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The Light of Kshahrewar? What a joke.
The tavern lights harshly shadow Kaveh’s face as he’s slumped over the table with the drinks he’d been nursing all afternoon. If the light of Kshahrewar was a broke moocher who couldn’t make a single deadline, then yeah, he’d be as bright as the damn sun.
Cheeks rosy from the alcohol, Kaveh thinks to himself, Archons forbid I make a bigger fool of myself. I should be getting home soon.
Home.
The word felt cold and empty. Nothing like the happy times he’d had as a young boy. His childhood home that became empty and later was lost in the pile of debt he’d found himself in as of late. He hardly remembers the days before his family fell apart. He sometimes wishes he could, that they might bring him some sort of sick comfort. It’d probably be a simple process with the strides that have been made with canned knowledge.
But he wouldn’t dare.
How could he? Relive those days of bliss? All to watch himself rip them apart at the seams for a second time.
He thinks of his mother in Fontaine. After ages of suffering, she’d found peace. The hours he’d spent in that cold home telling her of his ideas, classmates, jokes, anything that may put a smile back on her face for just a moment. It’s all he dreamed of until he could finally graduate from Kshahrewar and follow in her footsteps. Like they’d always talked about. If anything, he’d hoped such a feat would truly move her and even partially make up for the pain he’d caused.
She had already moved out to Fontaine when he realized this dream. He graduated with honors, was dubbed the Light of Kshahrewar, and that night he returned to a dark home filled only by the sound of his own heart beating.
He’d encouraged her to go. He’s grown, he can take care of himself. It was not until years later that he’d finally receive a letter, an invitation to her wedding.
It seemed being away from the memories, away from him, had helped calm the anguish from her heart. And he couldn’t be happier for her. Nothing he could’ve done would have made her as happy as she is now if he’d begged her to stay in that haunting home.
The image of his father leaving that morning flashes through his mind. He’d promised to bring gifts, to return as the Interdarshan Champion. Kaveh had been so supportive. If he had known- If he had just said nothing, begged him to stay- Might his father still be alive? Might their home feel like home again? The questions he’d asked himself his whole life like daggers to the chest.
Going down this road could never end well for him.
He sits up quickly, reveling in the way his head spins and vision blurs. Al-Haitham will change the locks again if he stays out any later.
“Scribe’s tab?” the Barkeep shouts his way. He simply nods with a weak smile and wobbles out the door and on to the Sumeru City streets taking a bottle to go.
The walk back to Al-Haitham’s house wasn’t too far. He’s managed on his own before, in far worse states. It’s just another night, bitter thoughts and bitter drinks.
He stumbles and scans the path ahead as best he can, knowledgeable of the street’s nighttime crooks. He could care less what happens to him so long as the small amount of mora he’s been able to scrounge together isn’t taken. His head is fuzzy, but he knows he’s at least taking the path that avoids thieves.
He lowers his guard, allowing his thoughts to spiral into the depths of his past and the rotten place he’s gotten in life due to his own actions. He doesn’t hear the larger man approaching him from a group of drinking eremites.
“What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone on a night like this?” the man whistles. Kaveh turns to the sounds and squints in the man’s general direction, tries his best for a friendly smile and then to be on his way.
What are Eremites doing in Sumeru City? He’s only even seen them by the harbors if not in the desert.
He’s used to catcalls and creepy guys. He looks young and feminine, it’s only natural, however he does despise it. Plus, he’d rather deal with it than have it happen to someone else. He tries to continue walking toward the house, he is so close he can see it.
An arm wraps its way around his waist and a nauseating feeling washes over him. “Woah there, I asked you a question. You aren’t just going to ignore me after walking by looking like that, are you?”
That comment partially sobers him up and he stares the man in the eyes. “Like what?” he demands roughly. Typically, that’s all he has to do to get them to back off once they realize he’s not a woman, but the man around him only leaned in closer.
“Like a dirty whore.” He whispers breathily into Kaveh’s ear. His breath smelled like cheap booze. Kaveh’s clothes are loose, his hair mused, and his face flushed. With how shitty he was feeling, he hadn’t thought of his appearance as he’d left the tavern. “Walking around like that at a time like this? I’m not an idiot; I know what you want.”
What he wants is to go home and pass out on his bed. Kaveh’s still unbalanced, but he manages to push the man off him. “Get lost.”
The man growls and painfully grabs the blonde’s chin to yank it up to look at him. “Or what? Huh? Gonna call the Mahamatra?” Kaveh looks back at him with unfocused eyes. “It’s your word against mine.” The man threatens, pulling him off to shaded area between two buildings.
Kaveh huffs, letting his body get thrown to the ground. Even with freedom just in sight he doesn’t feel like fighting back. It’d just bring trouble for Al-Haitham if he were to make a break for the house thus leading the band of eremites right to his doorstep. There’s no point in screaming either, his throat is shot from all the alcohol.
A part of him feels like he deserves this.
One guilty of harming his parents so deeply deserved all that came to them, and so he must live on bearing that weight. Pain and humiliation. He never had to look far for it to fall into his lap. It felt like his only way to atone. The only way to quiet the all-encompassing guilt of his father’s death and his mother’s agony.
Hot tears prickle his eyes as he’s pushed into the dirt of the quiet street. Grubby, perverted hands explore all over his body. His skin feels like its rotting in the places the man’s hands touch him. He can feel himself mentally detaching from reality as the man above him chuckles.
Then he blacked out.
-
Blinking his weary eyes open, Kaveh notices he’s in his own bed. He didn’t remember much; just that he was having some sort of nightmare. Suddenly the pounding of his head caught up to him and he wasn’t so sure it was all just a nightmare.
He groans and stares up at the ceiling, feeling like hot garbage that’d been dragged through the mud by a rishboland tiger.
What a way to wake up.
“You’re up.” A voice states. It was familiar. Kaveh didn’t have to turn his head to know it was his roommate and former underclassmen at the Akademiya, Al-Haitham.
“And you’re watching me sleep because…?”
The scribe points to two blue tablets on his nightstand next to a glass of water. “Take that for your hangover.” He directs. “What all do you remember from last night?”
What does he remember? Shit.
Had he done something to embarrass himself after he’d left the bar?!
The blonde sighed, “Look, just forget whatever happened last night alright? It was a rough night, and I can’t seem to recall a single thing after leaving the bar. I’m sure you have plenty of ammo to undermine my intelligence with, but please save it for later.” His voice was weak; His throat sore.
When he doesn’t get a response, Kaveh looks to Al-Haitham for the first time since he’d woken up. He looked awful.
Like seriously awful.
He had bags under his eyes and rips in his clothing. He looked pale, but dangerous. Something definitely happened last night.
Kaveh felt a shiver through his spine. When had he ever seen Al-Haitham look anything less than perfectly put together? The answer was never which freaked Kaveh out even more. When he tries to sit up, he feels his body aching all over. Taking a closer look at his roommate, he gasps.
“Are you bleeding?!”
“No.”
“Then who’s blood is that?” Kaveh points to the red smears on his clothing and knuckles.
“Some eremites’ if I were to guess.” The man replies easy enough.
Eremites?
Eremites.
“SHIT!” the blonde nearly pukes with how fast he shoots out of bed. “Fuck!” he paces back and forth cursing. “NO no no no. This can’t- Shit!” Memories start rushing back as he outwardly panics. What happened after he passed out. How did he get home? Does that mean someone found him?
He turns to Al-Haitham, grabbing onto his shoulders. He was trembling. “You’ve gotta tell me! I- I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t-”
“I stopped him.”
Kaveh freezes. Those were the exact words he did not want to hear. He saw. He knew. The world seemed to be crashing down around him. Humiliation crept in on him from all sides. Cornered, Kaveh collapses to the ground.
He’ll never be able to look him in the eyes again.
“Sorry… Haitham. I-I’m so sorry.” He chokes. “I-I didn’t mean to.”
This is it. Al-Haitham will kick him out for sure this time. He’ll be on the street again. His plummeting reputation will hit rock bottom. Haitham’s going to leave. He’ll leave him behind, move on to better things. Finally get rid of his dead weight.
He repeats the words over and over, “I’m sorry.”
He’s broken beyond repair.
“While drowning your sorrows at the tavern while you’re flat broke is horrible budget management, especially with your loan payment coming up soon, you are not at any fault for what transpired last night, Kaveh.” Al-Haitham states calmly. “I want you to understand that first and foremost.”
Kaveh looks up to see his roommate crouched down beside him. It seemed so uncharacteristic of him to lower himself to his level when speaking. It was comforting.
“You don’t understand-” it’s quiet as a whisper. “I might as well have asked for it…”
A fire raged behind the scribe’s eyes. Does he really think so little of himself? “A man assaulted you and attempted worse while you were inebriated walking back to our home. You were in no way, shape, or form eligible to 1. Consent. Or 2. Defend yourself. I apprehended your assailant and his comrades, and they will be dealt with privately if you wish it so, but he shouldn’t be let off easy. What he did to you was a serious offense and I’ll see to it that he’s taken care of.” He takes a shaky breath as recalling the event made him wish he’d killed the bastard on the spot. He’d tried, however, he was stopped by the Matra who’d heard the commotion.
An uneasy expression paints Kaveh’s face. “You- Just calm down, please. It’s really not a big deal, okay? It’s good it was just me and not someone else. I’d rather [he sniffles] just forget the whole thing.”
“Just you?” Al-Haitham repeats. “I know you like to contend everything I say, but I beg you to please listen to me for once in your life.” He places his hands on either side of Kaveh’s face and gently makes him look him in the eye.
Kaveh’s gaze meets teal eyes. They were dead serious. He had no choice but to listen.
“You are an undoubtedly talented architect and your passion and efforts do not go unnoticed. Your idealist nature breathes new life and good into this world like I’ve never seen. You both literally and figuratively make Sumeru a more beautiful place everyday and the people that matter can see it. But you don’t. You refuse to see it.” Kaveh can feel tears welling up in his eyes again.
The scribe continues without missing a beat. “You suffocate yourself under your own criticisms because you go about life trying to own up for the immeasurable guilt you’ve placed on yourself unfairly as a small child. There are people that will be here for you and pull you up when you’re drowning no matter how many times it happens because they know, I know, that you’d do the same for them. So, when you say things like ‘at least it was just me that was hurt’ it scares me. Y-you’re important to me. And I want you to be important to yourself as well. I want you to realize how strong and brilliant you are, Kaveh. Because I see it. All the people who love you can see it.”
Kaveh was speechless.
He’d never met anyone who understood him so well, or even cared to. He didn’t even think he knew himself that well, but Haitham had just laid him out bare for all to see. Is that really how Haitham sees me?
“I guess even you are capable of sentimental feelings.” He says softly into the man’s chest.
Haitham huffed in response. “They’re not sentimental if they’re factually based observations.” He says, causing Kaveh to laugh out loud. They bickered as easily as they breathed. Even in this state, Kaveh wouldn’t let him get the last word.
“So, what is the factual evidence behind you saying you loved me?” he asks.
For the first time ever, Kaveh watches Al-Haitham sputter and blush. He was almost cute. The blonde mentally notes that it’s something he wouldn’t mind seeing again. Everyday even. For the rest of his life.
His chest feels lighter and his mind clearer. Perhaps he’s a little less broken with Al-Haitham there to hold him together.
He leans up to place a kiss on his cheek before falling asleep in his arms.
He’s home.