Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kaveh is many things. 

He’s the Light of Kshahrewar, the designer of the Palace of Alcazarzaray, a friend of the General Mahamatra and the senior-slash-roommate of the Acting Grand Sage.

He’s also the man who follows his heart more than his head, the man who pursues beauty and emotions over logic, the man who can’t hold his alcohol but divulges in it far too often.

But a man who lazes around? That, Kaveh is not.

So it's to no one's – not his, nor his roommate's – surprise, when his lights remain on for an impossibly long time as Kaveh works himself to the bone in his study once more, half-eaten dinner long forgotten on a side bench.

Kaveh scribbles aggressively on the paper, pencil lead gliding across parchment smoothly as he traces out a magnificent garden – as per requested by his client. Trees of varying species stand tall over incomplete flower beds under Kaveh's skillful hands, grandiose fences lining the edge of each winding path through the greenery.

He pauses as his hands move to the gaping blank reserved for flowers. What, exactly, is he aiming for here? Passionate and warm colors to show love to visitors? Or graceful, cool tones to outline the beauty of wildlife?

Kaveh finds his book for flowers in design buried under his caboodle of blueprints and drafts. Glaze lilies, Cecilias, Sakura blooms, Padisarahs… 

He briefly ponders over his sketches and prints, before settling upon the idea that – yes, indeed, purple would fit the theme. And as for the exact species…

Ah, yes - Salvias, Irises, or something of the like would probably work wonders. The small plants would certainly fit the overall grandiose atmosphere of the requested courtyard. 

But Kaveh isn't so sure. Maybe he'll be better off asking for outsider advice…

Kaveh cuts himself off before his path of thought continues. Even if it is the afternoon, it's far too sudden to search for anyone else, until his promised visit to Tighnari and Cyno for tea; the only opinion he can get is that of Alhaitham’s – but let's face it, that man has no appreciation for the arts, Kaveh thinks, as he rolls his eyes.

Alhaitham. The polar opposite to Kaveh himself in almost every way possible, and yet somehow they still share a home – a place to return to every night after a busy day.

Whereas Kaveh is full of emotion and expression, with a creative and artistic soul, Alhaitham is all logic, stoicness, and never, ever letting emotions get the better of him. Even the basis of their ideals vary so widely – and yet, at the end of the day, they're roommates who, unbelievably enough, care for each other.

But, if he had to be honest, Kaveh probably went further than just caring.

How could he not? Even back in his Akademiya days, Alhaitham brightened his otherwise dry days. For all his 'Light of Kshahrewar' glory, Kaveh found his school life dry – until Alhaitham, ever the stoic, serious, yet wise man, came into his life. And even now, after their falling out, Alhaitham was kind enough to lend a helping hand to Kaveh – who, honestly, would be starving on the streets without Alhaitham’s assistance.

Yes, they disagree over the smallest things; yes, they had fallen out long ago. But these bickering moments are short and silly, and it leaves Kaveh feeling exhilarated and lively, his mind whizzing for comebacks – the fastest it would buzz about, other than at his projects and works of art.

A part of him even wants to show Alhaitham his designs, asking for his opinion, just to hope to earn some sort of praise from the man over how finely designed it is – a distant and rather impossible hope, considering Alhaitham’s blindness to art and beauty, but that tiny voice in Kaveh's head still hopes nonetheless.

Kaveh cuts himself off with a retch. He swallows, hard, before whatever it is gathering in his throat spills, haphazardly cramming it back down his throat.

He sighs. Truth be told, he's been sick with nausea for days – almost a week, even. And yet, Kaveh can't find it in himself to stop working for some measly dizziness; it is a big project, and he can't afford to cut off his flow of ideas over something he could easily fix by simply swallowing down whatever surfaces to the tip of his throat.

Kaveh cleans his lips with the back of his hands, his eyes scanning the room for once.

His gaze lands on the clock. 

Silence.

Then there is a lot of scrambling as Kaveh searches for his outfit and accessories, haphazardly pinning his hair back into its usual style as he falls out his door with the grace of a hilichurl.

He pays no mind to Alhaitham’s deadpanning, inquisitive stare from his spot on the sofa. Instead, all Kaveh throws at the other man as he picks up his keys are the words "Tighnari and Cyno”, "tea time", and "late".

Alhaitham can only look on, baffled, as the door shuts with a slam.

~

When Kaveh arrives at Tighnari's house, he's met with amused gazes from his two friends.

"Well, aren’t you early," Tighnari sighs, his lips pulled into a slanted grin, arms crossed. 

Cyno nods, sipping his tea as his eyes continue giving Kaveh its usual blank stare.

"Sorry, sorry! I was–" Kaveh heaves, taking pants between his words, and he feels nauseous once again. He pays it no mind; after all, he’s clearly still winded from his dash to Tighnari's house, "–I was working on my new project…"

Cyno waves his hand carelessly, pouring Kaveh a cup of herbal tea. Kaveh picks it up, and it's spicy floral scents remind him of Alhaitham as it wafts into his airway –

Okay, Kaveh, you need to stop.

Kaveh lets himself appreciate the smell. The aroma of definitely-not-Alhaitham, but tea leaves, spices and the barest hint of wood tickles his sense of smell–

–And sends everything he's trying so hard to swallow right out his throat before anyone could react.

Cyno and Tighnari on, frozen stiff with terror and shock, as Kaveh doubles over and chokes on air, clutching his chest as he convulses and retches, spluttering out broken coughs, throat constricting on apparently nothing.

Kaveh, honestly, is just as panicked as the other two are – not that he can really express it, with how much his throat burns, his chest aches as it tries to push out whatever it is in his system. He feels something solid, soft, scratchy dragging along his airways, and he coughs, keeps coughing, as he tries to get it out.

He feels liquid – warm liquid – fall out of his mouth with a splat onto his hand over his lips. It’s sticky to the touch – Kaveh’s eyes take a peek through the thick, increasing pain, and the red glint of the liquid catches his eyes.

It’s blood, Kaveh vaguely acknowledges, but he’s unable to do anything else about it – not when every breath is a chore, when he feels like he’s about to cough his lungs out.

Kaveh thinks he sees Tighnari scrambling to pull out a handkerchief he could borrow; he thinks he feels Cyno’s calloused hands, shaking, as he pats him on the back, attempting to soothe him. He isn’t sure – the pain is unbearable, to the point where his senses are dulled, and Kaveh's vision is doubling, blurring. 

He thinks he blacks out for a few seconds. 

When Kaveh comes to, he sees Tighnari and Cyno, deathly pale, eyes fixed on whatever laid before him on the table.

Kaveh finds his own face matching theirs seconds later.

Chapter Text

Kaveh slumps in his chair, taking a sip of warm tea – thankfully clear of the scent of spices and wood. It does nothing to soothe his burning throat or his shaking hands, but does good enough at washing away the stench of iron – the stench of injury – from his mouth. 

He watches, wordlessly, as Tighnari studies the contents upon his table – the contents formerly in Kaveh's throat.

Flower petals, small but vibrant, laid on the tablecloth. Their rich purple color did nothing to hide the small specks of red mixed within – it explains the taste of iron in Kaveh's mouth, he supposes.

But why would he have petals in his body, coughed out of his system, scratching on his throat hard enough to draw blood? Kaveh, begrudgingly, will admit that he hasn't eaten properly in a while – no thanks to his project, as well as the nausea – but even before then, none of his diets included flower seeds or flowers.

He is distracted from his own train of thought when Tighnari straightens up. "Salvias," the Forest Watcher determines, "and Irises."

Cyno raises an eyebrow. "Why would Kaveh cough these out? I thought seeds don't sprout in humans," he questions.

“They don’t.” Tighnari confirms. “And I’ll bet it's not because of something he ate.”

He sits on the chair across the one Kaveh is sitting on, and the architect is unnerved by the seriousness in the other’s eyes. “Kaveh.”

“What?”

Tighnari purses his lips. “Can you be honest with me?”

“Uh…” Kaveh trails off. “With what, exactly?”

The Forest Watcher runs a hand down his face, sighing heavily. “Listen very carefully, Kaveh. I think you are struck with a disease – a rare and dangerous one, at that.” 

Kaveh inhales sharply.

“It's as old as recorded history, and it’s known as the Hanahaki disease. To be honest, most think it’s mythical, considering how rare it is, and not many cases have been recorded,” Tighnari continues, “but it exists, and it's rarity is, unfortunately, directly proportional to its lethality. Which is to say, rather high.

“The diseased look fine on the outside, but flowers are rooted deep within their lungs, feeding off untold or unrequited love towards another. They choke the patients, forcing them to continuously cough out more and more petals or even entire flowers, until ultimately… the diseased die, with the flowers blocking up their airway.”

Kaveh's stomach flips uncomfortably, and he feels his heart drop. His ears ring. His head pounds hard, and he finds it hard to perceive his surroundings, barely processing anything.

“Kaveh, stay with me.” Tighnari shakes him hard, and Kaveh focuses back into reality. “I know it's hard to accept, but that’s exactly why I’ll need you to be honest.” 

The blonde doesn't trust his voice at the moment. He simply nods.

“Let me explain. There are only two ways to cure the disease: to have surgery to remove the flowers at the cost of forgetting your feelings for the person of your dreams, or to have your feelings returned.”

And Kaveh realizes why Tighnari needs him to be honest, to tell the truth, to come clean with his heart’s truest emotions.

“The flowers infecting your lungs supposedly hint to the one you long for… and, well, Salvias and Irises both symbolize wisdom, as well as thoughtfulness and power respectively…” 

Cyno picks up on the hesitation in Tighnari’s tone – so he takes it upon himself to ask, in his ever-blunt way. “... Kaveh, who is it that you see as someone with these qualities?”

Kaveh purses his lips, and both Tighnari and Cyno can tell from those wine red eyes – he knows exactly who he longs for, and yet he clearly isn't willing to divulge, to solve the problem.

“... If it helps, we won't tell. We just want to see if there's any way to solve your problem,” Cyno tempts, and Kaveh sighs defeatedly. 

When he finally speaks, Kaveh’s voice is shaky and soft, barely above a whisper, but the weight those words hold pushed down on Kaveh’s whole existence. 

“... My roommate. It’s my god darn roommate – that brute, Alhaitham – but… we all know what a wonderfully understanding man he is.”

And oh, how pathetic it is to reveal it, that Kaveh has fallen for such an unlovable man like Alhaitham – yet it is the truth, if the flowers, fresh from his lungs, have anything to say about it. It’s the undeniable fact that Kaveh has found something to adore in the unfeeling machine of a man, ruled by logic and nothing else, the opposite to Kaveh himself in every way imaginable.

Kaveh feels like he might cry.

Because it’s an irrefutable fact that Kaveh's found love in the one who lent a helping hand that held out a key when he landed in debt, the one who he met in the Akademiya years ago, the one he trusted – and still trusts – with his personal space, and the one who makes Kaveh feel trusted with their personal space.

And yet, for all that he feels for Alhaitham, he knows clearly that to him, Kaveh is nothing but a senior from their Akademiya days, an old friend in times of need, a person that he will never understand, let alone love – nothing but a bother.

That makes Kaveh’s heart crack just a little – and that crack is enough to bring his dam down, the waterworks following straight after.

Cyno and Tighnari sit in silence, and they watch, eyes filled with sympathy, as Kaveh starts to sob, broken cries falling from his lips as tears run down his face. 

He cries for what seems like hours; their tea has long since gone cold, and the wind is now growing chilly as the night grows – but Kaveh could not find it in himself to care, for his heart feels even colder than the chilling night winds.

~

When Kaveh gets home, he has a bulky bag in his arms that Alhaitham is sure he didn't leave with.

Weird, Alhaitham thinks, as he watches Kaveh enter the house, how his roommate is being oddly quiet – there is no boisterous dramatic entrance, no retort sitting readily on the tip of his tongue. Instead, there is only Kaveh with a slouched posture, eyes dimmed, and he's silent as he drops his keys by the door.

Alhaitham briefly looks up from his book. "Welcome back."

Kaveh spares a glance in Alhaitham’s direction, before his gaze snaps away, as if avoiding him – as if escaping him. "Mmh."

Wordlessly, Kaveh makes a beeline for his room. 

The door shuts softly without a sound.

~

Kaveh sweeps away his parchments, the commissioned project now the least of his concerns, and makes a place for the large satchel in his arms on the table.

"I have some herbs that might help – but they will only work for so long," Tighnari had told him as he filled the bag with herbs and medicines, as well as a list of instructions. "Please, for the sake of not just yourself, but also all those who care for you – tell him. We all want the best for you, and we're trying our best to help; it's up to you to take the final step."

The smell of medicinal herbs is strong in his room; it drowns out the scent of his Padisarah cologne, the scent of papers and ink. 

Much like how the flowers are drowning him.

Kaveh sighs as he pulls out the list Tighnari had written. "Now, which ones do I need to take…?"

Chapter Text

A month has passed since then.

On the surface, that month was just the same as any. Kaveh would wake to the smell of breakfast and coffee every day, and he would share breakfast with Alhaitham.

Alhaitham would then depart for the Akademiya, starting another day of his duties as Acting Grand Sage, leaving the cleanup work to Kaveh at home. 

Kaveh would shut himself in his room after tidying up the house, and only reemerge when he hears the door opening in the evening, when Alhaitham returns from work.

They would have dinner together, whether it be leaving the house for a diner, or takeaway Alhaitham would buy on his way, or home cooked meals on the off chance that he gets off work early.

Kaveh would then disappear into his room once again as Alhaitham settles onto the sofa. They would do their own things, whether it be reading a book or working in their studies. When the rest of Sumeru dreams, all the lights would go off in the house, and they, too, would settle for the night.

Rinse, repeat.

That was what Alhaitham felt. 
That was what their neighbors saw. 
That was what the entire Sumeru thought.

But that was not what Kaveh felt.

To Kaveh, that month was possibly the worst month of his life.

For when Kaveh wakes up every morning, it would always be due to petals blocking his throat, restricting his airflow until he can't breathe. It would be due to the suffocation he experiences that forces him to sit up and cough everything out.

When he's done, he would find his blanket buried under a sea of purple, a faint hint of floral fragrance mixed with the smell of metallic blood wafting through the air. He would find the sea growing and growing each morning – from just a small pile of Iris petals upon his blanket to a mountain of individual Salvia blooms, threatening to fall off the side of his bed – and he would have to tidy it up before he could do anything else.

Kaveh would have to force all the petals, all the flowers, all the blood down before he leaves his room for breakfast. Alhaitham already has the entire Sumeru to worry for; Kaveh doesn't need to put another burden on those shoulders.

Throughout the day, sudden episodes of petals would attack him – and with it, the unbearable pain. And while Tighnari's medicines work wonders whenever an episode arrives, it never lasts long, and Kaveh knows that their effectiveness will only decrease with time.

A part of him knows, if Kaveh just came clean with Alhaitham – with himself – then all of this would be over. He could be rejected by Alhaitham’s typical blunt voice, and he could turn to the surgery without a moment's hesitation. Kaveh's heart screams for release, for him to just get it over with – for the suffering and pain to just end. 

He thinks about it, every morning, hand lingering on the handle to his bedroom door as he ponders – is today the day?

But Kaveh's mind – the rational part of him that Alhaitham claims does not exist – would always speak before his heart ever could. No, his mind would decide, every morning, as he opens the door to the living room. Now is not the time.

So he lives his days with a smile that does not quite reach his eyes, lungs that ache more and more with each day, breaths that gets more and more ragged with every hour that passes.

Until today.

~

Kaveh is sketching away on his prints once more, body used to the strain that his sickness has left him with. He thinks he can identify his limits – he's been taking breaks more often than he used to.

Or, at least he thought.

Until he drops his pencil with a soft clank.

Sudden waves of nausea ripple through his entire body, quickly followed by pain. It is as if he is being ripped apart, right down the middle, across his chest.

He barely registers himself turning away from his table, scared of staining his work, scrambling for his bag of medicines that suddenly seems so far away–

Kaveh can't breathe.

Kaveh is wheezing so hard it hurts.

He can't decide if he wants to stop hyperventilating – taking air in so quickly – or to start breathing, because he feels a lack of air.

He starts pushing all the air in his lungs out as he coughs. 

Kaveh's wind is punched out of him as he coughs, petals raining from his lips, unrelenting like a storm in the summer. His throat is raw and his lungs burn with pain, but he cannot stop – the flowers keep pushing through, and it leaves him breathless.

Something is at the tip of his throat. Kaveh can't name it, for he can't tell what it is – he can barely even process his own breathing, if he is breathing too hard or breathing too little – but it hurts more than usual. It pushes harder than any petal or bloom ever has, and it hurts, scratching at him, he can feel it drag on his flesh, and his entire throat burns–

It comes out of his mouth and flutters to the floor as Kaveh retches, loudly, a mouthful of blood spilling onto his hands, leaking between his fingers, dripping onto the ground in a dark red puddle.

Kaveh opens his eyes, vision blurred from the tears – since when had he started crying? – and his gaze lands on the floorboards.

He finds that his blood-soaked hand is the least of his concerns; his condition is much more worrying, if what he is looking at is not a hallucination his heart conjured to scare him into confession.

For he is looking at an Iris flower, unfurled in full bloom, the tips of its violet petals drenched in dark red blood.

And that is when Kaveh's mind finally agrees with his heart.

Well, Kaveh realizes, it's now or never.

Chapter Text

Alhaitham is an observative man.

He can read between the lines, see the meaning behind the surface, understand the underlying messages in everyone's words, even if the facade is difficult to see through for many.

So it naturally doesn't escape Alhaitham’s notice how his roommate seems less and less active, less and less loud in his daily life.

Even if the past month has seemed as normal as any at first glance, there is still something off, under the surface – the way Kaveh becomes quieter and quieter, the way the house looks neater as if trying to hide something that took place while Alhaitham was out, the way the dark circles under Kaveh's eyes look worse with every passing day.

It's just stress from his project, Alhaitham tries to tell himself, but he can't help but worry, even if he knows Kaveh – well enough to know that as nonsensical as the man is, he can take care of himself better than top scholars at the Akademia can.

Alhaitham shakes it off. He doesn't need to worry about Kaveh – not when the man hadn't asked for it, not when he would scoff at the concern expressed his way.

~

When Alhaitham returns home from work, the atmosphere is somehow… off putting. It's tense – so thick that a knife could cut through it.

At dinner, the table is silent. It seems Kaveh has long since given up on pretending to be his old chipper self; if he had anything to say about it, he didn't show it. Instead, Kaveh only silently picked at his food, as if it was too hard to stomach.

(Alhaitham had to pour away a majority of what he had put on Kaveh’s plate that night.)

After dinner, Alhaitham left Kaveh to his own devices as he retreated to his room, book in hand.

He's barely ten pages in when Alhaitham hears a knock on his door.

As the door opens, he is greeted by Kaveh standing outside. "... Can we talk?"

Alhaitham notes how Kaveh's lips are pursed, his typical smile completely missing. He notes how Kaveh's gaze is serious, how his tone is stern – how it leaves no room for disagreement.

Alhaitham stares at Kaveh blankly. Then, seeing as there is no way he can refuse, he shuffles over on his bed, giving space for Kaveh to sit on his mattress.

Kaveh, as Alhaitham expected, walks to the bed and sits next to Alhaitham. His warmth is so close, so very close, that Alhaitham can feel it by his side.

What Alhaitham doesn’t expect, however, is Kaveh suddenly throwing himself at him, arms wrapping around his shoulders, enclosing Alhaitham in his embrace.

"Wh- Kaveh-!"

"Haitham... please."

Kaveh's voice is weak, just above a whisper, and he says Alhaitham’s name – without the title – so gently; Alhaitham thinks he's never heard Kaveh so broken. "Don't move and just listen."

So Alhaitham doesn’t. 

He sits quietly in Kaveh's embrace, arms awkwardly landing on Kaveh’s back softly. Due to shock or his whispered request, he doesn't know.

He hears Kaveh take a shaky breath, and he feels himself soothing the architect with his hands behind his back. "I..." Kaveh starts, hesitant, and Alhaitham shifts his gaze onto the figure hugging him.

"Haitham, I... I love you."

Alhaitham's world shatters into silence with a deafening crack.

~

Years ago, Alhaitham met an interesting senior.

The blonde senior was, all things considered, extremely talented – and extremely pretty. He was popular: not only was he quick to learn, he was also sociable and sharp tongued – and most of all, he gave his heart to all those who needed it. In Alhaitham's eyes, he glowed like the sun, bringing warmth and light to those around him.

Even if they were in different Darshans and their fields of expertise were different, Alhaitham soon found himself in a project with the other.

"My name is Kaveh," the senior said.

"I am Alhaitham," he replied.

And that was how their friendship began.

During the project, they would spend long hours in each other's presence, and Alhaitham finds himself paying more attention to Kaveh's working form than he should.

He finds himself observing Kaveh's focused eyes, steady hands, creased brows as he draws design after design.

Alhaitham never really had an eye for arts; but the image of Kaveh working on his passions, focusing his all –

That, to Alhaitham, was the most beautiful picture he could ever see. 

In all honesty, Alhaitham did not hate Kaveh, even after their project ended in their falling out. He simply found himself and Kaveh's points of view different; while Kaveh paints the world in colourful emotions and takes all things beautiful in wholeheartedly, Alhaitham lives in a world where all he sees is black, white and gray, where everything is dull and plain.

But when he sees Kaveh's work, the Palace of Alcazarzaray, years later, and how Kaveh dedicates his all to his creations, Alhaitham finds himself once again seeing colour, seeing art – seeing beauty. 

Kaveh was like colour paint to Alhaitham’s once monotonous landscape paintings – his existence alone gave Alhaitham meaning and liveliness with a single stroke, drawing his eyes open once more to the beauty the world could offer.

And so, Alhaitham could not stop himself handing Kaveh a second key to his house – it is as if he’s addicted. A taste of art, of the explosion of colours that Kaveh brings has Alhaitham chasing for more, searching for, what in his eyes, is the most colourful beauty–

"Why don't you live with me for the time being?"

And so, their broken friendship mends; their relationship reforms into roommate-and-roommate.

Living with Kaveh was exactly as he imagined – colour and liveliness filled his days, and Alhaitham no longer felt like the emotionless machine everyone claimed him to be.

With Kaveh, Alhaitham feels at ease, unpressured by the world's standards upon him to be the best mind amongst his peers, by the Akademia's standards upon him to be an obedient, responsible scribe.

He knows – he had known, for a long time – that he is thoroughly in love with Kaveh. That Kaveh is the love in his life, unforgettable to his mind, irreplaceable in his heart.

But Alhaitham could never be someone to Kaveh as Kaveh is to him.

He could never bring the same exhilaration, the same burst of colour and joy to Kaveh as Kaveh brought to him. 

Alhaitham isn't good at emotions – not as a child, and not as an adult. He is always wrapped under layers of stoicness and logic, through which leak no emotion, no feelings. 

As a child, he only had his grandmother. And he loved her as a child would love their grandparent. But he also had peers, had neighbours, had people in his life he would see on the streets often.

Alhaitham had watched his peers' parents walking together to pick up their children. He had watched scholars entering taverns hand in hand. He had watched the shopkeepers of Sumeru selling goods with their families.

Love, he would see. Something that he can feel, but not express. Something that he can see, but not show.

It is an emotion, a concept, that he understands, he sees, he hears, he feels. But it is not one he can express – to Alhaitham, it is one that is even more difficult to manage than cheerfulness or despair. That is something he has come to terms with a long time ago.

And now, as the Acting Grand Sage, Alhaitham finds himself busier than ever – on some days, he finds himself so tired he can barely feel emotions. It is only when he is with Kaveh – when he is home – can he finally feel more like Alhaitham, the human with emotions, than the robotic Alhaitham who works tirelessly as the Acting Grand Sage.

With the title of Acting Grand Sage, Alhaitham has even more responsibilities – he must look after those beyond just the Akademia. No, he must care for the entire Sumeru: from the residents of Aaru village, to the eremites in farthest corners of the desert, to the forest watchers near Liyue.

He cannot express his love to those around him as a child, where time is in abundance, where chances are found as easily as sand in the desert; how would he be able to do better – give better – for the one he wants to give his all, with even more responsibility on his shoulders and even less time on his hands?

So Alhaitham says nothing about how Kaveh makes him feel. 

But Kaveh – oh, Kaveh, always so surprising, thinking out of the box – breaks down his fortress with ease: embracing Alhaitham in the way he wants to so dearly, saying all he wants to say so simply, raw emotion in every syllable. Something Alhaitham, in a split second, had understood that he would never be able to do, would never know how to, and can never find the time to learn how to.

And it makes Alhaitham realize even more that love is something he could never give Kaveh.

Try as he might, Kaveh would never be able to tell that there is love in Alhaitham’s tone, that there is care in his words – because Alhaitham cannot put it into words the way Kaveh can, cannot fill his words with adoration the way Kaveh does.

He thinks – no, he knows – that he cannot make Kaveh feel loved.

And so, as silence prevails in the room, Alhaitham frozen in Kaveh's embrace, eyes closed, he comes to a decision.

You deserve someone better – someone who can truly tell you how much they love you – and I will force myself to cut open my own skin, to scatter salt into my bleeding flesh in order for you to realize that. 

… And if it means that you can have true happiness, if it means that you can hear and see the love you deserve to be showered in… by the archons shall I be the scoundrel.

Alhaitham’s chest aches, as if he was twisting a dagger embedded in his own heart. He knows full well that regardless of how hard he tries, he won't be able to undo the damage he'll do – their relationship might become broken beyond repair. He could very well be throwing the torch at the wooden bridge they have built over so many years with just this; burning away so many emotions, so many memories, so much time.

And it should stay that way, burnt to a crisp, never to be recovered. If Alhaitham can’t give Kaveh what he deserves, he should let someone who can take the chance.

… If it takes breaking Kaveh’s heart to persuade him, to show him that he deserves better – so much better – then Alhaitham would sacrifice himself up as the villain a thousand times over.

Alhaitham’s tired heart, battered by his attempts to love and his failure at expressing it, cracks a little more.

He slowly opens his eyes, blinking away the moisture in them.

"... I'm sorry, Kaveh."

And… thank you.

~

Kaveh could feel his heart stutter.

"W-What?"

He pulls away. Alhaitham, who always met people's eyes as he spoke, now averted his gaze, eyes blank yet forlorn as he stared at the floor. "I'm sorry."

"H-Haitham," Kaveh starts, but trails off when the other’s arms drop back to his sides.

"..."

Kaveh's eyes are glassy, tears threatening to fall. "Please," he says, and Alhaitham almost winces at how hurt the blonde sounds, "Haitham, you're not just my annoying junior; you're so much more than that. So much more than just a roommate or a friend."

"... Kaveh, I-"

"Please! I've been struggling, every day, trying to push down my feelings for you, and it's been hard!" Kaveh suddenly cries out, voice cracking. "I'm suffering and agonizing over my emotions, and yet you– you–"

"–Artistic delivery, Kaveh," Alhaitham starts, before he swallows hard, forcing his heart to stay still – for he knows what he says next will widen the gap between him and Kaveh infinitely, never to come close to being mended again – and he continues, head facing down, in the coldest tone he could manage, "but I'm just as stiff and emotionless and selfish as you always said I am. For once, you're right about something." 

The room is silent as Kaveh stares at him with wide teary eyes, breathing heavily. The flowers churn in his throat; he holds it back and swallows.

Wine red eyes scan across every inch of Alhaitham’s well-sculpted face, looking into his forest eyes, his thin lips, his blank expression for anything, anything that could tell Kaveh that Alhaitham was lying. That Alhaitham was holding back the truth, that Alhaitham felt something, anything–

Nothing. Alhaitham’s face was blank and empty. Not a hint of hurt.

Kaveh bites back a sob. He can't be weak, he can't be pitied by Alhaitham – not now.

Finally, after an eternity, Kaveh opens his mouth, and his voice is broken, filled with sadness and misery.

"Alhaitham."

He snaps his head up, feeling the anger, the sadness, the grit in the other’s tone. It feels foreign, too foreign – never had Alhaitham heard such a sound emerge from Kaveh's throat, as much as they argue and fight. He doesn't like it, but it's what he deserves for doing this to Kaveh. 

"... Kaveh–"

"You bastard."

Alhaitham freezes. 

"It isn't right, is it? Must you treat me like this just because you don't return my feelings?" The architect yells, anger evident in his voice. "I can tell you're lying. If you hate me – if you feel disgusted – just say it to my face. You were never one to lie, why do it now, huh?

"I would never claim to be the most logical man around, but you, Alhaitham, you make me irrational. Your words stings where it hurts most; you make every part of me bleed. To think that my heart's been longing for someone like you… what a joke." Kaveh let out a wet laugh, but it held no mirth – it held only pity. Pity for himself, for believing that Alhaitham had cared for him all this time.

Kaveh sees red. His ears ring loudly in his head and he feels real blood surging in his throat, like turbulent waves.

"I regret speaking to you tonight – heck, I regret ever speaking to you. Forget I said anything here – even better, forget I ever lived here." Kaveh snaps, poison lashing out in his every word. "Forget about everything we had, for it means nothing now, and it will never mean anything."

Kaveh stands up, face hot and teary, and stalks to the door.

"Goodnight, Alhaitham."

The door slams closed loudly, leaving the room in silence – leaving Alhaitham in silence.

Alhaitham sits alone on the bed. The fading warmth left on the spot beside him permeates his fingers, the lack of sound pierces his eardrums, the coldness attacks his side now that his closest friend has left – all of them a silent reminder screaming at him for just what he had done.

He truly is a selfish man.

Chapter Text

Since then, it's been two weeks.

And if it wasn't obvious that something had happened in Alhaitham’s household two weeks ago, it definitely is now.

Though if his neighbours thought hard, then it would not be hard to notice it all.

The first cue was from the get-go. Not very noticeable, but obvious to those near Alhaitham: how he slouched slightly every morning as he left the house – posture not quite as straight as before – and how there were slight, almost undetectable circles under his usual sharp eyes.

The second cue came a little later – about a day or two later, during the afternoon, then continued for every following day. There was a constant sound of hustle and bustle coming from the house – specifically, the largest room of the house – throughout the days, as if someone inside was packing items in bulk, or tidying objects at an alarming pace.

The third cue wasn't obvious at first, but slowly became detectable as time passed: Kaveh hasn't been seen anywhere outside of the house. Not at Lambad's, not at the Grand Bazaar, not at the House of Daena, nowhere.

And if it wasn't obvious enough, today brought the final prizefighter.

Because Kaveh was spotted alongside the famous General Mahamatra and Forest Watcher, wearing disheveled hair and pale complexion – and if that wasn't alarming enough, they were even carrying crates and crates of items out of the house (although both Cyno and Tighnari looked quite constipated), as if erasing any signs of him ever having been there.

He worked with utmost efficiency; Kaveh was gone with all those crates before the sun had even set.

And the way Alhaitham’s already tired face visibly fell when the spare key – without the familiar lion keychain – was spotted by the door was quite a new sight to the man's neighbours, who, previously, had seen more emotion in a piece of wood than they have in Alhaitham.

But it wasn't their business to deal with; as much as they are curious, they'd rather not suffer the ire of the Acting Grand Sage for being nosy about people's affairs – especially when said person is the Sage himself.

~

When Alhaitham steps into the house after a long day, he's surprised by how quiet the house is.

And yes, while Kaveh has been shutting himself in his room, not even leaving for food or the restroom, it was still too silent for the house.

Alhaitham supposes he is to blame – heartbreak can ruin even the most chipper human hearts, silence even the most exciting households; and he definitely served the most painful heartbreak he could to Kaveh all those days ago.

It's for the best, he tells himself, swallowing the sadness that flows through his existence as he thinks of the fateful night two weeks ago – 

As he thinks of the man he's been living with, he's been longing for, and he's broken the heart of.

Alhaitham steps into the house with as calm an expression as he can manage, and he drops his keys into the doorside plate as usual.

Yet as his eyes flit over to the small plate holding the keys, he sees a lone, plain, undecorated golden key under his silver key.

Inside the plate were Kaveh's keys.

– Or, what used to be Kaveh's keys.

Its Kaveh-esque lion keychain was nowhere to be found. It is now simply Alhaitham’s back-up key, plain and undecorated; just like his life, now that it is without the Light of Kshahrewar – the light of his life.

Alhaitham stares at the small key in silence. He's sure his calm face has long since morphed into misery, but he couldn't care less; the golden sheen of the key looks right back at him, as if taunting him, stabbing him in the places it hurts most.

A voice in his head hisses at him, blocking out the sounds of the bustling city, of his other thoughts regarding the entirety of Sumeru:

He's gone now, the voice – his own voice – laughs, and it's all because of you. You hurt him, you made him weep and now? Look at the consequences of your actions. It's all because of you and your sickening cowardice.

The crack in his heart widens at the voice.

And as he walks into the kitchen, he spots a small note stuck to the countertop.

Thanks for letting me stay with you all this time, but it seems it's due time I'd moved out.
Sorry for the bother during these past years. You won't have to see me ever again; you can have your peace and silence, rid of this bother, of this waste of space.
Farewell, Alhaitham.

Kaveh

Alhaitham reads the paper, calligraphed in Kaveh's usual cursive fonts. 

Then he picks it up carefully in his hands, and reads it silently once more – for it is the last thing Kaveh had left him. 

The words turn shaky to the end of the note, Alhaitham notes. The ink on 'farewell' is a touch darker, as if the writer is gripping the quill hard, pressing on the paper harshly.

And a blot of dried water decorated the corner of the note, softening the paper and adding a tastefully distracting stain on the note.

Alhaitham doesn’t need a book to tell him where that water came from – 

He feels the exact same tears wetting his own eyes. 

If Alhaitham could have a wish come true, he'd choose to time travel; he wants to beat his past self up, for making Kaveh feel like he was just an annoyance, a bother… a freeloading waste of space.

The silence of his house – not much of a home now, without Kaveh – now feels even more ambient, eerie, uncomfortable.

~

Tighnari opens the door to his house and walks in with crates in hands, Cyno and Kaveh following suit. 

The trip there from Sumeru City was silent, tenseness permeating the air – and it seems that the tense air follows them into the house.

It's Tighnari who finally breaks the silence.

"... Kaveh, are you sure about this?"

"I've seen how blank his face and how firm his tone was – and I think you'd agree with me had you been watching. He's rejected me already; there's no point in staying."

Cyno frowns. "Not even a proper goodbye?"

"Well, I think the note is sufficient enough for a man as sentimental as Alhaitham."

Tighnari sighs as he sets the last crate into the living room. Kaveh was always one of his more stubborn friends; it's just that sometimes Tighnari wishes that Kaveh wasn't. "There's no talking you out of this and into proper communication with Alhaitham, is there?"

"... No," Kaveh responds firmly, "because there is nothing more to be communicated. I've given him my heart, and he's hurled it right back; what else is there to be said?"

"Well, have you told him about your Hanahaki?"

Kaveh pauses, then looks away, pursing his lips.

Cyno huffs. "Well, there is nothing more we can do, if you're unwilling."

"..."

The house returns to silence.

Tighnari shifts his gaze awkwardly, coughing loudly. "Ahem. Uh… want a tour of your new home…?"

~

Things happen in a blur after that.

The first day after Kaveh moves out, Alhaitham puts away Kaveh's keys into a closed, opaque cupboard, so as to stop himself from staring at it for far too long at a time. 

(That night, he dreams that one day, he'll get to give it back to Kaveh, and the lion keychain could return to its old spot.)

The second day after Kaveh moves out, Alhaitham finds himself making more breakfast than he can eat. He stares at the second set of breakfast he'd cooked, and decides he couldn't – wouldn't – finish it.

(He gives it to his neighbour, who is rightfully surprised, but accepts it gladly nonetheless.)

The third day after Kaveh moves out, Alhaitham spots dust gathering in what used to be Kaveh's room, and he thinks about potential guests as he cleans it, broom in hand, gently and patiently until it is spotless once more, while making sure not to touch the unfinished designs. After all, Kaveh had treasured them greatly, and he would probably throw himself at Alhaitham, weapon at the ready, if he'd touched them casually.

(He knows that the room would never be occupied by anyone else, save for a certain blonde Kshahrewar architect who would not care for mere dust. 
He cleans it nonetheless.)

The seventh day after Kaveh moves out, Alhaitham’s quill hovers over a blank piece of paper, as he ponders on how to phrase his orders to search for Kaveh – before he stops himself, pushing the blank parchment away, and returns his focus to the other official paperwork laid out on his table. 

(He knows that he could find Kaveh's whereabouts easily, with the power and men he has at his disposal, but he stops himself; after all, as long as Kaveh is happy and well, he would – should – be content.)

They say it takes the minimum of around two weeks to form a habit; to get used to something. But if Alhaitham had to be honest, he doesn't think he'll get used to this at all. 

For when the thirtieth day arrives, Alhaitham… is still thinking of Kaveh. 

Every design sketch submitted for checking, every feather that flutters in the wind, every golden ray of sunlight – everything reminds him of Kaveh. The disappearance of the man who used to be in Alhaitham’s everyday life gnaws at him uncomfortably, his heart aching from longingness to speak to – to see the architect once more.

Alhaitham sighs, the parchment in front of him now a chore instead of a source of knowledge – and the pitter-patter of the rain on his windows does nothing to ease his stressed, annoyed mood. 

He's about to begrudgingly continue writing his report – when he is interrupted by a less than graceful bang from his doors being kicked open, a shadow darting into the room. 

"Alhaitham!"

He huffs without looking up from his work. "... Have you considered knocking, Cyno?"

"Not really," Cyno mumbles, before his expression turns stern. "Listen, I don't have any time to explain, but I promise you, you will regret it if you don't come with me right now."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait–"

"No, it cannot," Cyno interrupts, "because we don't know how much longer we have, and the earlier we set off, the better."

Alhaitham sighs, before he places down his quill. Even if I can't care less about the report on my desk, the rest of the Akademia can – so I must finish it, as much as I don't want to. 

Alhaitham returns his gaze to the General Mahamatra before him. "... I'm quite busy at the moment, thank you for noticing."

"Very sarcastic of you, but we'll let that slide for now, because you'll thank me more if you follow me."

As occupied as Alhaitham is, he decides to entertain Cyno. "Enlighten me."

"... It's– It's Kaveh," Cyno chokes out, and Alhaitham can hear the sound from his dropped quill as he sits shellshocked – how did he miss the horrified gaze hidden in Cyno’s eyes, the anger buzzing under the calmness, the panic interlaced in his tone? – and his head whizzed in pain, listing out possible dangers that the architect could have landed himself in.

Calm, Haitham, calm, he tells himself, as he gulps hard. "... What about him?" Alhaitham asks – though a part of him was afraid to hear the answer.

Cyno stares at him for a long moment, before he sighs harshly – almost angrily. "I can't believe you," is all he says, turning away, before he pounds his fist on the wall. "Have you never wondered why Kaveh had willingly spilled his heart to you and told you of his secret, true feelings, as much as he knew how high the risks of rejection were?"

"..."

Alhaitham cannot argue with that one – why, indeed, had Kaveh done that? As much as Alhaitham longs for Kaveh, he cannot show it; he doubts that Kaveh's declaration of love had stemmed from anything he's done.

So he sits, in silence, beckoning for Cyno to continue.

Cyno turns back and glares at him with all the feared wrath of the General Mahamatra. "The Acting Grand Sage, supposedly wise and all-knowing, is absolutely clueless," Cyno grits, "seeing as how blind he is to love."

"Kaveh has the Hanahaki for you, Alhaitham. And your heartless rejection, the exact same one you'd said to Kaveh's face a month ago, the one Kaveh believed in and took to his heart – that's what pushed everything beyond the breaking point. Now, he's hanging on a thread, and Tighnari's herbs won't protect Kaveh from death forever."

Alhaitham feels his world shatter into millions of pieces, finer than his own mirror shards. 

Kaveh loved him.

Kaveh loves him.

And Kaveh is now dying, because Alhaitham lied out of selfishness.

Alhaitham’s head pounds. 

Kaveh loves him; Kaveh loves Alhaitham – even his stoic, cold side, the Alhaitham that he himself had thought did not know how to love. Kaveh had filled every word of his confession with raw emotion. And yet, the sincerity in those words were shot down with a blank stare and a dry tone – all because Alhaitham was selfish, sorry, and above all – Alhaitham was scared.

Kaveh is about to die because of him, Alhaitham realizes, his head looping the realization on repeat, as if to haunt him: he's about to die, he's about to die, he–

Kaveh is about to die, all because of some selfish, callous being like him.

Alhaitham's brain fails to form logical connections for the first time in his life. He can't think of what to do, could use to pay for what he had done to Kaveh.

Not that he could ever have the chance to do that, because Kaveh… is about to die because of him.

There is no going back once Kaveh steps into the door that separates life and death – yet it is thrown wide open for him to pass through; and Alhaitham, the coward who failed Kaveh, had been the one who turned the handle and opened the door for Kaveh to walk right out of life itself, all because he was too weak to even express his true feelings towards Kaveh.

He stands up, his figure shaking, and almost falls out of his seat – it's thanks to Cyno’s help that he avoids collapsing in a heap on the floor. It's pitiful, he thinks; maybe Cyno shouldn't have caught him at all. Maybe he deserved to fall face first onto the ground for what he did.

"... Kaveh, where… where is he?"

Cyno helps him stand up, pursing his lips. "He's with Tighnari, at his house. I'd… recommend you hurry and fix what you caused." He breathes in a sigh. "... Don’t waste any more time."

And Alhaitham is off without another word, leaving all his duties behind as he runs through the streets of Sumeru City, darting from one Four-Leaf Sigil to another, ignoring the small droplets of rain that strike his face like tiny darts. 

The rain shoots at Alhaitham with the rage of an angry crowd, condemning him for his selfishness, damning him for his cowardice, yelling at him for the blood of his love in his hands – but he ignores it all, for he is racing against time itself, the hours and the hands marching round the clock steadily as he tries to make it in time.

Alhaitham was never a man of faith; yet now, he finds that the only thing he could do was to pray to whatever deity that would listen – pray that he could make it in time, pray that he could undo all his wrongs… and pray that even if he'd be cried at, scorned, or even hated, he could restore Kaveh's health, heal Kaveh's body, mend Kaveh's heart.

He begs, desperately, as his lone figure dashes through the rain.

Chapter Text

Several days prior to the events of the previous chapter…

It's been almost four weeks since Kaveh started living in Tighnari’s house.

And everyday, Kaveh's condition only gets worse and worse.

On the first day, Tighnari witnesses for himself what happens when a Hanahaki episode occurs to a patient; and he watches, frozen stiff with fear, as Kaveh struggles to breathe, flowers clogging up his airways before he finally coughs them out, a stream cascading from his lips. 

(Neither of them mention the bloody Salvia bloom Kaveh drags out from his system sitting on the table, lying amongst a shower of violet petals in varying shades of purple – its presence is strong enough to make the atmosphere tense.
Tighnari increases the dosage of Kaveh's medicine for the first time.)

On the second day, Tighnari sees Kaveh sitting on his bed quietly, his lunch going cold on a table, ignored and untouched, as he stares at a lion keychain in his hands. Eventually, he recognizes it as the small decoration Kaveh used to keep on his – Alhaitham’s – keys. 

Tighnari finally asks Kaveh why he doesn’t find Alhaitham, because as blunt and to the point as Tighnari usually is, he believes that words can help solve any dispute – a somewhat naive belief he’s always held onto.

And when he gets his answer, he could feel his heart shudder – for Kaveh speaks in a tone that’s so very monotonous, a tone that’s far too foreign. “As I’ve said… Alhaitham’s already rejected me. It’s that simple,” Kaveh says softly, plainly, as if they were discussing the weather and not why Kaveh was dying in the rural areas of the country, “and it’s clear to see, no? He doesn’t love me. He can’t love – so clearly, he can’t love me. There’s no purpose in ‘talking it out’ and searching for a solution together; not when he simply cannot provide a solution.”

He can’t love – so clearly, he can’t love me.

Tighnari finds the sentence chilling to the bone – so he says nothing more, quietly standing up to exit the room.

(And Tighnari does not bring up topics about the keychain in front of Kaveh: he doesn't talk about how Kaveh puts it away in a cabinet that he had previously asked for the key to, not about how the cabinet, previously unoccupied, is now locked, and the keys to it back in Tighnari’s possession.)

On the third day, Kaveh almost collapses down the steps to Tighnari's home after a particularly violent fit, with not one, but several flowers tumbling from his lips. His knees buckle under him, and he barely breaks his fall with a swift yet iron grip on the handles as he convulses, pain rippling through his body as he chokes and wheezes.

(Tighnari and Cyno – who now visits Gandharva Ville more often than he does the Akademiya – agree with frowns on their faces that another incident that poses harm towards anyone – especially Kaveh – on this scale, and Kaveh will have to be confined to a bed or a wheelchair to ensure his safety.)

On the seventh day, the inevitable happens – as Kaveh experiences a sudden Hanahaki episode, he doubles over in pain… and topples over, falling down the steep stairs, leaving a trail of petals behind him as he rolls down the steps. He ends up with a sprained ankle, several bone fractures in his arms and a bruised body, but escapes unscathed otherwise.

(Tighnari officially announces that Kaveh is bedridden – not to walk about outside the house without company or in a wheelchair. Kaveh can't say that he's particularly happy about this outcome.
Tighnari adds several herbal remedies for Kaveh's bruises alongside his original prescription… before he tones up the dosage of Kaveh's medicine a second time.)

Eventually, Kaveh grows used to this lifestyle, even if he cannot agree with it: he feels his arm muscles, developed from his training with his claymore, losing its strength; his figure, formerly already fit and slim, is now nothing but skin on bone; and every morning as he wakes up, he sees his paling complexion in the mirror, skin no longer as sun-kissed as it used to be.

He supposes there are some positives; he could spend time in bed scribbling away on his sketchbook, and he didn't need to do chores, something he groans at the thought of, darn Alhaitham for forcing all that labor onto him– 

And then Kaveh feels the familiar yet immensely painful pressure at the tip of his throat – darn it, even just a passing thought is enough to trigger a horrible flare-up. His entire chest cavity burns in pain, hands clawing at nothing as he suffocates on the flowers and stems in his lungs, and as hard as he coughs and wheezes, it does nothing but scratch his throat raw, not even close to solving the problem of something foreign stuck in his system.

The pain is so, so much worse than before; the pressure is so much stronger, the suffocation so much worse. Kaveh's body convulsed as he sputters out blood, maroon eyes trying to focus on the sharp red in front of him; but it is nothing but a blur, and his consciousness starts to fade. 

Kaveh, in his daze, hears a voice – Alhaitham’s voice – mocking him in his head; for now Alhaitham has taken yet another thing from him. 

And he can tell with as much certainty as one would have with the weather that it will be the last thing Alhaitham would – could – take from him. 

Kaveh can vaguely acknowledge the crash of utensils on the floor, followed by hurried footsteps and a voice – Collei, he thinks – yelling for Tighnari. He almost has half a heart to feel sorry that Collei – that anyone – had to see him like this: the way he lived in Gandharva Ville in an almost catatonic state, the way he was confined to a bed for weeks, to be cared for by others – the way he’s dying right now, with Collei’s voice ringing in his ears in what may be his last moments. 

He blacks out just as Tighnari comes into view through the door.

~

When Tighnari runs in after being alerted by Collei, who was on her way to deliver Kaveh’s medicine and meal, he’s met with the sight of Kaveh heaving on his bed, petals falling from his lips like a heavy shower in the summers of Sumeru, blood staining the sheets in his lap; before he runs over just in time to catch Kaveh’s body, collapsing as he slips out of consciousness. The stench of blood is heavy – so much heavier, so much worse than before, wafting in the air. 

Tighnari has never hated the colour purple or the sight of flowers more.

He spends long minutes that stretch into hours by Kaveh’s bedside, calling out to him, feeding him herbs, gently patting him on the shoulder, trying every possible method to get a reaction out of the sleeping man; and yet, even as the minutes stretch into hours, and Cyno arrives when night falls, Kaveh remains unconscious, his throat pushing out petals out of reflex as he sleeps. They try not to notice how the petals spread out around him, forming a scene that morbidly looks like a grave; Cyno looks away at the horrific thought.

Cyno watches as Tighnari stands up from his hours-long perch by Kaveh’s bed. “He’s comatose,” the forest ranger sighs, defeated, “his body is far too battered from fighting the flowers to keep him awake. To be honest, there’s not much we can do at this point.”

The room falls into an uncomfortable silence – before an idea hits Cyno and his red eyes widen slightly in realization as he purses his lips. “... Well, there is one method we have yet to try.”

~

It’s been another week since Kaveh has fallen into a coma.

Cyno finds himself spending his rare day off with Tighnari, sitting in Kaveh’s room and looking at the sleeping man in silence. They say nothing about how the amount of flowers Kaveh unconsciously coughs out increases exponentially with every passing day, how the formerly golden hair upon his head turns more and more ashen, how Kaveh looks nothing beyond bone and skin since his loss of consciousness days ago – the tension is deafening enough for them.

Since the day Kaveh has fallen unconscious, Collei and Tighnari take turns keeping an eye on the architect, making sure he’s still properly hooked onto drips, regularly cleaning his body and his bedsheets and generally making sure he wasn’t dying yet, while Cyno keeps an eye on Alhaitham and… well, Sumeru City.

It’s no surprise to see Alhaitham getting affected by Kaveh’s absence in his life – the way his work is slightly more scuffed than before, the way he no longer looks as energized and uptight… With every passing day, the Mahamatra is noticing more and more signs of fatigue, of burnout – of sadness in Alhaitham. He never says it or expresses it obviously, but it’s all in the way Alhaitham presents himself: Cyno notices Alhaitham no longer walks with his trademark stoic confidence, nor does he keep his head up as high as he used to be.

Yet neither Tighnari nor Cyno could find it in themselves to pity Alhaitham – after all, Alhaitham was the man who rejected Kaveh, one of their closest friends, mercilessly and coldly, confining Kaveh to what might as well be his deathbed. Alhaitham is the man who is, quite literally, killing Kaveh, both mentally and physically. With his cruelty, he has sentenced Kaveh, one of the brightest people either of them has ever met, to death. To them, Alhaitham is the greatest sinner and the most corrupt judge. 

If Cyno could, he’d strangle Alhaitham several times over just for the man to feel a portion of the suffocation and pain Kaveh had to experience. (Maybe he'd even stuff some flowers down Alhaitham’s throat for good measure.)

They are wrenched from their (partially murderous) thoughts by a particularly loud wheezing sound, and Tighnari’s head snaps up from whatever thought he was immersed in.

Within a moment, they are by Kaveh’s side, watching Kaveh struggle in his sleep. Tighnari wrenches open Kaveh’s mouth to check his airways – except he cannot see it, with an endless stream of petals falling out from between Kaveh’s open lips, blocking his vision.

The flowers are unrelenting, cascading like a waterfall – yet it never seems to run out, petals and blooms falling alike from Kaveh’s lungs. His breathing is ragged and high pitched – Kaveh is wheezing in his coma. He can’t breathe. 

Kaveh is literally dying.  

Tighnari’s eyes meet Cyno’s as he yells for Collei to bring medicine in – and Cyno can see the message in Tighnari’s firm gaze, hear the unspoken words in Tighnari’s eyes. 

He sees the same thing that his own thoughts are screaming at him. The same thing that he’d suggested several days ago, the same thing – the only thing that could possibly save Kaveh now.

Go find Alhaitham. 

Cyno blinks, and even though he knows that it’s the only thing they could do, he hesitates.

Tighnari narrows his eyes.

Please, find that bastard and bring him – now, or Kaveh will never open his eyes again. 

~

When Alhaitham arrives at Gandharva Ville, he wastes no time in finding Tighnari’s house among all the others, opening the door with a loud bang. 

"Kaveh!"

Yet there was no exasperated reponse, no maroon eyes staring and welcoming him in; there was only the tired gaze of agaze from Tighnari, who sat beside an unconscious Kaveh surrounded by mountains of purple flowers and petals that only grew by the second. Petals, so many petals, were pooled onto the floor, even surrounding his feet as he ran forth. 

And it is this image, this scene unfolding in front of Alhaitham’s eyes at this very moment, that makes him realize just how bad Kaveh has been suffering for so long – just how much pain that he’d placed Kaveh in, because of his own petty insecurities.

“Kaveh,” he repeats, his voice softening into something quiet and gentle, barely above a whisper, as he approaches the bed shakily. Vaguely, Alhaitham sees Tighnari standing up from the seat, and he all but collapses into the empty chair. 

Shakily, Alhaitham reaches out to place Kaveh’s hand in his own. His heart aches at how dry and cracked those hands have become, how thin the man has gotten, how shallow his breathing has turned. His head lowers, staring at Kaveh’s hand, still a dainty and pretty thing as sick as the man is; and Alhaitham finds that he has to swallow a sob before it falls from his lips. “Kaveh,” Alhaitham tries again, tone morphing into a beg.

His heart skips a beat when he feels the hand in his own squeeze back. It’s nothing more than a weak grip – if it could even be considered one at all – but it has Alhaitham snapping his head back up and looking at Kaveh.

Yet those red eyes remain closed, hidden under long eyelashes, those wet eyelashes–

Wet?

Alhaitham sits in silence as a tear falls from Kaveh’s eye. He’s in there somewhere, something in Alhaitham’s head tells him, and the younger male inhales deeply. 

“Kaveh, please… I’m sorry for everything I said. Please, wake up.”

He prays for once in his life, to any archon out there, any god out there. 
Lesser Lord Kusanali, please, please… help me. Help Kaveh. Please.

"Kaveh… I lied. I lied, like the fool I am." 

Kaveh kept crying, yet his eyes refused to open; tears were cascading down his face from behind those long eyelashes that simply stayed shut as Kaveh started wheezing with a mix of flowers and sobs.

"... Kaveh, please, please, please– Come back," Alhaitham finally chokes out, his own tears falling from his eyes, as he buries his head in Kaveh's loosening hand, "I… I miss you. I'm sorry for all those things I said, and I'm willing to apologize again and again – repeating those words for all eternity, even – if you come back."

He swallows the cries threatening to spill from his throat as he looks down, focusing on caressing Kaveh’s hands with his own instead. "Kaveh, Kaveh, Kaveh–" He chokes out the name, repeats it like a mantra, like a desperate prayer begging and begging for Kaveh to come back. "I’ll go mad – insane – without you; come back, Kaveh… Please. I'm sorry… come back. Don't leave." His voice cracked at the end, and he felt more tears welling up in his eyes.

And Kaveh's lips curl upwards slightly, pulling itself into a sad smile, before he's silent – far too silent.

There is no coughing, no retching, no wheezing – no breathing.

Kaveh isn't breathing. 

Kaveh isn't breathing. 

He isn't breathing, Kaveh isn't breathing, Kaveh isn't–

Alhaitham snaps up, eyes wide, and he scans the man before him – Kaveh's white face, far too pale even for a patient; his tear-stained face, tears no longer falling from his closed eyes; his thin lips, petals almost completely covering them – 

His broad chest, no longer rising and falling. 

"Kaveh? Kaveh, stay with me– Archons, stay with me!" Alhaitham starts, and all of a sudden the world is so loud and so quiet at the same time. He can't hear the footsteps from Tighnari dashing back towards the bed, the words Cyno throws at him, the cries from Collei; he can only hear his own heart beat, a ringing in his head, and it's so quiet yet so ear-splitting, and–

Alhaitham does the first thing he could think of. 

Panicked, shaking hands fly to Kaveh's chest, frantically pressing up and down rhythmically – thank the Archons Alhaitham had bare minimum knowledge about first aid – as he counts to 30. He forced himself to stop shaking with the desperation of a man who has made too much a mistake.

Then he lets go, hands landing on Kaveh’s forehead to hold him down – and Alhaitham leans in, his lips landing on Kaveh’s.

~

When Alhaitham thinks of kissing Kaveh and meeting the architect's lips with his own, his imagination would conjure up images of fancy dinners and romantic atmospheres, of heartfelt confessions filled with years of admiration; or quiet nights after gruelling hours of work, leaning into one another as they whisper words of comfort as expressions of adoration.

Well, something that differed from what reality had in store, at the very least – seeing as how their first kiss has him half leaning over Kaveh's dying self.

But as his lips land on Kaveh's, he notices several things.

One: Kaveh's lips, as cracked as they were from the lack of moisture, were still soft – as welcoming as the fluffy bed Alhaitham returns to their shared house to after a long day at work. 

They remind him of home. 

Two: quite embarrassingly, he has to pry open Kaveh's lips to push air in. This he does – with great shame – using his tongue.
(Ironic, he thinks, for the same goddamned tongue that pushed Kaveh out of his life to push air into his lungs to save him; for the same tongue that didn't know how to say the right words when it needed to to say all the things he’d left unsaid.)
Alhaitham tries not to think about it, instead desperately feeding the dying man the air that he needs.

And three: after what seems like days, months, years, millennia – Kaveh's lips move alongside Alhaitham's own, warmth returning to them.
Alhaitham barely registers the thought that Kaveh is kissing back.

Kaveh is awake.

Kaveh is kissing him back. 

Alhaitham pulls away, eyes snapping open, and he watches, tears still in his eyes, as those long eyelashes flutter open slowly, and the rich, familiar shade of red meets his own green eyes.

"... Haitham?" Kaveh whispers, voice so weak and fragile it makes Alhaitham feel oh so guilty, the sinking feeling biting and gnawing away on his insides, banging in his heart.
Alhaitham forces himself to maintain his voice, but he fails miserably.   "… I'm right here, Kaveh."

"So all those things I heard… I wasn't dreaming, was I?"

"That you weren't."

Kaveh 's hopeful yet sad eyes look into Alhaitham's own, as if trying to stare straight into his soul. "Were you… Were you telling the truth?"

All of a sudden, Alhaitham felt speechless; none of the 20 languages he knew could express his thoughts, words and linguistics betraying him possibly for the first time in his life. 

"I…"

Kaveh's eyes turn sad as Alhaitham trails off.

"... I'm sorry," Alhaitham repeats the same words from all those days ago – yet his next words were not the same.

He was not making the same mistake again.

"... I had lied to you back then, before you'd left," Alhaitham admits, voice small and fragile, barely above a whisper, "… I was scared. Far too scared to say what needed to be said; far too weak to admit that I… I loved you.”

He sees how Kaveh perks up, hope and surprise creeping into his eyes once more – and he holds on to the glimmer of hope in those maroon eyes that shine so brightly, the glimmer that fuels him to continue.

Alhaitham’s words come out in streams, desperately flowing out – because he knows that he’d never have another chance again if he messed up. "It's just… You're wonderful, Kaveh. You brought colour and joy and emotion into my life. To me, you are the glimmering gold dash of paint in the monochrome painting that is my life. Without you, it could never be the same.”

He looks down, averting his gaze, as he takes a deep breath in, steelling his wobbling voice. “I… I could never bring you the same change you brought to me,” Alhaitham says, still shaking from the impact of what just happened, and his voice cracks. “as much as I tried… I won’t be able to bring you the same surprises, the same feelings you brought to me. 

“I could never make your heart beat faster like you make mine whenever I'm with you, nor can I give you the feeling of being home the way I feel when you're around… I could never give all those beautiful feelings to you." 

He doesn’t continue, doesn’t trust his voice to keep going without shattering apart into sobs, but the unspoken words hang in the air, loud and clear:

I can’t ‘love’ you – because you’d never feel it.

And then he feels the warmth of a calloused hand on his cheeks, and Alhaitham looks up to finally meet Kaveh’s eyes – the same eyes that are almost overflowing with emotion, the eyes that contrast his own. 
He feels a thumb gliding under his eyelashes, drying his tears; he hears the chuckle Kaveh produces in his throat – the sound a beautiful tune to his ears – and he sees Kaveh’s own eyes looking into his, the warmth overflowing and embracing his entire being.

“Alhaitham… you dumb oaf,” Kaveh scoffs, voice hoarse and tired, his own wine red eyes filling with tears threatening to fall, “why didn’t you just tell me?”

“... I… I didn't think I could bring you happiness.”

“Alhaitham… you idiot. You've always brought me happiness, and don't you dare think otherwise–”

“–I've hurt you, again and again and again. I've brought you so much misery and pain, and you still consider this happiness?

“If you didn't bring me happiness, then why would I grieve so much?" Kaveh huffs, pulling Alhaitham into an embrace. “I’m only saying this once, so listen. You know you have me, and I have you – probably. We’ll face everything together… if you’ll have it.”

He chuckles lightly. “And… no more misunderstandings, my lungs can't handle it.”

Alhaitham is silent, trembling in Kaveh’s arms. For a long moment, the silence hangs in the air, his body staying in Kaveh’s embrace as the blonde waits patiently and silently. 

And then Alhaitham tightens his hold around him, as if scared that Kaveh will disappear into nothingness if he lets go.
After all – he will not lose Kaveh again. 

“... I will. We will.”

And the warmth they shared in that moment, within each other's embrace, was warmer than the hottest summer days of Sumeru.

Chapter Text

Cyno huffs as he places the last of the crates into Alhaitham’s living room. “That should be all,” he says, turning to the man in question – who is wheeling Kaveh in.

Kaveh smiles lightly at the familiar house, the familiar furniture, the familiar smell of fresh padisarahs in the house. 

Ah, yes – all of this he definitely missed.

He smiles to himself, maroon red eyes taking in the familiarity of the house, as he remembers those nights spent tearfully, painfully, by Alhaitham’s side not so long ago, as he takes medicine to rid his lungs of the last of the flowers, back in Gandharva Ville. 

Tighnari had warned that the procedure would take days, that it would be long and painful, as the flowers deep rooted within are brought out through the same way they’d have forced themselves out. Kaveh had accepted it then, with Alhaitham promising to be there every step of the way.

Yet as he drowns in the murky depths of suffering and pain, he realized how severely he’d underestimated the pain. The flowers are unrelenting, rushing out of his body, rendering him unable to do anything in the hour that followed his medicine taking.

Kaveh remembers how he was coughing, suffocating as his throat clenches and unclenches through the stream of flowers, on the first night; how Alhaitham stuck to his word and sat by his bedside through the sleepless night, despite how he usually valued his personal time. 

He could remember hearing his own hoarse voice amongst the pain and the blood, tiredly asking – begging – if he could stay with Alhaitham once more – 

If he could return home once more.

And he remembers how Alhaitham, eyes soft, had nodded gently, calloused hands wrapped around his own in an attempt to soothe Kaveh through the pain of flowers rushing out of his system. 

He remembers Alhaitham’s deep baritone voice whispering comforting words into his ear as he coughs and wheezes, how Alhaitham had softly promised to stay by his side no matter what as blood and petals pooled before him, as the fatigue catches up and he blacks out on his bed.

He remembers how the next morning he wakes up to Alhaitham asleep by his bedside, hands still holding his own tightly yet lovingly, not at all minding the sheets stained in red and covered in flowers; how the man jolts awake at Kaveh’s gentlest movements and immediately comes to ask if he’d felt any better, despite the sleepiness in his eyes.

Days pass; Kaveh looks more and more alive, and his breathing gets less and less ragged.

Finally, one morning, he’s set on a wheelchair softly, and Alhaitham pushes him all the way back into Sumeru City. He listens to Kaveh cheerfully greeting passersby silently with a face that only Kaveh could tell was a fond smile, until they reach the familiar doorstep of his – their – house.

That afternoon, after they’d unpacked Kaveh’s luggage, Alhaitham opened a cupboard near the kitchen, blocking Kaveh’s view from its contents, and retrieved something from it.

As he approaches, Kaveh’s eyes widen at the small item in his hands. 

A familiar golden key, with green and red highlights, glimmered in Alhaitham’s hand.

Alhaitham sits on the sofa by Kaveh’s side, gently holding out the key. “Here.”

He watches in silence, eyes looking at Kaveh with more emotions than he could ever express with his voice. Softness, gentleness, happiness – and the unspoken words of ‘I’m sorry’, as well as a dash of hesitance.

Kaveh’s eyes, too, softened – he could tell the hesitation in Alhaitham’s gaze; what the look meant was clear to him. 

Are you sure you still want me – such an unlovable, inexpressive fool?

And Kaveh wants nothing more than to insist yes, yes, yes I do, to hug Alhaitham tightly, whispering words of affirmation and adoration into his ears as they revel in each other’s warmth;

But everything starts with baby steps – even if their lives have long since intertwined with each other’s, even if they know each other better than anyone else in Sumeru do.

So instead, Kaveh reaches out and rests his hand over the key – over Alhaitham’s hand, and smiles at him.

The other is silent for a few moments.

Then, his lips curl upwards, and he forms a small smile.

And Kaveh exhales – yes, this is it; the most beautiful painting Kaveh could ever lay his eyes on, the most magnificent art piece the Kshahrewar graduate could ever appreciate.

Kaveh was sure he’d never seen a prettier sight before.

They spend the rest of their day never being more than 2 steps apart from one another, familiar habits falling back into place.

Alhaitham watches as Kaveh hooks a familiar lion keychain back upon the golden keys; Kaveh watches as Alhaitham prepares two helpings of dinner as he always did.

That night, Kaveh finds himself in Alhaitham’s large bed – upon Alhaitham’s insistence on staying by his side to “monitor his condition, nothing more” – and allows Alhaitham’s strong arms to wrap around his body, enveloping him into the smell of wood and spices that had once led him on a path laden with petals and blood, that now leads him on a path back home, that he loved and still loves so much.

Neither of them knew when or how they’d fallen asleep, amongst each other’s soothing embraces and soft breaths as they’d leaned into each other; all they knew was how they finally have each other, how they can – will – face everything together, side by side.

Perhaps the future in store is long and uncertain, with the challenges Sumeru must face – with the challenges Alhaitham and Kaveh must face. Perhaps their future will be tough and unsteady, with how they bicker daily, with their inability to communicate their true thoughts; with how inexpressive Alhaitham is, with how sensitive Kaveh is.

But in that moment, when Alhaitham has Kaveh in his arms, when Kaveh has Alhaitham’s breath tickling his cheeks, they both want to think that yes – yes, they’ll be fine. 

Even if the future is difficult and long, even if their bickering never ends, they have each other; and with the mix of Alhaitham’s wisdom and Kaveh’s emotions, with their combined eye for both logic and beauty… nothing could break them apart once more.