Work Text:
A house was not the same as a home, nor was a home the same as a house.
A house is merely a living space, devoid of any warmth, yet secure. A home can be one’s refuge — their safe space — it is where their heart lays, hence the phrase ‘home is where the heart is’ .
This was a viewpoint Kaveh had adopted since long ago.
Whenever he sketched out his ideas, its potential users would always be in his mind. Would it be for a family? Was it a property to be inherited by their child once they were of age? Were they looking for something new, or did they still want their previous style?
Naturally, this led to many revisions, yet zero deadline extensions. He toiled away into the night, tirelessly wondering that maybe one day he too would exist within a place he could call home. He pressed the pencil against the parchment as his hands glided across the page, black streaks of graphite wandering after him.
The homes he designed could have been someone’s future, perhaps for many generations to come, which was precisely why he needed to exert that effort.
He penciled in the last line and set it back onto his desk, its ends now blunt from overuse. He’d carve it back to its sharp point later, but for now, he held up the parchment proudly. The light from the lamp beside him illuminated his own features and the illustration before him, wondrous and solemn.
A soft laugh escaped from his lips and he rolled it back up, ready so it could be presented for tomorrow’s meeting with the client.
He stole a glance at the clock and made his way back to his room, throwing himself into his sheets and falling into the sweet embrace of sleep.
As he was now, Kaveh lived within a house and not quite what he desired.
Always and without fail, when Kaveh wakes at dawn, he prepares himself a pot of padisarah tea. The kick of spice awakens him, reinvigorating him for the day, and the flavour dances on his tongue. The aroma is savoury, but it never envelops the premises. The scent that does permeate is always the bitter smell of coffee against musty books in a monotonous environment.
He downs his cup and departs, ready for yet another day’s worth of work. As he leaves, it is routine that Alhaitham leaves his room five or ten minutes past, often reluctant to leave his bed.
He too prepares himself a mug of coffee within his home, enjoying the mellow taste of the beverage.
To Alhaitham, this is home.
He understands that Kaveh may not mirror this view of his, but alas, it was much too effort to change this viewpoint and neither did he have any desire to do so.
At the time, he did not realise that without Kaveh, it would simply revert back to its state of being nothing more than a house. His presence would still linger, often hearing his voice arguing about his poor taste of interior design and his soft, almost inaudible hum as he drew.
With Kaveh, the world seemed a little brighter. The morning rays of light that bled through the curtains seemed more prominent and the sound of another’s footsteps against the timber floor wasn’t an unwelcome wake-up call. There were also the occasional moments when they had to share the bathroom, with Kaveh hurriedly generously lathering on a facial mask, gazing intently into the mirror, whilst Alhaitham brushed his teeth at the sink.
Without even realising it, the Light of Kshahrewar was also the light upon his own life. Alhaitham had taken such a thing for granted.
He was not one to dwell on the past nor the future, but on this day, when Kaveh returned back to their shared space, Alhaitham welcomed him back home with dinner.
Unexpected laughter bubbled from Kaveh’s lips as he followed through on Alhaitham’s offer, also quite happy that today’s dealings went smoothly.
It was not often that Kaveh would point a smile in his direction, so whenever it did happen, an unfamiliar, warm ache bloomed in the depths of Alhaitham’s chest.
Kaveh took plates for two and extended the other out to Alhaitham. As they spooned in their own portions, Alhaitham couldn’t help but contemplate on what the feeling budding within him was.
For now, in this very moment, their shadows under the evening light were intertwined, waltzing together as they passed by one another.
Perhaps, this ephemeral serenity could have also been called—