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Everyone was already well-accustomed to the couple’s antics at this point. The quarrel, the arguments, and their presence were always one of the reasons why the House of Daena never experienced absolute silence.
They were the sight of the Sumeru City as they passed through the market, arguing about what sort of Zaytun Peach characteristic that would prove to be the juiciest. The arguments then would’ve heated up and they wouldn’t be talking for less than twenty-four hours—if both parties didn’t reach the same conclusion nor both were feeling a bit too prideful to admit that it was alright to agree to disagree—before they were all lovey-dovey (arguing) again.
It was nothing brand new; they were always like that, to which people dubbed it as ‘playful banter’.
“They’re always like that. I tell this to everyone at every time, believe me; no need to worry about them. It’s nothing new.”
If you’d ever asked Panah about those two, it was what he would most likely say to you.
“They’ll make up in the blink of an eye. Trust me.”
So then you decided to try to trust Panah’s words, but then you saw two librarians at the House of Daena, and you overheard them gossiping about a certain scribe and his roommate’s fight earlier this morning at the lobby of the House of Daena with a smile and giggle.
You would like to believe Panah’s words, you really do. But curiosity would eventually get the best of you and then you’d ask what’s the librarians’ opinion on the Scribe and the pride of Kshahrewar.
“You know, sometimes it’s exasperating to see, but they’re always an entertaining sight to see.”
“Oh, I love to see them arguing. Sometimes they’re arguing about the most mundane stuff.”
You’d then ask what sort of mundane stuff they argued about, and the librarians would recite the most memorable drama from three weeks ago, two months ago, and a year ago.
“B-but please don’t tell the scribe or Senior Kaveh.”
“Please, just keep this between us!”
One thing that stayed true was the fact that everyone would unanimously agree that both Alhaitham and Kaveh would be back as usual. Even if you ask every single resident in the Akademiya’s dorm, or the exchange students that strolled around the city, they all were convinced that there was nothing to be worried about.
“They will be back together. Worry not, they always do.”
Everyone was so sure because they felt like they were always right.
“Excuse me, I’d like to update my correspondence address.”
Except not this time.
“Yes, Senior Kaveh.”
One day, you’d have the chance to see the pride of Kshahrewar visiting the administration office of the Akademiya. You would hear the staff reciting Kaveh’s new address on the outskirts of Sumeru City instead of the Scribe’s residence. You would then hear the Akademiya staff confirming three more times that Kaveh would also like to change his secondary and tertiary correspondence details, too.
“Yes, I’m moving out of the scribe’s house. Shocker, isn’t it?”
You, nor the staff thought little about it at that moment.
But then you overheard the staff once again, that she heard of one incident earlier this morning where Senior Kaveh cried at the cafeteria at the mention of the Scribe’s name. Along with the hearsay about Senior Kaveh accepting an overseas project for half a year.
It didn’t help that the Scribe also buried himself more in his job. Fools who would like to test their bravery and attempted to ask the Scribe about what’s going on with Senior Kaveh as of late received nothing other than a glare and an instruction that they would be summoned once their documents had been reviewed.
Soon, the Akademiya was no longer being graced with the presence of two arguing lovebirds.
It was odd to not see the scribe and his roommate together again. You, who at this point had been getting too invested in the hearsays, and all the staff had an inkling that this time, it was dead serious.
Even a long time ago when they had yet to be in a relationship, despite their many arguments, they both never went this far.
But what can you say?
In the end, you and they were all mere spectators.
No matter how curious you or they all might be, it was never your business to pry on the former lovebirds of Akademiya.
If anyone asked Alhaitham why they broke up, he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the exact reason.
It wasn’t exactly because of the dishes that Alhaitham forgot to wash when it was his turn for kitchen cleanup, nor because of that day where Alhaitham misplaced his wine order into the brand that Kaveh hated unintentionally.
It wasn’t because of those little things that made Kaveh say the darn words, but oh, Alhaitham understood too late those little things piled up before he could realise that they were all tiny pebbles of displeasure on top of mounting dissatisfaction that Kaveh had towards him.
The realisation came too late, way too late, because he only did so when Kaveh went to his office and dropped a wooden chest filled with clinking mora to his table.
“What’s this?” Alhaitham asked, his eyes still fixated on the approval document for a research project near King Deshret’s mausoleum.
“All of my debts that I owed you.” Kaveh said, “All ten million, two hundred fifty thousand, and three hundred and five Mora of it all.”
It was only then Alhaitham set aside his documents and looked at Kaveh right in his ruby eyes.
“You don’t have to.”
“What do you mean, you don’t have to? I owed you this much, and I’ve paid it all. Would you need interest on top of it all?”
“No—where did you get these all?”
“My savings, duh.”
“You’re not borrowing from some sketchy merchants or loan sharks, are you?”
Kaveh shrugged, though if Alhaitham reminisced about that particular afternoon, he’d punch himself for not noticing the tinge of pain in Kaveh’s expression.
“Well, you’ve taught me well, junior. Of course, I didn’t borrow from them.” Kaveh chuckled, though it wasn’t as bright as usual. “These are my savings from my own hard work.”
Alhaitham didn’t like this, even more when Kaveh put their house key on top of the chest.
“Here’s your house key; and if I may ask for one last thing, please don’t say ‘good riddance’ in front of my face, alright?” Kaveh smiled, but of all the times he smiled, Alhaitham hated that one.
“Do you—”
“Yes.”
It was unlike Kaveh to cut his words.
“Let’s break up.”
But he should have known that Kaveh wouldn’t do the unlikely thing if it wasn’t important.
The rest of that afternoon was blurry for the Scribe. He did remember that he tried to stop Kaveh from leaving. Trying his best to not sound like he was being snarky while hiding the desperation beneath his shaky voice.
Alhaitham asked many questions. He asked how, why, or perhaps who changed his mind, but the scribe didn’t get an answer.
“Alhaitham,”
There was none of that affectionate ‘Haitham’ with a playful tone from Kaveh. One that Alhaitham never realised that he missed so much.
“Why do you keep on asking?”
Because he didn’t know why it happened all so suddenly.
“Didn’t I tell you the answer many times?”
No, Kaveh was right; Kaveh had repeatedly told the answer, even when Alhaitham wasn’t asking questions. He was, at times, too prideful to listen and accepting the fact that his way didn’t resonate with Kaveh. That he was the one who was at fault, at times.
But the most profound answer was there when Alhaitham went home. To his house that was way too empty, way too pristine.
There were none of Kaveh’s shawls all over his sofa.
None of the leftover curry on his stove.
No more parchments of scrapped sketches lying around.
Except for a single, folded piece of paper left on the dining table where they used to have dinner together.
There was a gentle undertone of Silk Flower perfume when Alhaitham opened the fold. Alhaitham remembered this scent; it was one that he had received as a gift from Liyue’s emissary, to which he gave to Kaveh because the perfume was too feminine to his liking.
“You like it?”
Alhaitham recalled one morning when Kaveh sprayed the perfume on the crook of his neck. The scent aired in their living room as Kaveh played with his hair, smelling the sweet residue on his golden hair.
“Mmm.”
Alhaitham didn’t remember what he answered to Kaveh.
Did he praise Kaveh how the sweet scent of Silk Flower matched him unexpectedly?
Or did he go about his usual morning routine without commenting on Kaveh further?
Well, it was all in the past. All he had right now was an empty house and a piece of paper.
‘Thank you for the past two years of letting me stay under your roof rent free.’
There was no hello, no courtesy. So unlike Kaveh.
‘And thank you for letting me be your beloved, even for just a while.’
Alhaitham found himself gulping his own saliva.
There was something that hurt so much reading the word ‘beloved’, written with a considerable amount of hesitancy. The shaking letters on that one word wouldn’t be amiss in the Scribe’s observant eyes.
‘But I think I’d like to move on with my life without you from now on.’
Alhaitham had been involved in many fights, many arguments, but never once had any of those punched him right in the gut like that one sentence Kaveh wrote.
He didn’t elaborate on the reason. There was no more of the letter’s continuation except for one sentence on the other side.
‘I know, my dear Haitham, that you don’t believe in higher power. You have great distrust of the Gods, but please allow me to indulge this once:’
Alhaitham took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. He couldn’t bear to read the last sentence.
‘You will always be in my prayers.’
What did Kaveh mean by prayers?
The question remained in Alhaitham’s head. Day and night it came and went, creeping into his mind whenever he was at the most vulnerable.
He knew that Kaveh wasn’t a religious person. He was not fond of worshipping gods, either.
“Rituals are relics of the past, of people who tried to make sense of their feelings. An attempt to find closure. But goodness, I’d be damned if I have to commit to those lengthy rituals!”
Sometimes, Kaveh’s little rants of religious proceedings resurfaced in Alhaitham’s mind.
He regretted not paying attention further whenever Kaveh did his little monologue as he sketched his latest idea on a parchment.
Alhaitham never realised how much he missed Kaveh’s little talks and debates. One that he would answer when the topic was interesting enough.
But all he could do was to note and recall those moments. Trying his best to remember so that his mind will never forget, because it was harder to remember when the blond’s presence was no longer.
It was only after three months that Alhaitham realised he took Kaveh for granted.
In the fourth month, Alhaitham took a sabbatical and travelled across Teyvat. Because Kaveh’s words had been weighing on him; for what purpose did Kaveh pray for him?
He started from Inazuma, where he asked a visitor at the Grand Narukami Shrine, who prayed earnestly in front of the Sacred Sakura Tree.
He always asked the same thing to those who prayed like it was the most important thing they’d ever done in their life: why are you praying?
The lady who waited for his lover said, “It gives me hope for his return one day.” before she preached of the Electro Archon’s glory.
Alhaitham moved to Liyue, where he met a businessman praying at the temple near Yujing Terrace. He asked the same question, to which the man said, “As a token of appreciation for all the hard work that Rex Lapis had done to us.”
It was expected, but not what he looked for.
He went to some other nations afterwards, but he ended up in Mondstadt at the last.
Alhaitham knew Kaveh was going to be around. He knew of his project in Mondstadt. He could’ve got here straight away the first time and demanded an explanation.
But Alhaitham was a coward.
He knew that Kaveh would be here. Sitting in the back row of the Church of Favonius, sketching the interior of the magnificent church made by the devotee of Anemo Archon.
His ruby eyes sparkled, fascinated by the details of the church. Of the stained glass that cast an iridescent glow on the church’s floor.
And never once, Alhaitham realised how beautiful Kaveh was.
He was always beautiful, always captivating. But Alhaitham never noticed how Kaveh looked so stunning and radiant.
As if he was freed of his shackles; tied down by Alhaitham, who never made him feel loved enough.
Kaveh didn’t stop sketching the big organ at the back of the altar. His nimble hand drew the details after he finished drawing the overall shape of the musical instrument. He let Alhaitham sat beside him, without giving him a glance to spare.
“It’s been a while, sir Scribe. Are you on work duty here?”
“Sabbatical.”
“How intriguing.” Kaveh didn’t stop sketching. “You never said yes when I asked you to take a day off for a holiday. What changed your mind?”
There was no animosity in his words. The way Kaveh asked was genuine; but Alhaitham felt a stabbing pain in his chest at how light Kaveh asked the question.
As if he had no more burden.
“You.”
Only then did Kaveh stop sketching.
“I keep on thinking about what you said at the back of your letter. I never see you pray.”
“Praying is a private matter. Why should I have to show you that I am praying?” Kaveh chuckled. “Surely you’re not here just for that, are you?”
“No, I…”
Kaveh looked at him, expecting what he would say next.
“I’d like to ask you something: for what reason do you pray?”
And why should Alhaitham be in Kaveh’s prayers?
Because every single day, Alhaitham could only think that it was more akin to a curse.
“You’re still asking questions up till now. That’s so like you.”
The sight of Kaveh chuckling was when Alhaitham came under the realisation that, perhaps, he was indeed cursed. Again, he got bewitched by those little laughters, just like the first time he confessed to Kaveh.
“I pray because it gives me hope.”
Like the girl who waited for her lover at Inazuma.
“Because those words of mine are my show of gratitude.”
Like that businessman who prayed for Rex Lapis in Yujing Terrace.
“But also because I’d like to find closure.”
If Kaveh wanted a closure, then he shouldn’t have put Alhaitham’s name on his morning prayers.
Kaveh didn’t need to say his name when he said grace when he read the scriptures at noon.
Kaveh didn’t have to remember his name on his night prayers—
“And I wish that you would too.”
—but of course Kaveh did, because he was gentle like that.
Alhaitham had his time to appreciate it all, yet he took Kaveh for granted. How could he ask Kaveh now that he looked so radiant and free when they were no longer a thing?
In the end, Alhaitham couldn’t say anything.
He retracted his hand, which was about to hold Kaveh’s hand. Instead, putting his hand on his lap. His eyes no longer fixated on Kaveh, and he observed the patterns on the stained glass.
Alhaitham looked to the side as he saw Kaveh sketch the patterns again.
The sound of the pencil scribbling echoed in the almost-empty church. Saved for the two tourists from Sumeru, who seemed to admire the magnificence of the Church of Favonius.
Alhaitham sighed. Matters of art and beauty were far from his understanding.
But he, too, was a scholar. And it was in his innate nature to learn and investigate the unknown and things he couldn’t perceive.
The scribe then closed his eyes. Appreciating the brief moments that Kaveh had allowed him to be a part of, despite Alhaitham may not deserve it.
Though it might have been a bit too late to realise that he had made plenty of mistakes, at the very least, he reflected on it all in the silence of the Church.
The coldness he did towards Kaveh, all the many excuses of him not being able to present, and his selfishness that ignored all the times Kaveh wished to communicate his needs towards Alhaitham.
“Alright. I’m done here.” Kaveh said. “Well, if that’s all you’d like to ask, then please excuse me. I’ll see you back at Sumeru.”
Though their relationship was beyond salvage, at the very least, Alhaitham found the reason that he looked for.
“See you, Kaveh.”