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It had taken an excruciating amount of persistence for Kaveh to extract even a sliver of information from Alhaitham after the Sages’ abrupt departure.
The Scribe, as always, had been reluctant. “It’s not relevant,” he’d insisted, tone as dry as the desert. “All you need to know is that Azar and his allies have been removed.”
Kaveh hadn’t accepted that. Not even close.
He swore Alhaitham withheld the details just to spite him. Kaveh was the type who wanted to know everything. And now, standing at the heart of the greatest Akademiya upheaval in history, he was being stonewalled by the one man who had all the answers—and no inclination to share them.
Eventually, in brief pockets of free time and through sheer force of will, Kaveh managed to proxy most of the story from Alhaitham. Likely, Alhaitham had only relented to stop the nagging. With the Akademiya scrambling to restore order, neither of them had much time to breathe, let alone rehash the past.
The fallout had ushered in a new normal. A heavier one. The Akademiya was adjusting to life post-Sages, and so were its people. Kaveh believed he handled the increased workload well enough—certainly better than those running around in full-blown crisis mode. Secretly, he was relieved not to be buried as deep as others.
Alhaitham, however, was harder to read. The man had always been unreadable, but lately something felt… off. It wasn’t just exhaustion. It was silence stretched too thin, words chosen too carefully, questions deflected a little too quickly.
Which was why Kaveh now stood in the doorway of his roommate’s room, watching him work long past a reasonable hour.
Alhaitham sat unmoving, hunched over his desk with only a small lamp casting a pool of light. The rest of the room was cloaked in shadow. Kaveh’s eyes adjusted, just enough to see the tight line of Alhaitham’s jaw, the fingers pressed to his temple.
“You’re not done for the day yet?” Kaveh’s voice broke the stillness as he stepped closer.
No reply.
Alhaitham didn’t even flinch. Just kept writing, as if the man behind him were no more than a passing breeze. Kaveh sighed, unwilling to pick a fight this time. Not when Alhaitham looked so obviously wrung out.
ALhaitham was logical to a fault—if he needed rest, he’d take it. So why wasn’t he?
Kaveh’s fingers brushed through soft, ashen strands, seeking an answer in something tactical. Alhaitham stilled, the touch drawing a flicker of resection at last.
Ah. There it was—a raised bump under his hair.
Alhaitham’s plan, brilliant as it had been, had not come without consequences. He had manipulated the Grand Sage, orchestrated a complete regime shift… and taken a blow to the head in the process. That bump was no accident. He’d anticipated being hurt in the act, and hadn’t thought it worth mentioning.
Kaveh had wondered. Suspected. But this—this confirmed it.
Alhaitham hissed softly at the contact, which made Kaveh recoils. “What was that? Are you okay?” he asked, hand returning to confirm what he’d felt.
When Alhaitham didn’t respond, Kaveh pushed his hair aside for a better look. The wound had been tended to, at least. Clean. Not fresh. Not ignored. Just hidden. Typical Alhaitham.
But the irritation finally boiled over.
“Are you an idiot!?” Kaveh snapped, loud enough to make Alhaitham flinch.
Regret hit instantly, but Kaveh didn’t back down. “I don’t know what’s worse—hiding this from me, or pretending like it doesn’t exist.”
“I told you,” Alhaitham groaned, rubbing his temples. “This is exactly the reaction I was trying to avoid.”
Kaveh’s laugh came out bitter. “Don’t insult me. Honestly, I don’t know what it is about you. Normally you’d take any excuse to avoid work. Now you’re finding any reason to be stopped from doing it?”
“It doesn’t concern you,” Alhaitham muttered.
Kaveh frowned. He’d heard those words before—always when Alhaitham wanted to deflect. It wasn’t that it didn’t concern him. It was that Alhaitham didn’t want it to. He never liked being the cause of someone else’s worry, of Kaveh’s worry.
As Alhaitham turned to face him, Kaveh realized this was the first time in days he’d really looked at him. His complexion was pale, his eyes dull and ringed with shadow. He swayed slightly, as if sitting down was already a bit too much.
“You’re unbelievable,” Kaveh muttered. “You’re the great Scribe of the Akademiya, yet somehow immune to common sense. When you finally collapse, please do it outside. I don’t want to have to air out your rotting corpse.”
It was meant to be teasing—a shove back towards reality. But instead of responding, Alhaitham pushed past him and stumbled toward the kitchen.
Seconds later, the sound of retching filled the silence.
Kaveh was at his side immediately. The sight of Alhaitham doubled over, hands gripping the counter as if the earth itself were spinning too fast beneath him, sent a jolt of panic through him.
“You might have a concussion,” Kaveh said sharply, already grabbing a cloth. “We need to get you checked—”
“S’not…” Alhaitham slurred. He leaned heavily on the counter, blinking hard against the nausea.
Kaveh cleaned the sink without comment. Then he stepped between Alhaitham and the counter, pressing a damp cloth to his mouth. The motion was quiet and gentle.
Alhaitham sagged against him without resistance.
His full weight fell into Kaveh, muscle and exhaustion wrapped into one too-heavy frame. Kaveh caught him without complaint, arms instinctively wrapping around the other man’s waist to keep him upright.
“Already saw someone,” Alhaitham mumbled into the crook of Kaveh’s neck. “Just a migraine.”
Kaveh sighed. “Sure. A migraine with bonus projectile vomiting. Sounds about right.”
Alhaitham didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
“To bed,” Kaveh announced, mostly to himself.
Somehow, they managed the short trip. Once Alhaitham was laid out, Kaveh stripped away the sweat-dampened clothes and pulled the covers up. He left briefly, returning with a bowl, water, and something to dull the pain. A migraine this bad wasn’t going away without a fight.
When he returned, Alhaitham was already fast asleep.
“Jerk,” Kaveh muttered, staring at the now-peaceful face. “If it’s that easy for you to sleep, why didn’t you just go to bed in the first place?”
With practiced care, he tidied the desk, careful not to disturb the organization Alhaitham seemed to maintain. He turned off the desk lamp, letting darkness settle over the room.
Grabbing a spare pillow and blanket, Kaveh curled up in the armchair beside the bed.
He told himself he was only there to make sure Alhaitham didn’t do anything stupid.
He definitely wasn’t staying just in case he woke up needing something.
As his eyes drifted shut, he listened to the steady, even rhythm of Alhaitham’s breathing.