Archive of Our Own

They've been walking for a while now. He knows this because the guards have started relaxing, chatting aimlessly about Genius Invokation TCG decks the moment they exited the city, far away from the stern eyes of the Sages. The grip on him gradually loosens, causing him to sag lower into the ground and letting dirt and sand and twigs hook onto his trousers.

Any self-respecting professional would've watched carefully to ensure that he was truly unconscious.

He hates unnecessary chatter and the loss of his earpieces, ripped from his ears by those brutes, suddenly seems much more significant. On a good day without his earpiece, he can
still suck it up and deal with the annoying small talk by the other scholars in the Akademiya.

But at this current moment, after nearly being beaten unconscious, he's simply had enough. Unwelcome noises always give him a headache, and after getting dragged through a forest, muddy routes, and stones, he finds that his patience has reached its low limit.

Unable to resist the urge to physically shut them up, he takes the chance to elbow both the guards in their midriff. They startle and stagger backwards with loud yelps, releasing their grips on him. Alhaitham takes the chance to dash at them. Their sudden yells make his head throb, but he swiftly pulls the swords from their sides and slams the blunt end on their heads, watching as they go down with a thump.

He drops the swords with a huff. How incompetent of them.

Call it karma, if you will.

He gets down on one knee beside the guards and shuffles through their pockets. The sudden change in gravity makes his head pound and he falters in his movements, but he shakes it off and ignores it in favour of rummaging the guards' pockets.

He finds mora, and a couple of biscuits. No earpieces anywhere.

Of all the things he had to lose, it was that stupid earpiece of his. He isn't worried about the noise, no. That, he can simply bear with for a few days. His roommate, however, isn't so easy to bear, especially when he will grumble about that tiny earpiece and how it isn't that easy to build one, and oh, you should be more appreciative, this will be the last time I'm building one for you, I swear.

Kaveh will still end up building a new earpiece for him. He just wishes that he could escape the lectures that will come with it. Kaveh will not hesitate to snatch it from his ear if he even thinks about turning the noise-cancellation function on in the middle of his excessive nags.

It is annoying.

It is endearing.

After examining every possible pocket on the guards’ bodies, he concludes that the sages must’ve taken in or broken it. He pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a mournful sigh. He’ll have to wait until Kaveh returns from his excursion to receive a new earpiece.

With another tired sigh, he looks towards the city and starts his trek back, leaving the bodies in the fading sundown.

-

He doesn’t know if it’s lady luck shining down on him or trying to laugh at him, but Kaveh returns on the exact day where everything in Sumeru goes to shits. It’s almost hilarious, if only he wasn’t feeling ill after having his head bashed in and being forced to walk back from wherever the guards dragged him to.

He is not greeted with a “What happened to Sumeru?” or “Has our archon returned?”, or something of that sort that he has been answering to for the past hour while attempting to return to his house. Anyone that had vaguely recognised him as the Akademiya’s Scribe had ran up to him, expecting answers that he was unable to provide.

Who is he to give a definite answer on the future of Sumeru?

“Where’s your earpiece?” Kaveh demands from his seat on the sofa when Alhaitham enters the front door. There are sketchbooks and blueprints scattered on the small coffee table in front of him, probably the leftovers of his recent project.

His hair is damp and unbraided. A towel hangs around his neck, evidence of his recent return to their shared home.

Alhaitham drops his keys in the small bowl beside the door, currently occupied by his roommate’s lion keychain and personal keys. “Gone.” He eyes the eraser dust dirtying the floor and the sofa pointedly.

Kaveh stands up from his seat with a look of disbelief painting his face. “I just built those for you! How did you break them again?”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Then whose fault is it? Are you going to blame it on the sages too?” Kaveh scoffs.

He shrugs and immediately forces down a wince as his head screams at him. He massages his hand against his forehead, ignoring the concerned look Kaveh shoots him. “Sure. Did you just return?”

“Yeah,” the architect hums. “I overheard something about the Akasha terminal and sages, but I didn’t put much thought into it. Must’ve been the latest gossip or something.”

“Or something,” he agrees. He walks towards his room with a wave. “I’ll be using the shower. And clean up the eraser dust, or I’m mixing it into your food.”

“You better be grateful to the only person who can build your stupid earpieces, or I’ll really burn the blueprint one day!” Kaveh yells, but Alhaitham hears the familiar opening and closing of the cabinet that holds the architect’s tools.

-

When he returns home after the banquet, it’s to the sight of Kaveh fuming quietly at their doorsteps. Alhaitham detaches the lion keychain from his key and throws it at the man, who catches it with one hand. He turns to open their front door, giving Alhaitham the cold shoulder as he refuses to acknowledge his presence.

The door is nearly slammed in Alhaitham’s face, but he manages to block it casually with an arm. He is used to this. Whenever he and Kaveh get into one of their infamous arguments on their way home from Lambad’s, Kaveh will drunkenly speed walk ahead of him, and when the opportunity arises, try to slam the door on him as soon as he is able to pull the keys from wherever he has thrown them to.

He has never been able to do so. He never uses his full strength.

Or maybe he doesn’t want to injure Alhaitham. Who knows, but the architect in front of him who at this moment refuses to meet his eyes.

Alhaitham locks the door behind him and watches as Kaveh paces the room in silence. It is not the normal pacing he does when he is brainstorming for his newest grandeur project that will awe Sumeru. No, this pacing is different. He does it in the same way that he paces when he’s stuck on a project and doesn’t know where the client’s specific flower-cutting room should go, or how he’s supposed to complement the pale orange and the bright green colours that the client wants, because they’re ugly colours that do not belong together but he refuses to surrender to a bunch of colours that refuse to work with him.

Sometimes, Alhaitham wonders if Kaveh will finally wear a hole in their wooden flooring with all his pacing. Maybe he does it on purpose, because then, he will have an excuse to finally renovate the house with his stack of potential blueprints hiding somewhere in his personal sketchbooks.

“Were you going to tell me that you got your head bashed in?” Kaveh finally snaps, turning around to glare at Alhaitham, “or was I supposed to find that out from Cyno?”

“I wasn’t aware that you and Cyno were on such friendly terms.”

“Don’t try to switch the topic,” Kaveh sneers, “I’m familiar with this strategy of yours. No, you will answer me. Why did I have to find out from Cyno that you had your head bashed in while trying to overthrow our government? While taking in the contents of a divine knowledge capsule, mind you. It’s a wonder you haven’t gone insane.”

“It wasn’t an issue,” Alhaitham rolls his eyes. “I’m walking now, aren’t I?”

“You’re walking now,” Kaveh echoes mockingly. He throws his hands in the air and Alhaitham watches as his eyes quickly flicker through a scale of murderous emotions. “You’re walking now, and that’s why you haven’t gone to a doctor? Alhaitham, please remind me, were you ever an Amurta student? Because last I checked, you were a Haravatat student with zero knowledge in the medical field.”

"I'm educated enough about my body to know that I am well. Unlike some people, I actually do take care of my health." Alhaitham retorts.

"I don't see how refusing to see a doctor is taking good care of yourself."

They glare at each other in silence, both unwilling to relent. Alhaitham would've kept it up if not for the sudden flash of pain behind his eyes. He resists the urge to grab at his head. If he showed weakness and fragility now, Kaveh will drag him to the Birmastan and force some poor, unknowing Amarta student to immediately tend to him.

He has much more important matters to deal with. Like rebuilding the government and dismantling the Akasha terminals to ensure that no one will ever abuse them again. Comparing these to his current situation, it is obvious as to what should take priority.

“If you’re quite done, I have paperwork to do,” Alhaitham tries to walk past Kaveh, but the man shifts to stand in front of him and the corridor to the rest of their house, his arms crossed as he glares at him.

“When something happens, don’t bother thanking me when I have to haul your ass to the nearest clinic for help.”

He sighs tiredly, and tries to squeeze past Kaveh to no avail. “If, you mean?”

“When,” Kaveh says, “because you have no sense of self preservation. I don’t understand you.”

“You don’t. Move. Not all of us are as free as you.” The scribe moves away from the unmoving barricade in his way, and this time, Kaveh lets him go. Alhaitham can feel Kaveh’s eyes glaring into his back, and he ignores it in favour of entering his room.

He hears an exasperated shout through their thin walls. “Is it that difficult to believe that people actually care about you?”

Alhaitham pretends that his precious noise-cancelling earpieces are still with him and remains silent as he catalogues the newest, urgent paperwork that needs to be submitted to their newly instated Archon by the next day.

Moments later, he hears a slam.

When he exits his room with the new bundles of paperwork, the door to Kaveh’s room is shut tight. He doesn’t bother with a second glance as he walks to his side of their shared table, which is notably neater than Kaveh’s side. The blueprints that he saw in the afternoon spill over to his side, with various inking pens lying on them.

With a huff, he efficiently cleans up Kaveh’s side of the table, keeping the blueprints in their respective folders and shoving them into their overcrowded cabinets that Kaveh swears he will clean out one day. He reorganises the pens by their colours and types, decluttering the area.

He knows that all his progress will be undone by the man the moment he wakes up and throws himself into his projects, but for now, it is easier for Alhaitham's eyes that the mess is kept away from him.

Satisfied, he turns back to the blank paperwork and starts writing.

-

For the next few days, they hardly see each other. Alhaitham is out at the Akademiya the moment the sun is up and glaring down at them, answering to Nahida and the entirety of Sumeru on every topic imaginable. It is times like this that he wishes that he picked a simpler job as a linguist or a translator.

The rightful Sumeru archon has taken over the sages’ old office, transforming it into their temporary meeting room. It had been messy when the sages were busy uploading the new data into the Akasha system, with the various capsules being brought in to be submitted, but now? It is arguably worse. There are stacks of paperworks surrounding the main table that is being occupied by Nahida, and he sees no less than 2 overflowing bins of wastepaper beside the entrance.

It is chaos, but Nahida insists that she has a system to the way she keeps the paperwork, and no one, under any circumstances, is supposed to reorganise them or risk facing her wrath.

Today, he finds that he has to strain his neck to find Nahida under all the paperwork surrounding them.

Cyno, as dutiful as always, stands beside her, giving his reports on the patients of Eleazar and the status of the mad scholars that have been banished to the desert in her absence. He has been travelling between the Avidya Forest, Aaru Village, and the Akademiya, and yet the reports flow steadily onto her table. If only every other scholar in the Akademiya is as efficient as him, then maybe Alhaitham wouldn’t be carrying the workload of 5 disowned sages.

“Nahida,” Alhaitham greets, holding the thick stack of paperwork on the terminated Akasha system in his hands. He spent the previous days in the House of Daena doing research on life before the Akasha system and how to gradually cut it off from Sumeru’s main systems, but his progress has been slowed by a greater influx of scholars, suddenly interested in hitting the books now that their access to the Akasha has been removed. None of them knew how to keep their voices down, and the loss of his earpiece made it impossible to block out the excited chattering all day. The thrumming headache flaring behind his eyes didn’t help either.

She beams. “Alhaitham! Have a…seat.” The chair that she refers to is currently being used to hold the leftover capsules from the transfer. She looks mildly embarrassed as she calls the General Mahamatra. “Cyno, could you help me move these to the side? Thank you!”

Cyno dips his head in reply and moves to remove the capsules. As he gathers the capsules in his arms, he glances at the scribe, examining his body carefully. “Alhaitham. How’s your head.”

“I’m fine,” Alhaitham mutters. “Did Kaveh rub off on you too?”

“Paimon reported that you were knocked unconscious.”

“Paimon over exaggerates," the scribe rolls his eyes. "It is of utmost importance that we currently focus on rebuilding the Akademiya and Sumeru. Anything else can come later."

The sooner he can go back to doing his normal scribe duties and pass off these responsibilities to the actual sages, the better. Perhaps he has been overlooking the increase in the amount of times he’s had to stop himself from finishing a report due to the sharp pains that insistently assault his head, but if he took a break now, there will be no one else to pick up the slack. He does not trust anyone else in the Akademiya to do so with the care needed to rebuild their government, which is currently standing on precarious twigs, vulnerable to even a single gust of wind.

Before Cyno can reply, however, Nahida cuts in. "Are you sure?" a child-like frown appears on her face. "Sumeru won't collapse if you take a few days off to recover."

Alhaitham sits himself on the now empty chair that has been cleared for him. He hands his archon the documents and she starts flipping through the pages. “I am sure. Do not worry about me,” he says stubbornly, crossing his arms. “I know my condition better than anyone else would.”

“But you would also be more likely to overestimate your limits,” Nahida rebuts, looking up at him for a second before returning to the paper. Her fingers trace the words on the document as she considers his words. “Because we are the ones that best know ourselves, we will neglect what we think unnecessary. The bird will forget to preen itself because it believes it can spend more of its time on finding worms, but the lack of preening ends up destroying its ability to fly.”

“If it’ll make all of you feel better, I will visit the Birmastan if I do feel unwell,” Alhaitham replies, a hint of resignation in his tone.

“Good!” Nahida smiles and places the stack of documents down on the table. “I think this idea might work, but I’m more worried..”

-

When Alhaitham returns home after their lengthy discussion about the Akasha system, the sun has already fallen. There are more people yelling on his path home than usual, excited for a night of drinking. He thinks that if he has to cross paths with another overly excited person, he might have to physically threaten to body them.

On a normal day, the noise would pass over him like wind, blending into the background. Today, everything is enhanced. He can hear the merchant’s loud conversation about their newest delivery melting into his brain. Every word from the conversation between a group of kids in his far right is being etched into his eardrums. Even the sound of his own footsteps grate on his nerves, amplifying the sounds of gravel shuffling about under his feet.

He thinks his head will burst soon.

He’s certain his head will burst soon.

He forces himself to take the longer route back home, where there are less passersby and more shop owners quietly cleaning up in peace after a long day of work. Away from the bustling city, the rustling of money being counted and boxes being kept away act as the white noise he wanted and missed desperately. He finds it easier to hear his thoughts here, where the people are calm and as tired as he is after a day of work.

He’s never been so relieved to lock the front door behind him. Everything beyond the house is immediately cut off and the only thing he hears is the soft, ambient buzzing of the electricity running through their house.

The pounding in his head, however, doesn’t lessen. He decides to shove the pain to a corner of his brain instead of acknowledging it; it’ll probably go away with a pill from the medicine cabinet.

His roommate appears in the corridor with messily braided hair and a large, oversized shirt, nothing like the formal clothes he dons to meet clients with. “Alhaitham?”

“Kaveh. You’re back early,”

“You’re back later than usual. The project finally wrapped up today,” the architect yawns, plopping himself down on the couch. “I decided to come back earlier and make dinner.”

“Dinner? Should I be worried about poison?” He teases.

Kaveh rolls his eyes. “Can’t I be nice and make dinner for once? Go eat before the food gets cold and you waste the precious effort I have painstakingly put in for dinner.”

“We’ll see if it’s edible,” Alhaitham ignores the middle finger that Kaveh sends his way and heads to his room to unpack the bag of paperwork and documents that he lugged back with him.

As he takes out the last stack of papers, he feels a sharp, electrifying pain pierce through his skull, harsh enough to make him see white and black and nothing and everything all at once. His hands lose their strength as his hold on the papers loosen, causing them to flutter all over the floor.

All the pain he’s suppressed since he’d returned home from his stint against the sages hits him all at once. His nails press white crescents into his palms and he moves his hand to grip at his forehead as he attempts to regulate his breathing. He doesn’t know what type of pain this is. He knows that different types of headaches are usually secluded to different parts of the head, but this is different. Even thinking too hard makes him wince in pain.

He tries to balance himself on the neck of his chair, except he ends up knocking it over with a weak sway of his arms, and it falls on the floor with a loud thud that echoes throughout the house. His eyes struggle to focus and all he can think about is the exact moment where his head met the floor in Azar’s office, and the excruciating, numbing pain that came after.

He sees yellow at the door. He thinks he recognises the blue feather on his roommate’s head, but hallucinations wouldn’t be too far off from his current situation.

The world tilts on its axis. Has there always been 2 Kavehs?

No, that cannot be right. One is already too much for him to handle; to have 2 Kavehs co-exist in the same room would spell disaster for the world.

“Alhaitham? Alhaitham! Oi!”

He feels arms hugging his shoulders, and the world is rotated back to normal for a brief second before he sees black and loses all train of thought.

-

He wakes up to the sounds of pacing footsteps and a familiar voice that vibrates throughout the room. It is unusually high pitched and shaken, something that he hardly hears from the owner.

“I should’ve seen it, I should’ve! He was complaining about his earpiece, and we all know how much he relies on those!”

“Calm down, Kaveh,” comes the gruff reply.

“I'm calm! I am calm!" The voice insists.

A new voice joins them. “You’re going to disrupt his rest if you’re going to be this agitated.”

“I’m going to bring him back from the dead so that I can slap him silly and strangle him for making me drag his unconscious corpse here!”

“Hold on, no one’s dying around here. And no one will be doing any killing, unless they wish to get kicked out of the ward.”

"I think he very well deserves it."

"Out."

"...I'm sorry."

Alhaitham chooses this moment to open his eyes, and is grateful when his eyes aren't immediately assaulted by the bright lights that are normally used in the wards at the Bimarstan. Someone has turned the lighting down such that it was dim - not enough to send him into another mind-blowing headache, but enough to illuminate the area and the figures standing before his bed.

In front of him stands 3 figures. He recognises all 3 figures, and it makes his entire situation much more mortifying. There’s nothing more humiliating than being unconscious in front of the General Mahamatra, the Forest Watcher of the Avidya Forests, and his roommate. He’s considering pretending to stay unconscious until everyone is gone when Tighnari’s ears perk up and Alhaitham pushes down the curses that threaten to spill out.

“Alhaitham!” The fox hybrid must have heard the change in his breathing. “You’re awake,” Tighnari comments, jotting something down on the clipboard resting in his hands.

Kaveh’s eyes snap to him. His shoulders slacken with relief but his eyes burn with fiery anger. “You bastard! You scared me!”

“I’m sorry for fainting then,” Alhaitham mutters sarcastically, coughing in between his words. His throat is dry and parched. His voice comes out scratchy and uneven as he tests his words again. “How long was I out for?”

Kaveh immediately appears at his side with a glass of water. He puts it to the bedridden man’s mouth, letting the water flow down his parched throat, cleansing the metaphorical sand in his throat. Alhaitham thinks he’s never been this appreciative of water.

When Alhaitham has drunk enough, he tilts his mouth away. Without a word, Kaveh removes the cup and sits on the stool beside the bed. He suddenly looks tired as he shakes his head. “The entire night. I had to make sure you were still breathing as Cyno hunted for a doctor.”

“Cyno?” He glances curiously at the General Mahamatra, who stands to the side awkwardly with his arms crossed. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else but here.

“We’re lucky that Cyno needed to pass you a few documents,” Kaveh frowns, resting his arms on the hospital bed. “If not, I would’ve had to carry you myself. I might’ve ended up in the empty bed next to yours.”

Alhaitham nods at Cyno reluctantly. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Cyno replies, as aloof as ever.

Alhaitham turns to Tighnari, who now holds a torchlight in his hands. “When can I leave?”

Tighnari stares at him incredulously and raises an eyebrow as he raises the torchlight to his eyes. “You literally just woke up, and you’re expecting to leave already? Don’t overestimate yourself, Alhaitham. At least let me check on you first.”

The room lapses into silence as Tighnari focuses on Alhaitham’s head. Kaveh sits quietly at his side, watching Tighnari as he meticulously checks Alhaitham’s scalp. Kaveh is unusually quieter than he usually is, and Alhaitham wonders what the famous architect is thinking as the man sits by his hospital bed, pulling an all-nighter to make sure the Grand Scribe doesn’t bleed out and die on their carpet.

When Tighnari is done pulling and examining his head, he jots down a few sentences on his notes, nods to himself, and looks up. “You can go home,” the Forest Watcher announces as he stares at the medical chart, “but you’re not to do any strenuous activity until we’re sure you won’t collapse again.”

“Good enough,” he huffs, swinging his legs off the bed. “Kaveh, let’s go.”

“Hold on,” the blonde protests. “Shouldn’t you rest for a while more? If you collapse again, I really won’t be able to carry you here by myself.”

“I’d rather rest in the comfort of my room,” Alhaitham mutters as he gets to his feet. His head spins a little at the sudden change in blood pressure, but he stands firm, just to make sure no one will force him onto the bed again.

Kaveh relents without much persuasion. “Whatever you say, your highness,” he rolls his eyes. “Come on, let’s go home then.”

And to Cyno and Tighnari, just for the sake of spiting Alhaitham, he states, “don’t worry, I won’t let him do anything stupid.”

-

After a mere half a day of resting, Alhaitham grows restless. He flips open an Inazuman book and closes it after a few pages. He stands and tries to make himself lunch in the kitchen, only to get chased out by Kaveh and his spatula.

In the end, Kaveh allows him to go through the mail that has stacked up beside their sofa. He brings them into his room and starts tidying up the mess that was caused by his dramatic collapse last night. Along the way, he scans through some of the mail he’s received and resists the urge to throw them into the stove. He’s nearly done sorting through the last few piles of documents when he hears shuffling outside his room.

Alhaitham can feel the stare at the back of his head.

"Are you trying to go to the Akademiya in this state?”

"Yes," Alhaitham says, never slowing down in his meticulous packing of stacks upon stacks of paperwork. He’s declined the position of the Grand Sage, but he sure feels like it, with the number of people sending him letters for the most basic of questions during his one day absence.

Leave it to the scholars to continuously be worried for funding, especially when they’ve just overthrown the sages responsible for trapping them in a dream-induced coma for days and trying to replace their archon with a puppet from another nation. Typical scholars.

“Well, absolutely not!”

“Are you going to stop me?”

“Yes, I’m putting you on house arrest.”

"Under whose authority?"

Kaveh slams a piece of paper down with enough strength to force the table to shake. Alhaitham raises an eyebrow at the indignance radiating from the man and scans over the document.

Kaveh stands triumphantly. "Under Lesser Lord Kusanali!" He announces. Sure enough, Nahida’s signature sits at the bottom of the document in its entire glory. The document even gives Kaveh permission to physically restrain Alhaitham if it comes to that.

Alhaitham rubs his forehead in annoyance. “I’m perfectly fine. I’ll recover faster if you would let me resume my normal duties. ”

Kaveh ignores him, reaching for another smaller paper on the table. “She also requested for this note to be passed to you.”

How are you, Alhaitham? I’ve just received news of your condition, and I wish you a swift recovery. I now wish that I have forced a break on you. Please take better care of yourself! You may be the Grand Scribe, but you’re still a human!

Please do not worry too much while you’re away. We will be fine! The other 2 sages have regained most of their strength, and have started helping us with the paperwork. As your archon, I order you to focus on recovering. Remember, birds need to preen their feathers too!

- Lesser Lord Kusanali

“Today, you rest,” Kaveh declares as he pushes Alhaitham towards the bed, snatching the documents from his hands. “I have no urgent projects, so I’ll stay with you until you recover.”

Alhaitham watches as Kaveh organises his documents and paperwork according to the way he does it. The categorisation comes naturally to him as he sorts them out with a simple glance at the cover page, a testament to the time they’ve spent in each other’s presence. Just like how Alhaitham knows that Kaveh sorts his blueprints and drafts with a various colour of files that indicate different levels of importance, Kaveh knows that Alhaitham prefers sorting his own documents by its various topics from left to right, and order of importance from top to bottom.

When Kaveh is done, he leaves the room and returns with a cup of brewing tea in his hand, and a book that he has picked up from their shared shelves in the living room in his other one. The book is placed at the bedside table after Kaveh passes the cup into Alhaitham’s hand.

Alhaitham scrunches his nose at the smell, much to Kaveh’s amusement. He can smell the bitterness, and he’s never been much of a tea drinker. The title of tea drinker belonged to Kaveh, who would go on mass tea-bingeing sessions the night before an examination, or the week before the deadline for a client was due.

He much prefers coffee.

Kaveh shakes his head at Alhaitham’s response. “No coffee until you recover. Tea is better for the body anyways.”

“Why do you care so much?” Alhaitham asks.

Deep down, he knows the answer to this question.

Kaveh nudges Alhaitham. He moves away from the side of the bed, freeing up space for his roommate to settle himself. Alhaitham’s bed is big enough for the both of them, and Kaveh always takes advantage of that fact. He moves to sit with his legs crossed, a habit that Alhaitham hates because he’s never sure if Kaveh ever washes his feet when he returns home from the desserts or anywhere else that he has been.

“Because if I don’t, no one will, not even you,” Kaveh says. “You’ve always been horrendously bad at taking care of yourself. I’m the only one that can be sure that you’ll stay in bed instead of overexerting yourself doing archons know what. No one else would dare to stop you, Scribe. No one else will do this.”

The ‘except for me’ goes unsaid, but both of them know it is there.

“I don’t just listen to anyone,” Alhaitham agrees, taking a sip out of his cup.

“You don’t,” Kaveh smiles. “That’s why I’m here to make sure we don’t defy our new archon’s orders and get on her bad side. It'll be bad to leave such a bad impression before I’ve even met her.”

Alhaitham doesn’t know if he fears the day where they will meet, or if he looks forward to seeing the results of that day. The two are uncannily similar. “The both of you will get on swimmingly.”

“Why do you say so?” Kaveh asks, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book he brought in.

Alhaitham takes the book from Kaveh’s lap and hands him the empty tea cup instead. It’s not like he can read Liyuen anyways. “Just a hunch,” he replies. He flips to a chapter that details the architectural designs of Liyue’s buildings and villages, from both before and after the Archon War.

“Read that portion to me,” Kaveh demands, the diagrams on the pages capturing his attention. He leaves the tea cup on the bedside table and straightens his legs, settling himself on a pillow that he stole from Alhaitham’s collection. “The one about the construction of Wangshu Inn and the elevator. Specifically the water wheel-powered elevator. I’ve never been able to figure out how they managed to incorporate that safely within the inn.”

Alhaitham starts translating the paragraphs, word by word, translating from Liyuen to Sumerian, because Kaveh requests this of him. He’s never held much interest for architectural design, but he explains how Wangshu Inn was intended by Rex Lapis as a watchtower, an area with high vantage points that can be used to monitor their enemies. Kaveh replies with simple hums and nods, occasionally asking for further elaboration.

He narrates the observations of the Liyuen writer, who points out specific details in the intricate designs of the balcony, reserved for the adeptus that live there. When the scribe reaches the portion that Kaveh wanted to hear the most - the water wheel-powered elevator - , he turns his head to find the man snoring. He must have dozed off somewhere between the last paragraph and the one from a page ago, when he was still awake to analyse the benefits of having a watchtower in such an open, marshed area.

He probably pulled an all-nighter, didn’t he? Kaveh has always been stupidly dedicated to a fault. Everything he does has to be perfect and completed, even if it means hurting himself in the process. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume that Kaveh might’ve stayed up all night, waiting for his roommate to gain consciousness after Alhaitham scared him with a nasty fall. When they returned home, Kaveh immediately made food for them, refusing any help and forcing the other to rest. Alhaitham could not think of a time where Kaveh could’ve had any chance of resting, in between getting Alhaitham to the Birmastan and making sure that they returned home without another incident.

“Thank you, Kaveh,” Alhaitham whispers softly. He pulls the blanket over the snoring man and reaches back for his book, content to read it in silence as the other man dozes.

When Kaveh wakes up a few hours later, he will look around dazedly as he rubs his eyes, only to freak out and scramble off the bed when he realises the sun has already set, plunging the rest of the house into darkness. Alhaitham had gotten up briefly to turn on the lights in his room, but a warning throb to his head chased him back into the comfort of his bed, so he decided that the darkness can be dealt with when Kaveh woke up.

“Alhaitham! Why didn’t you wake me up? Look at the time now, my sleep schedule will be ruined!” Kaveh bemoans from the kitchen.

“You needed the rest,” Alhaitham shrugs as he walks towards their dining table with plates and utensils in his hands. It was a failed battle when he tried to help out in the kitchen again, but he was unwillingly allowed access to the drawers to set the table in order to save time.

If only the scholars could see this: The Grand Scribe of the Akademiya, losing an argument to the great architect of the Kshahrewar over simple cooking duties.

“I was trying to fix my sleep schedule now that my commissions have been completed, and only because you insisted on nagging me until I at least attempted to do so.”

“Consider this: Cut the caffeinated drinks from your meals,” Alhaitham suggests.

“Now you’re just pushing it,” Kaveh mutters, walking towards the dining table with 2 plates of mixed rice. “I had some leftover rice from yesterday’s dinner, so this was all I could make for today. You’re not allowed to complain.”

“I would never,” Alhaitham says, a hint of genuinity seeping into his tone. “I appreciate this, Kaveh.”

Kaveh’s eyes are fond as he sets the food down in front of the man. “Eat up. You need to get your energy back so you can go back to the Akademiya and do whatever scribes do when they rebuild a nation.”

He waits for Kaveh to return to his seat before they start eating together. The architect fills the air with gossip about the latest clients, sharing details on the buildings that were requested of him and how the latest one was really secretive to the point where Kaveh suspected he might have really been part of some organised crime.

Alhaitham is happy to sit there and listen, replying with the occasional comments and soaking in the voice that he missed when they went their separate ways a few weeks ago, with Kaveh taking up a commission in the desert and Alhaitham going on self-exile to investigate the sages and divinity capsules.

“What did happen to yesterday’s dinner?” Alhaitham asks. “I never got to try it.”

“Oh. It turned cold and the flies started gathering, so I had to throw it out,” Kaveh pouts. “I understand that my food is great, but really? They didn’t even have the decency to leave at least one of our bowls untouched, how selfish.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop being sorry for things that aren’t your fault,” Kaveh tuts, waving a fork at him. “Sure, it is your fault that you didn’t get yourself checked out and caused me more stress than when I went into debt, but if you really thought about it, it’s that Azar’s fault for trying to create some synthetic replacement for our archon, which caused you to get your head injured in order to help the traveller advance your plans.”

“Just accept the apology,” Alhaitham grumbles.

“Fine,” Kaveh says. “Apology accepted. To show your appreciation for my hard work, you’re not allowed anywhere near your books or documents. Not even the translation guides.”

Alhaitham thinks back to the afternoon where Kaveh fell asleep in his bed after demanding a translation on the intricacies of Wangshu Inn and smiles. “And yet, you asked me to read you the architectural details in Liyue as your bedtime story. Hypocrite.”

“It’s for your own good, Alhaitham,” Kaveh shoots back. “Finish your food before it gets cold.”

-

The next day, Alhaitham rises later than usual. The sun hangs high in the sky as he squints at his windows. His head feels significantly clearer compared to the previous day, and the sounds of the neighbours’ screaming mixed with the chirping of birds are more bearable, even without his earpieces.

Staring disgustedly at the pile of paperwork on his table, he decides that it’s time for him to catch up on the backlog of work, headaches and injuries be damned.

He spies a mug of cold tea on their coffee table as he enters the living room. Kaveh must be awake, then. Alhaitham knows the other is likely suffering from a broken sleep schedule after pulling a few all-nighters to polish up his commissions (and take care of Alhaitham). The nap definitely broke his internal body clock; he must have pulled another all-nighter to work on one of his other many side projects.

He hopes it’s not one of his renovation projects involving their own house. Everytime Kaveh brings up the idea of restructuring the place, Alhaitham will return it with an eviction threat, effectively shutting Kaveh up. Although, after the threat has been used so often, he’s not really sure if it still holds any weight towards the other man.

Kaveh decides to come out of the kitchen with another steaming mug in his hands just as Alhaitham is done lifting the last of the incomplete paperwork out of his room. He stares for a second before sighing tiredly, taking a sip from his mug.

“Tell Lesser Lord Kusanali that I tried if she asks,” Kaveh mutters. He stares at the paperwork that Alhaitham has brought out to their shared table and shakes his head in defeat. “You’re more dedicated to your work than anything else.”

“What’s the use of rotting in bed if I could be doing something much more productive?” Alhaitham remarks. “I think I’ll go mad if I have to stay on bedrest for a day longer.”

“No, I know for a fact that you’ll go mad, and then I’ll lose my residency,” Kaveh pinches the bridge of his nose, groaning exasperatedly. “I don’t think I want to be homeless. Do you want some food?”

Alhaitham shakes his head. “I’m not that hungry.”

Kaveh places the mug in front of him. “Take it. I’ll make another one.” The architect disappears into the kitchen again, off to make another cup of tea. Alhaitham takes a bitter sip of the drink, resisting the urge to make a face as he pulls the documents towards himself and begins a long day of writing.

Kaveh returns a while later and places a new mug on the table, before disappearing into his room. Alhaitham can hear the sounds of drawers and cabinets being opened and closed over the rustling of his pen and paper, but he ignores them.

When the noises finally stop, Kaveh reappears at his door, his bright red glasses balanced steadily on the bridge of his nose. It is rare that Alhaitham ever sees Kaveh with his glasses, even when they were in the Akademiya pulling all-nighters until their eyes were swollen and the words on their textbooks started floating.

Kaveh complains that it makes him look older, but Alhaitham thinks it looks perfectly fine on him. He always tells him this, but Kaveh will brush him off and return to bemoaning the state of his eyesight.

“Move over,” Kaveh says, pushing Alhaitham with his shoulders, his arms occupied with stacks of half-completed drafts and blueprints. Alhaitham scoots to the side, pushing his paperwork to his side of the table as Kaveh dumps everything on the table.

What happens next is something that used to happen alot more frequently when they were students studying in the Akademiya, and still happens on the occasional days that they decide to indulge in the other’s presence, away from the work of being the Akademiya’s scribe and the renowned architect of Sumeru.

The architect will start leaning towards the scribe. It is not a conscious act on Kaveh’s part. When he’s deep in thought, he unconsciously moves towards the person nearest to him while he scribbles down equations upon equations of maths and physics. Most of the time, that person is Alhaitham. Alhaitham lets him.

Kaveh craves for human touch and warmth. Alhaitham hates physical contact, unless absolutely unnecessary. If asked, neither of them can explain why Alhaitham lets this happen.

When Alhaitham is done with his first rewrite of the proposal on the Akasha terminal, Kaveh has his arm touching Alhaitham’s. If it was anyone else, Alhaitham would’ve moved away and formed a distance between them, irritated by the sensations of another person against his body.

Somehow, in the years they have spent together and apart, Kaveh managed to sneak into Alhaitham’s tiny circle of trust and has made his home there ever since. (Maybe, Alhaitham passed him the key and invited him to do so.)

They continue to work in silence, Alhaitham aware and Kaveh oblivious of the distance decreasing between them. The scribe grabs another empty sheet of paper from his stack and begins jotting down his solutions for cleansing Sumeru of the Withering while Kaveh sketches furiously.

After numerous refinements of the proposal, Alhaitham decides to take a peek at the architect’s work. He sees a diagram of the brown earpieces he usually dons, along with new drawings and annotations that he’s never seen before.

“The earpieces?”

“Yes,” Kaveh replies, without taking his eyes off the blueprint. “I figured it was time for an upgrade. I can’t stand the disgusting wiring that I made all those years ago.”

“It was fine as it is.”

“Because you’re not the one building it,” Kaveh dismisses with a wave, “I have to actively look at these instructions and figure out how the hell I managed to create this monstrosity. I have more funding now anyways.”

“Your funding is my money.”

“Same thing!”

Alhaitham leans closer into Kaveh, attempting to take a closer look at the diagrams, but Kaveh immediately shoves him with his elbow and covers the drawings with his arms.

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow. “What.”

“It's a surprise!”

“It’s my money and those earpieces are going on my ears,” he deadpans, sliding back into his seat. “I think I have a right to know what’s going on.”

“What’s the point of a surprise if you find out? Go and focus on your paperwork!”

Alhaitham scoffs and turns back to his paperwork. Less than a minute later, he attempts to peek, mainly out of spite, only for Kaveh to catch on immediately and flip the diagrams over, much to Alhaitham’s amusement. He does it a few more times, mostly for entertainment, before Kaveh eventually gives up and slams the scribe’s large stack of paperwork between them.

“Now you won’t get to see anything!”

-

This time, Alhaitham is allowed into the kitchen, but any usage of sharp objects, flammable equipment, and stoves are absolutely forbidden. He watches the food over Kaveh’s shoulder, and makes sure to point out any mistake that Kaveh might’ve made.

“You’re cooking it wrong,” Alhaitham observes. “You shouldn’t throw that in first.”

“Shut up! If you have so much to say, why don’t you cook instead?”

“Give me the spatula then.”

“Alhaitham, do you only live to annoy me?”

Apart from the time they spent arguing over cooking, dinner is a quick affair. The dishes are cleaned efficiently by hand, with Kaveh cleaning and Alhaitham doing the drying. The table is wiped down and the leftovers have been packed and dumped into their empty fridge.

Alhaitham has been banned from doing any work after that, with Kaveh claiming that Lesser Lord Kusanali might actually pay them a visit to scold them. Alhaitham doubts so, but doesn’t bother correcting the other man.

It’ll make the reaction much more priceless if she does pay them a visit.

-

Not every argument is a genuine argument. Perhaps it is because they started a habit of arguing whenever they met when they were younger, and now, it flows as naturally to them as talking normally does to others. When they argue about the best dishes in Sumeru, it is Alhaitham asking, ”What do you want for dinner?”, and when Kaveh rebuts, it is him replying, “I don’t mind anything you make, but I wouldn’t mind some Shawarma.”

When they bicker over each other’s health with increasing volumes that scare even their coworkers, it is Kaveh saying, “I’m worried about you.” When Alhaitham scolds him, it is his way of saying, “You should take a break before you collapse, because I won’t be picking up the remains of your body when it comes to that.”

But sometimes, they do argue. It is inevitable when two people end up becoming close. Social relations have never been his strongest suit and he would’ve been happy to keep it that way if it wasn’t for Kaveh forcing his way into their lives.

Contrary to the previous days, Alhaitham wakes up early, well before the birds come out of their nests to sing. The forced bedrest from the previous days must have made him extremely well-rested, because he tosses and turns and forces his eyes shut, only to find himself still wide awake and conscious a few minutes later.

In his process of tossing and turning, his head has started hurting again, although not as extreme as before. It’s mild enough that it doesn’t affect his thinking, but it’s also severe enough that the aching, along with his lack of sleepiness, shuts down any attempt at returning to bed. His head is heavy and he feels strangely cold, even under the thick, weighted blanket.

He sighs mournfully and decides to sit up. Judging by the lack of noise outside, Kaveh is most likely asleep, finally conforming to a normal sleep schedule. He takes one look at the remaining paperwork on his table, and decides against starting on more work in his current state. It’ll end up wasting his time when he eventually has to rewrite everything in the morning, considering he’s not even sure if he can think straight amidst the pain.

He tries to pick up a book, but the words don’t quite associate properly in his brain. The book ends up being returned to the shelves as Alhaitham quickly realises how fruitless his attempts at doing anything related to words will be.

How ironic for a scribe to lose their ability to read and write.

He stares out of the window that Kaveh opened the previous evening in order to air out his room. Their neighbour has added a new plant to her garden, although he can’t quite tell what it is. Padisarahs, he thinks. They’ll be a challenge to grow, but the payoff will be good if she does it right.

He watches the night skies and its glittering stars. The streets are silent and serene, missing the usual bustling chaos that the day brings with it. It’s a good substitute for his broken earpieces. The urge to leave the house grows with his restlessness, but he’s been forcing himself to stay home for Kaveh’s sake, purely because the man has asked that of him.

But Kaveh is asleep now. If he returned home before sunrise, Kaveh wouldn’t need to know.

Alhaitham’s footsteps are soft as he moves to the living room. He quietly removes his key from the bowl, and before he knows it, he’s out the door and locking it gently behind him.

The fresh, night air hits his face and he finally realises how long he’s been cooped up in his house. He decides to take a walk around their neighbourhood, strolling past the stores he frequents in the daytime and revisiting the streets he walks on everyday. In the dim streetlights, he’s able to clear his head and rethink some of the proposals that he was working on before he collapsed.

It’s unusual to see Sumeru’s streets so quiet. Even if his job doesn’t require him to be at the sages’ beck and call, he’s often swamped with documents in the archive rooms, especially during seasons where every Akademiya student is busy trying to find and submit their paper simultaneously. If he were to visit the stalls, it would be out of necessity to stock up on household materials, never for the sake of taking a breather.

He walks past the food stalls and his brain switches to making simple grocery lists to fill up their nearly-empty fridge back at home. He knows Kaveh has been trying to make the best of whatever they had left over from before their excursions to the deserts to escape the sages and to work on a commission respectively, which is why their meals have been plain and simple. Ever since his incident, Kaveh had been insistent on staying with him, meaning he’s never had time to go out and restock their pantry or fridge.

He’ll write these down on a piece of paper for Kaveh when he returns home.

The throbbing of his headache decreases drastically when he loops back to his house, and he breathes with relief. The night air must have done him some good.

When he unlocks the door, he sees a figure waiting at the couch. Alhaitham instinctively reaches for his sword that usually sits at his waist, but his hands come up empty and he curses himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have forgone his weapon.

It is only when his brain refocuses on the bright, familiar blonde hair of the intruder that his shoulders loosen, and his arms calmly return to his side.

“Kaveh?” He squints at the figure. “You scared me.”

Even in the darkness, Alhaitham can see the anger in Kaveh’s expression. His eyebrows are knitted and his body is strangely tense. “Alhaitham. Where the fuck were you?”

“Out,” Alhaitham pulls his shoes off and braces himself for the unavoidable confrontation that will come. “Why are you awake?”

“I should ask you that,” Kaveh curls his lips. “Can you imagine my shock when I woke up to find that your bed was empty? I thought that oh, maybe, just maybe, this stupid roommate of mine will finally take care of himself, and yet you never fail to disappoint!”

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. “You’re not my caretaker. I can take care of myself.”

Kaveh takes a warning step towards Alhaitham. “You didn’t even bother leaving a note! What if you fainted again? What then, Alhaitham? You would’ve been there until the morning merchants found you, and who knows what state you’d be in by then!”

“But I feel better now,” he argues back. “I wouldn’t overexert myself just to go sightseeing in our neighbourhood.”

Kaveh pointedly ignores his words with a glare and continues with his rant. “You didn’t even bring your jacket out! Do you want to die from a cold right after a head injury? Because I assure you, I’ll pick out the ugliest headstone for you.”

“Sure. Pick the ugliest one then,” Alhaitham replies curtly.

“You always say you won’t overexert yourself, but I’ll find you half-dead anyways. Why can’t you just take care of yourself for once? Not for yourself, but for the sanity of those people around you.”

“You know I don’t do things for others if it’s meaningless,” he mutters with a frown. “Why should the people around me care for what I do? I live for myself and no one else.”

Alhaitham can see the exact moment where Kaveh’s patience snaps and shatters into pieces. He’s seen it happen a few times since they were students, and even more since they moved in together. Sometimes, it’s because of his work and the arrogant, self-entitled customers that come with them. Sometimes, it’s because of Alhaitham and the stick up his ass that he’s never quite gotten rid of since he entered the Akademiya.

“Why should you care, he says,” Kaveh growls. His hands shake at his side as he glowers at Alhaitham. “Why should I care? Maybe consider that your life isn’t as low-profile as you want it to be, because there are people around you that actively don’t want you to die. Funny enough, I don’t want you to fall dead, but you seem happy to do that to yourself anyways.”

“I took a walk. That’s all there is to this situation,” the scribe turns to stare down at Kaveh. Their eyes meet and Alhaitham can see the fury and worry that swirls alight in them. “You’re kicking too much of a fuss over this.”

“I’m the one kicking a fuss over this?” Kaveh laughs incredulously. “Please tell me again, who was the one who decided to leave the house while recovering from a head injury right after collapsing? Because it wasn’t me.”

“And I’m telling you, I’m fine,” Alhaitham repeats, a flicker of irritation crossing his face.

“The last time you told me you were fine, you weren’t! I watched as you collapsed in front of me right after you said that! You are absolutely incorrigible, you prick,” he scoffs with thinly pressed lips. “You care so little for yourself that I have to pick up the slack for you, and you don’t even understand why.”

“I don’t need you watching over my every move and step like a hawk,” Alhaitham declares, his tone harsh and cold. Kaveh’s eyes widen with rage and his face darkens. “I never asked you to.”

They stare at each other in the dark, letting their emotions fester until Kaveh cuts the tension and relaxes his fists. They drop limply to his side, and Kaveh simply sighs and crosses his arms.

“Fine then,” he whispers, a tired expression returning to his face. “Fine. Do what you want.”

He turns around and disappears into his room. He doesn’t slam the door until the hinges shake or shout at him through the thin, hollow walls. The door is closed quietly behind Kaveh and all Alhaitham can hear is a soft click of the lock.

And Alhaitham stands alone in the living room as the faint moonlight casts shadows over his face. He lets out a soft humph as he turns and returns to his room. The throbbing in his head has returned, but he’s aware that it’s not because of his fatigue or head injury.

Against all logic, he ignores the paperwork and books on his table and heads straight for his bed. He pops a pill that he took from Tighnari and climbs onto his bed, crawling under his blanket until only his head is exposed. He stares at the bare ceilings and thinks of his roommate next door, probably furiously striding back and forth throughout his room, or sketching a new art piece with frantic, yet measured strokes of the pen.

That art piece will probably find itself in the abandoned pile in a bin when Kaveh is done pressing down the anger in his chest. Alhaitham knows that he has been responsible for a few of those art pieces, and Kaveh isn’t shy about telling it to his face.

Alhaitham dozes off to sleep, eyes heavy and body fatigued from the walk around the area after staying stationary for so long from the forced rest.

When Kaveh comes storming into his room a few hours later, he sits himself down on his chair beside Alhaitham’s bed. Alhaitham is awake with another book in his hand, this time detailing the events of the archon war in Liyue. He doesn’t acknowledge the glance that the architect shoots his way as he pulls out his sketchbook and pencil.

They say nothing to each other and refuse to look at each other. Two stubborn bastards, the Pride of Haravatat and the Light of Kshahrewar, hailed by their individual darshans as the greatest scholars in their generation, and here they are. Stuck at a choke point over another stupid argument that they will soon forget in a few days.

Occasionally, Alhaitham thinks about when his life started and ended, and whether it began with a senior Kshahrewar disturbing him at the House of Daena over a simple book that he mistook for his. Their argument had escalated and resulted in both of them getting banned from the House of Daena for a week by an irritated librarian. Later, the senior will hunt all over the Akademiya for him, offering him a treat at the nearby cafe, only to find that he had lost his wallet in a lecture hall.

After that, his life lost the rigid structure that he followed religiously. Instead of heading to the dorms by himself, an annoyingly loud blonde will join him, because his dorm was right beside his. Instead of studying by himself, his senior will crash his dorm, because he complains that his friends from the other darshans disliked the mess that his charcoal left behind, and only he could tolerate it.

He no longer had to worry about loud noises, because once that senior learnt about his sensitivity to sound, he locked himself up in the workshop for 3 days and created earpieces from scraps, specially tailored to him, that effectively blocked out everything and everyone from ever disturbing him.

"Sometimes I hate that I've not grown sick of you,” Kaveh finally says, spinning the pencil between his fingers. The windows are partially open as Kaveh stares out of it, away from reality and stuck in the corner of his mind where he cannot think and thinks too much concurrently. It is because of Alhaitham. It is for Alhaitham. “You always do something like this, and I will always be doomed to worry about you. Do you remember that time I had to force you to sleep after you pulled two all-nighters trying to decipher the ancient runes found under Barbatos’ statue?”

“Pot meets kettle. You did the same too.” Alhaitham flips a page on the Liyuen book. “Your dormmates had to beg me for help when they failed to drag you away from your desk after you’d continuously drawn for three days straight. They said it was disturbing their sleep, because you insisted on leaving a small light on to focus and refused to listen to anyone else. How troublesome.”

“I was designing my masterpiece!” Kaveh argues. “That mosaic glass piece on the wall was going to be beautiful! The best damn thing you’ve ever laid your eyes on!”

“You threw away that blueprint after claiming that it was too gaudy for your tastes,” Alhaitham replies. “And then you promptly passed out on my bed, right when I was supposed to go to sleep. I had an exam the next day, Kaveh.”

“And you still did well,” Kaveh points out. “Truly, the humblest bragger I’ve met from my days in the Akademiya.”

“I don’t think you have any right to call me that. Look at which darshan you belong to.”

“Insulting my darshan now, Haravatat? I don’t want to hear that from a bunch of scholars who do nothing but hole up in their room and read.”

“You forget who manages the funds now. I could easily cut your funding,” Alhaitham warns, but there is no bite to his words. Kaveh huffs and his lips are pulled into a small smile before it disappears and he turns back to his sketchbook.

“Yes yes, threaten to cut our funding again, will you? I didn’t know you wanted me here so badly. I’ll be more than happy to stay,” Kaveh teases.

The tension has been slightly shaved off, as if someone was slowly sawing at the piece of tightrope between the two of them. Kaveh’s posture is suddenly much more at ease than it was during their fight, and his hands move with no tension as he readjusts the sketchbook. The feather that Alhaitham gifted him when he first moved in is slotted behind his ears, and his hair is now properly tied into its braids and clipped up with red clips.

“No one in their right mind would want you in their house,” Alhaitham grumbles.

“And yet, I am here.”

“You are. Sometimes, I wonder what I was thinking when I handed you that house key,” he hums, “maybe the house would be in a better condition if I decided against making that spare copy.”

Kaveh rolls his eyes. “I would’ve made the house so much better if it wasn’t for your minimalist lifestyle. Seriously, who has nothing but shelves in their living room? Not even a coffee table? I had to buy that myself!”

Alhaitham scoffs at Kaveh and lets the conversation die. If they went on about the state of the house, it would begin another argument that Alhaitham can predict the conclusion of. It’ll end with Alhaitham reluctantly agreeing to another ‘minor’ renovation that will spiral into another big personal project, or he and Kaveh will continue arguing until Kaveh gives up and returns to his sketchbook. It’s too predictable for them.

Alhaitham watches from the corner of his eye as Kaveh fidgets on his seat, shifting every few seconds as the unspoken words weigh down on his mind. His sketchbook hasn’t even been opened in the entire time that they have been speaking, laying undisturbed on Kaveh’s lap on the cover page.

The Haravatat scribe waits patiently for the Kshahrewar architect to reorganise his words so that he may form an intelligible sentence that he won’t regret. The architect is out of his depth in this aspect, and thus the scribe waits patiently (as he always does) for the words to flow.

“You scared me,” Kaveh blurts out, hand gripping tightly on the pencil in his hands. Alhaitham wonders if he’ll snap it in half and break the remaining tension in the room with it. “I thought you were going to die, you bastard. I sat there beside your unconscious body and thought to myself, ‘what am I going to do if something happened to this insufferable man?’ and that thought scared me more than anything.”

Alhaitham stays silent and puts the book down beside him as Kaveh takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if Cyno didn’t appear. All the first-aid training you made me take just flew out of my mind. I suddenly forgot how to check for pulses or anything else because you were limp in my hands and every worst case scenario just forced itself into every crook and cranny of my head.”

“The only saving grace was that your fall was cushioned, so there was no blood for me to freak over,” Kaveh adds with a glance. “I think I may even have cried a little when I found out Tighnari was still in the city. You frighten me every time you do something stupid. Really, any normal and sane person would’ve left the moment they saw how unpredictable and stupid you can be.”

“But you stayed.”

“I don’t know why I agreed to this arrangement, but I don’t think I’ll ever regret it.” Kaveh admits reluctantly.

“You could’ve easily found someone else to room with.”

Alhaitham remembers clearly the second time his life’s trajectory was altered, his life plan having fallen off the train tracks that had been laid down for him.

He had just gotten a second key made for emergencies, and was planning to leave it under the doormat when he heard gossip regarding Kaveh’s latest project and the bankruptcy that followed while travelling between the sages’ meetings. At that point, the two had fallen out of contact for a while, between Alhaitham’s new promotion to the Grand Scribe and Kaveh’s various projects outside of the city, there was simply no time to send letters, and so few words had been exchanged between them.

Alhaitham immediately went to Lambad’s, and offered the spare key to the drunk and mournful architect, much to the surprise of everyone around them who were eavesdropping. The architect had stared at him incredulously for a minute before taking the key from his hands, tilting forward and throwing up on the scribe’s shoes.

Till this day, Alhaitham has no reasonable explanation as to why he’d done that. He’d threatened to make Kaveh pay rent multiple times, but has never followed up with it. What was supposed to be a temporary lodging situation had turned into a permanent structure in Alhaitham’s life as Kaveh’s items started filling up their house. A couple of tableware added to the kitchen, a new coffee table in front of the sofa, and many sketchbooks strewn around the house later, Alhaitham has accepted that Kaveh would be there with him forever.

“I’ll always stay with you, even if you try to kick me out,” Kaveh laughs, “you have a skill at avoiding and getting people to avoid you. I’m the only person immune to that unfortunate charm of yours, so you have no choice but to keep me.”

“I don’t avoid people,” Alhaitham replies defiantly. “I just prefer living a quiet life.”

“Overthrowing the corrupt government doesn’t scream ‘quiet’ to me, but let’s agree to disagree.”

Alhaitham sighs. He opens his mouth and hesitates for a moment while Kaveh watches expectantly. He’s not raising an eyebrow or crossing his arms proudly like he does whenever he wins their arguments, but Alhaitham knows that the other man is expecting it nonetheless. “Sorry,” he manages to force out, the words tasting weirdly on his tongue, “for scaring you.”

“You know, if anyone else heard the scribe apologise thrice in the span of less than a week, they might have a heart attack,” Kaveh muses. “Luckily, I’m not anyone else, so you’ll be saved from a trip to the Bimarstan.”

“Thanks,” Alhaitam drawls sarcastically.

With a small grin, Kaveh finally opens his sketchbook and starts drawing on a fresh page. Alhaitham picks up the abandoned book and continues where he left off, satisfied to pass the afternoon like this. Without the tension in the air, the room feels much lighter. Alhaitham thinks back on his decision to hand Kaveh the spare key that night in the tavern as he watches the blonde concentrate on his sketches, and finds that if given the choice, he wouldn’t have done anything differently.

Life would be so much duller without his roommate.

-

While he’s clearing the dishes after dinner, Kaveh dashes out of the kitchen with a flimsy excuse that has Alhaitham grumbling in complaint as he scrubs at a pan. He watches as the man disappears into his room without another word and turns to examine the pile of dishes that has stacked up in their sink after Kaveh finally decided to remove all the mugs from his room.

Whenever they had to do the dishes, Kaveh would run off with a promise that he’d do the dishes by himself the next day, only for Alhaitham to find that he wouldn’t be in the city the next week, away on a work trip to attend to the various commissions he takes on. After Alhaitham caught onto the architect’s plan, he’d force Kaveh to stay at the sink and stare him down as the man bemoaned the chore.

“You can’t use that excuse to escape chores. You’ve used it too many times,” Alhaitham yells through the walls.

When he’s received with silence, he grumbles and reluctantly returns to rinsing the pan. Next time, he’ll make Kaveh do everything himself. He considers leaving behind his mugs for the man to clean himself, but decides to wash it before the ants decide to pay them a visit.

He may be spiteful, but not to the expense of giving himself more trouble.

Only when he’s done washing Kaveh’s 15 moulding mugs does the man exit his room, panting and leaning onto the doorway for support with an arm.

“What were you doing?” Alhaitham mutters, eyeing the man in front of him. His clips are crooked and his fists are unnaturally clenched around something.

Kaveh pushes himself off the doorway and opens his clenched fists. “Your earpiece,” he pants.

Sitting in Kaveh's palm is the brown device that's kept many of his headaches and migraines at bay since he'd met the senior. Although the one in the architect's hand is significantly smaller, he still recognises the curve of the earpiece, tailored specifically to fit his head and ear for long hours without causing additional pain.

"It's.. smaller," Alhaitham comments as he picks it up from Kaveh's hands. He turns it around and swipes a thumb over the shell in curiosity. The Akasha connector that Kaveh had built to integrate his earpiece into the Akasha system is now removed, with its iconic, yet obnoxious symbol no longer intact.

"I told you, I've been working on updates," Kaveh beams. "I fixed the ugly wiring too. You're welcome for that, by the way."

"Show me?" the scribe requests, handing the earpieces back to Kaveh, who accepts it eagerly.

Kaveh's eyes light up as he jumps straight into the explanations. "So my first grand update was downsizing the entire device, because I know that you were sick of everyone asking about it. It's still obvious, but hopefully less attention grabbing. And look at the wiring in here, now that we don't have to incorporate the Akasha system into this, I can add new functions without overwhelming the system. You can adjust the efficiency of the noise cancellation such that it blocks everything! I mean everything, a full 100% muted experience."

Something that not alot of Sumeru citizens knew, bar Alhaitham and Kaveh's old professors, is that Sumeru's grand architect had originally specialised in mechanics, before finding a new profound love for making blueprints and studying the buildings of Tevyat. Although he'd spent less time on it after graduating, his old love for machines would occasionally return in these moments, reserved for Alhaitham's eyes and ears only.

The scribe has obviously banned any unregulated inventions in his house, but the trinkets are still allowed in. If a few pieces of advanced equipment goes missing from the storeroom back at the Akademiya, only to magically end up on Kaveh's work table - no one has noticed it yet.

He knows that Kaveh must have created at least 10 prototypes of this new earpiece before declaring it perfect and handing it back to him. It is in Kaveh’s nature to make sure everything he does is perfect when it comes to his work, whether it be in mechanics or architectural design.

Every calculation is redone a hundred times, even if it’s to find the slightest flaw in a decimal or a fraction. Every line on a draft is carefully sketched, even if it has to be done over and over again across thousands of drafts that will never see the day. Every wire in Alhaitham’s earpieces were fixed with careful hands, slotted in to ensure maximum functionality and durability, all for the convenience of Alhaitham, and none for himself.

Alhaitham listens as Kaveh describes his wirework to him, watches the way the architect's hands swing around to demonstrate the function and how his entire body fidgets with excitement.

When Kaveh is done with his demonstration, he gently places it into Alhaitham's ear and presses a button. His world is immediately plunged into the semi-silence that he’s missed. He can no longer hear the sounds of children screaming, nor the persistent buzz of their basin, with a leak that neither of them have had the time to fix since they left the house. He knows that logically, it must be the placebo effect taking place, but his head feels lighter and the light, leftover throbbing from his injury has disappeared with the noise.

But Kaveh's voice still sounds loudly in his ear. "The noise cancellation is set at 50%. How do you find it?"

Alhaitham smiles. "Thank you," he murmurs with an affectionate look in his eyes, something only reserved for Kaveh - the architect, the dreamer between them, and his roommate.

-

Everything happens smoothly after those few days of forced houserest. Tighnari drops by on the last day of his stay in Sumeru city after ensuring the safety of the former mad scholars and the health of the Eleazar patients to check on Alhaitham.

“You’re free to return to whatever you were doing,” Tighnari declares with a nod. He glances at Kaveh, who’s been quietly observing the entire checkup process from the side. “Kaveh, make sure he doesn’t get his head bashed in again. You owe me a favour.”

“I managed to find a golden-bordered TCG card of Collei.”

Tighnari immediately extends a hand.“....Hand it over.”

Alhaitham turns to Kaveh with a frown as the man places the limited-edition card in the Forest Ranger’s hands. “Where did you get the card from? I wasn’t aware that you were playing TCG.”

Kaveh shrugs. “I only dabble in it, but not enough to spend my entire stipend on cards. I got this from Lord Sangemah Bay on a discount because she needed to clear stock. I figured I could bribe Cyno with this, but I didn’t expect Tighnari to be such an avid, dedicated player too!” He laughs.

Tighnari remains unruffled by Kaveh’s teasing as he pockets the card carefully. “I’m off. Take care, Alhaitham. I won’t be coming back here for another trip if you do manage to get injured again.”

The fennec fox disappears through the doorway and the door is slammed shut behind him. Kaveh moves to lock the door as Alhaitham stares at the piles of paperwork on his table. He should probably return to the Akademiya now that he’s been cleared to catch up on the latest news, check on the 2 uninvolved sages that have returned to their seats, and check in with Lesser Lord Kusanali on the progress of events.

This all excludes the backlog of documents that he has to deal with as the Scribe and Acting Grand Sage that were leftover from the previous sages, all for the sake of rebuilding Sumeru and its governance.

Instead of doing any of those, however, he chooses something else.

“Kaveh,” Alhaitham begins. The architect turns around to stare at him expectantly. Waiting for something with a hopeful look on his face that may either brighten his day or turn into disappointment.

“The weather is nice today. Let’s go visit the markets together,” Alhaitham hums. “It’s been a while anyways, and we’re running low on food.”

“I don’t think I would’ve been able to carry all our groceries home by myself anyways, you would’ve needed to come along.” The both of them knew very well that with Kaveh’s experience lifting materials across sites during his lifetime as an architect, he could easily carry all their groceries home by himself.

“Let’s go before we lose all the fresher ingredients.”

“Ah, wait! Let me get dressed.”

By the time Alhaitham forces Kaveh out of his bedroom and out the front door, the warm heat of the late morning has already forced layers of sweat to cover their body, making their skin sticky and unbearable. Kaveh bemoans their entire way to the market, fanning himself with a spare pamphlet he picked up from a store owner.

Kaveh’s true talents only shine after they reach the heart of the market, where the real arguments happen. Alhaitham watches the scene from a distance, unwilling to get involved as Kaveh barters for the price of a fish with success, then swaps target to the vegetable-seller next store.

“I’m beat,” Kaveh groans as they leave the market with heaps of bags on their arms. Both of them carry approximately 3 bags per arm, and the sweat on their palms has been causing their grips on the bags to slip occasionally.

“We didn’t need that much rice,” Alhaitham mutters with annoyance in his tone. “We could’ve been holding a few less bags otherwise.”

“But it was on a discount! And rice doesn’t expire that easily anyways. Better to get everything now than regret when we run out of it!” Kaveh argues as he readjusts the bags.

They continue bickering over the rice the entire way home, much to the fear of every passerby, who carefully walks the opposite way. Their infamous arguments have certainly caused a stir even after their graduations from the Akademiya, with every sane person in the community finding the opportunity to dodge out of the way if possible - just to avoid becoming collateral damage.

When they reach home, they see a stranger waiting for them at their doorstep. Well, a stranger to Kaveh - the figure is very familiar to Alhaitham.

After all, it’s the person he broke out of an accursed bird cage and received a head injury for.

“Alhaitham!” Nahida waves excitedly. She stands up from their steps and brushes the back of her skirt as she hops towards them.

“Hello, Nahida,” Alhaitham greets with a polite nod. He opens his mouth to ask more questions, but ends up being interrupted with a pull on his shirt from the gaping man beside him.

“Wait, Alhaitham,” Kaveh whispers, tugging on his sleeves. “Don’t tell me…”

“Spit it out.”

“Have you been cheating on me? Whose child is this!” Kaveh cries.

“She’s not a child,” The Scribe huffs as he reaches for his keys. “She’s a guest from the Akademiya.”

“Oh,” Kaveh pauses. “Another prodigy, I assume. Is she like Faruzan?”

“Yes,” Alhaitham lies easily. To Nahida, he says, “Come on in. We have tea and juice if you’d like.”

The archon happily kicks off her slippers and steps over the threshold. “I would like juice, please!” With a nod, Alhaitham and Kaveh quickly follow behind and head for the kitchen, leaving the guest to examine their living quarters alone.

“Kaveh, I’ll go entertain her first. Get her some orange juice and make sure to pack the food before the flies come,” Alhaitham orders, placing the bags on their dining table and leaving Kaveh to roll his eyes after him.

He washes his hands in the sink to get rid of the irritating smell of fish, and returns to the living room. The child-god sits quietly at their sofa, examining the blueprints on the coffee table that Kaveh swore he would clean up before they left the house for the market.

“Your roommate’s works are impressive,” Nahida murmurs as she shuffles through the drafts. She turns to look at Alhaitham with mirth in her eyes. “When Cyno first informed me of your housing statuses, I couldn’t believe it at first. I thought he was pulling my leg!”

“Is that why you’re here, Lesser Lord Kusanali?” Alhaitham asks, a tinge of amusement painting his voice. “To confirm matters with your own eyes?”

“Of course not! I have to check on my Scribe, don’t I? What kind of God would I be if I didn’t?” The Scribe wonders if anyone else in Sumeru has had the chance to watch as their archon moved to pout angrily. Nahida crosses her arms and puffs her cheeks, upset by the lack of belief from her own Scribe. For a moment, Alhaitham is even reminded of the man in the kitchen, busy keeping away their purchases.

“You didn’t have to,” Alhaitham sighs. “I recovered fast.”

“I visited you that night, but I had to leave after an incident with the exiled scholars happened,” Nahida says apologetically. “After that, I had to take care of the Balladeer, and that took up most of my time.”

“Why didn’t Kaveh inform me of this?” Alhaitham frowns. He gets up from the sofa, prepared to yell for his roommate for an explanation, but Nahida quickly tugs on his wrist and pulls him back down to the sofa.

“Ah, it’s not his fault! When I arrived, he was napping beside you!” the child-god giggles. “I didn’t want to disturb any of you, so I wrote a letter for Kaveh instead! I trust that he followed it?”

“He definitely followed it,” Alhaitham clicks his tongue annoyedly. “Followed it too loyally, perhaps. He refused to let me leave the house for days.”

Nahida nods in approval. “That’s good! You shouldn’t be doing too much anyways,” she chides. “I told you to rest! I didn’t expect you to be such a workaholic.”

“I’m not. I just didn’t want to overburden myself with work later down the line.”

“Still! Rest is important! I’m even thinking of giving our General Mahamatra a few days off!”

“Good luck making him take that break,” Alhaitham laughs.

Nahida continues giving Alhaitham minor updates on the events that Alhaitham had missed during his absence, only pausing when they hear footsteps coming out of the kitchen. Kaveh carries a mug in his hand and a plate of cut fruits in another.

“Well, will you introduce me to the guest? It’s pretty rude to keep the both of us in the dark about each other,” Kaveh grumbles as he hands the mug with orange juice over to Nahida, who thanks him with a smile. He places the fruits down on the table and glares at Alhaitham expectantly.

“Fine. Nahida, this is Kaveh. Kaveh, this is Lesser Lord Kusanali, the rightful archon of Sumeru.”

Alhaitham prepares himself for the reaction. Kaveh’s jaw drops open, and his grip on the tray loosens. His eyes widen as he glances between the child and Alhaitham, and back at the child sitting cheerfully in front of him.

“Hold up, she’s our what?”

“Nice to meet you, Kaveh!” Nahida holds out her hand. “I’m Lesser Lord Kusanali, but you can call me Nahida!”

The mouthy architect remains in shocked silence for once as he extends a hand, dumbly shaking the tiny hand with a dumbfounded look on his face. He’s frozen in that position for a while before it melts to indignant anger, and it’s immediately thrown towards the Scribe, who calmly picks up a slice of apple.

“You didn’t think to tell me that you invited our archon into our house? Right after I accused her of being your illegitimate child?”

“This apple is too sour.”

“You! You’re the one who picked the fruits today! And don’t switch topics on me, explain yourself, Alhaitham!”

The archon giggles into her cup as Kaveh continues cursing Alhaitham out.

Alhaitham simply turns the noise cancellation up to 100% and stares back at his roommate smugly.

It’s his invention, after all.