Chapter Text
Kaveh wakes up the next morning having slept very little.
He rubs his eyes and yawns, feeling the familiar ache in his body that signifies a restless night. Alhaitham is up before him, as evidenced by the cold, empty spot beside him on the bed. This has been the norm for him these days: going to bed late and waking up early. He doesn’t get much sleep at night, it seems, but he certainly makes up for it during the day. Kaveh hopes that he doesn’t get too sleepy and grumpy while they’re with the medics at Bimarstan. The last thing they need is for him to get pissed off and leave in a huff.
Slowly, carefully, Kaveh sits up in bed, gently bending his joints, testing them for pain and stiffness. It’s always worse in the mornings, after he’s been still for so long. His left knee in particular protests quite strongly against being bent at all, even without any weight on it. He sighs, and feels the expansion of his diaphragm in his tense back muscles. It seems especially bad this morning. Of course, it would be, on a day that he needs to be mobile.
Taking Alhaitham to Bimarstan is not something he can put off just because he’s in pain, unfortunately, so Kaveh puts on his glasses, throws his legs over the side of the bed, and stands up slowly. He leans heavily on his cane, shuffling into the kitchen to see if Alhaitham made coffee.
When he gets to the doorway of the kitchen, he pauses. Alhaitham is sitting in a chair at the table, staring at the opposite wall intently. His hands are wrapped around a small, completely clean, empty mug. He doesn’t seem to notice that Kaveh is watching him, his gaze fixed squarely on the blank wall in front of him. While Kaveh watches, he lifts the mug to his lips and appears to try and take a sip of the nonexistent liquid within, either not noticing or not caring that he’s not actually tasting anything.
Kaveh sighs quietly. It’s not the first time Alhaitham has misremembered making coffee for himself, but it hasn’t gotten any easier to see. He approaches him from the side, being sure to make enough noise with his feet that he should be able to hear him coming.
“Alhaitham, did you make yourself coffee this morning?” he asks, once he thinks he’s given Alhaitham enough warning that he’s there beside him.
Alhaitham blinks, looking over at Kaveh with a frown. “Yes,” he responds, sounding slightly irritated already. He lifts the empty mug to show to Kaveh, then seems to realize that something’s off. He peeks inside the mug, a look of innocent surprise crossing his face when he doesn’t find any coffee.
“Huh. I could’ve sworn…”
He brings the mug closer to his face, as if the problem were his vision, and if he could just see better, he’d be able to find the coffee he’s clearly certain that he made for himself.
Kaveh shakes his head, reaching out and gently taking the mug from him. “That’s okay, I can make us both some coffee and breakfast before we head out.”
“Alright…” Alhaitham murmurs, looking down at his hands. Now that they’re not occupied with holding the mug, Kaveh notices that Alhaitham seems to not really know what to do with them.
As Kaveh starts boiling the water for coffee, he watches Alhaitham start to pick at the decorative placemats on the kitchen table. At first, it seems harmless. He’s just playing with loose threads, not actually doing any damage, and Kaveh deems it safe enough to look away for a minute to grind up the coffee beans. But when he looks back after finishing up with the coffee grounds, there’s a small pile of threads beside the placemat that Alhaitham is fidgeting with, and one of its corners is completely devoid of tassels.
“Alhaitham!” Kaveh exclaims, hobbling over to halt his destructive hands. “These are my favorite placemats, you can’t just pick one of them apart like that! You’re ruining it!”
“Oh,” Alhaitham says, looking down at the mess he’s made as if he hadn’t realized that he had been doing it. He lets go of the placemat and rests his hands down in his lap. “Sorry.”
Something in Kaveh’s chest twinges at the apology. A younger Alhaitham would’ve bitten back immediately, but the fire just isn’t there anymore.
Kaveh sighs, sweeping the ripped-up tassels into his hand. Maybe he’s being too harsh with him. Alhaitham clearly wasn’t intentionally tearing the placemat apart, it looked more like a compulsive behavior than anything.
“It’s okay. Just… next time, let me know if you want something to fidget with. I can get you something that’s harder to tear.”
Alhaitham nods, but doesn’t respond in words, looking down at his lap. He looks ashamed.
Yeah, I was being too harsh.
Kaveh deposits the loose tassels into the garbage and goes back over to Alhaitham, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s not a big deal. Asymmetry can be aesthetically pleasing, too,” he assures him, rubbing his shoulder gently. “Do you want me to get you a stress ball or a different fidget? I think there are a few in the closet.”
Alhaitham nods again. “Thank you,” he murmurs.
Kaveh leans down and gives Alhaitham’s silvery hair a gentle kiss. “Don’t worry about it, anything you need,” he says lightly, then carefully straightens up and slowly shuffles towards their bedroom to get the fidgets.
When Kaveh returns with the small box of stress balls of varying textures, Alhaitham is staring at the wall again. His hands are occupied with picking at his skin this time, and Kaveh quickly places the box in front of him to interrupt the damaging habit.
“Here, you can choose which ones you’d like to hang on to,” he says, with a bright smile that doesn’t match his mood.
He feels like he’s talking to a child, and he wonders if Alhaitham feels the same way, or if he’s so out of it that he doesn’t even notice the difference in Kaveh’s approach to speaking with him. He’s not sure which would be worse.
“I’m sure the staff at Bimarstan wouldn’t mind if you decided you wanted to bring them along today,” Kaveh continues. “You don’t even have to choose right now. Mehrak is coming with us, and she can hold the whole box, so if you change your mind about which one you want to hang on to, you can just swap it out for a different one.”
Alhaitham doesn’t respond to Kaveh’s rambling, he just reaches into the box and picks out a stress ball with short, slightly rounded spikes on it. It’s soft enough that he won’t accidentally hurt himself with it — Kaveh checked them all before bringing them over.
“Good choice,” Kaveh praises, a bit strained. He’s searching desperately for things to say, which isn’t a feeling he ever likes, and very rarely has ever felt with Alhaitham. Throughout most of their time together, save for a few awkward years in the earlier times, Kaveh has never felt like he has to fill any silences between them. With a lot of other people, a lull in the conversation is unbearable, and he needs to fill it with talk, even if it’s empty and meaningless. With Alhaitham, silence has felt comfortable. There hasn’t been an expectation that every moment together needs to be spent saying something, and Kaveh has loved that. Just sitting near Alhaitham and drawing while he reads, or having a silent meal together has been enough.
It’s been restorative and refreshing not to have to always have something to say when he’s around Alhaitham. But now… now there’s something there, something in the air between them that makes it impossible for Kaveh to enjoy that silence. It’s eating at him every second of every quiet moment, and if he doesn’t speak up to fill that moment with something, it might swallow him whole.
After breakfast, which was eaten in near excruciating silence, the two of them head over to Bimarstan. Thankfully, Alhaitham’s name is called fairly quickly, and the diagnosis made even quicker. Alhaitham has a rare neurodegenerative disease, the name of which Kaveh can barely pronounce, much less remember. He’s still stuck on the “neurodegenerative” aspect of it. That means there’s no cure. Alhaitham will just keep getting worse until he dies, and there’s nothing Kaveh can do about it.
Alhaitham doesn’t seem to be too surprised to hear his diagnosis, though it’s hard to tell whether he’s just taking it really well, or if he actually doesn’t quite understand the gravity of the situation. He’s sitting calmly, fixated on the stress ball in his hands, trying to pick it apart like he did the placemat earlier.
While Alhaitham’s off in his own little world, the healer explains what damage control and symptom management might look like for him in the near future, but even Kaveh is barely listening. He takes the pamphlets, the handouts, the resources, but he can’t focus on any of the words being said to him.
Alhaitham will just keep getting worse until he dies.
Until he dies.
Dies.
…
One of the pamphlets is for an assisted living facility. Kaveh tears it up and throws it away when they get home.
A month later, he wishes he had kept it. Alhaitham has gone from difficult to care for alone to nearly impossible. He can’t be trusted to remember to eat, to drink, to sleep, or even to use the bathroom on his own. Kaveh has to be with him every second of every day, watching him closely to make sure none of his needs are neglected.
Kaveh’s own mobility issues, paired with Alhaitham’s increasing tendency to wander and get lost, make it really hard for him to keep him safe now, too. He’s starting to worry that something bad is going to happen to him and he won’t be able to prevent it.
He hates to admit it, hates it with all of his heart, but it’s time to start looking into places where Alhaitham can safely live out the rest of his life.
Kaveh does his research. He collects leaflets (at least twenty), talks to staff, visits places, and interviews residents. In the end, he’s certain that the facility he chose is the best possible fit for Alhaitham, but the fact remains that there is no place other than their home that Alhaitham will be truly happy in. He had always been a creature of habit, even before he started deteriorating mentally, and moving living spaces is one of the biggest and most challenging transitions for almost anyone to go through.
Maybe his lack of mental clarity will make it easier for him to accept the change, Kaveh tells himself, but as he continues to have to remind Alhaitham of what’s happening next week, he’s starting to realize that it’s going to be the other way around. Every time he mentions it to him, Alhaitham’s eyes widen, and his mouth drops open. Every time, he asks if it’s really necessary, if he’s really that far gone. The fact that he never recalls their previous conversations about it is evidence enough that he is.
On the morning of the day itself, Kaveh does his best to keep Alhaitham calm and comfortable. They have breakfast as usual, they brush their teeth and get dressed slowly, no need for any rushing. Kaveh wants to drag on this moment for as long as possible, this moment when he still has Alhaitham with him at home, safe. This final moment of togetherness that won’t last.
He doesn’t tell him where they’re going until they’re there. It feels almost like enacting some sort of betrayal, not telling him what’s going on, even though he knows in his heart that this is the only way forward. Alhaitham doesn’t ask any questions, doesn’t complain that they’re not taking their usual walking route. Kaveh suspects that he’s lost the ability to recognize his surroundings at all. At least he seems content, for now.
The building they’re aiming for is a brutalist nightmare, standing out jarringly among the more intricate workmanship that decorates most of Sumeru City, but it houses the facility Kaveh had deemed the best fit for Alhaitham, so he’ll have to forgive whoever designed it.
When they come up to the front desk of the facility, the staff member seated there gives them both a once-over, like she’s not sure which one of them is the future resident. It’s an understandable dilemma, Kaveh concedes, since he definitely looks older and more frail than Alhaitham does.
“My name is Zoya, welcome to The House of the Sun-Kissed Fern, how can I help you?” she finally says, clearly trying to pretend she wasn’t staring. Kaveh forces a smile and gestures to Alhaitham with his shoulder.
“This is Alhaitham,” he says with forced composure, gripping his cane tightly. “I’m just here to help him get settled.”
Zoya immediately nods. “Ah, yes, of course. I remember now, you came by a few weeks ago to assess fit for your… uh… I mean, for Alhaitham.”
“Yeah, my name is Kaveh,” Kaveh responds, looking around distractedly, trying to locate more staff members. Her little fumble around the nature of his relationship with Alhaitham is something Kaveh is very used to, so he barely even registers that it happened. “Is there anyone around who’d be able to help me with his bags? I’m not the most mobile.”
Zoya nods again, ringing a little bell on the desk beside her. “Yes, someone will be right over to assist you. In the meantime, you can make yourselves comfortable on any of the chairs or benches. We’ll do our best to make this transition as smooth as possible for everyone involved.”
True to Zoya’s word, the actual “moving in” part of this whole process goes fairly well. Alhaitham is occupied with his stress ball, definitely not registering the meaning of all the commotion around him as Kaveh and the staff unpack his things in the room he was assigned.
It all goes by too quickly, though. They finish unpacking, they take a short walk around the grounds to show Alhaitham where everything is — though he likely won’t remember it. He looks to be taking everything in stride, but it’s unclear how much he’s even understanding.
Everything happens in what seems to be the blink of an eye, and suddenly it’s time for Kaveh to say goodbye to Alhaitham. To leave.
This is the part he’s been dreading the most. No matter how prepared he thinks he might be for Alhaitham’s reaction, he knows that doing this, leaving Alhaitham alone in an unfamiliar place, will break both of their hearts.
The staff let Alhaitham escort Kaveh to the exit, where they will have to part ways for now, but he’s been holding Kaveh’s hand tightly as they walk, and it doesn’t look like he’s planning to let go anytime soon.
“Alhaitham, can you let go of my hand?” Kaveh asks quietly, once they’re standing in front of the double doors. He doesn’t want to have to forcefully remove Alhaitham’s grip on him. It would be better if he would just let go on his own, but he doesn’t. Alhaitham just shakes his head stubbornly, clinging to Kaveh’s hand even more tightly.
A lump forms in Kaveh’s throat. Does Alhaitham know what’s going to happen once he lets go? Is that why he’s refusing to release Kaveh’s hand? He sends a helpless look over to the staff member who’s standing nearby. He doesn’t know what to do. Kaveh doesn’t want to let go, either. He doesn’t want to leave Alhaitham here. He can barely stand the thought of abandoning him like this.
The staff member gives Kaveh a sad look in return, but gestures towards the door, indicating that it’s time for him to leave. Kaveh swallows hard. He looks back at Alhaitham, who’s staring at their joined hands intently, like they might disappear if he looks away.
“It’s time to let go of my hand,” Kaveh prompts again gently, his voice trembling slightly. “It’ll be okay, just… let go please.”
Alhaitham’s grip doesn’t loosen. “I like holding your hand,” he says poutily, looking up from their hands at Kaveh. “I don’t want to let go.”
Kaveh holds back a sob that wants to rip its way through him. This is impossible. Alhaitham’s innocent expression of affection feels like it’s tearing his chest in half. How in the world is he going to do this?
“You’re so sweet,” Kaveh chokes out, stroking the top of Alhaitham’s hand with his thumb. “And I’m so sorry,” he continues, stinging tears gathering in his eyes. Every word feels like poison in his mouth. “I have to go back to the house, and you have to stay here. That’s why I’m asking you to let go of my hand.”
Alhaitham blinks. “…Stay here?” he repeats slowly, his grip on Kaveh’s hand loosening slightly. “And you’re… leaving?”
Kaveh takes the opening Alhaitham is unknowingly giving him and gently pries his fingers off his hand, though every muscle in his body is screaming at him to stop, to hold on to Alhaitham as tightly as possible. The tears gathering in his eyes start to fall when he sees how wounded Alhaitham looks by his actions.
“Yes,” Kaveh says, his voice strained and thin. “I’ll be back to visit, but you live here now, remember? They’ll be able to take care of you here better than I can at home.”
That confession, admitting out loud where the world can hear him that he can no longer take care of Alhaitham, feels like the biggest failure of his life. It’s bigger than any of his architectural or personal failings, bigger than anything and everything he’s ever fucked up before. Though he’s said it to people before, it somehow feels more true and more painful now that the result of his failure is becoming a reality.
“I want to go home with you,” Alhaitham murmurs tearfully, and Kaveh’s heart is torn in two by his pleading expression, the way he reaches out towards him again, only to be gently stopped by the staff member.
“Don’t worry, Kaveh will come back tomorrow, alright?” they say soothingly, carefully trying to direct him away. “There’s some music happening in one of the common areas. Kaveh told me you like music! Let’s go check it out.”
“What kind of music…?” Alhaitham asks them, immediately distracted. Kaveh watches as the two of them slowly walk away, not sparing him a single backward glance.
He keeps staring down the hallway long after they’re out of sight, tears streaming down his face and silent sobs shaking his fragile shoulders.
The next morning, Kaveh wakes up alone in bed. For a moment, he listens for Alhaitham’s shuffling footsteps in the kitchen, then he remembers that he lives on his own now, with Mehrak as his only company. Not that Alhaitham was very good company towards the end of their cohabitation, but it was better than a suitcase that only speaks when spoken to.
Kaveh turns over under the covers, reaching for Alhaitham’s pillow and pressing it gently to his face as he inhales deeply. It still smells like him. He wonders how long that will last, now that Alhaitham isn’t sleeping on it.
It hits him, then, that this is the way things will be for the rest of his life. He will always be chasing after memories of his partner, never able to fully feel his presence again, even if he does survive past seventy-eight.
Up until the day he dies, Kaveh will be alone.
And he cries, and he cries, and he cries.