Chapter Text
The notes are shaky and rough, yet matter no less to Dohalim’s heart than the finest tune. There is far much more to this music than what his keen ear can criticise. It hasn’t been long since this child brought the bow’s hairs against violin strings for the first time, and yet the improvement has been tremendous. Dohalim is familiar with how much one can soar seemingly all of a sudden.
It’s not so much that one is suddenly adept at what they can do and have improved without a clear reason why. All the hours an artist puts into their craft builds, their studying and hard work lay an important foundation for them to flourish later on. It can feel like they are getting nowhere, until a certain hurdle is conquered and that hard work pays off.
That is what Dohalim hears from those still inexperienced notes, as well as sees from the satisfied smile on the child’s face. When the bow is brought down from the violin, Dohalim claps his hands together, his own smile more than genuine. “I’m sure you can no longer deny how far you have come, can you?”
“I suppose not, no.” She looks down at the violin in her hands, brow creasing a little. “Sometimes I still worry that I’m not getting good fast enough, though. It still took a lot of lessons to get this far.”
“Of course. Mastering an art is no overnight feat. I myself took plenty of time to reach where I am now, and I still have much to learn even so.”
The girl shakes her head. “You’re excellent though! And I’m already twelve, there are loads of kids younger than me who have a natural talent and started way earlier…”
“If you think that twelve is much too late to develop your artistry, there is little hope for me,” Dohalim chuckles. He gets up from his seat, setting down a file of compositions he has prepared for her to practice on a table. “Natural talent is also… Well, whilst I am not sure I can say it doesn’t exist, I’m not a fan of putting emphasis on it.”
“What do you mean?”
He’s glad she asked; any moment he has to talk about something he is passionate about is one he will happily take. “There are people who may have a natural affinity towards something, this much is true. One’s intelligence might be more adequate with one skill than another, or their innate interest simply aligns with it. They might have a larger expanse of creativity, have a keen eye for a subject and find themselves improving faster than the average person might. But none of this matters at all should someone not work towards it themselves.”
The girl considers this, tapping the violin bow against her leg as she does so. “Natural talent basically means nothing if someone still doesn’t work hard at it, right?”
“Precisely. The arts are another skill one can learn. Do you play video games at all?” The little girl nods. “That explains how good your reaction times are. In video games, you have character stats, correct? There might be some characters who have a higher ability in one aspect and lesser in another, but you can also train those characters and improve them in the way you favour. Natural affinity might give one a boost, yes, but the rest is practice and dedication. We are much the same. Anyone can better themselves with this, so long as they put the time and effort in, study both hard and efficiently. Although not everyone has that drive, which is what differentiates you and I from the rest—people who are willing to go that extra mile.”
He clears his throat after he finishes talking, aware that his tangents could bore some children half to death. She, however, is not one of them for certain. She has been hanging onto his words—perhaps because they ring true in her, give her hope—and her eyes have widened from the last sentence as though being struck with a realisation.
“That really makes me feel better,” she says, a sheepish grin appearing on her face. “I suppose even if someone was naturally talented too, it’s not like they could just pick up the violin and be perfect at it. Everyone needs to work hard to get better.”
“And do you have the determination to improve?”
“Yeah, of course!” The girl smiles to herself for a moment, appearing to grow a little shy as she turns and prepares to put her violin and bow away. “Um...thanks. You’re only here to teach me the violin. You didn’t have to go through all that speech or anything.”
“You are right; I never had an obligation to reassure you.” Dohalim’s smile returns, crouching down to pick up his own violin case. “I wanted to, however. Both because it only makes me a stronger teacher to you, and also because I understand your emotions. Every artist grows insecure here and there in their journey, which includes myself. You are certainly not alone.”
Before long, Dohalim is by the front door and pulling on his trenchcoat, giving his farewell to the child and her parents as he picks up his violin. He inhales the fresh air outside once the door is closed after him, feeling relief; he might enjoy his work and not change it for the world, but he’s looking forward to the day off he has tomorrow. As much as his nerves spike when thinking about it.
He takes out his phone once on the pavement, finding an expected message.
Kisara
I’ll be at your apartment in about an hour for the pre-date pep talk :)
Dohalim slows to a stop, not quite someone who can handle the art of walking and texting at the same time.
Dohalim
I did invite you over for more than this alone, you know. I value your company.
Kisara
Yes of course, but you also value my motherly moral support. See you soon!
Well, he cannot exactly deny it, but at least he’s not alone in receiving Kisara’s motherly nature. It seems to be a given for anyone she cares about. To watch out for them, care as though they are family. By now, in fact, Dohalim much considers Kisara as exactly that.
And he is glad that, in the end, he did receive family after all.
Kisara releases a satisfied sigh, lowering down a cup of steaming tea from her mouth. “I remember a time when you could barely make tea,” she says. “How that has changed.”
“You would be surprised at how much one can learn once living on their own.” Dohalim takes a sip from his own cup, and he has to agree with her. He does make a great cup of tea these days.
“And you have done well, all things considered. I never minded helping you get on your own feet either.” After a couple more sips, she places the cup down, asking, “How did work go today?”
“Fine, thank you. In fact, I’m starting to get to the point now where I’m scheduled for weeks in advance.”
It’s not a negative thing, by any means—it means that others desire his teaching, and that his reputation has grown good enough for word to spread about him. With how he was frequently told that music could not ever take him somewhere of worth, however, he does spend a fair amount of time in disbelief over what he has achieved.
His pursuits with music would have been worthwhile even if it had never ended up as his career, of course. But it does feel satisfying to have done exactly what he had been told he would never accomplish.
“That’s hardly any wonder with how well you’ve done, not to mention the traction you’re getting on social media.”
“I’m thankful I managed to grasp social media at all, eventually,” says Dohalim, smiling over Kisara’s laugh.
“With how bad you were at first, it felt like you were in your fifties, not twenties.” Kisara shakes her head in disbelief. “At least you don’t have to message me for guidance on it anymore.”
“No, somehow I have been efficient enough to conquer it alone.” Dohalim takes a sip of his tea. “How about yourself, anyhow? Have you enjoyed your annual leave thus far?”
“Oh, most definitely. Working in security is quite the contrast to your teaching, that’s for sure.”
“You enjoy it, however.”
“It’s exactly what I want to be doing,” Kisara confirms. “But it’s not exactly an easy-going job, so I’m glad for the break. We should take a trip somewhere on Sunday, perhaps?”
Dohalim nods with a smile; although he quite enjoys having weekends to himself, taking the time to play music he doesn’t attend to as frequently or to catch up on books to read, it’s been a while since his and Kisara’s schedules have aligned well enough for them to spend time together. “I would adore that.”
“Me too. But for now, we need to focus on plans you have sooner than that.” Kisara pats Dohalim’s arm. “You don’t have to hide that you want some advice from me.”
A hand runs along Dohalim’s shoulder, rubbing at his neck. “Perhaps not, although I do fear that I rely on you far too much.”
“You want reassurance for a date, Do, not life advice. I’m fairly certain this comes under general friendship stuff.” Kisara leans against the sofa, her smile returning. “It is reassurance you need, isn’t it?”
Dohalim hums, eyes casting from her to the teacup in his hands. “I believe so. It’s rather difficult to say. A part of me has entirely no clue on what I require.”
“You seem a bit uncertain about all of this.”
“I am not uncertain on every matter. Such as… Well, I do not regret saying yes to a date.”
A chuckle leaves Kisara’s lips. “I can tell that much.”
“Quite. And despite how aware I am of my insecurities, I’m not so dreadful with it that I believe he asked me out of sympathy. However…” Dohalim sighs, setting his cup down on the coffee table, concerns that have been plaguing him returning full force. “My dating experience is far more minimal than I care to admit. I feel somewhat ashamed of it.”
He knows that emotions like this have no real basis or reason, all driven by societal expectations of being at a certain point by a certain age. None of it is based in logic, all socially constructed, yet the pressure it produces is immense. A linear path all are expected to take. Go to education, fall in love, marry. To have such limited experience by this age…
It should not matter, but to many, it does. No matter what the reason might be.
“There is nothing wrong with that,” says Kisara. “You grew up believing you might not have a choice in the matter when it came to love. It took a fair amount of years for you to accept your sexuality as well. It’s fine for anyone to not be very experienced at your age, but that’s especially certain for anyone who discovered themselves later on.”
Dohalim is silent for a moment, letting those words sink in. He would have no hesitancy believing them for anyone else, of course. It has always been a little harder accepting the same for himself. “Thank you, Kisara. I have been reminding myself of this.”
“Still hard to accept it though, right? I get that, and it’s why I don’t mind reminding you of it myself.” Kisara sets her own teacup down, grabbing hold of a biscuit whilst she’s there. “From what you have told me, this Alphen guy is friendly. I’m sure he would never be the type of person to judge you about any of this.”
The thought of this brings a smile to Dohalim’s face, and a hum to leave him. “Yes. I daresay I agree.”
“If you didn’t, I’m sure you wouldn’t have said yes.”
Kisara takes a bite of the biscuit, crunching it with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Are they adequate?” Dohalim asks whilst she swallows.
“They’re great! Just a little less time in the oven, and they’d be perfect.”
“Hmm, I thought they might have been a touch overdone. Thank you.”
She must be honest as well, for she even reaches forward to grab another one. “Is there anything else you’re worried about here?”
The question causes Dohalim to chuckle. He can’t help it, after all. Not when he could easily answer that with a simple everything.
“The small things, I suppose,” he answers instead. “Whether I will blather on far too much about this or that, what I will wear…”
“What you will wear?” Kisara echoes, and she chuckles. “As though you don't dress well enough for a date already.”
“That is the problem. Do I dress better than normal, or remain the same? Would I appear too...pompous, if I did the former?” A sigh leaves Dohalim, and for emotional support, decides to grab a biscuit in the same manner as Kisara. “I should have never said yes to this.”
Although amusement is on her face, Kisara’s smile is kind; she pats Dohalim’s shoulder. “No, you’re simply worrying far more than you need to about it. Wear whatever you usually like to wear.” She pauses, then adds as an afterthought, “Although perhaps trousers that do well for your backside wouldn’t go amiss.”
“I’m not you, Kisara.” Although the addition appears to have been a joke, Dohalim contemplates it. “Should I truly take that into consideration?”
This time, Kisara cannot stop herself at merely a chuckle alone; she bursts into full-blown laughter, and although Dohalim tries to glare, the sound is contagious and he is quick to join in. Doing so is freeing, and it helps him realise how ludicrous he is for these useless worries.
“What you should be taking into consideration is what I said before that. Wear what you like and be yourself, Dohalim. That’s exactly who Alphen asked out on a date in the first place, so there’s no need to pressure yourself into acting like someone else.”
Although Dohalim once felt pressure to do exactly that, nor does he especially like the real him, he has to agree that she is right. No matter how Dohalim feels about himself, Alphen likes him enough to want to spend more time together. Alone without their pets, even in a romantic context.
There’s a meow by his feet, causing Alphen’s eyes to drop down and find Pablo de Sarasate brushing up against his legs. “Pablo might have bridged the gap between Alphen and I,” says Dohalim, leaning over to scratch the top of Pablo’s head and earn a chirp from him, “but I cannot deny you are right. If he disliked what he has experienced with me thus far, he would have never asked in the first place.”
“Precisely. So rather than ask all these things about what you should be doing, maybe the answer has been all along that you just need to be yourself.”
When she smiles at him, he cannot help but smile back. He doesn’t quite understand why this would be enough, why exactly Alphen has taken a liking to him, but perhaps that doesn’t matter in the first place. Questioning why or how will get him nowhere; allowing himself to enjoy what is to come will.
Dohalim finds himself thankful for numerous matters the following morning. Kisara’s advice is of course one of them; whilst he certainly would benefit from having more confidence than he does right now, he knows that he would likely be without a single scrap without her. As well as this, the fact that Alphen has asked him to lunch rather than dinner is a bonus. Less waiting in anxiety that way. Dohalim has a horrid inclination that it has been so long since he tried dating, he would be able to do little but dwell on the date all day and allow it to distract him, regardless if it was in the evening instead.
It also feels a little less pressuring. Lunch is casual, it has less expectations. He wouldn’t say no to a more serious date, but this is at least easier on him. He’s about as ready as he’ll ever be after his talk with Kisara the day before.
Pablo is receiving a head massage behind both ears, when Dohalim receives a message. One hand remains on Pablo as the other retrieves his phone, pushing aside the onslaught of negative messages his mind conjures in the process.
Alphen
Morning, Dohalim! Still down for today?
Dohalim
Most certainly. Where shall I meet you?
Alphen
It’s not too long of a walk from here, so we can meet outside where we usually do for walks if you like. Say at 12:30?
Dohalim
Sounds splendid. I will see you then.
Alphen
Sure thing! Looking forward to it :)
Dohalim of course wouldn’t have been mad if Alphen had to cancel for some reason or another, but this in itself is reassuring. Dohalim exhales when putting his phone away, bringing his gaze back down to Pablo. Blue eyes blink up at him. It’s almost as though they know, judge him perhaps, for all the worrying and over-preparation he has done.
You’re the one to blame for all this, you know, Dohalim thinks to himself, his fingers returning to the top of Pablo’s head to scratch it. He pushes his head up against the touch, causing Dohalim’s lips to curl into a smile.
Time passes as slowly as expected, resulting in Dohalim trying on a few different shirts—only to do similarly with the jumpers and cardigans he wears over them. Eventually, he looks little different to how he usually looks when they see each other, with a thick navy cardigan over a stormy grey shirt. Although he hopes the white trousers aren’t too daring. At least Pablo’s hairs don’t show on them, which have a habit of getting everywhere.
With one last goodbye to said companion, he heads down through the apartment block, hit by a blast of cold air; with a shiver, he flips one part of a houndstooth scarf over his shoulder. He’s tried to not leave too early, and it turns out he chose a good time when he spots Alphen standing some distance away.
“Ah, Dohalim!” exclaims the man when Dohalim heads over, giving him a wave. One look at him brings a couple of thoughts—firstly, a single sight of a crush should not make Dohalim’s heart do somersaults in his chest. Secondly, he’s glad he didn’t dress up too much, for Alphen has merely thrown a long leather coat over a thin hooded-top.
Not that Dohalim is complaining about this, of course. It reminds him of Kisara’s insistence over how being yourself is enough, and how when Dohalim’s attention is brought to Alphen, he can apply that notion to seeing others and not just himself. He wouldn’t want anything different than Alphen being as he always is.
“I apologise if I kept you waiting here in the cold,” says Dohalim once closer, receiving a shake of Alphen’s head.
“Nah, I haven’t been here too long. It’s not too bad today anyway.” Alphen lets out a laugh, scratching the back of his head. “You know, I really am odd. Grew up somewhere hot, yet I swear I do worse with heat the older I get. I almost got heat stroke the last time I went to my hometown.”
It might be cruel, but Dohalim can't help but chuckle over the irony. “Whilst I cannot relate to this precise situation, there is something about the ridiculousness of it that is deeply relatable.”
“Right?! Of course I’ve gotta have that kind of luck.”
Alphen’s grin is contagious, and with it, Dohalim already feels all the anxiety he has been building up ease away. There is little difference now to how it always is. The only difference is the lack of furry companions with them and how different topics of conversation will have to be used.
Well, it’s not as though pet owners will necessarily avoid bringing up their beloved companions all because they are not there.
“It is strange to see you without Frank, I must admit,” says Dohalim, immediately cursing himself inwardly for using this as a crutch even now, but Alphen pays it no mind.
“I can say the same about you. Feels weird seeing you without a furry little cat by your side! But, well,” Alphen’s smile grows a little sheepish, although he doesn’t break eye contact, “as much as I like Pablo de Sarasate, it’s you who I tried taming my hair for this morning. And I don’t do that for just anyone.”
Dohalim’s eyes drift up to that pale head of hair, which still spikes up as it always does. “Pardon my rudeness, but it is still, well…”
“It wasn’t a success in the slightest. It’s all right, you can say it.”
The response causes Dohalim to laugh, and Alphen is quick to join in. “Well, I cannot say I was any less meticulous about my appearance, regardless of how I also look quite the same as always.”
“No need to fix what’s already perfect, right?” Alphen questions. Before Dohalim has a chance to process the compliment properly, never mind think of any kind of response, Alphen points to a turning on their left, a less busy pathway in the town centre. “It’s just down that way!”
The peace down this way is welcome, already giving Dohalim a fair bit of hope about where they’re visiting. Quietness is a trait he prefers. Not to mention that restaurants which aren’t on main, highly popular streets are the ones that tend to have some uniqueness on their menu.
“And there,” Alphen announces, gesturing to a building with a wide, open window. “If you’ve been here before, announcing its location will lose its charm.”
“I have not, but rest assured the charm would remain if I had.” Dohalim readies himself to open the door, only for Alphen to do so first with a smile. “Oh, thank you.”
The warmth as they enter the restaurant is immediately welcome. What Dohalim notes next is the relaxed atmosphere inside. Whilst many of the restaurants in the area value modern appearances, this one feels more natural, with wooden pillars and nude colours. One wall further ahead is painted coral, brighter and breathing colour into the room alongside the greenery of various plants.
“Nice, isn’t it?” questions Alphen. “I had a feeling you’d like the look of this place.”
Dohalim hums, bringing his gaze back to Alphen. “There is always a certain appeal to somewhere like this that expensive, highly modernised restaurants cannot achieve.”
To their luck, a table is available by one of the windows, allowing them a brightly lit area to read their menus in. The selection is large—promising, yet decisions can be difficult. There must be something on his face reflecting this, for Alphen smiles at him with some amusement in his eyes.
“Shionne is the most passionate person I’ve ever met with food, and she often spends ages trying to decide,” he says. “So there’s no need to rush picking when around me.”
“I imagine you might struggle less, if this is an establishment you visit frequently.”
“Oh, yeah. I’m easy to please as long as it’s spicy anyway.”
“I did not know spicy food appealed to you.” Coincidentally, Dohalim has just found a section of the restaurant’s curry options, and he believes Alphen is looking at the same judging from where his eyes are fixed on his own menu.
“I put so much spice in food, people have grown to fear me and make sure I don’t overdo it,” Alphen confesses. “So yeah, love it. My other favourite place is dedicated to spicy stuff, although I uh, wouldn’t exactly ask someone on a date there unless I knew they liked it too.”
Dohalim chuckles, imagining the awkwardness of that situation. “Best to be safe. I do enjoy spicy food, although to a reasonably safe degree, where my mouth is intact afterwards.”
“So normal, unlike me.”
“Oh, no. I quite like peculiar sorts of dishes, these days. Kisara often watches in dismay over the choices I pick.” Dohalim realises how long he has been looking at Alphen for rather than his menu, clearing his throat a little before his gaze drops back down. Alphen has been doing the same, although he likely already knows what he will order. “I suppose I reached a point in my life where I wanted to be adventurous, and explore options that had not been presented to me whilst growing up.”
“As scared as you might make Kisara, I can get that. I think it’s more fun to be willing to try stuff that others might deem as ‘unusual’. Never know what you might like, you know?” Alphen pauses a moment, before he closes his menu and pops it to the side. “Although I’m not being adventurous today. Another day, another spiciest curry they have on the menu.”
“That makes two of us, for I was considering simply opting for a curry as well,” says Dohalim. He’s glad that he’s not the only one who is touched by the idea of their tastes matching to each other; judging by the smile on Alphen’s face, he feels the same.
“Right, I’ll go let them know what we’re ordering,” says Alphen once the drinks and specific curry options have been decided, Alphen rising up to his feet. It gives Dohalim a moment to observe the dessert menu without any shame, which also has a wide selection. A student of his would be enamoured with the ice cream options here for certain.
He returns it to its stand quickly, eyes drifting out of the window instead and catching sight of a person walking their Malamute outside. The fluffy coat thickening up for winter is so adorable and reminiscent, in fact, that he startles slightly when Alphen sits down with a drink in either hand.
“Didn’t mean to make you jump, my bad!” Alphen places a glass of lemonade near himself, and a cup of tea in front of Dohalim, before leaning back in the chair again as he follows Dohalim’s gaze. “Oh, that’s one adorable pooch.”
“Albeit my preference for cats, I can always appreciate dogs as well.” A thought crosses Dohalim’s mind, one that he surprisingly hasn’t considered nor asked until now despite how much the conversation of their pets has been brought up. “How long have you had Frank?”
“Four years now, all the way from when he was a puppy. He was a rescue stray actually.”
“Oh, Pablo was the same.” Dohalim hovers one hand above the other. “He was tiny, much younger than one would tend to adopt a kitten. I used to foster them, although with Pablo, well…”
“Failed foster parent who decided to adopt?” asks Alphen, his smile growing when Dohalim nods. “That’s great, though. I love hearing about people who foster animals. I considered fostering too, but I ended up visiting a shelter with the idea of adopting an older dog. Frank and I just ended up clicking.”
“Sometimes one can have that immediate strong connection, much like they might with a human,” Dohalim agrees. “Did you ever have a dog before him? You give the impression of being naturally inclined towards dogs and their behaviours, so I have wondered if that has been caused by growing up with dogs your entire life.”
Alphen shakes his head, which comes as a surprise. “I was around a dog here and there. But never really long enough to fully form a strong bond, or to learn a lot about them.” The confusion Dohalim has must appear on his face; Alphen adds, “Oh, I might not have mentioned it. I’m an orphan, and spent a lot of time in foster care.”
“I apologise if my confusion appeared rude, in this case,” says Dohalim. He pauses a moment, mostly because, despite how much he has spent all this time fretting over how Alphen seems different to him and better in many ways, it appears the two have similarities—away from their shared love for furry companions, of course. “I understand, however. I was adopted when I was fairly young, although my parents had not allowed pets, so it was not until my adult life that I was able to indulge in such a companion either.”
“Well, like me, you’re a natural when it comes to Pablo,” says Alphen, proving he always seems to know what to say in matters where, with many others, they might find difficulty. “So I would have expected you to be a cat person all your life, too.”
“Destiny is at play for both of us, if you will,” says Dohalim, smiling at the warm laugh Alphen releases in response.
Dohalim has been no stranger to an awkward period of time when it comes to waiting for a meal to arrive, be it when he once frequented restaurants with his parents or the occasional date he has had before. Today with Alphen gives him the opposite. Their conversation is so enjoyable, they almost miss the waitress arriving with their food, only properly taking note of her until she stands by her table with a steaming plate in either hand.
“Here is your meal!” she announces. “The katsu curry?”
“That is mine, thank you,” says Dohalim, leading to her placing this plate down in front of him, and the other in front of Alphen.
“Enjoy your meal!”
“Thanks!” Alphen exclaims. Once she is out of earshot, with a lower voice, he adds, “I almost told her ‘you too’.”
Somehow, that confession only makes Dohalim all the more charmed by him.
It’s when the two are eating their food that Dohalim is also able to allow his thoughts to drift to how he is feeling at this moment. A layer of nerves still remains, but they are more subdued than they were earlier. Dohalim could describe the emotion as something which is more giddy and excited. Constantly there, but not uncomfortable, rather proof of how joyful he is to be on this date at all.
The ease of conversation proves Kisara’s words more with each passing minute as well. He truly had managed to convince himself that a date, in comparison to the walks the two have had with their pets, would go terribly. Perhaps he knew the opposite deep down, that Alphen’s company would be wonderful no matter where the two are. It’s simply taken it occurring for it to truly be registered.
Somehow, it only gets better when Alphen says, “So, Pablo de Sarasate. Cat version.”
“Yes?”
“I know you said he was named after a musician. What are they like?”
Oh, dear. A question about his passion. An urge is quickly building up inside Dohalim, the rising desire to spill absolutely everything about a topic he adores. He composes himself however, not wanting to make this date a failure. “I am afraid you’re opening up a door to, well, rather effusive admiration.”
“And? I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”
It could be politeness, but Alphen has even leaned forward slightly on the elbow he rests on the table (Dohalim must truly be enamoured with him, if he doesn’t have too awful of an itch to request Alphen to remove it and demonstrate better table manners). Wanting to listen… Now there is something Dohalim hasn’t experienced too often.
“Very well,” says Dohalim, still trying to keep his voice relatively normal. “Pablo de Sarasate was a Spanish violin virtuoso—meaning he possessed incredible talent and technical skill in this field, of course—in the romantic period. He was a composer and conductor as well.”
“Oh, well that’d make sense,” Alphen responds, cutting into some of his food, yet still fixing his eyes on Dohalim regularly. “You said you’re a violinist, right? So it’s only natural that your cat would be named after one, too.”
“Indeed. His music was astonishing, and I first found myself enthralled in his music when I listened to the Carmen Fantasy for the first time. It bursts with delicate techniques contrasted with a sanguineous temperament, considered to be one of the most difficult compositions on the violin. I can only dream that I could—”
In an instant, Dohalim cuts himself short, noticing how his voice is increasing in volume and excitement the more he continues to speak. Whilst taking a moment to fret over this internally, Alphen says, “I’d love to listen to it! Sounds like you’re passionate about that piece.”
“...Yes. Certainly. It was one of the first to encourage me to work harder to secure a violin.”
“Work harder for it?” Alphen repeats. It takes Dohalim a moment to consider how Alphen picked up on what others would consider vague wording, Dohalim merely staring back at him with slightly surprised eyes. Perhaps this is Alphen’s job as a therapist coming into play, or perhaps a trait of he himself as a person which so happens to correlate well with his job.
“I will spare you the ramblings of a struggling artist, particularly on our first date,” Dohalim says instead.
“Oh, the fear of oversharing, right?” Alphen chuckles, encouraging Dohalim to continue with a wave of his hand. “We’ve already been friends a while—it’s not like we’re only talking properly for the first time on a date. So there’s no need to worry about that.”
Alphen is right, of course. The two have already gotten to know each other even before this. “I cannot disagree. The story is hardly extensive, anyway.” Regardless of the length, it takes Dohalim a moment to push on, his gaze observing his food silently for a moment. “Whilst I am grateful I was adopted and given a home, I must admit I never truly felt as though I could be myself there. I believe one of their biggest reasons to adopt me was how, even from a young age, I have shown great intellect and a willingness to learn. I have always been able to be found with a preference for reading a good book rather than cause chaos.”
“That must have put a lot of expectations on you from the beginning, right?”
“Indeed. They wanted to see me pursue their own careers, the kind which allowed us to live in riches. I must admit that I, well, did grow up in a rather privileged household, at least with finances. It was quite the culture shock when I chose to move out.” He leaves this part out, but if he is honest, he’s often certain he would have never pulled through it without Kisara—for one reason or another. “As ungrateful as it might sound, this was not a sure bringer of joy. All I ever wanted was to learn the arts instead. There was a vast world of artistic possibility out there. My greatest love, of course, being that of music. Yet I was also entranced by other forms as well, wanting to learn everything I could.”
“Ah, I think I know where this is going,” says Alphen, his brow creasing slightly. “They didn’t approve of it, right?”
Dohalim shakes his head. “No, certainly not. Well—to a degree, yes. As a casual hobby, something to pass the time when I had exhausted everything else, and as something to emphasise the idea that I was a prodigy. Although to the extent I was dreaming of, and how many arts I wanted to learn… That, unfortunately, was a lot different than the expectations thrown on me.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. That must have been rough on you. And it doesn’t sound ungrateful, either. Money isn’t everything—yeah, you had most of your essential needs met, but fulfillment and joy are needs as well. So it’s not ungrateful to have wanted parents who supported you in your passions.”
“I...I suppose not.” The words are spoken slowly as Dohalim processes what Alphen has said, a little amazed by it if he is honest. It’s unusual to come across someone who tries this deeply to understand you. “As you might be able to tell anyway, from my job to the fact I am living in a rather average-quality apartment in comparison, I did leave home and lose a lot of contact with my family. When met with the ultimatum of a close bond with them and my dreams, I decided that, in the end, the latter had to be what I prioritised. As much as it was not an easy choice to make.”
Alphen hums, his lips stretching into a smile. “Easy or not, with how much your eyes lit up when you were gushing about ol’ Pablo there, I think you made the right call. The arts are clearly something you cannot live without.”
“No. You’re quite right,” Dohalim responds, able to smile in response. Here and there, whenever he thinks about how he did leave family behind, he is met with doubt and fear over his choices; it’s nice to have that be relieved once more, perhaps greater than ever, and be reminded that he comes first.
In comparison to earlier on, when Dohalim found himself grateful over the prospect of them only having a casual lunch date, he now finds himself a little disappointed over how much such a date has flown by once the two are walking home.
Of course, it’s not as though this has to be the only time. Far from it. Even if they continued to see each other with no romantic strings attached, Dohalim would enjoy every moment. Alphen is the kind of person Dohalim would never like to see leave his life, be him a friend or more. With how much Alphen has chatted happily as the two walk home, Dohalim likes to imagine that he feels the same way.
“Right, here we are,” says Alphen, once the two are standing in that spot between their apartment complexes. “I had a lot of fun today, Dohalim. Thank you for going out with me.”
“I thank you for asking in the first place,” Dohalim responds. Alphen grins, and it takes Dohalim a moment to consider that the man’s arms are outstretched. Once he has done so, however, he wraps his arms in Alphen in turn, the two sharing a hug.
...Dohalim has never quite had a hug like this. Warm, safe, strong. He’s already on cloud nine from that alone, more than happy with this alone, never mind the way Alphen’s hands linger on his waist and his stormy eyes peer up at him. Calculating.
“Bah, screw it,” says Alphen, mostly to himself as though ridding himself of a certain thought. “Feel free to say no, but all I can think of right now is man, I really want to kiss him as well.”
“Oh.” Dohalim says this before he has properly considered Alphen’s words, his face quickly growing hotter the more it sinks in and he realises how silly he sounds. “Oh! Yes. That’s fine.”
Alphen laughs, although it’s far more friendly than mocking. Dohalim is pulled a little closer, he leans down, and their lips are brought together.
Similarly to their hug, it doesn’t last a great deal of time, although it’s enough for Dohalim’s heart to skip a beat and grow all the giddier, even once they have parted and Alphen’s hands are no longer on him anymore.
Time slows down, in fact, as Dohalim truly takes in those shining eyes and the handsome smile directed at him and him alone.
“Right. So that’s that.” Alphen lets out a laugh—slightly nervous, but no less joyful—and rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Will it seem too soon to try and arrange another date?”
“I was actually thinking of dinner myself.”
“The museum and then dinner, maybe,” says Alphen, his smile more amused as though knowing just how much Dohalim’s excitement has just peaked over that suggestion. “I’ll call you. See you later!”
“Yes, see you,” Dohalim responds. He casts aside the daydream of sneaking in another kiss, hurrying back towards his apartment instead, although these actions give him no less joy than what he’s already experiencing.
It appears as though he’s quite capable of this even without a furry feline by his side after all. Although he does swoop straight down to Pablo after entering the apartment, releasing a large sigh of relief with his fingers stroking through that pristine white fur.
He might just be capable of achieving joy after all.