Work Text:
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alhaitham’s knuckles pale against the cedar wall, bitten-down nails digging into his palm. his breath comes out in short, shallow huffs, dissipating in the air like breath in a particularly cold classroom. kaveh, pressed to the wall, just stares. he’s got a quip transparently hanging off his tongue, his mouth half open in a gape. there’s an eyelash pressed high on the crest of his cheekbone, blonde against his tanned skin. absentmindedly, alhaitham’s hands move–and then he’s cupping kaveh’s face between his fingers. a thumb swipes the eyelash off. “sorry,” he mutters, in a voice that is barely his, and kaveh–
kaveh is not here.
alhaitham resists blinking for a few moments too long, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. even as his dreams grind to a halt, he imagines the sensation over and over again; kaveh’s face, his eyelash, being so close to taste the mixture of their breaths–
alhaitham opens his eyes to glare at the ceiling. no, not glare– stare passively. he doesn’t glare at inanimate objects. what a crude manifestation of internal conflict. what did the ceiling ever do to him? keep him from being rained on, and the plethora of mosquitoes that seek to eat him alive during the summer season. no, the ceiling does not deserve his unwarranted aggression.
enough, he mentally chides. i’ve got to get up.
his body does not want to move. if he had any less self respect, he’d close his eyes again and chase a dream already fading on his tongue. the irrational part of him dreams, for a moment, that the akasha terminal had not been shut down. whether that be to relieve that particular scenario over again, or to just not remember it at all, archons know.
alhaitham gets up. his bones creak in protest when he does, and he’s briefly reminded that he forwent stretching yesterday to get in the shower before kaveh got in and used all the hot water in his marathon 2 hour long ‘everything’ shower. a sigh escapes his nostrils as he stands, shaking each leg out slowly, and pretends, crudely, that he’s rubbing the dream off of him.
though the sun is barely slipping over the horizon, the house is empty. not just because it’s silent, there’s a distinction. even when kaveh’s sleeping, there’s still some of him lingering in the air. he’s not normally one for baseless observations, but kaveh brings out a part of him that is unnatural. good, and bad.
mostly bad, he thinks, while his subconscious is already disagreeing.
regardless of the notion, kaveh has gone out. at this hour? it’s anyone's guess as to his ventures at this hour of the morning–especially after going to bed at nearly 3–but he’s gone regardless.
alhaitham wants to ask.
it’s probably best that he doesn’t.
the coffee pot grumbles when he re-fills the coffee bean container on top of the machine. perhaps it’s time for him to get a new one, but prices on just about everything have ramped up in the market recently; alhaitham’s not frugal, but this coffee machine can last a little while longer until the coffee machine market is down in price the next quarter or two. if he’s certain about nothing else in his life, he’s certain about that.
his coffee is slightly sweet when he makes it. “really?” kaveh had said, “i’d have thought you took your coffee as bitter as your personality.” and sure, if he was still writing his thesis, he might’ve; but he’s not a robot, contrary to popular belief. unlike the protagonists of those inazuman light novels kaveh occasionally leaves scattered around the house, alhaitham is not the edgy protagonist of some poorly written yaoi.
it’s at least verging on decently written, if nothing else.
he sips his lightly-sweetened coffee with half of a smile perched on his lips at the unsaid joke, leaning back against the countertop to support his sore lower back. maybe he should start working out in the morning? though, that would mean taking a morning shower, and morning showers are only for those who truly despise themselves.
kaveh’s rubbing off on him.
alhaitham finishes his coffee quickly, downing it in a few quick sips, and places the mug in the sink. he’s running the faucet into the mug when the front door opens and closes quickly, an exasperated sigh echoing through the narrow corridors. alhaitham doesn’t perk up, he’s a grown man. he just stops what he’s doing and breathes slowly, because one needs to breathe.
kaveh’s skin was soft.
stop that.
the eyelash on his–
“good morning to you too.”
alhaitham looks up from where he’s gripping the countertop, knuckles white, eyes completely unfocused and blurry. damn dreams, he curses.
“no headphones?” kaveh continues from the doorway, purple just barely dusting the underside of his eyes. he looks exhausted.
“you weren’t here when i woke,” alhaitham retorts slowly, his brain still lagging behind him, “i had no need.”
kaveh clicks his tongue in frustration and looks away from alhaitham’s eyes, scanning the dishwasher– yet to be unloaded. “not going to ask?”
“about where you were?” he’s so curious. “i don’t care, as long as it doesn’t interfere with my life.”
“technically, everything i do is interfering with your life.” he pauses and purses his lips. “business ventures, anyway.”
alhaitham looks away. the words roll over his tongue a few times, and if he were less out of it, he might’ve retorted with something sharper in a more timely manner. instead he stands there, and like a fool begins to think about just how much of his life really is kaveh, and–
“are you alright?” kaveh’s voice cuts in. “alhaitham..?”
alhaitham looks back up. kaveh’s staring at him with a knit brow and worry laced through his eyes. he’s uncrossed his arms, clasping them together. alhaitham looks back up to kaveh’s eyes, and tries not to drown in a sea of gold. “i’m… fine. i just didn’t sleep well.”
kaveh observes him quietly. “did you dream?” he whispers, like it’s a secret.
“yes,” he whispers back, before he’s even debated lying.
“what of?”
you, he almost says. cradling your face in my hands. the most uncharacteristic thing in the world, and yet– “my … resignation being rejected.”
kaveh sighs dramatically and throws his hands into the air. “ugh! never a serious moment with you! this is what i get for trying to– to have any sort of emotionally-available talk with you, it’s like trying to open up the carcass of a dead squirrel! unbelievable!” he turns on his heel like a soldier would turn a corner, emphasising his leave with heavy footsteps descending the hall to their respective bedrooms. “i’m going to bed, good night!”
alhaitham swallows and watches as he leaves, and instead of a smile on his lips, there’s the lingering guilt that he’s said the wrong thing.
–
the dream follows him like a shadow. between blinks, during long stretches of time, in the middle of meetings. alhaitham’s eyes linger on a potted plant and he’s transported back to that arid room, with his roommate looking up at him with both a challenge and a plea knitted through his eyebrows– it’s becoming troublesome.
cyno’s the first to point it out. he’s reciting the boring details of a recent capture, and alhaitham’s eyes begin to linger on a candle on the other side of the grandiose office.
“dreaming?” cyno asks, suddenly, and alhaitham snaps back to reality.
“what?”
“you looked far away. anything i should be concerned about?”
alhaitham clenches his jaw. this is becoming a problem, and he needs to address it sooner or later. “i had a dream.”
“we’ve all been having those,” cyno retorts dryly, but he’s coming from a good place. between him, tighnari, and kaveh, perhaps he understands cyno the best on a conceptual level. “whatever’s haunting you, it’s probably stress related. i can’t imagine being acting gr–”
“it’s about kaveh,” he blurts, then pauses. why did he say that? there was no logical reasoning behind it, he’s just acting on impulse now, just saying things–
“i see,” cyno says. “and it’s got you hung up over it?”
“no,” alhaitham lies. “... yes, it’s complicated.”
“hardly,” cyno counters, “if it’s got you panicking like this.”
“i’m not panicking.”
“you’re distant.”
alhaitham purses his lips and leans back in his chair. his next breath is shakier than it has any right to be. “if i’m hung up over it, does that imply that the dream has truth in reality?”
cyno sighs and puts the folder he’s holding down onto alhaitham’s temporary desk. “are you worried you’re in love with kaveh?”
alhaitham doesn’t respond to that. it’s not an admission of guilt, but he’s not quite sure he knows the answer. somewhere in his gut, though, the answer’s already been etched. he’s aware of this too. it’s not great being self aware of things you’d rather you weren’t aware of.
“i don’t suppose you’re going to grace me with an answer any time soon?”
“i… think.” he settles on, and archons if that’s not the first time since school since he’s said that sentence.
“is that a yes or a no?”
“it’s a yes and a no.”
cyno shakes his head in disbelief. “never thought i’d live to see the day you of all people became poetic.”
alhaitham leans forward on the desk, cradling his head in his hands. somehow, this discovery hasn’t yet sunk it’s claws in for impact–or maybe it has, and he’s just still pretending like this changes anything.
it doesn’t. he’s been in love with kaveh for as long as he’s been annoyed by the mere thought of his existence.
what a weird conglomeration of emotions to co-exist. it almost feels wrong. sometime between the then and now, though, genuine hatred had dissipated.
… oh don’t fool yourself, it was never there to begin with.
“bad time for this conversation?”
“yes,” alhaitham says quickly, trying to save himself. “what were you saying about aaru village?”
cyno gives him a look, and drops the conversation.
–
when did i start dreaming of him?
it’s an ultimately useless question. alhaitham knows this with his entire being, down to the nerves wrapped around his muscles and the muscles wrapped around his bones, but he can’t help it. he’s curious. and, if it buys him some time to emotionally deal with the fact that, of all the people his brain (because, let’s be real, you don’t love with the heart) could’ve chosen, it had to be someone who, in their eyes, sees him as his mortal nemesis. and also his roommate.
maybe this really was a poorly written yaoi all along.
the house of daena isn’t quiet at night. it’s not unexpected, the walls aren’t exactly known for their sound absorption abilities, and finals season is approaching quicker than most students want to admit. alhaitham tucks himself away in a corner and drums his fingers against the corner of a book.
jnana energy varies with each dream, is what he’s found so far, and by tracking a general range of jnana energy to a dream, one can predict the kind of dream, granted they know the source.
he finds out he’s in love with his roommate, and the first thing he does is plot a graph.
this is stupid. alhaitham is being stupid.
alhaitham shoves the paper aside and debates lying his head down on the desk. he’s tired, after all, and the day has had a mental toll on him. going home would present him with a nice place to sleep.
and also having to deal with kaveh, especially after this mess of a day. (he doesn’t mind.)
this is schoolgirl behaviour. he’s a fully grown man.
alhaitham gets up and goes home.
kaveh is draped over the couch when he gets home. he’s got his legs hanging off the end of the arm of the couch, and the rest of his body on one half of the couch. his cape lies against the back of the couch, along with several bitten-through pencils. before kaveh’s even registered that alhaitham’s home, he can hear him cracking his knuckles and snapping his fingers in thought.
he’s fidgety. it’s probably a new commission, one he can’t wrap his head around. the walls are too finicky, or he’s not sure if these pillars fit with the design enough. or maybe it’s the client themselves.
regardless, alhaitham can’t help the designing process. he can’t really draw for shit anyway, so he sits down on the couch just like any other evening.
because it is, isn’t it? this is every other evening. their routine has never changed regardless. alhaitham comes home. kaveh sketches. alhaitham sits down and reads. words would only complicate their existence. the most beautiful scenes are those set with the simplest language of them all: silence.
alhaitham doesn’t pick up his book. kaveh glances quizzically at him, and rests his clipboard on his chest.
“when you dream,” he says in the silence, “what do you dream of?”
alhaitham looks at him for a long time. he couldn’t justify it with a white lie if he tried. “i don’t know,” he lies, looks away. “i wake up and feel like i’ve lost something.”
kaveh nods. alhaitham can’t see him, but he knows. “unfulfilled?’
“yeah.”
“i like to think,” kaveh starts, mulling over his words, “that our dreams are the byproduct of our self restraint. what we can’t have tangibly, our brains conjure up to comfort us.” kaveh’s voice dies in his throat. “sometimes i dream of petunias.” his mother’s favourite flower.
alhaitham looks, no, sees. he sees kaveh. he’s got warm, unripe tears in the corner of his eyes, and his nose is scorched pink. alhaitham takes off his gloves and drapes them over the arm of the couch. kaveh doesn’t look. alhaitham gently removes the clipboard from kaveh’s shaking hands and sets it aside, lowering the paper onto the coffee table like it’s precious, because in a way it is, it’s an extension of kaveh.
kaveh clutches his chest with his fingertips, his shirt wrinkling under the force. alhaitham stares until he sees, and slowly coaxes one of kaveh’s hands away from the collar of his shirt. he tangles his fingers between the other’s, and grips him tight enough to warrant a complaint.
kaveh doesn’t complain, he breathes. his throat must feel aflame, alhaitham knows because kaveh has choked on air like it was boiling water a few too many times during arguments he feels equal regret for. kaveh squeezes his hand back limply until he can breathe steadily again, after which he begins to just hold onto him. alhaitham doesn’t say anything. kaveh’s palms are warm, and his bitten-down nails dig into alhaitham’s skin.
kaveh breathes slowly. “sorry,” he murmurs. “i got lost in my head.”
alhaitham doesn’t respond. there’s no words he can provide that will be sincere enough. he squeezes his hand, then lets go.
alhaitham cards a hand through his hair, and notices the coffee mug on the table. it’s alhaitham’s mug, repurposed for kaveh’s use. “coffee before bed isn’t good for destressing,” alhaitham states, to give kaveh an out in case he wants it.
kaveh laughs. the light in the room swells when he does, or maybe alhaitham’s getting sappy. it doesn’t really matter much the distinction. “neither is a crying fit.”
“sleeping habits are hard to change.”
“mm,” kaveh agrees. his eyelids droop a little. alhaitham watches the eyelash on his cheek.
he looks away. “i’m going to bed.”
kaveh nods, but doesn’t look up. “good night.”
alhaitham hesitates as he gets up. “good night.”
–
alhaitham wakes, and there is no kaveh lingering on his tongue from his dreams.
he’s disappointed. for good measure, he replays the scene with the eyelash. he tries to force it farther, he tries to kiss kaveh in this dream world, but he can’t. ultimately, he is still something of a coward to the emotional centre of his brain.
if only.
kaveh’s made him coffee. he’s got his blonde hair tied into a hasty ponytail to get his hair out of his face. a stray strand falls into view of one of his eyes, and he keeps smudging it back to the rest of his up-do like his sheer force of will will force the disobedient strand back into conformity.
“you slept in,” kaveh comments groggily, his voice raw from disuse.
“and you didn’t,” alhaitham comments. his coffee is lightly sweetened, half a tablespoon of sugar, half milk. he leans against the countertop and stares at kaveh over the rim of his glass.
“well,” he says, picking up a cup to do something with his hands, “i … had a dream i had to end.”
“oh?” alhaitham’s curiosity is piqued. “what of?”
kaveh stays silent. he washes alhaitham’s mug. alhaitham turns his own mug to the side and reveals a sunflower etched into the side. he sets his coffee down.
“something you can’t have?”
kaveh swallows. he’s still not looking. alhaitham drags a hand underneath his chin, coaxing the man to look at him.
kaveh’s eyes scan alhaitham wildly. he thins his lip. “there’s a hole in my heart.”
“must be painful.”
“are you sure?” kaveh asks, ignoring alhaitham’s comment. “you said love was a waste of time.”
“i was lonely.”
“are you still lonely?”
alhaitham pulls kaveh in for a kiss. kaveh is like a warm summer’s day, leaking heat from every place where skin meets skin. his lips dance across alhaitham’s like eyes run over beautiful words, starved and re-reading, re-experiencing. alhaitham wraps his free hand around the base of kaveh’s neck and plays with a few stray hairs. kaveh sighs into his mouth and pulls away, recalling his need for breath.
alhaitham opens his eyes. “not anymore.”
“why?” kaveh asks, a shy smile playing on the edge of his lips. “because i’m always here to bother you?”
“maybe,” and alhaitham kisses him again until his coffee goes cold.
–