment came upon him in an instant, a choking heat in his throat.

“What is it?” Alhaitham had to prompt him. His expression was one of evident bemusement, as Kaveh must have looked ridiculous, red and mottled. But there was something else in that expression, some indiscernible softness, a sickening regard that was slowly registering as concern.

“Thanks.” He didn’t realise he said it until Alhaitham’s brows quirked. “For being honest.” Because faced with that expression, how could he perceive Alhaitham as anything but truthful?

But now he wasn’t so sure. Alhaitham was smiling - no. Smirking. “Say it once more.”

“What? Why? Your headphones aren’t on; you heard me perfectly well before.” The simmering vexation was easily stoked. There was a contemptuous to Alhaitham which he couldn’t possibly be imagining, surely?

“It’s earnest thanks that should be given thrice.” There was a stretch of blank canvas in his mind as Alhaitham seemed to mentally nudge him with that knowing lustre in his eyes. “You thanked me once in our earlier conversation, and now again. So, one more time, please.” And he folded his arms, firmly planted and ever infuriating.

He couldn’t be serious. He couldn’t be serious? Was this Alhaitham twisting his own earnest apologies to fit some joke structure? Had he intended on cheapening his own sentiment? Was Kaveh to thank him every time a civility of the bare minimum now occurred between them? He had to be joking; this was in line with Alhaitham’s unabideable humour after all. But did his jokes consist solely of aggravating Kaveh? What could he possibly gain from that? - Here, he caught himself. He was overthinking again. Perhaps Alhaitham had simply been joking, although, really, it was hard to tell, with that twisted sense of humour. The uncertainty of it all frustrated him more than any of these conjectures.

“You-! Why don’t you do something useful other than standing here and tormenting me? How will the dreams of promising scholars be rejected if you’re here? Go back to work already!”

It didn’t work. Alhaitham’s amusement remained undeterred. “I’ll see you for dinner – that is, if you pack up the food before it’s cleared. Someone’s been eyeing the table the whole time you’ve been talking.”

When he next turned back, Alhaitham was gone, had fled. The silhouette of his cape curved the light beaming through the door. The relief from the removal of his presence was unfelt, non-existent.

The leftovers were packed, and Kaveh was once again waylaid at the entrance by an abundance of waiting cats. He was back in the same position, mind lulling under the heavy warmth of the sun, having received answers, but somehow, none the wiser. And that craving was back, undisturbed, like it had never been satisfied.

He picked Beyaz up, folding him against his chest. “At least you’re a lot less trouble.” The pliant creature stared up at him, mouth open in a drawling yawn, eyes focussed yet imperceptive. A lot less trouble, yes, but it wasn’t the same.

“You can’t be serious.” He said this in disbelief, all the while knowing that Alhaitham was, in fact, indubitably serious. “There’s no way you agree with this, surely?”

“My personal opinion has nothing to do with rationality. The findings of the experiment clearly state-”

“But the findings are inconclusive!” He managed to sweep his goblet out of Alhaitham’s hand in time. Somehow Alhaitham had taken it from underneath his nose. He had been successfully distracted by Alhaitham’s infuriating calculated stare.

“Dubious, yes, but not inconclusive. The research aims were ultimately fulfilled, and the research environment was stable throughout,” Tighnari pointed out, with only mild exasperation. Actually, when he squinted, he could see Tighnari smiling. Alongside Alhaitham.

“What have I missed?” Cyno had returned with the drinks.

“Cyno.” Cyno’s arm was an anchor, steering him away from the strange alliance that had formed in his absence. “Tell me you don’t side with them.”

Cyno reclaimed his seat, eyes flitting between the two traitors. “Perhaps if we were to test the findings, I would be inclined to believe their validity. It’s an old study, after all.”

It was the worst possible outcome. Betrayed by all.

His head felt thick as he cushioned it in his arms. It was a thickness endued with warmth. There was no space in his mind to think about anything much. And anything he did think glided smoothly from his mouth. A simple state of affairs.

He had lost count of how many drinks he had put away, only that the dinner was doing little to soak it up. He felt he was justified, however, as no one else seemed to possess the sense to slow down. He had been in the desert for the majority of the week and his friends had insisted on celebrating, as proposed by Cyno, upon his return that weekend. The library was officially open. The village population was ecstatic. There was finally space on the bookshelves at home due to the number of books he had donated. He was finally home. What reason did he have not to indulge?

“The age of study indeed complicates matters. Recent weather patterns are bound to be different from when the study was conducted,” Tighnari said, musingly, as if he were truly considering it. Tighnari? Of all people?

“We are not getting involved with Fungi,” his words slushed into his arms. “Does it really matter if rain makes them fly higher?”

“Considering you’re the one with an invested interest in Fungi, I would say so.” When he opened his eyes, he had a bleary view of Alhaitham’s elbow. Ah, yes. It wasn’t Tighnari that he had an issue with.

Alhaitham’s foot was conveniently nearby. It retracted when he tapped at it. Like a cat’s claws. He snorted, tossing his head upwards. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Kaveh is considering donating to ‘Free The Fungi’,” Alhaitham broadcasted, as if it was his to share. He was refusing to meet Kaveh’s eyes, but they were creased at the corners – his amusement was transparent.

If anything, that irked him more than the blatant disregard of his privacy. “Hey!”

“What is… ‘Free The Fungi’?” Cyno asked, brows nestled together.

“I can’t say I’ve heard of it. It’s a charity?” Tighnari pondered, and then cast a look of trepidation at Cyno. “Please don’t.”

Cyno had been contemplating. “It’s not time yet.”

“It’ll be merciful if the time never comes.”

“In that case, if you can’t wait, I’ll tell you the joke now. That’ll make me a ‘fungi’.”

The silence was enough to numb his frustration. He had believed Cyno’s sense of humour to be more tolerable than that of Alhaitham’s, but this… He almost reconsidered.

“Do you have any others?” Alhaitham took advantage of the pause, directing his question at Cyno, and layering onto Kaveh’s building vexation.

Tighnari met Kaveh’s gaze. “How about we play another game?”

“Good idea,” Kaveh seconded heartily, stepping on Alhaitham’s foot that had relocated to its original position. When a huff of laughter came from the left of him, he shot a glare at an unexpectedly smarmy expression. Alhaitham watched him, goaded him, from over the rim of his goblet.

Of course. How could he forget Alhaitham’s childish streak fronting as a dry bravado was especially prominent when drinking, encumbering all those who bore witness to it? The days free of Alhaitham’s sense of ‘humour’ were truly a saving grace. His infuriating habit of needling into Kaveh, prodding for some weakened spot, was unrelenting. He must have enjoyed it – it was a sport to him. But why? Or perhaps Alhaitham truly did enjoy Cyno’s jokes. He didn’t know which one was worse. For a split second, he almost wished he was back in the desert, labouring under the weight of the sun.

He pressed the tip of Alhaitham’s boot for good measure before turning back to the game that had assembled before him. A few drinks cured him of his disturbed disposition, but he couldn’t shake his original grievance. It had followed him ever since the talk at Puspa’s Café, the week previous.

If Alhaitham claimed he didn’t dislike Kaveh, then what was with his insistence on picking Kaveh apart for his own amusement?

It was nearing midnight when the four broke up from the tavern. As Cyno and Tighnari walked them back to the house, Kaveh recounted the mortification that came from the neighbourhood cats of Sumeru City now knowing where he lived.

“You have a catffinity,” Cyno asserted with vehemence. “Get it? It’s a wordplay on ‘cat’ and ‘affinity’.”

“Even you have to admit, that wasn’t up to standard,” Tighnari said, ears flat, nudging into Cyno’s side. This caused Cyno to turn, to say something inaudible to Alhaitham.

Kaveh only realised he was trying to attune himself into Alhaitham and Cyno’s conversation when Tighnari grounded him. They had stopped walking, having reached the house. Tighnari had placed a hand on his arm. “I’m glad you’re doing well, Kaveh. Congratulations on your project.”

“Congratulations, Kaveh,” Cyno joined in. “The library is well suited to the environment. The design is new, but somehow familiar…”

His eyes caught Alhaitham’s, whose own who darted to him at the same time. A similar thought must have crossed their minds. “… You’ve seen it?” When they had discussed it at the beginning of the evening, Cyno had mentioned nothing of the sort.

“I passed it on my rounds.”

Tighnari laughed. “Is that what you call sneaking around? I suppose all your impromptu visits to Gandharva Ville also count as doing your ‘rounds’?”

The sweltering humidity seemed to freeze over, at least, it seemed so to Kaveh when he saw the softened expression stiffen on Cyno’s usually unbreachable face. “What do you mean?”

Tighnari merely waved it off, pleased comprehension adorning his expression. He turned to face Alhaitham. “Look after yourself. Both of you.”

“And you,” Alhaitham returned.

“And if you find anymore incomprehensible Amurta studies, be sure to send them my way. They’re something Collei would probably enjoy more than those Inazuman novels.”

“Sure,” Alhaitham chuckled. Actually chuckled. “She’ll have a vast amount to choose from. Don’t let her be distracted from her studies.” There was the amusement that didn’t stem from poking at Kaveh. It was infinitely more tolerable.

Any laughter faded into the distant darkness, along with Tighnari and Cyno. Once they were truly gone, the sombreness arose once more.

He turned, saw Alhaitham lift his eyes from the retreating figures, look to Kaveh. The veil of the night did nothing to dampen the weight, the heat, of Alhaitham’s attention. The drink in his stomach stirred, rang like a ripple through him. It felt like laughter. He was too far gone to truly be accosted by his own confusion.

“What did Cyno say to you?” They reached the door at the same time.

Kaveh watched Alhaitham pull the key from his pouch. “He asked me if I appreciated his pun.”

It was so Cyno, he couldn’t suppress a laugh. Not that he had the capacity to. He must have slouched over when recovering his breath. He only knew he was leaning against the door when Alhaitham reached for his arm, hoisting him upright. “Hey.” No response. “You could have just asked. I don’t manhandle you when you’re in my way.”

“No. Your preference is to incapacitate your perceived offender by ruining their footwear.”

“Ha! ‘Perceived offender’? So you fancy yourself innocent then? You should know that you fully deserved it.” Alhaitham was distracted – immense concentration was dedicated to fitting the key in the lock. Single-handedly. “I get it. I won’t get in your way. You can let go of me now.”

When Alhaitham looked to him, registered his hold on Kaveh’s arm, it was with an astonishing surprise – like a cat hearing a loud noise – that Kaveh laughed.

“What?” Alhaitham appeared to forget his previous task solely to reproach him.

“Give it to me.” He outstretched his hand. There was no struggle as Alhaitham passed the key to him in silence. Alhaitham was rather malleable when he was drunk. And he was drunk, as his overreliance on concentrating on singular tasks had kicked in, to make up for his lack of whole objectivity. He had turned his attention from the lock to Kaveh, arms folded – a new puzzle to scrutinise. “I have more practice than you do, after all.” As you love to remind me.

His self-conceived annoyance at Alhaitham’s past jabs at his drinking habit was swayed, promptly replaced. The embarrassment that came from being more than proficient in opening locks whilst drunk surged upwards, dizzying him. Alhaitham practically pushed him inside, and he remembered that, on this occasion, with his usually sleeping roommate being present, he had no cause to be quiet.

“And common courtesy continues to evade you, I see.” He shut the door as Alhaitham took great, steady care in removing his outerwear. “As if your behaviour in the tavern wasn’t enough.”

His rebuff successfully caused Alhaitham to turn to him, eyelids lowered, lips downturned. “What do you mean?”

Ah. So he was aware enough to know something was wrong.

“As if you don’t know.” And because Alhaitham continued looking at him with the same diminished expression, he relented, ushering Alhaitham into the living room. Alhaitham sat willingly, which was as good as granting Kaveh permission. Besides, ‘anytime you want’ was what Alhaitham had said. 

He signalled Alhaitham to stay, and when he returned, bearing two glasses and a water ibrik, Alhaitham had remained.

Kaveh was watched, expectantly, as he poured water into the glasses. “Not only do you stoop so low as to read my mail, but you’re arrogant enough to share its contents to everyone? What’s your deal?”

“It’s a scam,” Alhaitham said, plainly, removing his headphones entirely. His attention was secured by wrapping the cord around his music player. “Tighnari and Cyno would have told you as much.”

Another jab at him. Because, of course, when had Alhaitham ever made a bad decision? It wasn’t as if he had wandered into the desert and had his conscience transfigured to that of a cat.

The resurgence of the memory was startling. Bitter. It stung his tone. “And that’s up to you to decide?”

The acidity of it shocked him, and seemingly Alhaitham. His eyes were wide as they held Kaveh’s, his brow crumpling. “… You really mind.”

But he didn’t. He was never truly angry about Alhaitham reading his mail; it wasn’t as if it had been anything of importance anyway. And even if it had been, there was hardly anything about himself that Alhaitham didn’t already know. Debt payments, unruly commissioners, questions left in his pigeonhole from the eager scholar. If Alhaitham hadn’t found out about these things first-hand, Kaveh most likely would have told him anyway. It was true what Alhaitham had said – if he had considered it as important, or private, he would have concealed it in his room rather than leaving it on the living room table. That was their shared space, after all.

It was Alhaitham’s contemptuousness that he minded. This lingering sense of malice that he couldn’t shake. Alhaitham’s skewed humour relied on slights at Kaveh’s expense. He had been free from it for the days following their talk at Puspa’s Café, but upon returning from the desert, he was bearing the full brunt of it when he should have been bellied with the entirety of his fleeting success.

“Not really,” he exhaled through a volatile mouth, made of rubber. Perhaps the drink had been too much, even for him. Alhaitham was still looking at him, expression edged with surprise. Really. If Alhaitham knew him so well, how could he not know this much? “What I do mind, however, is your inability to leave well enough alone. I don’t understand. You say you don’t want to criticise me, and yet, it’s all you seem to do. Surely you can see the hypocrisy here?”

Had he gotten through, finally? Alhaitham’s gaze fluttered from his face, downwards. “That was never my intention.”

“Oh, so the problem here is your sense of humour,” he pointed out, with a thrilling triumph, “namely being critiques at my expense.” How could Alhaitham possibly talk himself out of this one? Had Kaveh found it? The inevitable? The catch?

“It isn’t my intention to criticise you. I’ve told you as much. That perception is borne from your habitual way of thinking.”

So this was somehow Kaveh’s fault once more? “So it’s my fault?” There was no filter between his thoughts and mouth. He was muddled, unsure if he had meant to say that aloud.

“That’s not what I meant.” Alhaitham’s words were a sigh, something exasperated, although his expression betrayed him. It was hard to stomach, that look of dejectedness. “I mean, you’re casting your misconceptions onto me. It’s only natural, given how long you’ve held them. The same can be said of your comments to me.”

Kaveh's comments...? Well, that certainly sounded a lot like it was his fault - the blame had been passed back onto him.

“You’re not understanding what I’m saying at all.” He must have said the former thought aloud. Alhaitham seemed to have buckled underneath it. It was startling; the vivacity of Alhaitham’s countenance. He was utterly see-through.

Kaveh averted his gaze, a prickling numbness spreading within him. The core essence of guilt. He felt he had a good read on Alhaitham’s disposition when it came to certain things, but this was entirely unexpected. He knew that Alhaitham was laidback when drinking, childish, even.  But, this… It was clear that Alhaitham needed to sober up. His own upset was fragmented, falling away from him, only momentarily at the sight of a visibly crestfallen Alhaitham.

“Drink,” Kaveh instructed, downing his own water glass, as if to set an example. An example which Alhaitham followed. Once finished, he restarted. “Look. I’m trying to understand. I want to understand. What do you gain from criticising me?” Alhaitham’s eyes narrowed. Perplexed. Upset? “Fine, not criticising then, but… Well, you know what I mean. Whatever it is you do.”

“If you’re referring to what I meant in the tavern, then the only thing that stood to be gained was your own understanding.”

“Meaning… What exactly?” Was he truly too far gone or was Alhaitham not making any sense? “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You might think you’re being straightforward, but how am I to understand this without your context? I’m as used to your manner of speaking than anyone, but if I’m honest, right now, you sound rather arrogant. You know that, right?”

Alhaitham exhaled, perhaps with effort. He had leant forwards to reach for the ibrik. There was a lull to his movements, a sluggishness. The guilt further sunk its pinpricks into Kaveh’s gut. Why had he picked now of all times for a serious conversation?

Alhaitham shook his head. “I don’t mean it like that. I explain things how I interpret them to be.” He had paused in his movements, seemingly forgetting he had intended on pouring water. He was solely focussed on Kaveh.

“Alright then. Explain it to me.” So Alhaitham hadn’t intended on being contemptuous. Still, it wasn’t entirely believable, given that he was still withholding a knowledge that he knew Kaveh lacked. Having taken over pouring the water, he could see the glassiness of Alhaitham’s eyes up close. “What did you mean by what you said in the tavern?”

“I meant that it’s of no benefit for you to give your Mora to dubious schemes. If you wouldn’t listen to me, you’d be more receptive to Tighnari or Cyno.” Alhaitham’s focus slid from the now full glasses of water over to where Kaveh had sat back down. One task, to the next. “Again, it wasn’t a criticism.”

No, not a criticism. But something akin to one. A reproach? A warning? A joke? The surplus of choices filled him out from within, expanding him, draining him, flushing him out. It was too much. He slumped backwards, head in his hands. Or at least it felt like it. His nerves were dazed, shot with a heavy hanging mist. Alcohol lethargy.

“Fine. Whatever. But all those jokes about me drinking in the tavern-”

“Not jokes. You yourself know of your lack of tolerance. You also make it a habit to talk to every stranger within your proximity and promise drinks as if you actively seek to be extorted-”

“See? Right there.” He had to haul himself upwards to cast a finger at Alhaitham, who only stared back at him, surprised. At least, it seemed he was surprised. Or perhaps Alhaitham was simply forcing himself awake. Kaveh had to squint but couldn’t properly form a conclusion. “If that’s not a criticism then what am I supposed to make of it? Or is it really your sense of humour that’s the problem here?”

This question seemed to particularly flummox Alhaitham as folded over, elbows on knees, his hand running over his face with an audible sigh. “… They’re neither jokes nor criticisms.” Which didn’t answer Kaveh’s questions at all, although it seemed he was more addressing himself than Kaveh. Kaveh felt he was justified in this deduction when Alhaitham drew upright once more, looking him in the eye. “Fine. It’s clear we’re misunderstanding each other. I’ll be as upfront as possible, if you’d care for it.”

“I would.” Finally, Alhaitham was forsaking his proclivity for mysticism.

“These ‘jokes’, as you perceive them, are statements of concern. I don’t see the benefit of you drinking yourself into a stupor and having to rely on strangers who may only see you as a full pouch of Mora. Neither do I see the benefit of you giving away your Mora to a dubious charity scheme. In my experience, there’s no use in explicitly saying things of this kind to you, as you’d tell me that your decisions weren’t any of my business – which, understandably, is within your right. Typically, I wouldn’t bother to interfere with the choices of others, but you’re not someone I can remain objective about. It may be ‘arrogant’, but if I can ground your reasoning in any dubious decisions, then I’d rather speak out than remain silent. Holding our tongues around each other has ultimately gotten us nowhere.”

Alhaitham had spoken a great deal, all the while filing Kaveh down until he was merely the blinking hesitation within him. Alhaitham’s eyes were trained on him, glistening with sincerity and the remnants of alcohol. Alhaitham truly had said a great deal, and Kaveh would hear it all at some point, it would come to him after he swallowed “you’re not someone I can remain objective about.”

He heard himself sigh, felt the wood of the divan dig into his neck, but these were distant things, intangible. It was only Alhaitham’s gaze which harboured him back to himself. And his frustrations. Alhaitham was drunk, and was therefore saying things that he didn’t fully comprehend. Lucidity in drunkenness was a bald-faced lie. “Alright. So, I’m merely imagining your sarcasm with your comments like me being ‘Sumeru’s architect’?”

Alhaitham only stared back at him. It seemed there was nothing in him but deflation, a deep-seated fatigue. A shiver of guilt squirmed within Kaveh, but it eased away with his thoughts of Alhaitham and objectivity. Alhaitham was his objectivity. He had known this for years – it was something the man prided himself of. Alhaitham without this… Well, that was a man he didn’t know. “You don’t believe me.”

“No.” It slipped from him seamlessly, and he found no regret in it. It was a good answer then, the right one.

Alhaitham continued staring at him, perhaps for a few seconds, or for a stretch of an hour, he didn’t know. “Fine. The last I’ll say is that your obstinance is both an advantage and a hindrance.”

It might have been a joke for Alhaitham’s self-amusement from the way he exhaled it, or it might have been genuine exasperation. The room was too blurred to properly tell. And even if his vision could focus, would he even understand Alhaitham’s intonations, the wealth of subtext in the imperceptible hitch of his eyelids?

“Meaning…?” he pushed out through a heavy tongue.

“Once you set your mind on something, there’s no deterring you.” He heard Alhaitham rise from the divan, coaxing him out of his stupor to sit upright. “I’ve told you the truth. If you don’t remember, then we can talk about this another time. I’m going to bed. You should too.”

It was an effort to move, his limbs heavy with fatigue and the warm familiarity of the living room on an Autumn night. He looked back to the table, waited until his vision adjusted to be sure. “You didn’t drink your water.”

Alhaitham followed his gaze. “Neither did you.”

Pushing himself upright, he grasped the glass, having to focus particularly hard to do so. Alhaitham watched him, seemingly aimlessly. He had to physically point to convey his meaning, which seemed effective into prompting Alhaitham to action. Once he had downed his water, he waited.

Alhaitham placed his empty glass on the table, eyes flickering upwards, through his skewed fringe, through Kaveh. Nothing. Just this seemed good enough, without any of Alhaitham’s unpleasantries.

“Night.” Alhaitham turned on his heel.

“You-” Of course, Alhaitham had no sense for these quiet musings, the lull of alcohol marking out time for the unperceived to be envisioned - if that was what had just happened. It seemed he no longer made sense to himself, which signalled that time for musing had been expended. “Fine. But I’m using the bathroom first.”

“Fine by me.” Alhaitham stood by his bedroom door as Kaveh went to cross into his own. “Just don’t make too much noise.”

“I won’t. What, do you think I’m going to start home renovations at this hour?” Any peacefulness he had garnered from Alhaitham’s presence had been combed over by the usual prickles of irritability.

“Goodnight, Kaveh.” Presumably spoken with tiredness, as if reproaching an excitable child.

“Goodnight,” he shot back from the threshold of the bathroom door. He went to shut it, and then-

“Kaveh.”

When he looked back, Alhaitham was half-submerged in the darkness of his own room. He had evidently forgotten to give one last gripe or crypticism.

“What is it?” Kaveh asked, although he felt he didn’t want to know.

Even in the vast hollow of time between them, the hollowness of alcohol-induced fatigue within him, he could feel Alhaitham’s hesitation. “… Congratulations.”

What? He didn’t know how long he stood there feeling the dull beat of his heart in between his ears, unregistering.

“On your project. That was what tonight was for, after all.”

The wall pressed against his back alerted him to the fact he was still standing. Alhaitham’s expression was easier to take in when he was grounded. There was no smile, nothing that indicated maleficence. It reminded him of that one instance in the entryway… What had that been again? Whatever it was, it had been more than a statement of facts. It was an admission.

Huh. “Well. Thanks.”

There was nothing else he could say, nothing else that Alhaitham seemed to be capable of saying either. They stared at each other across a short distance, Alhaitham’s face half-masked by the dimness of light, a lack of undisclosed intention. And then he turned from Kaveh, the door shutting behind him.

Without the reminder that Alhaitham was physically present, his figure imposing an overbearing awareness onto him, it was natural to fall back into routine. After clumsily removing makeup, spiced-infused clothes, haphazardly placed hairpins in too-long knotted hair, he collapsed into bed, with sleep subsequently collapsing in on him.

A title is bestowed by a collective onto an individual according to a perceived difference of capabilities was the first thought upon waking. It jolted through him, as well as the shards of light when opening his eyes. It was quick to rouse him, despite his body’s initial resistance.

It was an important thought, he knew that, but where from? It seemed necessary to hold his head in his hands, as if to usher his thoughts into one streamlined tunnel.

Ah! The entryway. He had been reminded of the scene yesterday when Alhaitham exhibited bizarre behaviour in the hallway. They had been by the front door, having returned from Gandharva Ville, had been tipsy, admittedly less so than last night, which was probably why he could more accurately recall it. What else had Alhaitham said?

The entirety of Kshahrewar, including the current Sage, refers to you by this name. Yes! He blinked up at the wall opposite, the pinboard drowning in note paper and noteworthy sketches. But they couldn’t help him. Why was it so important to remember what Alhaitham had said to him one drunken evening?

It came to him anyway. This title commends your abilities and talents which are understood to not be possessed by Kshahrewar scholars and others in your profession. The look on Alhaitham’s face back then… He hadn’t known what to make of it, only that it enrooted itself in him, immobilising him. It was similar to the look he had given Kaveh last night.

Unadulterated sincerity. He had recognised it all those nights ago, and he had recognised it yesterday. Alhaitham hadn’t been joking; hadn’t been operating under some convoluted expression of his twisted humour. He had been relaying to Kaveh facts. Facts… He, too, believed?

“You’re the Light of Kshahrewar. Collei would be hard pressed to find someone better suited to talk about the interests of your darshan.”

“Congratulations. On your project. That was what tonight was for, after all.”

Could it be true? That this whole time, in all the sarcastic comments of the grandiosity of Sumeru’s architect, Alhaitham hadn’t been wholly critical? That he regarded Kaveh’s affinity with the arts, his personal craftsmanship, on the same level as Kaveh’s academic intelligence, the one thing Kaveh could say for certainty that Alhaitham appreciated? In thesis format it seemed to fall into place before him, all evidence points to…

Perhaps Alhaitham was correct in his startling lack of clarity.

So, Alhaitham wasn’t being sarcastic when commending Kaveh’s artistic proclivities, his abilities, his successes. It didn’t settle well with him.

But then what about those jokes thrown out to strike at Kaveh? Not jokes, Alhaitham had said. But the context was wrong – it didn’t align with this revelation, with the facts that Alhaitham had redressed for him. Alhaitham had joked about Kaveh’s choice of investments to Tighnari and Cyno, but not out of vindictiveness? It was a scam, Alhaitham had said, and Tighnari and Cyno would have pointed that out too. But what was the point of raising it if Kaveh wouldn’t listen to him? He felt as if he were forgetting something crucial…

‘Receptive’, Alhaitham had described him to be, but only in relation to their friends. It was an uncomfortable truth. He was hostile towards Alhaitham, as much as he tried to be open-hearted. He was distrusting. Alhaitham’s reservations in revealing anything to him weren’t fallacious. It was easier to believe that Alhaitham harboured ill will towards him than anything because it made sense to him.

In the past, he had hurt Alhaitham, had wanted to hurt Alhaitham, and had criticised everything Alhaitham stood for. Yes, they had grown, and in some regard, they had moved on, as Alhaitham put it. But these differences remained, and any glossing over was merely a veneer. Their core issue was that they themselves didn’t, couldn’t, correlate – and that wasn’t solely on Alhaitham’s front, it was on Kaveh’s too.

Alhaitham had to dislike him because it was what he deserved. Anything else threatened to shake the very root of his foundations. He actively set out to avoid hurting others, and here Alhaitham was, someone he had once sought to strike out against, someone who had every right to dismiss him. Someone who should, by all means, begrudge his very existence. Someone, whom he had perceived as malignant and scornful, and therefore he had responded to in kind, believing it to be a just defence, deserving. And yet… Was he not in Alhaitham’s house? Sitting on a bed provided by Alhaitham? Allowed back into Alhaitham’s life?

Wasn’t this something Alhaitham had chosen?

"You’re casting your misconceptions onto me. It’s only natural, given how long you’ve held them. The same can be said of your comments to me."

Alhaitham didn’t dislike him, and this cast aside everything he had once firmly believed, had sown and blossomed his ideals in. Alhaitham didn’t dislike their living arrangements – on the contrary, he liked having Kaveh as his roommate, outlandish schedule, ill habits, insulting retorts, and all.

So, it was true what Alhaitham had said. Kaveh had been struggling to comprehend this newly revealed Alhaitham, forcing an image into a vastly different outline. He had been projecting, slinking back into unbroken habits, assuming the worst about someone who seemed to – did – care about him. Wasn’t this what Alhaitham had expressed last night, what he had disregarded out of a sheer unwillingness to believe, to hope it could be true? That even though Alhaitham believed that Kaveh would reject him, he chose to speak out anyway, in his own way, in case, in any chance, it resonated with Kaveh, enabling him to see Alhaitham’s reasoning?

“Typically, I wouldn’t bother to interfere with the choices of others, but you’re not someone I can remain objective about.”

A raw admission, one borne from vulnerability, and Kaveh had disregarded it. Scorned it even. Alhaitham, ever the logician, by his own admission, in his own active awareness, considered Kaveh an anomaly to his objectivity? It was inconceivable, that Kaveh could mean so much to Alhaitham within this implication, and yet, Alhaitham had admitted this willingly – all in order for Kaveh to better understand him.

“These ‘jokes’, as you perceive them, are statements of concern.”

How could Alhaitham stand it? To be so fundamentally misunderstood? To be ill-abused? For how many years? And to still be by Kaveh’s side…?

The groan that slid out of him was involuntarily and alarming. The space he occupied trickled back into being. He had been perched on the edge of his bed, looking at nothing, and doing nothing, all the while his world had been tipped upside down by his own hand.

There was a muffled thud from the living room. Alhaitham was awake.

He would have to brave it one way or another. He forced himself upright, testing the efficiency of his limbs, before leaving the safety of his room, approaching the tumultuousness of uncertainty.

He shot a glance into the living room, registering the box of books on the table, Alhaitham’s back, before disappearing into the bathroom. Once he returned, he reckoned the courage had found him having stared himself in the eye in the mirror, but Alhaitham got to him before the courage could work its way out of his throat.

“You’re awake.” Alhaitham had spared a singular glance behind him. Apparently Kaveh wasn’t as light on his feet as he had previously thought.

He was unpacking an order of books, Kaveh realised, recognising none of the covers. How did Alhaitham, the man intent on slouching around the house when work permitted it, have so much energy after a night of heavy drinking? “How long have you been up?”

Kaveh leant over to peer inside the box. Just how many had Alhaitham ordered? They were sure to fill the empty slots that had emerged with his most recent deep-clean. Alhaitham clearly spared no time in ensuring their bookshelves threatened to collapse. “For some time. My delivery was scheduled for this morning.”

That was even worse. He had slept through a delivery? Usually he was the one to pick receive them, regardless of the hour, due to Alhaitham’s strict work and sleeping schedule. “How are you awake before me? You drank more than me last night.”

Perhaps there were more important things to be discussing, but this was a point of contention that refused to dullen. “But my tolerance is higher. It follows that I’m affected for less time.”

That sounded correct. But still. “That can’t be the exact science.”

Alhaitham turned, finally, and took the book from his hand. “Then ask Tighnari.” When he met Kaveh’s eye, Kaveh felt himself flinch, like it was unexpected. Was he really that nervous about having to face the consequences of all that he had brushed over? Or was it something that was solely Alhaitham?

Chilled, he retreated. “It’s fine. I’ll take your word for it. Besides, I’m not bothering him with something so trivial.”

“Do what you’d like.” And with that, Alhaitham turned from him once more, reverting his attention back to his bookshelf.

In the kitchen, Kaveh sighted that Alhaitham had made coffee. Again. He thought. ‘Do what you’d like’ was a common retort of Alhaitham’s, something dismissive and uncaring, detaching himself from the matter entirely. But, with new eyes, after all that Alhaitham had told him, could it be a means of strategy? To step around infringing upon Kaveh’s autonomy? Because, regardless of Alhaitham’s speaking out of Kaveh’s decisions he saw issue in, Alhaitham, ultimately, did nothing more to impede upon Kaveh’s choices.

Your path lies in your own hands, and opinions of others shouldn’t hold sway over the fate of your own choosing. I have no intention of imposing something onto you.

The words Alhaitham had spoken in Puspa’s Café, the very words he had heard, but couldn’t fathom, had taken with him to the desert, had buried them under the heat of his labour, the choking sand. They breathed through him, filling him with their breadth, their sincerity, in the closeted kitchen as bread burnt in the pan.

Alhaitham would be with him nonetheless, no matter what he chose.

Alhaitham was maddening, ridiculous, impertinent, and careful. He was impossibly considerate. Kind. How could he ever think otherwise?

It broke through him, this realisation, and implored him to move, move, move. Do something. Anything.

“I’m sorry.” He was in the living room somehow. Empty-handed and foolish. Alhaitham, having stepped aside from the shelves, regarded him with surprise. “For how I’ve treated you. I thought I disagreed with your methods, but I can understand your reasoning. I wouldn’t have listened to you even if there had been other options. Even now… Well, you know. It’s hard for me. To understand you. But… I wanted to say that I’d like to. If you’d let me.”

Alhaitham said nothing, did nothing, but look at Kaveh. And then his gaze retreated, following the trail of the book he slotted into place. When he spoke, it was not directed to Kaveh, not at first. Was this the same semblance of humility that Kaveh was experiencing? Some grief-stricken mourning over something that had never come to pass?

“There’s no need to apologise. You’ve come to understand my position, and your understanding as a whole will adjust with it. It will take time. I expected as much. In turn, it will take time for us to establish new grounds of communicating. There’s no rush.”

A surge of warmth, those words. Spoken with a tempered quietness, a balming quality of serenity. There was a moment, briefly remembered, but wholly felt, where it was as if he was being weighted between his mother’s hands, the warmth of his father’s eyes. He was being guided, softly, gently, giving him all the leeway to resist. How could he ever have believed those softened words could have ever been tarnished with malice?

“Well, that’s good then.” And what else was he supposed to say that? Everything was inadequate. He felt just how truly empty his hands were as they idled by his sides.

Alhaitham nodded, and when Kaveh failed to say anything more, he returned back to the bookshelf. Was that it? No comeuppance at all? For either of them?

“That isn’t to say that I approve of all your strategies,” he started. “I would appreciate it if you were upfront with me in the future. I can’t imagine it was easy for you, talking around your meaning – although, perhaps, in some instances, you could have afforded to be sparse.”

Perhaps the jab will ill-timed, but that didn’t make it untrue. There had been multiple – no, uncountable – occasions where Alhaitham had blatantly crossed the boundary, had stoked a genuine fury within Kaveh, had intended to, solely out of spite or bullheadedness. If that had been Alhaitham holding back then what did Alhaitham really think about him in those heated moments? Just because there had been a unanimous time to mellow out, and a case of wine deposited at his doorway, didn’t mean that all had been forgiven, or even forgotten. The hurt, and the questions, festered. But, then again, considering Kaveh's treatment of Alhaitham in turn, wouldn't it be just as plausible that Alhaitham had experienced a similar pain?

“It wasn’t easy for the both of us,” Alhaitham said, or at least it was what Kaveh heard as a particularly loud crack of a book’s spine ripped through Alhaitham’s words. “And duly noted. Of course, I expect this to work both ways, otherwise, it would hardly be beneficial.”

“You…” The words struggled to catch up with his pacing thoughts. “You want mutual honesty?” Real mutual honesty? Could he afford that after what his guise had almost cost them?

“Yes.” Alhaitham closed the book, slotted it into place. Kaveh had approached the table, legs moving of their own accord, in order to hand him another book from the box. Alhaitham accepted it with a hum before moving on. “After all, it’s proven that our assumptions of the other actively work against us respectively. It would benefit us both to have a mutual understanding. If we were to clarify perceived offenses, for example.”

It made sense, and it seemed Alhaitham was fully aware of Kaveh’s gripes with his means of communication, but still… Residual doubt still lingered. He had to make sure. “And what’s in this for you? Besides, not having to go to such lengths to talk around your meaning.”

Alhaitham had turned to him to retrieve another book, but at Kaveh’s words, his reach faltered, and his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze homed in on Kaveh, knotting tension in Kaveh’s lungs. Had he misstepped? He felt he had only spoken what had gone unmentioned.

“You’re seriously asking? Isn’t it you who claims that mutual trust is essential for a good relationship? My sentiments are similar to yours. It isn’t always easy to understand you either.”

The heated bristling to Alhaitham’s derisive tone quelled when registering his meaning. Alhaitham’s sentiments being similar to his…? Meaning that he, too, wanted to understand Kaveh, just as he wanted to understand Alhaitham? Not out of obligation or as a way to make amends, but because of some infallible, deep-seated regard?

Regardless of his assertion that he wanted to establish honesty between them, it seemed natural, a default, for Alhaitham to talk around his feelings. His care. But then, wasn’t he the same? When it came to Alhaitham, at least, when it came to feelings of severe consequence.

So, with his new understanding, his recently adjusted focal point, he pushed himself to understand. Here was Alhaitham and him in their shared living room, here they were distracted from a task of domesticity; bookshelf arranging, and here was Alhaitham telling Kaveh he cared about him, that he understood that this care was mutual - that their regard for each other was evenly matched.

“Ah.” What was to be said? Alhaitham continued watching him, seemingly to ensure that his words hadn’t been misconstrued. When Alhaitham’s eyes faltered from his, back to the books, Kaveh felt an innate sense of shared awareness. His words hadn’t been misconstrued. Kaveh was fully aware of their implications. And he didn’t refute them. There was a vulnerability housed within them. Between them. “Well. That’s good. I mean- it’s good that we’re on the same page. We’ll have to talk, of course, about how to proceed from here, about how to better communicate, I mean.”

Alhaitham conceded, a nod. His intensity seemed evenly matched in his sincerity. “Of course.”

It was affronting, this surge of heated emotion. Kaveh found his mouth working against his own will. “Right. Well, it’s as you say, we have time. Today, I think it’d be better if we rest. We’ve discussed a lot already, and I’d rather we take a break from any new revelations. I don’t think my head can take it.”

“Kaveh.”

“What is it?” He involuntarily braced himself when Alhaitham looked at him, a pinch in his brow.

“Your toast is burning.”

His toast was…? “Ah!”

Anticipating the smouldering of flames, he was met only with a chargrilled smell and the remnants of a thin grey smog. Alhaitham was wrong. His toast had been burning. Miraculously, he had removed the pan from the flame before shooting out of the kitchen due to his rapturous epiphany.

After he opened a window and fixing himself a new batch of toast, he returned to the living room where Alhaitham had continued with his task. He could sense the smile before he saw it.

“It’s not funny,” he said, as he rounded Alhaitham to sit on the floor at the table.

“Sure,” Alhaitham said, facing the bookshelves, although from his position, Kaveh could clearly see the furl of his mouth from his profile. He found that he was failing in suppressing his own smile. “Is the kitchen intact?”

“Why? Are you running out of excuses to not cook?” He swallowed his toast hurriedly in order to make the quip. Alhaitham had left out various books on the side, his side, of the table. He manoeuvred an expansive volume closer to him. The Forgotten Symbolism – An Exegesis of Wullerman’s Arts. Since when did Alhaitham have a developed interest in Mondstadtian aestheticists?

“You certainly have no complaints about eating out at Lambad’s.”

“Hmph.”

It was new, from the looks of it, and also expensive, judging by the cover. The introduction was… interesting.

He had forgotten to make a coherent reply to Alhaitham’s comment. By the time he remembered his breakfast, he had reached the bibliography. This was no good. Didn’t he have something better to do with his day? Plans to schedule for the upcoming work week?

“It goes here.” Alhaitham startled him, even though his presence had been unmoving, and perpetually felt. He indicated to a shelf near Kaveh’s eyeline. There was a large space between a Fontainian literary dissertation and an encyclopedia of lost art pieces. “You can make notes. Just put it there once you’re done.”

“I’ll put it back now.” And he did so, leaving the living room to ready himself for the day.

Upon reaching his room, he stared aimlessly into his wardrobe. Now that he thought about it, was he really in the frame of mind to work? He could feel the dull afterwards of a hangover lugging at his left temple. It was because he was calm, he rationalised. And when he was calm, he had a tendency to believe he was stagnating, and therefore, declining. But surely that wasn’t the case here?

The turnaround of his project had been successful; people were pleased with his work, and would indubitably benefit from his creation. He could permit himself a break, as he had anticipated before construction began. Some time to recuperate, to rejuvenate his artistic creativity. Was one day spent idly really going to deter his immediate future so drastically?

No. He decided, and closed the wardrobe doors with a newfound resolution.

Alhaitham had crossed to the opposite side of the living room. He shot Kaveh a fleeting glance before reverting his attention back to the bookshelves. Kaveh cleared his dishes from the table, returned with some freshly cut fruit which Alhaitham must have picked up from the market before Kaveh’s return – it was perfectly ripe.

Returning to the living room, he placed the plate on the table, where the box of books had previously sat, and fished out the book which he had slotted back into the shelves. The sun was warm on his neck, even through the windows, and he suddenly realised how serene the moment was. The crowds must have been gathered in the market; all that could be heard was the occasional chirping of birds and the faded static of insects.

“Are you going outside today?” The question fell from his mouth without thought. It was a nice day after all, and Alhaitham didn’t appear to be suffering from any kind of hangover.

“No.” Alhaitham had assumed a crouch when organising the lower bookshelves. He rose, turning to face Kaveh. “Will you?”

Kaveh hummed. “Maybe later for a walk.” He moved from the bookshelf to adjust to the corner of the divan. He had chosen the divan on the left-hand side which allowed him a view of Alhaitham’s back, although it wasn’t necessary. He was hardly likely to forget Alhaitham’s presence with this tranquillity spreading between them. How long would it linger for? For as long as Alhaitham remained in the living room? What if he were to retire to the study? “You won’t go out at all? Not even for dinner?”

Alhaitham picked out yet another book. “I picked up groceries in the week. I’ll make use of the kitchen with what I prepared yesterday before you decide to burn your food again.”

“I didn’t decide anything.” The anger got to him before he could smother it. It had been a joke, he knew this, some lilting, teasing humour. It wasn’t a comment on Kaveh’s cooking abilities, or his scatteredness, or his tendency of spreading himself too thin that he was prone to distraction during tasks deemed as less important. He knew this, but it was another thing entirely to thoroughly accept it.  Was there always to be that nagging question of what if?

His own thoughts exhausted him. There had been enough revelations for the day, and it would do no good to overthink them. Wasn’t he here to enjoy the calmness that seemed to have emerged between them? “Sorry.” Regarding the book, Alhaitham shook his head - an instant understanding. Kaveh tried again. “… Well, what were you planning to make?”

Alhaitham hummed – a note of contentment? “Iskender.”

Oh. So Alhaitham was in a good mood. He only invested in such an endeavour when he was feeling particularly productive, which was rare, or when he forewent the wine as an apology. It was the reason why Kaveh insisted Alhaitham prepare the meat for dishes that they shared. Whilst he couldn’t agree with Alhaitham’s lack of sensibility when it came to food presentation, he could well appreciate the astonishing ability to imbue a leg of lamb with a diverse range of flavour.

“Then I’ll prepare the rice and sauce,” he said, to which Alhaitham hummed, having emptied the box and was now deconstructing it. “Salad would be good, too…”

“We can prepare the sauce and salad at the same time,” Alhaitham said, and took off down the hallway, disappearing into his room. Kaveh considered this proposition - if they coordinated efficiently, it would be possible to operate the kitchen in tandem...

It really was a nice day. The sun dappled the pages of his book, which he had previously forgotten he was holding. What had inspired Alhaitham to purchase it? It was he who asserted that he wasn’t concerned with aesthetics, and that it was Kaveh’s department. And yet, Kaveh thought, with a snort, eyeing the crystal lamp on the table, Alhaitham was more than willing to spend his own Mora on aesthetically pleasing items of furniture.

Although, he recounted, that it had been at his own suggestion, and that Alhaitham wouldn’t have noticed the lamps had it not been for him. Oh.

Alhaitham had bought the lamps for him. Alhaitham had bought the book for him.

Mortification settled in; how slow his mind worked, connecting these glaringly similar fragments of information. Alhaitham had recoloured each of his intentions in order to facilitate Kaveh’s own understanding of him. Even at the time, hadn’t he still been dubious of Alhaitham’s motives? Unwilling to accept them as the compromise they were proposed as? Alhaitham hadn’t wanted them of his own accord, he had wanted them because… Kaveh wanted them?

How intricate these little deceptions were, all in order to maintain their constructed version of normalcy. How was he ever to unpick them all, survey them at arms-length, up close, scrutinise every thread and fibre as to understand the how and why?

It escaped him. He was stuck inside himself, with this writhing restlessness that came from a lack of understanding, the stab of shame. Alhaitham was proving to be right; this adjustment period would be an arduous one. But, maybe it would be manageable. After all, hadn’t he and Alhaitham promised to be upfront with each other?

If he needed to, could he turn to Alhaitham? Would he be allowed to rely on him as he had to before?

The words before him he had fixated on were unreadable. He didn’t know how long he had sat there, lost in the tumult of his own making, only that when he looked up, Alhaitham was sitting across from him.

Where had he come from? Had he been there the entire time? “You’re not using the study?”

Alhaitham lifted his head from the pages spread out on the table, looked opposite to where Kaveh was sitting. “It’s free.”

So, this tranquillity was to remain between them then? He couldn’t find fault in that, considering it was the sole reason he had taken to the living room. But with his previous thoughts wearing at him, it was difficult to process. Alhaitham existed before him, but which version? Could there be a possibility he wasn’t wholly incorrect? How much of Alhaitham accepted him, wanted him in his life? How much of Kaveh was Alhaitham willing to take on, support? What if Kaveh overstepped, misjudged the trajectory of his words, his honesty? What would remain between them?

Alhaitham wasn’t wearing his headphones.

It was cumbersome the way his thoughts flitted from one to the other. Staring at a page was failing as an adequate distraction, and at some point he had taken to looking at Alhaitham work.

The realisation was startling enough to disrupt his splurge of off-putting questions. It was rare for Alhaitham to be without his headphones; they seemed to be an intrinsic part of himself in his adulthood. Consistently worn with his everyday attire, regardless of working in the quiet of his Akademiya office, or in the hubbub of the crowded marketplace. They were worn around the house, playing music or ensuring silence, when working, reading, cooking, or performing chores. Still, he seemed to hear Kaveh regardless of what he was doing, as he could tell by the minute glance in his direction, or the flicker of an eyebrow. Whether he responded or not was a different matter.

So, Alhaitham was voluntarily here, in the living room, rather than using the desk in the study, working in a companionable silence with him. There was no question of whether he was to be ignored, drowned out by a silencer or music. If he so wished to, he could speak, and Alhaitham would respond. By foregoing his headphones… Was this Alhaitham was telling him as much, soundlessly?

“Anytime you want,” Alhaitham had said when he had expressed the will to pick up their conversation. It hadn’t been a dismissive statement, a feigned interest used only to brush aside. It seemed to be a promise.

He had previously questioned what they would have left to salvage, to build from, in order to establish a foundation of civility between them, so certain of his failure, of Alhaitham’s rejection. But hadn’t he felt the same fear before? When Alhaitham looked through him, once again, that night at the tavern, had cut through his heart, his idealistic aspirations, his fruitless labour, his indeterminable future with that one question, followed by a key to the house that now was theirs. There had been nothing to rebuild from there, Kaveh had been certain. But they had established a normalcy from what had been destroyed. There had been a foundation in place, unruptured. He hadn’t noticed, but it had been there, had always been there – would always be there?

Alhaitham hadn’t rejected him. It was he who had rejected Alhaitham. These foundations, their foundations, weren’t built by him alone. Perhaps it had taken two to crumble them, perhaps Kaveh had abandoned them, but Alhaitham had remained, would be willing to remain, to rebuild.

He had wondered, what was left for them?

Now he knew. Company, and all that came with it. Alhaitham’s impeccable way of prepping meat which Kaveh insisted he do for their homecooked meals, time set aside to do exactly that; cutting fruit for the other and complaining about waste when the other forgot to finish it; dust coveting the cobwebs on the ceiling and being directed by the other where to clear away next; groggy all-nighters and receiving disapproving gazes in the morning; half-hearted snipes; the heated debate, ranging from regulation of living room furniture to the latest publication by a novelist, admired or not; notes exchanged and written with mutters; the quiet sessions in the study, the living room, no need for Alhaitham to wear headphones; that sturdy, dependable silence.

If Alhaitham was home for Kaveh, then, could it be? Kaveh, too, was home for Alhaitham? 

Kaveh had torn apart their family through the ripping of their thesis, an irrefutable symbol of their mutual bond, cemented. He had grieved, taping the cover back together. Alhaitham had seen through Kaveh, into everything he wasn’t and what he so desperately longed to be. Alhaitham had given Kaveh a second chance, a house to share. Now, to be considered a home. And wasn’t that, as he had always thought, the core essence of a family?  

What he had forsaken, Alhaitham had given once more. Willingly. Perhaps he couldn’t rationalise a price to pay, an inevitable catch, simply was because there wasn’t one. Perhaps simply being there, providing Alhaitham company, a home to share, was enough. Perhaps it was he who were enough. 

The thought, the realisation, was the consolidation he had needed. He could drop his gaze from Alhaitham knowing that whenever he next looked, Alhaitham would still be there, would choose to be there. Finally at ease, he returned to the book.

The remainder of the weekend ebbed by, and the weekdays arrived with an unrelenting force. He was unexpectedly hauled in various directions, from an influx of personal commissions, and requests from the Akademiya regarding future lectures and, most poignantly, the progression of talks of the improvement, and new constructions, of desert infrastructure.

So much for a momentary rest, he lamented, making his way through Treasures Street. He was to head to the Akademiya for a hastily pencilled in lunch with Madam Faruzan, who claimed she had something of utmost importance to discuss with him, all before attending a meeting about potential future guest lecturers following the success of Deng Yimu. He had only sat down for less than an hour since breakfast this morning, and that was only for a much needed haircut.

Hassan really was a genius. Much more skilled than his own botched attempts, although perhaps that in itself was an insult to the hairdressing art. It wouldn’t be hard to trump that of his early teenage years of experiments in ‘layering’. He still remembered a particularly haunting comment about his perceived attempt of copying the hairstyle of the lion of the Kshahrewar emblem. It had been preferable to grow his hair out, fashioning it into a braid whenever it became a hindrance. Perhaps that was why Alhaitham had entrusted him to cut his hair, after he had commented how the length surely must have obscured his vision – this phase of his had taken place before Alhaitham had joined the Akademiya, therefore Alhaitham evidently hadn’t heard of his past nickname.

He still remembered the fear that had gripped him with surprising lucidity, all the while Alhaitham had stared at him (or, at least it looked as if Alhaitham was watching him; he couldn’t be too sure with the length and volume of Alhaitham’s fringe), seemingly urging him on. He had managed one snip of a lock before placing the scissors down and promising Alhaitham to take him to a capable, licensed, hairdresser.

Reminiscing with such vivacity had him questioning the accuracy of the memory. Had Alhaitham really trusted him that much back then? To lend himself to the will of a capricious senior wielding a pair of scissors? Was that why Kaveh had gone through with it in the first place? To perhaps prove that Alhaitham could trust him? It settled within him without issue, which placed this conjecture as presumably correct.

It was an effort to control his expression of self-embarrassment as he walked past a group of nattering aunties, one of who called out to him – Miray, owner of Luna – and enquired after his wellbeing. He managed to excuse himself with as much grace as he could muster, although the memory of Alhaitham staring up at him through a lopsided fringe continually manifested at the forefront of his mind. Gods, how could Alhaitham have let him do that? He wondered if Alhaitham remembered it at all. He probably did, knowing that ridiculous expansive memory of his.

Should he ask? The thought occurred to him, and he inwardly laughed it off just as swiftly. Even if he had wanted to, there would hardly be time. He hadn’t properly sat down with Alhaitham since last Sunday, being perpetually rushed off his feet. Their schedules hadn’t had a chance to align, with Kaveh coming and going, but primarily being delegated to going. The most he had seen of Alhaitham was his pre-caffeinated state in the mornings, and that wasn’t exactly the prime occasion for conversation. If Alhaitham chose to lounge around the house, as he was wont to do on the weekend, Kaveh would most likely next see him tomorrow.

Oh. Or now. He had been lost within himself, so intent on reaching his destination, that he failed to recognise a familiar figure approach. What was he doing here?

“It’s hard to believe you’re really getting paid to slack on your duties. Isn’t this a bit too far from the Akademiya just to avoid your own office hours?”

Alhaitham had paused in front of him after he had spoken, clearly intent on pursuing talking. It was a strange knowledge; Alhaitham wasn’t merely putting up with delaying his premeditated plans just to pull one over on Kaveh. He actively chose to talk with Kaveh because he wanted to. No alternative motive. Just that. Conversation.

It was difficult to look Alhaitham in the eye with this lurch of his stomach. A self-effacing awareness. He was grateful for the sun which caused him to look below Alhaitham’s eyeline. “It’s lunch. Although your lack of awareness of this doesn’t surprise me. When was the last time you ate today?”

It was difficult to ascertain. What was this if not condescension? As they hadn’t seen each other, they had yet to have a conversation on clarification of banter as compared to points of genuine contention. “Not that it’s your business, but I ate about an hour ago.”

Alhaitham had crossed his arms at that, had shifted, so that the blinding light of the sun was masked somewhat. Alhaitham’s expression was now discernible, and he was regarding Kaveh with an untampered curiosity. “At home?”

“I haven’t had time to go back.” Home, Alhaitham had called it. It enlivened a softness within him. There was no patronisation here, he could see it now. Because of that, whatever it really was, whatever was playing out between them, didn’t seem vital to overthink. “I ate from the stalls on the way to my appointment.”

And now Alhaitham was unimpressed. “Samples don’t count.”

“How come?”

“The portions are too small, and you only limit yourself to one since they offer them for free.”

“You asked if I ate, and I have eaten,” he recounted, since he knew how unshakeable Alhaitham could be when it came to proving a point. It was hypocritical of him, he recognised, since he was also incredibly obdurate, but they couldn’t just stand there bickering. They both had places to be, and they were causing congestion to the slope leading to the Akademiya. “Besides, I’m on my way to lunch with Madam Faruzan.”

Alhaitham hummed, seemingly accepting Kaveh’s answer. Ready for the dismissal, Kaveh mentally prepared himself to hurry through the crowds. “You had your hair cut.” His plans of departure were sidetracked.

“Huh?” Had Alhaitham just noticed? Was it really relevant enough to point out? It was instinct to tail his fingers through the ends of his hair, feathered from the recent ridding of split ends. “Oh, yeah. I’ve been meaning to get around to it all week, but Hassan’s slots have all been taken, or I’ve been too busy to attend the slots that are free.”

Alhaitham was still watching him, so that was sign enough that he wasn’t overstaying his welcome, or that their turn of conversation was utterly disinteresting. Actually, now that they had arrived at this juncture, maybe… “If he gets any more popular, I may have to find an alternative hairdresser in case of an emergency. Do you know anyone?”

He couldn’t come right out and ask his previous musings. Alhaitham might wonder why he was thinking about such a thing, and he didn’t have a solid answer, besides that of the obvious correlation between his own haircut and that of his near massacre of Alhaitham’s hair. But why was it such a fresh memory for him?

Ah. Of course. He had been thinking about it previously – him cutting Alhaitham’s hair as students had been an example of Alhaitham and close proximity. This solidified it. There was absolutely no way he could come right out with it and ask due to the risk of follow up questions.

Alhaitham shook his head. “I wouldn’t know. I cut my own hair.”

His thoughts were interrupted by this information. He tried to imagine it, and found that he could, vividly. Much more than Alhaitham willingly being seated to be snipped away at by a stranger in a noisy parlour. How was he to be without his headphones in such a place? “You do? Since when?”

“Mister Kaveh?” A familiar voice called to him from his left.

It was Jazmyn from the Amurta animal practice. They had been standing right by the building that she had emerged from – the building that had been of the utmost importance to Kaveh months ago.

“Ah, Jazmyn. It’s nice to see you again. How are you doing?”

Jazmyn had approached, her hand acting as a barrier between her eyes and the glare of the sun. “I’m doing as well as can be expected. It never stops. And yourself? I heard you were out in the desert recently on a construction project.”

“Yes, I’ve only just come back.” Her eyes slid from his face to Alhaitham’s – who was still standing there, yet to flee. It was a little strange, given the context, but there was no other option. Introductions were a necessity. “Ah, Jazmyn, this is-”

“Alhaitham.” Kaveh was interrupted. Alhaitham said nothing more.

Clearly, Alhaitham was waiting for more information before revealing anything more about himself. His title as the Grand Scribe was withheld from the scholar, most likely to avoid unnecessary pestering – as Alhaitham was prone to complaining about. Jazmyn nodded to Alhaitham, and then cast her eyes back to Kaveh, clearly waiting for context. “… Right. Jazmyn was of great help to me a while back.”

“I see,” Alhaitham said, and Kaveh saw his expression turned contemplative. He had evidently recognised the Amurta symbol on Jazmyn’s hat, recognised the building which she had exited from.

“You exaggerate. I really wish I could have been of more help for you and that cat. I’m just relieved that you were able to track down the owner. I’m not surprised he managed to escape with that build of his. It’s strange, I’ve never seen anything of the sort in similar breeds… What exactly did the owner say when you returned him?”

“Oh…” The expectancy of Alhaitham’s gaze deterred him from thinking coherently. He decided to ignore it resolutely, with little to no success. “He was pleased, although not surprised. I think it was a common occurrence that the cat liked to cause him trouble. It seemed to be in his nature.”

There. A slight enough jab, but not overt enough to let on how distressing the situation had been. Jazmyn smiled, but the amused huff he heard didn’t come from her. “Ah, yes. I remember how he had a penchant for climbing up on you. Regardless of trouble, he’s clearly a loyal cat. I only hope he doesn’t cause any similar troubles for his owner in the future.”

“I wouldn’t hold out on that hope,” Kaveh sighed, more despondently than he had expected, although this time Jazmyn chuckled.

“I’ve got to dash, but it was lovely to see you, Mister Kaveh. Alhaitham. Keep well.” And with that, she was gone, hurrying downwards towards the main street.

But Alhaitham remained. Before even turning around to witness it, Kaveh groaned. “It’s not funny.”

“What isn’t?” Alhaitham, as expected, was smiling.

“The whole situation. I’m still furious with you, you know.” And he was. Seeing Jazmyn had stripped the wound, baring it to smarting air. Alhaitham’s life could have been taken. What was amusing about that? “The fact that you’re insistent on being elusive about the matter doesn’t help much either.”

“Then ask.” The gravity of the situation seemed to have set in. Alhaitham’s smile had been displaced by a pensiveness, eyelids lowered. His voice, too, had dipped. Alhaitham was willing to share? Kaveh must have been staring, disbelieving as to what he was hearing. “It’s obvious you have questions you haven’t asked previously.”

“You’d be willing to tell me?” He asked, thoughts a static buzz. He ducked to the side, seeking solace in the shade cast by the jutting roof of the animal practice building. Alhaitham followed. Out of the way, the intimacy of the situation bore into him. Even without the sun, it was hard to look Alhaitham in the eye, to see the sincerity there. “I thought you weren’t comfortable talking about it.”

“I said I wasn’t willing to disclose certain information. That doesn’t automatically correlate with being uncomfortable.”

“Well, whatever it was, you made it clear you didn’t want to discuss it with me. You don’t seem to want to discuss it with anyone in fact. I notice how Tighnari or Cyno have yet to bring it up, and yet they both know about it. You must have told them something. Was it what you told me?”

“Relatively, yes.”

So they were all condemned to various states of not knowing? “But we were worried about you.” It was true, but not exactly the nuance he wanted to convey. To do so would be embarrassing, but he couldn’t continue to evade it. Where had that gotten him? “We worry about you.”

He had forced himself to look Alhaitham in the face, to carry out his sentiment, but he found this impossible when Alhaitham’s gaze faltered, falling to the shrubbery of the window next to them. There it was again, that shiftiness. That guilt.

That hadn’t been his intention at all! But before he could correct himself, salvage the situation, Alhaitham sighed, something deep and nasal. “Ask me.”

“What?” Alhaitham merely looked at him, eyebrows threaded together, and with such fatigue, that Kaveh felt himself ache. “I mean… You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” Alhaitham folded his arms. He waited. Resolute.

The dryness of his throat was grating, the sharp twinge of nervousness seemed to smother all thoughts. But perhaps that was for the best; it would spare him overthinking. He got out the first thing that came to his tongue. “What’s the last thing you remember? Before the Ley Line.”

Alhaitham considered, focussing on some blank spot below Kaveh’s eyes, his hand coming to his chin. “I was thinking about the Ley Line.”

“What?” He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn’t something so solid. Something abstract would have been more fitting, surely? The yearning for home, for comfort, for safety? Why else would he be chiselled down into the form of a domestic creature?

Now assured, Alhaitham met his eyes. He was telling the truth. “Since the excavation crew hadn’t encountered it, having taken pictures from inside the ruins without understanding the meaning of the symbols, it had been proven to be displaced. As I told you, I hadn’t expected on encountering it, but I was curious. What qualities could it possess that differed so significantly from other Ley Lines?”

“You found your answer then,” he dispelled. It seemed that Alhaitham had inadvertently wished for his own demise. He recalled Lord Kusanali had spoken of this; the key to summon the Ley Line was wishing for it. That would explain why so many people took to building a temple to honour it. A sacred place of manifestation. Alhaitham solely thinking about the Ley Line wasn’t unprecedented, he considered, as Alhaitham had a one-track mind, despite assigning this trait to Kaveh, as if they weren’t as stubborn as the other. “And then? What happened once you entered the ruins?”

“I can’t say.” Alhaitham was thinking again, head lowered, eyes narrowing at something invisible on Kaveh’s shoulder. “It must have formed upon my entry. Based upon what Nahida said, by thinking about the Ley Line, I triggered its appearance.”

“I was thinking the same,” he sighed, because, of course he and Alhaitham would be of the same mind when it only caused him pain. “Is there anything else?”

Alhaitham’s gaze remained distant. “The last thing I remember is dropping into the ruins. When I recovered, or when the reversion occurred, I was immediately hassled by the Corps of Thirty.”

“They made it difficult for you.” He remembered the Corps of Thirty he and Cyno had encountered complaining about the lack of information their prisoner had disclosed. The twinging suspicion that ill treatment had been at play.

Alhaitham had identified his thought patterns, and shook his head, as if to absolve Kaveh’s grievance. “It’s fine. They were as frustrated by their own lack of knowledge as much as my own. We were of no help to each other overall. It was better to wait until our return to Aaru Village to solidify the facts of the matter. Candace was of particular help.”

The ever dependable Candance. The ache subsided somewhat. “I’m glad. That is to say, I’m glad everything transpired as it did, but I’m not happy that it happened at all. I would rather you not endanger yourself for the sake of mere curiosity. Or, if you plan to, at least tell me next time.”

Alhaitham raised a brow, and he huffed, actually huffed, like a petulant child. “So that way you can endanger yourself alongside me?”

“So that I can talk some sense into you!” He had to fold his arms so as to avoiding reaching out and grasping Alhaitham by the shoulders. He wasn’t sure whether he could reign in his frustration to the extent where he wouldn’t physically shake the man. “Really. You berate me for my lack of clarity, but you suffer from the same problem yourself! You were looking into ancient architectural structures – you know as well as anyone that’s my area of expertise. I could have helped you in some way at least, and maybe this whole ordeal could have been avoided.”

“And you wouldn’t have insisted on coming with me? We’ve been through this. It’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. If we’re entertaining hypotheticals, what if it had been you instead of me? What if it had been both of us? As it happened, it was the best outcome. The reversion occurred, and I came out unscathed.”

The best outcome? A dizzying fury scoured through him. “If you had told me, maybe none of it would have happened. You really think I would let you risk yourself over some symbols? Regardless of how important they were to you, your safety takes priority, surely? If not for you at least, it would have been a priority of mine.” Before he had even finished, he knew precisely what Alhaitham would say. “And your dismissal of hypotheticals repulses me. Just because the worst didn’t happen doesn’t overwrite that the worst was a potentiality at some point. You might not recall that knowledge, but some people do. I know that’s not your fault, but it also isn’t up to you to disregard the feelings of those who were affected by what happened to you.”

The anger, white hot, had dissolved into a stream of words, uncontrollable and torrential. They stung at his throat, clawing their way up to the surface, but dropped free from his lips seamlessly. Once he had finished, forced himself to stop, he was breathless. But he didn’t regret it, not even after registering the diminished expression on Alhaitham’s face. It was his truth that had to be spoken. And bearing this, and accepting it on both ends, was a necessity of honesty. Their new normalcy.

Alhaitham seemed to buckle under it, eyes falling to the side and narrowing as his brow pinched, and then straightened. “… I see.” Kaveh watched him trace invisible contexts etched onto the shrubbery leaves. Eventually, he righted himself, meeting Kaveh’s gaze. “I wasn’t aware you felt like this to such an extent. What happened was unfortunate, but nothing can be changed. Regardless, I’m sorry if I disregarded your concern. That wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s fine.” He couldn’t suppress the sigh, the audible ache, that came from seeing the crumple in Alhaitham’s brow. He suddenly looked so much younger, like they were back in the Akademiya once more, and Alhaitham had somehow smudged Kaveh’s sketch in charcoal with his sleeve. It seemed that Alhaitham finally comprehended the rationale behind his upset. “Although, since we’re on the topic, what exactly was your intention in avoiding the subject?”

Alhaitham shifted, and his eyes, too, moved, falling short of Kaveh’s face momentarily. He was clearly disturbed by something, an occurrence within himself. “I assumed that our initial conversation following our return from the desert was to be the last, given that you appeared to have no intention of returning to it. I believed it caused you discomfort, and that it was something to be avoided.”

So, Alhaitham had assumed something of him once more. First, with Kaveh’s intentions of pursuing the guise of honesty between them, and now with the omission of the Ley Line incident, as if it had never happened. Really. All the times that he himself had evaded something, believing it to be for Alhaitham’s sake, Alhaitham, unbeknownst to him, was having a similar struggle, in relation to accommodating to Kaveh. They had been suffering independently of each other on the other’s behalf, as if this would cement the tangibility of their assumptions. And, for what? “I see. Well, as you know, I was doing the same thing believing myself to be considerate of you. To think, if we had put aside our assumptions sooner and talked, all of this could have been avoided.”

After saying it, he understood himself to be false, as he himself didn’t truly believe it. The realisations over the past weeks had been gradual, but not imminent. If things hadn’t crescendoed between them, how long would they carried on in a stasis? Believing that change was occurring, but reaping no sufficient progress? How long would they have carried on in silence, believing it to be of benefit to the other?

It was pointless to question. It didn’t matter now. The awareness they had fostered between them now took priority over past laments, no matter how recently surpassed. A new beginning for them lay here from this point onwards.

Alhaitham continued to stare beneath Kaveh’s eyes – hesitating. It was clear he didn’t know how best to proceed – his own understanding of Kaveh shaken. In this, they were together. Judging from Alhaitham’s uncertainty, it seemed it was best he clarified himself. “I didn’t say it to make you feel guilty. I just felt it important for you to know, that’s all. I know it can’t be changed. What’s done is done, and I want to move on from this as much as you do, I expect.”

“I see.” Alhaitham’s gaze intermingled with his once more, the hesitation succumbing to assuredness when registering Kaveh’s sincerity. “Then, what else do you want to know?”

It was his turn to hesitate. There was a topic that had yet to broached, one he wasn’t sure he had the right to touch on.

“You don’t go in my room,” he ejected. Rather than dwelling on a hypothetical rejection, he spat out the first thing that came to mind - something just as invasive as what he had avoided speaking. But he had started now, and there was no room to backtrack. He had to recover. “I mean, as a cat. You didn’t go into my room on purpose, even when you were clearly welcome, and now-” that you’re not a cat, “I’ve noticed that you don’t go in there in general, which, isn’t a problem in itself, but it doesn’t exactly align with the precedent you’ve laid for me. If I’m allowed in your room under certain circumstances, surely the same follows for you regarding my room?”

Perhaps he shouldn’t have recovered. As he talked, he heard himself less and less, only that his point hardly held a semblance of coherency. It had bothered him, yes, as it stuck out as strange, but many of Alhaitham’s behaviours could be labelled as eccentric. Why did this particular tendency, of Alhaitham avoiding his room, become a sore spot? And why was it relevant enough to voice? Well, clearly, he was realising that it wasn’t, in fact, relevant enough to voice. The shame that coursed through him told him as much.

Alhaitham, however, appeared to be considering this seriously, which only served to heighten his embarrassment. “I assume you’re referring to cleaning my rug when you believed I had never done so. That, as I remember, was a joke that you perceived as a threat to the carpet fibres. But, as it stands, you’re correct that in certain circumstances, you have permission to be in my room. The problem stems from this being non-reciprocal. Do you recall any instance where you’ve expressed this sentiment as mutual?”

He was pulled up short by his own prenotions. Had he really not asked Alhaitham to help him assemble any furniture or hanging ornament in his room? Not even to retrieve and post him something from his bedroom when he was out of the city? “…Well, it was made mutual when you were a cat.” The mortification returned tenfold at hearing the sentence that slipped from his mouth. Context was direly needed. “I mean, you were incorrigible. You followed me everywhere except my room. You would wait outside for me as if my room personally offended you.”

Only now, it seemed, did the ludicrousness of his grievance caught up to Alhaitham. His eyebrows upturned as he considered, his eyes latched onto Kaveh’s, yet their innermost core was distant. “… This really bothers you.”

“Yes-! I mean, no. It doesn’t bother me, as such, it’s just…” How was he to explain what even he didn’t grasp? “Well, I didn’t know I hadn’t given you permission. And it’s strange to me that my not giving you permission carried over to the cat.”

He had stumbled across a worthy point; Alhaitham hummed in contemplation. “As Nahida explained it, when transfigured, a person’s consciousness remains intact to some degree. Since the manifestation is purely conceptual, any animalistic mannerisms would only be mannerisms. Actions would most likely be based upon a person’s consciousness.”

Alhaitham’s conjecture made sense, and it aligned with that of his own, which only gave him more cause to worry. The implications of Alhaitham’s transfiguration only further impressed themselves into reality. “So you didn’t want to enter a place which you didn’t have permission to be…?” But when had that stopped Alhaitham? The reason the transfiguration had occurred was wholly because of that reason.

“More so to do with your permission. You say I followed you everywhere else? It makes sense.”

The blood beating in his face from Alhaitham following his suit and dropping ‘the vessel’ when referring to himself as a cat wasn’t prominent enough to distract him from Alhaitham’s omitted revelation. “What do you mean by that?”

“I’m surprised it wasn’t your first question.” And with that, amusement found Alhaitham. The twitch of his mouth, the knowing glint of his eye – it was unmistakable. Infuriating. “You’ve avoided the subject up until now. Why?”

Was this unknown implication the very thing that Kaveh had attempted to snuff out? It beaded in the air, protuberant and dangerous. But Alhaitham watched on, almost daring him. Should he swipe it aside? Or was this explicit permission? It was better to tread carefully. “The last time I brought it up, you made it clear you had no intention of sharing your conclusions. If that’s your decision, I don’t want to intrude upon that.”

“It’s fine. You had made your own conclusions anyway, regardless of my input.”

Was Alhaitham actively trying to embarrass him? He supposed he deserved it with his past actions, based upon his own presumptions, but had he really been entirely in the wrong? If he hadn’t acted, hadn’t initiated the discussion to such an extent, there was no guarantee they would have progressed to where they were now, surely? Still, the numbness presiding Alhaitham’s anger, his forced disengagement from their conversation about Kaveh’s reasoning behind his guise of honesty, fuelled his reluctance.

“Can you blame me? You’re incessantly prone to projecting mysticism and ambiguity. Is it really my fault if I had to fill in the blanks? Yes, perhaps it was presumptuous of me, but I only intended to help you, if you accepted it. If you truly were discontent with being detached from others, surely it couldn’t hurt to confide in someone? That would have been of your own choosing. I had no plans of intervening beyond that.”

Alhaitham’s exhale was slow, and his eyes closed – which Kaveh understood to be a physical manifestation of Alhaitham practising empathy, or as close to empathy as he possibly could. “I see. In that case, I understand your frustrations. As for the Ley Line desire… My perceived detachment from others really is your conclusion?” Alhaitham questioned, eyes fluttering open with a newly found illumination. Alhaitham evaded the glare Kaveh shot at him as he deliberated with a hum. “Not entirely unbased, given your perception of the situation. Although, yet again, it seems your habitual way of thinking impedes upon your ability to think entirely objectively…”

Did he really have to stand here and be verbally assaulted? “Then instead of purposefully avoiding saying anything definitive, you could stop berating me and just tell me.”

Alhaitham blinked, as if realising that Kaveh was, indeed, there, and had borne witness to Alhaitham’s musings. He had the decency to look shame-faced, and conceded with a nod. With it, Kaveh felt a restlessness spur itself to life, encased in his unmoving being.

“Think about the whole picture. If the desire revolved around wanting the proximity of others, as you hypothesised, then surely the evidence would contradict this? You said that the vessel had no interest in pursuing other people or cats and that it was only interested in following you.” And they were back to ‘the vessel’. “How does it follow that the desire stemmed from contact of others if the vessel was disinterested in this notion? Considering that the vessel actively sought you out and intended on following you, regardless of where you went, and who with, wouldn’t it be more logical to assume that if the desire was, in fact, based around seeking proximity, that it pertained to you rather than others?”

“You mean, you-“ Alhaitham watched on, expectantly, patiently. The force of it all seemed to coax the words from him. “If the desire was based on closeness, then… You wanted… to be close to me?”

“It seems so,” Alhaitham said with a nod, crossing his arms all the while, as if they were discussing something of little consequence, like they had ran out of tomatoes.

Gods, how could Alhaitham be so unaffected by this? He felt compressed by it, like he was being squeezed through the tubes of his stirring heart. Had he really been so blinded by his own self-effacement that he had missed the obvious?

“And you’re… alright with this?” Because what else was he supposed to think about? The given solution was entirely out of place.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve already told you my sentiments.” Not expressly, Kaveh thought abstractly, but then, he supposed that was typical Alhaitham fashion. At least now, however, Kaveh could understand them, these aforementioned ‘sentiments’, for what they were, as he, too, harboured the same ones. “It would be beneficial for the both of us if we were to reach a mutual understanding.” A roundabout way of saying that Alhaitham wanted to be allowed to care for Kaveh the same way Kaveh wished to be able to care for Alhaitham.

Was it for his sake that the true meaning was being talked around? Or… was it for Alhaitham’s own sake? And, if so, how come? And with Alhaitham’s reversion of referring to his own self as the cat, back to ‘the vessel’… More and more he was garnering that, about emotions, discussing them verbally, Alhaitham was rather awkward. Well, Kaveh couldn’t exactly fault him there. They had circled around the issue for years.

It was impossible to focus on something so panoptic, so tremendous in scope. He had to divert, to concentrate on the manageable. “But… Why a cat?”

“As for that, it makes sense given the nature of the Ley Line. You remember the woman with the desire to be well, only to be transfigured to the vessel of an ox after hearing how healthy her family’s oxen were? I expect there was a similar association between you and your habit of petting neighbourhood cats. It would be a convenient form to take to fulfilling a desire of proximity.”

As if he wasn’t aware of Kaveh’s very core squirming heatedly with these matter-of-fact admissions about Kaveh and cats and pettings and desire and proximity, Alhaitham’s gaze turned outwards once more as his musing came abruptly to an end. Alhaitham was now gripped with a sudden intensity that only came with the most prevalent of his inner revelations. “What exactly did you do to reverse the transference of consciousness?”

“I-” did nothing out of the ordinary died on his tongue. He had suddenly recalled his previous conclusion when discussing the very same topic with Alhaitham all those months ago. Well, how was he to admit this after Alhaitham’s galling admission? “I really didn’t do anything different than what I do with any other cat.” Good. That was a good tactic. Equate Alhaitham’s consciousness transfigured to that of a cat, based on the desire to be close to Kaveh, to any other cat roaming the streets of Sumeru City.

“Do tell.” Not a good sign. Alhaitham was unshakeable. This was how he was when he was anticipatory; immeasurably curious - threateningly patient.

“Well.” His throat refused him. Looking Alhaitham in the eye was an impossibility. Alhaitham shifted, cloak pushing forwards, as if herding Kaveh backwards without taking a step. He had to. Alhaitham had borne something he had previously withheld. It wasn’t fair for Kaveh to do the same. Mutual honesty. “I kissed your forehead. The cat’s, I mean.”

Alhaitham said nothing – not that Kaveh would have heard the words with the blood tunnelling through his ears. He refused to look at Alhaitham’s expression, but as the silence struggled on, and the squirming restlessness within him threatened to break free, he dragged his eyes to Alhaitham’s face once more. A mistake. Had Alhaitham been observing him the entire time?

“This is a problem for you?” Alhaitham questioned, and Kaveh had to restrain himself from physically turning away. Was it an impossible feat for Alhaitham to possess any tact? “It’s as you say, this is something you do with most cats. It makes sense, considering how often I’ve seen you do it.”

So his conclusion all those months ago had been correct? Considering Alhaitham’s recent assertions about him lacking clarity, this instance of his certain correctness only served to agitate him rather than placate him. Alhaitham, as the cat, had desired a forehead kiss? From Kaveh? Was this seen as the highest form of closeness, of care, that Kaveh bestowed onto a cat? That Alhaitham, as a cat, had wanted it for himself?

“It’s not a problem,” he forced out, because otherwise Alhaitham would opt for the old established habit of pushing his concern-borne assumptions onto Kaveh. “It’s just… Unexpected.” Unbelievable.

Alhaitham continued to survey him, seemingly unimpressed, although he had schooled his expression into one of impartiality – deliberately. Perhaps he wasn’t as nonplussed about everything as he was letting on. But somehow that only made it worse. Was Alhaitham embarrassed? Was Kaveh embarrassed? He didn’t know where he landed – torn between disbelief and the static numbness that came from a barrage of barely realised thoughts.

And then Alhaitham smiled. “There’s nothing embarrassing about it. Your empathy would be better saved for a more suitable occasion.”

Kaveh’s indignance flared. Not only had Alhaitham correctly assumed his thoughts, but he was confident in his reading, if that smile was anything to go by. “You-! You’re really so indifferent about this? It’s so unlike you I don’t know what to think.”

“Then don’t. It’s better to take time to process rather than form assumptions based on perpetual overthinking, as is a lesson recently demonstrated.”

“Hey! You’re guilty of that too, you know.” Alhaitham only stared back at him, enjoyment kindled in his eyes, eyelids downturning, receiving Kaveh’s glare openly. He was impossible to scrutinise. Was Alhaitham really as impartial to this information as he was making out to be? And what did that really mean for them? Was he to administer forehead kisses to Alhaitham, not as a cat, from this point onwards? Did it equate to the same closeness that Alhaitham, as a cat, had pursued? Surely not, right? Alhaitham certainly hadn’t indicated any inclination to increase their physical proximity as they were right now. He couldn’t continue with these thoughts – perhaps Alhaitham was right about refraining from dwelling on it. “These jokes of yours are only funny to you, you know.”

Alhaitham only hummed, hummed, eyes crinkling as his smile was visibly suppressed – an astonishing front of innocence. Was this the equivalent of the cat swiping his tail underneath Kaveh’s nose? Was this Alhaitham being playful? “So, anything else?”

It was hard to look past memories of the cat, expending themselves within seconds, but so vibrant. The cat lolling on the divan, the cat clambering up his arm, the cat butting his head against Kaveh’s chest, sitting in his lap as Kaveh sketched, leading Kaveh around the house with an air of ceremony, the cat idle and relaxed, smarmy and carefree. Alhaitham couldn’t remember a single instance, it might have been a fleeting dream of no consequence to him, but it had happened. It hadn’t been a vessel, it had been Alhaitham, his consciousness and body manipulated by an external force. What really happened, Kaveh would never receive closure on, as Alhaitham wouldn’t be able to provide informed answers, but he had to ask directly, regardless of what he had been told.

“You weren’t… in pain, were you? You told me you weren’t – well, as cat, but I suppose you can’t remember.”

His knowledge was confirmed – Alhaitham shook his head. “I don’t recall.”

His disappointment was unwarranted, as he had already known the answer he would have received. It must have been evident, despite trying to contain himself; Alhaitham’s expression shifted, eyes widening by a fraction before he dispelled this uncertainty with an unnerving look. It was one of consideration, gutting Kaveh in the middle with softened eyes. Was he worthy of such a look, from Alhaitham nonetheless? “Your concern is unwarranted. Nahida told you as much. Besides, you undoubtedly made it so that the vessel was unharmed externally, given how you catered to it.”

Kaveh’s inner conflict was curbed due to Alhaitham’s insinuation. ‘Catered.’ Meaning that he was inclined to indulge a cat’s every inane whim? Well. Perhaps that wouldn’t be entirely incorrect in this given circumstance, especially since he had let the cat occupy the residence as a temporary roommate in Alhaitham’s ‘absence’. But it wasn’t as if this was a negative in this situation, if anything, it was a positive, as it ensured Alhaitham’s reversion. Besides, it wasn’t as if Alhaitham- the cat had any complaints. He was quite taken to lazing around the home, regardless of the hour, with its only past time being curled on Kaveh’s lap. Ha! Even padding over to Alhaitham’s door to spell out his message seemed to have taken considerable effort, and had resulted in scratched floorboards due to the cat’s disinclination to remove itself from its place of comfort-

Oh?

“That’s why you took so long to tell me!” The revelation startled out of him with particular vehemence. He was unrestrained, jabbing an accusatory finger in Alhaitham’s direction.

It was a rare occurrence to see Alhaitham visibly unsettled, most likely due to his own lack of context rather than Kaveh getting heated about something. Or perhaps it was a combination of both.

“The cat took a day to tell me that he was you. Or, should I say, you took your time in telling me. You only bothered doing so when Cyno got involved and we thought you were missing. What, would you have gone longer enjoying your façade if Cyno hadn’t become suspicious?” The fact that Alhaitham couldn’t remember to provide him an answer was irrelevant. His indignance surmounted this fact – rightfully so. “Well, of course, what would be in that for you? You were quite content remaining in that form. You practically had every convenience at hand!”

No job to bother with, regardless how ‘cushy’ Alhaitham deemed it, no cooking, no cleaning, no maintenance, no chores at all. He didn’t have to bother with something as taxing as social interaction when he had no means of communicating. Really! It seemed Kaveh had been spoiling a creature which already had every luxury.

The surprise had been replaced by consideration as Alhaitham took in his meaning. “You mentioned something like this before. It makes sense with the working theory. If the vessel was in constant proximity of having its desire fulfilled, then I suppose there would be no immediate need to force a reversion. This could also explain its insistence on following you.”

Breathing was impossible to maintain. Alhaitham’s words clogged his throat, blood curdling in his face. Did this mean… Alhaitham, as a cat, had deterred telling Kaveh his identity, not because of his desired lack of human responsibility, but rather because he wanted to spend time, uninterrupted, with Kaveh? The fresh thought, almost vitriolic with its stinging realisation, was to be rejected, instinctively. But it stuck, rooting within him. It was alarmingly familiar, but how come?

“Be assured, he is quite content. I think he enjoys spending this time with you.”

The memory served to capsize him, and he felt the tether ends of his composure slip from his hands. Hadn’t Lord Kusanali said that to him? He had doubted her at the time, but having his interpretation jilted, his obscured lens corrected, he could recognise her sincerity as true.

What else had she said? Something about Alhaitham’s desire? “Since the Ley Line manipulates a person’s desire, and Scribe Alhaitham’s consciousness was stripped down to this, it seemed to me that this desire was on the path to being fulfilled – appeased.”

Oh Gods. Alhaitham was right. His own conjecture had overlooked a crucial factor, yet again – himself. But it couldn’t be, could it? That Alhaitham’s transfiguration solely consisted of a desire to be closer to Kaveh? To be open about his intentions? To not have their faulty miscommunication serve as a barrier between them? Now that it had been unearthed to him, and he allowed himself to rationalise it, didn’t it make sense? Since there was no way for them to pursue this mutual openness with each other the way they were, and Kaveh had no reservations in engaging with cats… The connection was obscure, but it did correlate.

“You should have told me sooner!” Kaveh asserted as the anguish heaved within him. “Regardless of how content you were, that doesn’t counteract the fact that you were a cat.” Because of me? “If we had talked things out sooner, this all could have been avoided.” It expelled out of him, a hopeless reprieve.

Alhaitham appeared as displeased by this as he was, his exhale seemed to stem both from incredulity and genuine disconcertion. “You’re overthinking things. As you said, what’s done is done. As it stands, the reversion occurred, and due to your unorthodox methods, we’re able to talk about it today.”

Alhaitham’s words settled within him, along with the gaze that seemed laden with an imploration. That softened core once more. How long had Alhaitham looked at him in this way? How long had he remained utterly ignorant and disillusioned?

No longer. He supposed Alhaitham was right. It wasn’t an entirely negative situation. They had retrieved what they could from it, and fashioned it to their benefit. They were benefitting each other, weren’t they? It was as Alhaitham said, although he personally wasn’t pleased with the clinical phrasing, that mutual understanding between them would benefit the other.

Alright. He couldn’t understand Alhaitham’s views when it came to objectivity in certain matters, but maybe, he didn’t have to. Alhaitham certainly didn’t understand his sensibility when it came to helping others or in the arts. Maybe they couldn’t fully understand the other, but why did that have to automatically mean they were incompatible? Wasn’t that the very reason why he and Alhaitham had become friends in the first place? Their views pushed against each other, extreme opposites, but in that, they were complete.

He worried about Alhaitham in his own sensibility, his belief that people should ultimately help and support each other, and Alhaitham detaching himself from this principle only served to ostracise him from what Kaveh deemed vital. Alhaitham, contrarily, worried about Kaveh from his own perspective, believed that Kaveh was risking himself at the expense of others in the pursuit of his altruistic ideals. Rather than correctness, it was concern. At the heart of it, their issues had been steeped in an unwillingness to compromise, to strike a balance between these views, these cares and worries.

But now… Isn’t that what they were doing? What they were choosing to do?

“… I guess you’re right. I suppose some good did come out of it,” he said, hearing how wearied his voice was. Alhaitham had undoubtedly picked up on it, too. His eyebrows had pinched, and the softening of his eyes seemed to intensify. Being on the receiving end of such visible concern… He couldn’t hold the stare, stomach tightening, looking behind Alhaitham’s shoulder, registering the fast-paced scholars. He remembered.

“I’ll be late!” How long had they been standing here in the shelter of the shade? The sun had moved in the sky! Pitching forwards, he caught himself on Alhaitham’s cloak, and afforded himself a hasty decision. “You were going to get lunch? You can join me, if you’d like. Madam Faruzan has a tendency to overfeed her juniors, so you’ll be well accounted for.”

“Sure.” Alhaitham stepped out of the shade after him.

He faltered in his step, although Alhaitham fell in line with him easily. He had expected some deliberation in Alhaitham’s decision, so his reassurances that it would be fine not to accept lingered, unspent. Now all his responsibilities came rushing back to him, although overshadowed by the recent revelations, and Alhaitham’s presence, constant, by his side… He was at loss of what to say.

What had they even been talking about before Jazmyn’s arrival prompted their shift in conversation?

“… Do you remember the time I cut your hair?” It fell out of him in a rush, whether it be due to his instinct of filling a silence, or because it had impressed itself upon him as relevant, he didn’t know.

Alhaitham looked to him, he could feel it, despite his stare resolutely fixated on the sloping platform leading to the Akademiya. Just when he thought the mortification would broil his skin, Alhaitham deigned his question with a reply. “I remember you getting cold feet and assigning the duty to a hairdresser.”

So Alhaitham did remember it. And this affirmed his own recollection of events. Although, Alhaitham’s perspective left much to be desired. “And you’re lucky I did! Seriously, why did you let me do that? I could have inflicted irreparable damage to you.” He could only imagine the massacre of Alhaitham’s voluminous locks, shorn and desecrated.

“Hardly,” Alhaitham said, and since he had looked away, Kaveh now felt he could risk a glance. Alhaitham was smiling. He thought it was funny? “You talked like you had experience, so I assumed you had cut your own hair before. But it didn’t matter; if you felt you had gone wrong, I would have been able to correct it. Besides, your idea of ‘irreparable’ differs from conventional understanding, considering how many drafts you undertake for one commission, even when your client hasn’t asked for any improvements.”

Upon entering the doors of the Akademiya, he had to restrain the urge to respond to Alhaitham’s dig at his perfectionism. “What do you mean, ‘correct’ it?” He cast his mind back to something that had stuck out to him. “Wait. When did you learn to cut your own hair?”

Alhaitham’s smile was muted, but the gleam of his eyes revealed him. “From my grandmother.”

There was no solemnity present at the mention of his late guardian, and this enabled Kaveh’s own to be eclipsed. As usual, what Alhaitham didn’t say held the blow. When it fell, and struck, Kaveh was seized. Pushing his voice down was difficult, and he had to harbour himself to social convention by pulling Alhaitham towards him to ask in a barely controlled voice: “Are you saying you could have cut your hair the whole time?”

“Having it done by someone else would have been more convenient.” Alhaitham’s amusement up close was just as intolerable as at a distance. It seemed to emanate from him in smothering waves. The heat of his anger at Alhaitham’s foolishness and at the close proximity became too much to stand. He relinquished hold of Alhaitham’s arm with an irked exhale, moving from the main passage to the private offices of staff. Really. If Alhaitham wanted to sacrifice his hair for a bizarre whim, then that was Alhaitham’s issue.

“Of course, it comes down to convenience for you, never mind how it affected me. And to think, you could have spared me all that anxiety if you had been upfront with me!” Ha! The irony was profound. He shot Alhaitham a triumphant smile. “Let this be a lesson learnt. While we’re on the subject, is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Alhaitham appeared to deliberate before piercing Kaveh into place with an all-seeing gaze. “Not that I can think of on my end. Is there anything the Lion of Kshahrewar wants to share?”

Now how had Alhaitham gotten wind of that nickname? It had been spread around before Alhaitham had even joined the Akademiya! He had stopped cutting his own hair long before he had even met Alhaitham, and it wasn’t as if Alhaitham even talked to the classmates who had commandeered the nickname… Alhaitham’s uncanny way of acquiring information truly was eerie.

His shock had overcome him, and he feared he was ogling Alhaitham with an alarming blankness rather than the perplexion that he felt. What made it worse was that Alhaitham, who had delivered his audacious joke in a deadpan, couldn’t even be bothered to maintain his own impartiality. He was smiling, brazenly. Victorious.

Kaveh laughed. It was unexpected, but when it emerged, shuddering his taut insides, the restlessness coiled within him seemed to shake itself free. To stand here with Alhaitham once more, to be teased confidently, all the while having his quip be laced with a daringness that came from being at ease with someone two years his senior, to know that there was no malice, no ill intention, behind the comment, that it was spoken solely to react with Kaveh, to prod him, to rile him, to conjure a quick retort, to enjoy the flow of their conversation, unique to them… Well, how could it be anything but exhilarating?

“Kaveh?” Madam Faruzan’s voice drifted down the hallway, where he had paused, and Alhaitham with him. She stood in her doorway, eyes darting from him to Alhaitham. “And Scribe Alhaitham, too. I thought I heard you two. You’re late, Kaveh, but I suppose it would be stranger if you were on time, given how lax you youth can be. Come on in, the both of you. I hope you’ve brought your appetites.”

As she disappeared around the door, he dared mutter to Alhaitham. “How did you get a hold of that nickname?”

A pleased hum was his answer, a tilt of the head towards Kaveh, speaking into the cushioned ease between them. “I’ll tell you later.”

And yes, he thought, as he stepped alongside Alhaitham to the copious feast that undoubtedly had been prepared, he would hear about it later, about everything. He would have to learn, have to relearn the very shape, the essence, of Alhaitham, of what he truly meant when he spoke, who he was, without Kaveh’s imposed misconceptions, who he could be. What they could be.

Yes, they would relearn together.

The sun was setting earlier. He had traced its route in the sky, its glow swallowed by the hills of the horizon. It was colder, too. His knuckles were reddened with chapped skin, fingers threaded in Fitz’s fur. Winter was encroaching on the heady light of Autumn, although they were still in the middle of the month.

He should have been home some time ago, perhaps an hour, or more likely two, given how quickly the light was diminishing. That, or the gathering clouds to the west foretold of an approaching rainstorm – another sign that he should move. But he was marooned, fixedly positioned on the boxes outside of a merchant’s shop. It was mainly Fitz’s fault, having trailed after him, undoubtedly attempting to follow him home. And now he was bearing the brunt of his own indulgence, Fitz snuggled on his lap as his bare ankles were nipped with the chilled evening air of Sumeru City.

Something had changed within him. He could feel it, although he couldn’t fathom exactly what. It had been less than a month since the run-in with Jazmyn at the Amurta animal practice, a month in which he and Alhaitham had had time sparse to straighten out some poignant misgivings which had cropped to the forefront of his mind. Since that day, he worked as usual, although, as of late, he had been waylaid by numerous requests that he had felt inclined to take on. Perhaps he suffered as a result, and therefore had come to overlook the changing scenery beyond Sumeru City as a means of dissociation, but perhaps he was ultimately fulfilled.

He wasn’t unhappy. Far from it, in fact. Despite how busy he had been, despite how many things he had to remember, had to engage himself with, had to focus on, he felt no loss in himself. He felt no sting of retribution, as a just punishment for the sins of his past, whenever he felt he had failed in some way, had exhibited his innate shortcomings. If he felt any discomfort, it was in this. Who was he without this hankering for guilt? For an absolution he would ultimately reject?

He couldn’t change the past, and yet he constantly pursued it in his own actions – imbedded within his own psychology. Helping others for the sake of himself. At the sake of himself. What did it matter? If he hurt, it was a worthy hurt, a deserved hurt. Happiness could be found in this, for other people, so what did it matter what became of him? This was how he approached the world, holding steadfast to this principle, all the while, inwardly, there was an outcry, something stifled and small, which protested. This couldn’t be the natural order, surely? To feel constantly heavy, oppressed by an ingrained burden, fatigued, and harrowed by an inexpressible sorrow; a deep, guttural yearning for the lost, punctured into the very essence of his make-up? Was there more than this? What he wanted for others, that veritable, joyous, rich, fulfilling happiness, couldn’t he, too, have that for himself?

It would be impossible; a fruitless endeavour, one consisting solely of an undeserving selfishness. This was innate within him, but recently, having taken on more and more, he had been thinking. Everyone deserved their own happiness, and if it was possible for him to enable this, to provide a sense of it for someone, no matter how fleetingly, who was he to deny such a thing? He wanted to help, even if it was arrogant of him to assume he could benefit someone else. But, how was he to help everyone?

He couldn’t. It was an ideal that had long since been abandoned, although, somehow, rigidly held. He knew this wasn’t logical, this phantasmatic dream of his, conjured by an overly naïve child seeking escapism from the burden of his self-inflicted pain. But how was he to accept these two truths within him? To hold these two values at inherent conflict with each other? He wanted to achieve happiness for all, and if he just tried harder, stepped out further, pushed ahead of himself, then it just might become a reality. But this was irrational. These illusions were purely that – illusions. He couldn’t fasten anything of substance to them, although he had tried.

The Palace of Alcazarzaray had been an attempt to do so, not just for art’s sake, but for his ideals’ sake, his own sake. If he could inject a fantasy into the often harsh reality of life, if he could make a slither of beauty real, solid, with his hands, then perhaps everything could be justified. His ideals would be cemented in something tangible, and then, they would hold weight. But it hadn’t turned out like that at all. Yet again, he had been reminded that ideals were only that – ideals. The world around him functioned according to a different framework, another language that he felt he wasn’t fully attuned to learn. It was just as Alhaitham had said all those years ago, it was fatality to assign oneself to climbing a staircase of air to reach a self-constructed paradise. He had been diminished to nothing.

But he was still here, wasn’t he? Despite the hardships and the gruelling adjustment to the oft bleak truth, he wasn’t wholly changed. He hadn’t been worn down. But things weren’t always easy. It was a trite statement, something which the majority of the world shared, but it was true for him. He knew that the hardships endured in his life had been deliberate, a culmination of poor decisions and a lack of regard for himself. His suffering, physical and internal, was often caused by his own doing – purposeful. But how would this help him strive for his ideals, achieve his goals, make the mark of passion on the world?

Just how long could he continue to help others at the expense of himself? If he was always to forsake himself, how was he ever to provide aid to someone else?

He was in constant conflict with himself, a perpetual tumult. His life, an unsteady streak of grey – a stroke of charcoal on creased paper. Just how long was the line? How long could he hold out for?

So, yes, something had changed within him. He held a fleeting realisation within him, so scarce that it threatened to retreat whenever he focussed to close in on it. But here, with the mushrooms of Mawtiyima Forest shining their iridescent blue lustre as the sun seemed to shed itself into the ground, he had grasped upon it.

Could he resolve this conflict within him? And what would that entail? Could he really deserve to do it? To feel whole? To be complete? His own self, rather than solely a potentiality for the happiness of others?

“Dinner will get cold.”

He jumped, startling Fitz, who leapt from his lap in a hurry, amber eyes blinking at him, offended. Alhaitham’s presence, wholly unanticipated, was another degression to his train of thoughts. A needling of guilt. Wasn’t it him who had unintentionally caused Alhaitham to transfigure into the form of a cat? If they had talked, if he had been willing to hear Alhaitham out, just once, pushing aside his arrogance and pride as a scholar, then these past years of silence and torment on both parts could have been avoided.

Was there truly a way out of this self-imposed cycle? How could he stop inflicting unnecessary suffering onto those he cared about, no matter how inadvertent? If it was a chain of events, tracing it right back to the beginning, he was sure to be the catalyst.

“What’s wrong?” Alhaitham sat down next to him, although it was a tight squeeze, given how small the cargo boxes were.

Fitz had long since stalked off; the nights were closing in earlier due to the approaching Winter, therefore the cats of the city had taken to retiring to their homes before the sun dipped completely. He felt like his lap was barren, lonely, with a chestnut huddle of warmth. Alhaitham’s knee pressed against his, a surrogate heat. He nudged into it idly. If Alhaitham had a problem with sitting in such confined quarters, he wouldn’t have seated himself in the first place.

Alhaitham’s question had been upfront – he had noticed something was amiss, and rather than waiting Kaveh out to see if he would broach the topic first, to see if it was safe to proceed, he had spoken his mind. The former was a tactic Alhaitham had informed him of during one of their conversations aiming to benefit their manner of communicating. This newly instilled honesty between them was well appreciated. It homed in to their attuned awareness of the other’s moods and behaviours, which allowed them to refine their understanding of each other in straightforward questions.

Just this week alone Kaveh had been the recipient of a multitude of questions stemming from shifts in his moods that even he hadn’t noticed – “You left most of your salad. Did you not like the dressing, or were you thinking about having to re-do that sketch, so you didn’t finish eating?” – at times, it was alarming. Amusing, even. Alhaitham truly was retentive. No, although it was apt, it wasn’t exactly the description he was searching for… Attentive, that was it.

“Nothing’s wrong, per say. I’m just thinking.” There was a ship stealthing through the body of water – a merchant ship. The world kept on, sliding by. With him or without?

Alhaitham said nothing, although a hum had dislodged itself from his throat. Kaveh felt it more than heard it, feeling as though it transferred from Alhaitham’s throat to his own by the pressing together of their shoulders. Patiently, he waited Kaveh out.

“What?” he couldn’t help himself. Had his solemnity drudged over to affect Alhaitham? “No sly remark how thinking ultimately does me no good?”

Alhaitham’s humour, too, had come to be better understood. They had bickered as students, and as Alhaitham understood it, it was simultaneously engaging and entertaining – harmless, or as a way to establish normalcy when things became inadvertently tense between them. They were not the slights of arrogance as Kaveh had perceived their back and forths to be. Kaveh had conceded that these perceived slights were what drove him to extremes in his verbal berating of Alhaitham and his faculties, which, admittedly, crossed civil boundaries. 

Additionally, Alhaitham conceded that, sometimes, he retained opinions that weren’t his own only to drive Kaveh into a corner, so as to test the streak of unpredictability Kaveh retained that Alhaitham had labelled as ‘enjoyable’. This was poignant enough in embarrassment for Kaveh to recall this each time Alhaitham came out with some uncontested view that challenged his very perception of sanity – Alhaitham meant nothing by it, and there truly was no hostility between them. In this, his own enjoyment of dialogue with Alhaitham had increased exponentially. Where there had once been dread in encountering the other, he found himself looking forward to and actively seeking further interactions. He felt contagious, almost giddy, with it - this newfound thrill in Alhaitham’s company.

“You said you were thinking, not overthinking,” Alhaitham replied with ease. Kaveh tore his eyes from the boat to glimpse Alhaitham’s profile. His gaze was fixed ahead. “Do you want to share?”

Cautious. Considerate. Attentive. “I’ve been – hey!” A heavy ball of onyx fur had dropped into his lap. Beyaz. But where…? Of course. The roof sloping downwards – had Beyaz really jumped from up there? Well, evidently! It must have been a calculated jump – although he had scrambled partly across Alhaitham’s knee to reach his own lap. This raucous behaviour was not to be tolerated.

Beyaz was heavy, although not as heavy as Alhaitham’s cat vessel had been. Bulky muscle mass and all. Beyaz was also just as prone to elongated eye contact, alert pupils fixated in a clear blue. His body dangled as he was held up, tail draping uselessly. “You do not jump onto people! What has gotten into you? And to think I once believed you were well-mannered.”

If Beyaz had a reply, he couldn’t understand it. The cat only yawned in his face. “That’s it. Down you go.” He set Beyaz onto the ground, affirmably ignoring his desperate attempts to scramble up the box, back onto Kaveh’s lap.

“Shouldn’t he be home? It’s late,” Alhaitham commented, making no move towards, or away, from the pestering animal.

“You’re right. Fitz has most likely gone home, too. I’ll take him back before dinner.” Although the idea of moving was now less desirable than it had been. The pressing urge to return to the house had been due to an unquiet apprehension, but now that Alhaitham was here, the compulsion had been dispelled.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one relieved by this. Beyaz, roaming circles in front of him and Alhaitham, appeared to have grown tired of being ignored. Suddenly, he shot up from the ground, scurried up onto the crates – darting right into Alhaitham’s lap.

“Hey!” Kaveh protested, although Beyaz had already anchored himself to Alhaitham, tucking himself into a ball, face away from Kaveh and tail swishing, pointedly, at Kaveh’s sleeve. Alhaitham made no move to set him aside, and when he looked to make sure, he could see Alhaitham considering. “Don’t give into him. He doesn’t deserve it.” Alhaitham appeared unconvinced. “Besides, he sheds a lot.”

“I don’t mind,” Alhaitham said, although, it was difficult to tell, considering that it had been spoken so gently. But, indeed, he had heard correctly, as Alhaitham’s arms came to encase the all-too-smug Beyaz.

“Fine.” What a surreal view, Alhaitham sitting placidly with a cat on his lap, willing to risk littering his clothes with plentiful cat hairs. “But don’t think about blaming me when he starts taking liberties.”

Alhaitham merely hummed. It seemed Kaveh’s contemplative mood really had transplanted over to Alhaitham. That, or he was actually endeared by Beyaz’s attention. Well. He couldn’t fault him there. It was high time that Alhaitham learnt to treasure the interactions between domestic animals and people, given that he was usually disinclined to engage with them.

“Do you prefer cats or dogs?” The question occurred to him to ask. He couldn’t recall them ever broaching the subject before, much like how he couldn’t picture Alhaitham leaning over to pet an eagerly waiting dog.

Kaveh had learnt forwards, elbows resting on his knees, in order to ascertain Alhaitham’s expression. Now Alhaitham was looking downwards at the disobedient Beyaz, his hair proved an effective barrier in being able to read him.

“I see the merit of both.”

“Ha!” A typical Alhaitham answer - one he probably thought was most informative.

“You prefer cats.” Alhaitham looked up to him, and somehow that was enough for him to startle. Beyaz had traced Alhaitham’s eyeline, now looking to Kaveh, too. The weight of their combined attention caused him to retreat, ducking his gaze.

“Yes, although that’s not to say I don’t like dogs.” Beyaz’s stare was beseeching. He opened his mouth to meow, a visible clear cut of pink tongue. Alhaitham’s hands were full, and Kaveh’s own anger at the pest’s impertinence had waned. Beyaz’s fur was soft, lusciously so, but…

“You were grey.” He spoke before he could think – a downfall of his, if what Alhaitham had reiterated to him over the years held truth. He caught Alhaitham’s eye before diverting his gaze back to Beyaz, hand nestling into the fur of his back, the sleeve of his shirt brushing against Alhaitham’s glove.

“The cat,” he clarified, because Alhaitham had been uncharacteristically thrown. “Charcoal grey, and your eyes were clear – a transparent silver. But in the sun, they looked like jade crystal.” Risking a glance upwards, Alhaitham, too, had taken to looking down at Beyaz.

“What else?” He hadn’t imagined Alhaitham speaking it, had he? But then Alhaitham looked upwards once more, gauging him in the eye – expectantly. Encouragingly. Warmth flowed from that gaze, coaxing something inscrutable from him.  

“You were soft – maybe the softest cat I’ve ever met. But you were big, and heavy, so maybe also the heaviest cat I’ve ever met? Jazmyn, you remember her, described you as having a considerable muscle mass for a house cat, which I couldn’t understand at the time, given how prone you were to lying around. I suppose it makes sense now though. Now I look back on it, the cat really did share many of your attributes. I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier.”

So why hadn’t he? He had been well aware of how dubious the circumstances were – that a cat he had never seen before him had shown up on their doorstep, whilst Alhaitham wasn’t present, had been insistent on following Kaveh and to enter the house. He had also known the cat to be strange, bizarre even. He had perceived the cat as un-catlike, with how it made no discernible noises and how it completely evaded food and water. If he had properly interpreted the signs, if he held even a fragment of suspicion that the cat was not all it appeared to be… Could the reversion have occurred earlier?

“I’m sorry.” It tumbled out of him seamlessly. Uselessly. What could he really do to retrieve what had been lost? The hours that Alhaitham had been subject to outside of his own body?

“What for?” Alhaitham’s attention had been recaptured from where he had been presumably listening, gazing down at Beyaz’s serenity in his arms. Now his gaze latched onto Kaveh, something level and punching.

“If I had suspected something earlier-” But, no. That wasn’t truly it. He couldn’t say it with Alhaitham looking at him. That aching weakness stoked once more. He looked away. “If I had been open to listening to you back then, when we were students, we could have talked about it. We might not have…” Pushed each other away? Gone so long without each other? Been better than they were today, without the debilitating years of spite, bitterness, hurt, and worry? “Well, the Ley Line incident wouldn’t have happened.”

“So you were overthinking,” Alhaitham said, although it expelled in a breath of air. A sigh. A streak of shame etched through him. His eyes remained firmly stuck to the grass below. “Here.” Beyaz slid into view – Alhaitham turning to pass the bundle onto him.

Soundlessly, Kaveh accepted, forming a cradle with his arms, overlapping with Alhaitham’s as Beyaz tentatively crawled from Alhaitham to him. It did feel better, vaguely, to have hold of some tranquility, a relaxed creature relying on him for comfort. He was somewhat more inclined to risk glimpsing Alhaitham in the face.

Seemingly Alhaitham was waiting for this. “The Ley Line incident was unfortunate. I understand your view, and I have no intention of undermining your feelings. But, really, there was no way to have foreseen such an event. The fact you were able to cause the reversion is commendable due to how unpredictable the situation was. There’s no cause to feel guilty over a perception of not having done enough, when you, alone, are the reason a favourable outcome was achieved.”

Alhaitham’s eyes were crystal jade in the setting sun, and his words, like his gaze, were cutting, clipping through him, small pinpricks, but rather than pain, ripping through him, it seemed to meld him together. Needles threaded through him, weaving together the displaced fabrics of his being.

“As for the desire, it appears you’ve interpreted it through the lens of viewing yourself as a catalyst for misfortune. Blaming yourself for something outside of your control is needless.”

“But it wasn’t,” he interjected without hesitation, some revulsion working within him, clotting the warmth which Alhaitham had previously spoken into him. “The reason you had that desire in the first place… Well, if we hadn’t argued-”

“It was inevitable.” It was Alhaitham’s turn to counter, sharp and firm. It was extinguishing. He felt the fight drain from him as he considered his own assertion. That day could be recalled too clearly, Alhaitham’s words, his own words, rankling in that old wound. Alhaitham, too, must have felt the same sting. He spoke quietly, but assuredly. “If it hadn’t happened when it did, it would have happened soon after. You know this.”

There was no point in denying the obvious. “I do. But… if I had at least heard you out. Or, if we had waited and talked it through, then…” He couldn’t finish, the gravity of his words struggling launching them from his tongue. Would that really have been possible?

Their differences had always been there – the reason for the strengthening of their initial friendship. But upon working with other people, having their private sphere of Kaveh-and-Alhaitham prised open, compromised by the unfamiliar connections of others, these differences became paramount. Unsurmountable. Now Kaveh’s own friendships seemed to become a direct offence to Alhaitham, as how he conducted himself with other scholars in their project seemed to differ too greatly to how he acted with Alhaitham. Pointed out only a few weeks into their planning phase of the project, when the two finally acquired some private time, he couldn’t understand Alhaitham’s concerns – or criticism – only that it was somehow a negative to his junior. It was a grievance quickly swept over, until it was gleaned again when he realised why he couldn’t find Alhaitham after the adjournment of group meetings. Having resorted to tracking his junior down to his house, he was greeted with a disquieted expression and a derisive comment about how surprising it was that Kaveh had wanted to separate himself from the others, and that, no, he was not interested in spending time with his groupmates outside of allotted time periods.

Alhaitham didn’t want to spend time with other scholars, not in his own darshan, and not in Kaveh’s – despite his grandmother being from the same darshan. It seemed he only wanted to interact with Kaveh, and if that was only to be achieved in the company of others, then he would rather refrain from doing so. In fact, he seemed happy to. It wasn’t anything new but it had never been particularly relevant before. But now the success of their future hinged on this obstacle in their friendship. Not to mention the implications. If Kaveh was the only company Alhaitham sought… How restrictive this would be for him.

Kaveh, himself, was limited to the wonder and illumination he could provide, and Alhaitham was constantly hungering for some kind of knowledge, no matter how niche or elusive. How could Kaveh be fulfilling enough for Alhaitham? It surely wasn’t healthy for him. He must have at least one other person to turn to, to rely on, surely? It wasn’t fair on Alhaitham for Kaveh, of all people, to shoulder that responsibility, no matter how much he wanted to. He wasn’t fit to be in such a position.

So Kaveh had tried to push Alhaitham in the direction of others, people who he considered knowledgeable and held lofty opinions, all of which seemed unimpressive to Alhaitham. He merely looked at Kaveh with a knowing, and displeased, glance, before excusing himself. So Kaveh had stopped trying and, instead, had held the group together on his own. Alhaitham wasn’t uncooperative, no, but neither was he voluntarily helpful to those who needed it more than others – so that was to be Kaveh’s job. That was one position he was fit for. If he could bolster another person’s ability in order to reach their own potential, why wouldn’t he?

Alhaitham had other ideas. Harsh, cutting ideas. In trying to help Alhaitham, Kaveh had pushed him away. And then Alhaitham had broken away willingly without Kaveh noticing until it was too late. If they hadn’t had the argument that ended it all in that study room in the House of Daena then, how long could they have held out for with these corrosive thoughts, worries, stored in their hearts? A day? A week? Until the publication of their thesis, finished by both of them, but leaving them with ultimately nothing to say to each other? What would have been worse? This festering hurt, or pure detachment?

The Alhaitham before him seemed to recognise the defeat in him. That softened look in his eyes – it wasn’t just the gentle pinch of his eyebrows, the downturn of his eyelids, it was the core of them, that profound, ineffable essence of Alhaitham encased within those irises.

Hadn’t Alhaitham looked at him just like that even back then? In the fields encircling Sumeru City, when Kaveh pulled out a supply of Harra fruit from his satchel, signalling a reading break? In the House of Daena when Kaveh retrieved a book from a higher shelf, taller than Alhaitham at the time? When Kaveh gave him fresh ink when enraptured writing his latest essay? When Kaveh tapped at his foot from underneath the table whenever Alhaitham was frowning at a page, as was his previous habit? In his visits to Alhaitham’s house, or when Alhaitham visited his old house, when they discussed how best to make Lokum, or when Alhaitham let Kaveh pore over his grandmother’s reading materials, left to Alhaitham?

Had this tenderness, reserved for him, spanned throughout all these years? And he hadn’t seen? No, he hadn’t. His view of Alhaitham had been irrevocably altered since the day of their argument.

“… I suppose it wouldn’t have been possible after all,” he finished, lamely. Beyaz shifted in his arms, paws on his elbow, leaning upwards to regard Alhaitham. Alhaitham’s hand came to rest on his head, ear flicking between Alhaitham’s index finger and thumb.

Alhaitham, for once, seemed unaware of Kaveh’s gaze. He looked rather content, petting Beyaz. The cooled breeze was poignant as the warmth in his chest outstretched. “Perhaps this really is the best outcome,” the words fell from him with ease.

“Then we’re agreed,” Alhaitham said, hand tucking underneath Beyaz’s chin, who tilted his head pliantly, tongue nipping out in an effort to extend to Alhaitham’s fingers. Alhaitham withdrew, instantly surveying the damage inflicted upon the clinging material of his gloves. Absentmindedly, he picked aside a few hairs. Kaveh only realised he was staring when he was startled back into himself in Alhaitham looking to him once more. “Do you feel better?”

He had to look away to truly contemplate. The ship had disappeared from sight. And the world continued to slide by. But here he was, with a cat on his lap, company by his side, and a homecooked meal waiting for him. His guilt for his perceived involvement in the Ley Line affair had subsided.

Perhaps it was true what Alhaitham had said, that it was an unforeseen event in which Kaveh had acted to the best of his ability, that the root cause of it was not solely his fault, and that a solution had been procured because of its happening. But, even if that really were the case, that wasn’t the issue as a whole, was it? Although, it did tie into it…

“I’ve been thinking about what you said to me a while ago.” Alhaitham’s gaze remained steady on his profile. Patient. He could take as much time as he needed for this. “You said that self-reflection would ultimately benefit me, and that I couldn’t look to the future if a part of me remained in the past.”

“Yes,” Alhaitham spoke after some time had elapsed. It was the prompt he didn’t know he needed.

“Well…” Beyaz was looking up at him, clearly sensing a heaviness at work within him. A distress which seeped from Kaveh’s being into his own. “I think there’s some truth in that. I still want to help others, if I can, but I’ve realised what you meant. How am I to do this if I don’t take better care of myself?”

“I see…” It was let out involuntarily, so Alhaitham turned from him, following his gaze to look out to the darkening horizon, illuminated by the winning glare of the sun.

“It’s not like I’ve never had the same thought before, but… Well, you know why it’s difficult for me to answer. I don’t always…” It was daunting to voice, to finally admit something that he and Alhaitham both knew, an invisible, protruding blight. But if not now, when? “I don’t always feel I deserve to. To take care of myself. If I did that all the time, then I would be at risk of prioritising myself above someone else, and if I were to deny someone help, and something bad befall them because of it…? Then that would be my fault, and it could only be me to make up for it. If suffering is a natural extension of that, then it’s something I can bear. Something I should bear. At least, this seems to be my thinking.”

Alhaitham was frowning – he could sense this from his peripheral vision. Beyaz let out a high-pitched yowl; he must have squeezed too hard – arms drawing into himself as a needless attempt of self-defence. The horizon was forgotten; both their attention curtailed to watching Beyaz flee from Kaveh’s arms, jumping onto the ground, treading over their shoes with indignance.

“I think…” he pushed himself to continue, all at once feeling Alhaitham’s eyes slide to his face, and rest there. “No, I know this isn’t good for me. But I can’t seem to help it. Rationally, I know… Well, I can’t be the catalyst for every single negative event, but it’s become a part of me to think like that. It isn’t so easy to break away from it when I know I don’t deserve to. But, I also know I can’t go on like this, at least, not forever. Something has to change, I just don’t know how.”

The latter sentence grasped him by surprise, pushing itself from his mouth without being fully realised. It weighed in the air between them, being felt out a syllable out a time. With it, he had met Alhaitham’s stare, and the breath had left him. Alhaitham’s eyes had widened. It seemed he had the ability to startle Alhaitham just as Alhaitham had with him.

But, unlike him, Alhaitham was not as easily spooked. Kaveh was surveyed, a scrutinising, gentle, gaze jumping across his face. He was being thoroughly contemplated, the very knowledge that was himself being held, almost cradled. Inexplicably warm. And then Alhaitham nodded, something resolute, and he felt an unknown within him settle, slide into place.

“That’s good. You’ve considered your inner conflict objectively, something which was once hindered by your pride.” Instinctively, Kaveh went to protest. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. I’m just stating the facts. You know that our individual pride was one of the factors of our disagreement, and the cause for issues between us today.”

‘Disagreement’ was a rather cordial term for the argument which had effectively dissolved their friendship. But he couldn’t afford to be distracted by Alhaitham’s phrasing when it was the first time he was hearing an admission of Alhaitham’s own arrogance. Contrary to his previous assumptions, this didn’t make him feel better. The realisation was crushing. Yet another misconception of Alhaitham which had ultimately backfired. Alhaitham was arrogant, yes, but contemptuous? How could he have ever believed that? “It’s fine. I know what you meant.”

“Then you know that the overturning of this is a critical step in self-reflection, if that’s the path you choose for yourself. If you’re willing to critically analyse your own perceptions of things that you once firmly believed, then this is a step forwards. Although there will indubitably be setbacks, if this is something you set your mind to, then these will be temporary in the long run.”

Well. Where was he to begin with that? Alhaitham’s gaze remained unbudging, meaning that it was him who had to turn away at the demand of his burning cheeks. He cleared his throat – auspiciously, and inwardly cringed at his apparent awkwardness. “You’re very… assured of this.”

“Of course. I’ve told you, your obstinance can be a positive or a hinderance, depending on where you apply it.” Alhaitham folded his arms, leant backwards, attention fixating on the familiar landscape spread before them. A smile had mutedly crept onto his face. Kaveh wondered if he was even aware of it. “Besides, you have people you can turn to, should you feel the need. Tighnari and Cyno have proven themselves more than deserving of your trust.”

Was this it? Was this Alhaitham finally distancing himself? Had the line been drawn?

No. It couldn’t be. Not after all this.

“… And if not them?”

Alhaitham looked back to him, took him in wholly, eyes flashing over his face, his meaning. If I need help, he was trying to ask without words, with his expression, his eyes, his being, tense with this paralysing intent. If I need support, if I need you. Will you continue to be with me, as you have chosen to do, even after all these years? Because of all these years?

He hadn’t spoken, but Alhaitham had heard. He leant forwards, bringing his certainty, his warmth, his words, closer. He spoke directly into the tremulous cleft that remained between them.

“For as long as you accept it, my help is yours. You don’t have to ask.”

Oh. He was supplanted. The unease that encased him was displaced from his being, and in its place, a dizzying warmth washed through him, tingling at the nerves shrouding his core, squirming at the tips of his fingers and toes. He wanted to laugh. He must have been smiling; Alhaitham seemed to respond, in tandem, a smile breaking free in his eyes, across his mouth.

“Alright then,” he agreed, because how could this be an issue of dispute? It only caused him to smile wider – he could feel it push against the burning of his cheeks. He had to look away to laugh, the giddiness within him barely expended. “Although, I hope you know I expect this to go both ways.”

“Of course,” Alhaitham returned. And because he was Alhaitham, he continued, “I’ve already agreed to write you a note when I’m expected to come into some altercation. Although, if the rate of your note reading with your current workload is anything to go by, I should arrange my future troubles around the limited free time in your schedule.”

Alhaitham deserved the glare, and the elbow nudge. “Hey. I’m being serious here. When it comes to you and your jokes, you have just as bad timing as Cyno. I don’t only expect a note from you. If you have a problem, I want you to feel that you can discuss it openly with me. If you want me to just listen, that’s fine, too.”

Alhaitham’s knee pressed against his as he hummed – a placating gesture. His gaze was honest, and disarming. “Sounds good.”

Beyaz had wandered off, presumably back home, but Alhaitham, in his stead, was pliant. Kaveh felt his faux glare soften. “So we’re agreed. Good. But this doesn’t just extend to me, you know. It seems your social circle is ever expanding. Who would have thought that organising a coup in overthrowing the Akademiya would have been the nudge you needed to make lasting friendships? I can’t say it’s entirely expected, but it’s much more your style. Well, I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I’m happy for you; you have reliable friends you can turn to. You can’t build your life around one connection, you know.”

Alhaitham looked past Kaveh, to the slope leading upwards to their house, and then across the water, towards Mawtiyima Forest. “I’m aware. But there are little drawbacks in prioritising one.” And then he stood, patted himself down. Kaveh looked on, unthinking. “Are you finished here?”

The blankness within him shifted as Alhaitham peered down at him over the upturned collar of his cape – expression masked. The deliberateness of it all had him shooting upright, head spinning, and legs numb from sitting in a sustained position. He found he could only stare, stumped, until Alhaitham turned his profile away. Was this… Alhaitham being coy?

“I see. You’d like some time for yourself. In that case, I’ll leave now.”

And with that, he turned to walk away. Kaveh was left standing by the crates, eyes fixed haplessly on Alhaitham’s retreating back as the chill in the air found him once more. The removal of Alhaitham’s presence alone was enough to chase after it, let alone Alhaitham’s strange behaviour, but he found his feet to be disobedient.

Everything seemed to have happened so quickly. Alhaitham had appeared beside him, and his previous solemnity had cleared somewhat, or at least, been alleviated through the presence of another, willing to help support it, without needing to ask, without daring to. Alhaitham had offered this help, explicitly, unconditionally. Even if Kaveh were to withhold, Alhaitham would know – what would be the point in attempting to hide himself? Alhaitham would uncover him, would unearth intentions unknown to even himself, would shape, cultivate, and name them.

Alhaitham grounded his wily troubles, took them from him to give solid meaning to, and handed them back, reformed, somehow lighter, tameable. Alhaitham wanted to do so of his own accord, and all he wanted in return was… Nothing? No. That wasn’t right. But what was the point in contesting when, inwardly, he already knew the unassailable truth?

All Alhaitham had ever wanted was for him to be content. All he wanted in return was Kaveh’s happiness.

What he had asked a month ago – if correctness wasn’t what mattered to Alhaitham, then what did matter? Alhaitham hadn’t answered. He didn’t seem capable of doing so. Kaveh’s question seemed to be a personal slight, and he had disengaged entirely. It had been unfathomable at the time, and hazy until now. But elucidation found him.

What did matter to Alhaitham?  

He did. Kaveh mattered.

So that was what Alhaitham couldn’t say to him when discussing the Ley Line? Perhaps Alhaitham thought he didn’t have the right or the confidence, or perhaps it was simply because it meant too much to him. It was too brittle to voice. And here, he had told Kaveh once more.

Bizarre, unpredictable, fascinating, ridiculous, awkward Alhaitham. Didn’t he know how much he meant to Kaveh in turn?

He took after Alhaitham, caught up with him nearing the end of the platform. “Hey! Stop for a second.” Grasping the tail-end of Alhaitham’s cloak and stopping within the middle of the square was the only way to get Alhaitham to yield.

“You’re done for the day?” Alhaitham turned halfway.

“You too,” it rushed from him, the remainder of his breath. Alhaitham faced him fully to blink at him. This minute display of perplexity, defencelessness, was all it took. “What you said – prioritising one connection. Then… well, it goes both ways.”

Alhaitham continued to watch him – like he hadn’t spoken at all. He had to step closer, aware of the stretch of distance between them, the fine fabric of Alhaitham’s cloak slipping from his hand. “I just thought you should know,” he forced himself to add, like it would make a difference. Had he assumed incorrectly?

No. It couldn’t be. He knew exactly what Alhaitham had meant.

A hum, something breathy, resounding from Alhaitham’s closed mouth, the back of his throat. “Then we’re on the same page.”

But Alhaitham was not looking at him – his gaze disparate from Kaveh’s, fixed on the whites of his eyes rather than the beating essence within the pupil. It came back to him all at once – his puffy-faced junior with downturned eyes, softened, stuck on some part of Kaveh’s face or an empty space in front of him, anywhere but his senior’s eyes, when he had been caught off-guard by an action or comment prompted by Kaveh’s endearment of him. Embarrassment.

Oh, so now Alhaitham was embarrassed, of all times? But not when he had revealed that Alhaitham, as a cat, had craved a forehead kiss from Kaveh – the perceived highest form of affection Kaveh was capable of giving? Yet another thing that had yet to properly be discussed between them… He didn’t have time to turn inwards himself, squirming both at this thought and at his open declaration of emotion – Alhaitham’s gaze had shifted entirely.

“The storm’s cleared. It’ll be a nice day tomorrow.”

Kaveh followed his gaze. A rapturous gleam of the sun pierced the sky with its dying light, clouds outlined in iridescent, a gilded tapestry of white cast onto the serene mirror of the river. Splendorous.

It had been a view much like this the very day he cast aside his previous house – a cadavered home. Bereft of his father, his mother, the very understanding that existed between them, unspoken, he was without vital components that made him himself. There wasn’t much left in him worthy of retaining after he had single-handedly destroyed this haven. All he had left in their stead were his ideas, monumental and never shifting, incorporeal and distant. But now… Things were changing. He had retrieved vital parts of himself, but not on his own.

He turned.

Alhaitham was waiting by the doorstep. He had retrieved the key from his pouch, had craned his head to look to Kaveh. Their gazes collided, entangling with an understanding that thrummed between them.

They weren’t perfect, and he could feel the uneven pieces within him totter precariously. But perhaps that was necessary. Change was terrifying, but it was imminent, and whether he would be strong enough to face it, allow it to transcend through him, he wasn’t fully certain. But if there was an unquestionability to be found, it would be that if he were to falter, he wouldn’t be alone.

After the blissful years of naivety and happiness, challenging each other and growing in a self-contained reprieve, and then separated by pride, a staggering perforation to the heart, having scraped by years of bridling grief and estrangement, he and Alhaitham were united once more. They had chosen to be. And would continue to do so.

He joined Alhaitham’s side as Alhaitham opened the door.

Home.

Part Two - Honesty (Close)