Chapter Text
Kaveh was not having a good day at work.
This wasn’t unusual for him, unfortunately. He seems to attract clientele that exclusively exist to frustrate his artistic process and underpay his hard work. Sure, he’s fine with both if it means more in his portfolio and a decent recommendation, but more and more he finds himself tiring of the same endless queries and troubles the client had with his vision.
Sighing, he closed up his sketchbook. This last meeting had gone poorly, as he knew it would - he swore he’d draw the line at the seventh revision on the stupid house expansion his client was asking for, but the money was good and he was still in the client’s decent-enough graces that he was willing to stand an eighth.
“Change the stupid window tiling one more time…” He mutters to himself, half-mad. He can’t imagine a world where someone cares this much about the exact shape of a window panel. Well, okay, he does, but it’s his life passion, not his mansion’s fourth bedroom.
He shakes his head tiredly. He’s glad, not for the first time, that he takes his client revision meetings in Lambad’s tavern most often, since they usually end up driving him to drink regardless. It’s much more convenient this way.
Lambad eyes him sympathetically as he sidles up to the bar. He smiles thinly.
“One of these days, Kaveh, you’re going to work yourself to death over these people. And then where will you be?” Lambad sighs, pulling out a glass and topping it with Kaveh’s usual. He laughs as he takes a swig.
“Where else but here?” He replies blithely. The beer is bitter against his tongue.
“It’s not funny, Kaveh. I’d be far more worried about you if it wasn’t for that roommate of yours keeping you off the streets.”
Kaveh twitched a finger dismissively, rolling his eyes. “I appreciate your concern, but it’s fine. He’s fine. As long as I’m still allowed this tab, anyway.”
Lambad shakes his head with a chuckle. “Off with you.” He calls, and Kaveh saunters off back to his favourite corner, sipping his beer and emptying his head of any lingering stress regarding his upcoming deadlines.
It honestly hadn’t even gotten that late when Lambad cuts him off. He’s barely been there a few hours.
“Back to that house of yours, before your friend comes looking again.” He orders. Kaveh whines, head just starting to spin. He’s barely even tipsy . He knows Lambad is fond of him, but that seems to be a curse now that he worries over Kaveh’s wellbeing.
“C’moon, just one more. I’ll pay the tab off next week with the money from that commission.” He bargains, but the bartender is steadfast.
“Come now, Kaveh. Out.”
Kaveh pulls a face, but trudges to the door. Best not to make an enemy of the man who keeps you in good supply of alcohol. He knows, rationally, it’s not about his conduct, more just concern for his welfare - after all, it’s barely nine, and he’s not even close to blackout drunk; just a little unsteady.
He shivers as the cold night air hits him outside the door. He’s always shocked at how fast Sumeru can go from hot enough to burn to the icy chill of the night air. His walk home is fast and close, at least, and his feet know it so well he could do it with his eyes closed. He should be out of the cold fast enough.
Of course, Alhaitham’s bound to be home, and he always stays awake to chide Kaveh on his drinking habits. He lets out a long, loud sigh, and slows his pace. One day his roommate will learn to mind his own business, and Kaveh will know peace. At least he usually gets free food out of it to sober up with, and painkillers on his desk in the morning. He can ignore the subtext that Alhaitham thinks he can’t take care of himself. Sometimes it benefits him.
Alhaitham was often difficult to read. One minute treating Kaveh like a child, the next treating him like some sort of pet who loiters in his front room. He never feels equal in that house, more like a nuisance that Alhaitham puts up with. Hopefully, the promise of mora from this upcoming project wasn’t empty, and he’d be able to pay off some of Alhaitham’s confusingly squandered goodwill. Maybe then he’d stop worrying about whether he’s finally going to pull the trigger on kicking him out.
Kaveh was so lost in his thoughts at this point that he was barely registering where he was walking. Before he could catch himself, he ran near-headfirst into a bush near the steps to the Akademiya, tripping over his own feet. Sighing and grumbling, he picked himself back up and brushed himself off. Stupid Alhaitham. That was his fault for distracting me. He stretches upwards, glancing around.
The shock of the fall knocks Kaveh’s tipsy mind back into focus just slightly. Something feels… off. He was walking the right way, but something in the air was too cold. It felt almost as though a shadow was being cast on him - like he was being followed.
Nervously, he scrambled to make sure he was still holding everything, and quickened his pace as he walked home. He wasn’t sure if anything was even wrong, but his instincts were sharp. Where had everyone gone? It’s not that late. Is noone from the Corps of Thirty patrolling tonight?
He realised that he was the only person in the vicinity. Anxiety ran cold up his spine. Just stop freaking out, Kaveh. It’s nothing. There’s noone around, so-
Before he could even finish the thought, he fels a rough shove against his back, his body slamming into the ground. The sensation knocked too much air out of him to yell. Something - Some one ? No, something - had pounced on him, pinning him down. Its hand quickly clamped down on his mouth. Fuck. Desperate, he tries to writhe out of their grip, but the hot, wet breath of whatever’s holding him down edges against his cheek, and he stiffens in panic.
It definitely can’t be a person. His head can’t tilt far enough to see his assailant, but the animal strength in pinning him down was far more akin to a rishboland tiger than it was anything human. His mind is running blank on how to get out of this. Is he going to die? Is this it? Some random animal attack in the street?
He twitches, eyes watering, and whatever’s holding him laughs .
His blood runs cold. It- it was talking. Laughing. He makes a sound of protest, but its mouth comes close to his ear again.
“Calm down. It’ll be over soon.” It chides, and Kaveh can scarcely draw breath before white hot pain runs through his whole body. He screams again, muffled by whatever’s holding his face, as the thing bites at his throat, tearing a hole in the side of his neck. Instantly Kaveh feels faint at the feeling, and he resists the pull of blacking out.
When the shock clears a few seconds later, he realises the thing pinning him down is… drinking from him. Suckling on his neck like it’s full of nectar, lapping at whatever spills off. The feeling is deeply grotesque, and Kaveh has the wherewithal to shiver uncomfortably, whimpering. He feels something desperate in whatever’s holding him down, but he’s getting weaker and fainter the longer this goes on. His vision blurs, and he turns his head just long enough to catch eyes, a human face tearing at his neck like an animal.
He feels the thing choke before it bites down once more, and the new pain is what tips him into unconsciousness.
Dimly, he wonders what Alhaitham had cooked for the two of them.
–
Kaveh wakes, coughing violently. He feels faint, like he’s developing a fever, and his head is foggy. Did I drink too much again? No, no, I remember leaving, and-
He sits up fast, which he immediately regrets as blood rushes to his head and begins to leak from his neck. He clamps a hand over the wound and pulls it away, hand drenched in blood. Holy shit. He turns his eyes down, head too dizzy to move properly, and all he can see is red against the bushes he’s sat in. His throat is in too much pain to make sound, but he releases something close to a gasp, and falls back down against the grass.
I need a doctor , he thinks dimly. His brain is barely processing what he’s seeing.
Faintly, it crosses his mind that he’s lost too much blood. Far too much. He doesn’t really know how much blood is dangerous to lose, but he’s aware that the amount of blood still dripping from his neck is excessive, enough that his muscles feel stiff and cold.
And yet, he thinks quietly. My head is clearing up, not getting fainter. He bends a finger slightly, and then his hand, finding the muscles tight but not painful. Perhaps it was just the shock running through his system, then, not blood loss. It’s still night out, so he can’t have been there for long.
But then, why isn’t his body losing feeling, if he’s lost so much blood?
What is happening? He shakes his head. He should feel worse. He’s dying. Isn’t he?
Am I already dead?
No, that’s ridiculous. He can feel his pulse just fine, and-
Kaveh gently grabs his own wrist, checking his pulse. Then he clenches down, knuckles white, because it isn’t there . He checks his neck, he holds a shaking hand to his heart, and-
Holy shit. He’s dead.
Finally, panic begins to curl in Kaveh’s chest, and he draws laboured breaths, body shaking. Then he panics more, eyes watering with fear. He died. He- He’s gone, he’s lying in his own pool of blood, murdered, and-
Kaveh pauses, again, because none of these deductions make sense. He can’t find his pulse, but he doesn’t… feel dead. Something’s wrong, yes, but… why was he still conscious? Why was he still a little tipsy, a little tired? Why was he still breathing in the first place?
Tired, his brain working overtime, he finally sits back up. His head is no longer dizzy from blood loss, something which worries him more than it does comfort him. Still, he was running out of the wherewithal to do anything except move his body. His legs felt stiff as he rose to his feet, knees weak.
He takes a gentle step, stumbles, but keeps his balance. He realises in the moment that he has no idea what he’s even supposed to do. What hospital takes a patient without a heartbeat? What could they even do for him?
Something did this to me. He thinks with surprising clarity. Whoever attacked me. They must know.
But how is he supposed to find them? He’s exhausted. He can hardly track down his assailant in this state, and it’s clearly been hours since it happened. He doesn’t know what to do. His whole body feels uncomfortable.
Kaveh sighs, idles, and finally makes up his mind. He wants to go back to his house. If he’s going to die, and if this is somehow his last few minutes on Teyvat, he wants to be in his own bed, at least.
He’s sure Alhaitham will be asleep by now. He’s not the type to stay up late, and Kaveh hasn’t been out late enough recently that he’d worry about picking him up after dark. Thank the archons, he might be able to slip by and wash all this damned blood off himself before Alhaitham saw.
He trudges home, the street nearly pitch black. Clouds were covering the stars, leaving near to no light in the city. Thankfully, he was barely a few paces away from his own front door.
The thought leaves him more upset than comforted.
Kaveh clicks his key silently into the door, turns, and to his great relief, Alhaitham isn’t waiting for him in the living room. He rushes inside quietly, slipping into the bathroom and flicking on the shower. He’s sure his silk shirt is completely unusable at this point, considering how drenched with blood it is by this point. Maybe the red blends with his scarf, though, and he can get away with it. He’d hate to throw it away.
He really is too out of it to think straight. Maybe a god will simply have mercy and smite him before laundry becomes an issue.
He sighs and strips down, peeling off his shirt from the wound at his neck. He checks the mirror without thinking, and nearly faints at the sight of it. A jagged bite mark, narrowly missing his jugular, tears through the flesh at his neck. It’s deep enough that he’d probably see bone if he looked hard enough, but he doesn’t feel like throwing up, so he chooses not to. His chest and face are all drenched in blood, sharp scratches around where his mouth was being clawed closed. Definitely grounds for assault. Attempted murder, even, considering the state of his injuries .
He steps into the shower, and the heat against his skin feels near-melting. He didn’t realise just how cold he was. It made sense, considering all the blood loss, but he could barely stand being under the showerhead without his skin burning.
The water drips blood-red down the drain as he tries to wash off everything that happened. He maneuvers himself gently such that the water doesn’t quite hit his neck, and tries to gently daub at the edge of the wound. After a while of soaking his body and washing through his hair, he felt a little less… dirty. A little closer to an alive Kaveh, and not some corpse someone left ditched in a bush.
The shower was sobering him up, but his exhaustion was preventing him from really processing what was happening. He moves as if on autopilot as he gets out and towels himself off. Maybe he really was dead, and this was all just a dream. Maybe he was a ghost now, doomed to haunt Alhaitham’s house permanently. A fate worse than death, he thinks to himself.
Still, he manages to open up the medicine cabinet and unroll a bandage, gently pressing it up to his neck and tying it in place. He wasn’t worried about losing blood at this point, more just hiding the wound away, so it takes little effort. Gingerly, he stands up, beelining back to his room. He doesn’t want to look at his reflection anymore.
He collapses into bed, eyes drifting closed before he can have another thought.
Maybe I’ll wake up tomorrow and this was just some terrible nightmare. There’s no way this is real.