Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Years prior, a property near Avidya forest and Sumeru City was designated as a research center for a major joint project. Back then it was a simple shack, much like the ones Akademiya offers to its most gifted students. It was however way too unstylish and monochromatic for a student of Kshahrewar, one of the main researchers, but a cozy spot for the research materials to be conveniently laid down based on the Haravatat student, his partner.

Standing by the bland window, the young future architect's carmine eyes all of a sudden sparkled with inspiration. He brought out his worn out sketchbook and started sketching on an empty page. Finishing the design in no less than an hour, he showed the preliminary blueprints to his junior two years younger than him.

An immaculate burst of verdant, teal and earth flashed before the future scribe, awe reflected on the surface of his orange-ringed turquoise eyes. Leaving his book in favor of touching the near life-like colors, warmth flowed from the paper to his fingers. It was illogical to feel this just from an illustration but it feels real.

Definitely, it is the fickleness in their young minds that allowed them to believe the research center would turn out to be a perfect hideout and future residence through this sketch. But in their adulthood, they both realize, definitely Kaveh first before Alhaitham, how impractical the house's design truly is. Regrettably however, it's the Scribe who takes the full blunt hit of aesthetics prioritized over practicality.

The sun wakes Sumeru up, gracing houses from the forests to the deserts with its mighty beams. Along with these is the humble home of the Scribe and his Architect roommate.

Unobstructed by the blackout curtain he has forgotten to draw close, the rays pass through the large color stained panes at the right angle, illuminating a perfect silhouette of Sumeru roses in the lush wild fields right into his face and the entirety of the single bed in the room. Dyed into the brightest of greens, the peak of the light penetrates through Alhaitham's eyelids and instantly rouses him awake. He groans as feeble attempts to block out the harsh kaleidoscope of colors by his outstretched hand remain useless under the new day's cruel call.

Struggling to sit up, the silver-haired man winces at the ache blooming from his ear where he lay on his side — the noise canceling earpieces have made an indent on the skin surrounding his ear from pressure. It is a sign that the night's seemingly endless hammering noise is no dream. A note that once again, his roommate Kaveh forgot to sleep in favor of  prying open and smashing close another poor ancient device.

He draws the curtains close and places his earpiece on the nightstand. Despite doing his morning routine, he looks worse for wear from being up until wee hours. Clicking his tongue at the blurred out sight the lack of sleep gave him, he goes downstairs, resolved to give his roommate a piece of his mind.

Navigating through while avoiding the verdant light drawings on the floor, Alhaitham relies on his slowly clearing up vision and the scent of freshly ground coffee beans to locate Kaveh. His roommate gets up early, if he ever gets some sleep that is, and prepares breakfast. He tracks the scent, slowly picking up the mourning flower fragrance bleeding through the aroma of pouring coffee.

As he approaches the kitchen, the former Scribe now appointed into acting Grand Sage fails to notice a stray book blending with the forest green floor. His slipper catches on its hard cover. Maneuvering his body to avoid the fall is no hard feat for him, if not for a tower of books appearing where he needs the firm foothold to remain upright.

A loud thud of a built man falling face up along with a 2 meter high stack of forgotten books echoes louder than the sound of flowing water, plates and steel utensils clinking on the sink surface.

"For the nth time, you should've tidied up your books." As Kaveh's voice rings out, Alhaitham looks up and gets treated to a luscious sight. So close to where he fell, his roommate stands facing the sink. At this angle, he can view how his asset from behind is so beautifully stuffed into his tailored pants. It bounces on every little movement he makes, even more when the vision clipped on his hip bumps into it. The former Scribe decides to focus on the emerald vision as he gathers himself on his feet, marveling at the rest of the wonderful curves on his peripheral vision.

"If only you listened to me, you would not tumble on them." Despite being unable to see it, the younger man with silver hair knows that the blonde architect is smirking. If he didn't remember putting the stash right by the kitchen's entrance, he would suspect that Kaveh deliberately placed it there. Even so, he knows quite well that his emotionally fragile senior will never do anything that will risk injuring another person.

The pettiness inside the acting Grand Sage urges him to get back at the other person. This is a facet of Alhaitham's personality that rarely appears, save for when he needs to tease and monopolize all of his attention.

Seating himself in the dining area, Alhaitham immediately spots that his senior has prepared two plates of fatteh — one normally plated like how the silver-haired man likes it and the other garnished with a tiny house of Daena biscuit construct. The former scribe isn't into eating much more than he can this morning so he grabs the cup before the tiny house-of-Daena fatteh.

His housemate knows very well that Alhaitham likes his coffee piping hot therefore he doesn't bother pouring him a cup at least until he shows up for breakfast. Meanwhile, the blonde Architect cannot stand anything too hot or spicy so he pours a cup then drinks after leaving it for thirty minutes. Confirming that there is coffee in the cup, the acting Grand Sage audibly drinks it. It cooled down to a point that it is just a little bit warmer than room temperature; it's a blasphemy to coffee that he wants to tell Kaveh to just put ice on it. Still, he continues sipping on it, hiding his grin behind the mug.

His roommate turns towards him so fast, his loosely tied hair bun almost gets undone. He points at Alhaitham, carmine eyes wide with terror. "THAT'S MINE!"

"I'm leaving soon so I need it more than you," He finishes it in record time, along with his plate of fatteh, much to Kaveh's dismay. "Thank you for the meal."

"Fuck you for drinking MY COFFEE!"

"You can just get another cup. Leave it be as you tidy up the house further." He gestures towards the pile of books, all pitifully knocked out of its tower from where Alhaitham tumbled over them. His roommate grumbles, hands raised up as if he wants to strangle the Former Scribe. With his back against his senior, he lets a satisfied grin curve into his thin lips as he grabs his keys, opting to pick only his.

Just as he's about to leave, wet fingers encircle his wrist. "Alhaitham, wait a sec," Kaveh calls out. Wiping the grin off his face, the former Scribe looks back at the blonde. 

Sunshine from the entrance left ajar illuminates his carmine eyes into bright pigeon rubies. The silver-haired man finds the sight lovely, he just doesn't want the thought slipping out as the other man meets Alhaitham's orange ringed turquoise orbs.

Lips parting a bit before closing them, he appears to be contemplating words when expressing what he requires has never been a problem for the architect. His wants however, are forever locked in his heart unless one uses liquor as the key.

"What is it?" Alhaitham asks. As much as he is enjoying the wonderful sight of his senior at this close proximity, he has other things to do — things that will ensure that he'll continue enjoying a peaceful life. With his roommate, that is.

"You... You remember it's my birthday next week, right?" Alhaitham nods. How could he forget when Kaveh marks their birthdates with a red marker every year? Not that there is any need to do so, he always tells him yet he insists on writing on their shared calendar. "I want to give the traveler some coffee beans; do you mind coming with me this afternoon to buy some then we can sample them tonight?"

They are rarely seen together outside except for when Tighnari and Cyno invite them. Still, they arrive at the meeting place separately and make sure to leave at a different time as well. At least whenever the architect is sober enough to walk on his own.

To be invited by his senior who cares a bit too much about his reputation is a rare treat. One he cannot possibly decline.

"You just want me to pay for it, no?" He says, gently pulling out of Kaveh's grip to cross his arms over his chest. 

"You—ack! Just when I thought you would let me enlist your help this once!"

"You should file a request for partnership at the Akademiya for this thesis proposal."

"HOW COME COFFEE BEAN BUYING AND SAMPLING TURNED INTO A THESIS?" Once again, he lifts his arms to presumably tug at the roots of his blonde hair. Deciding to go against it, he lets his arms fall and instead turns around to go back to the dishes. "You know what; forget it!"

"See you later at the Puspa Cafe then," Alhaitham says. Looking over his shoulder, a blindingly triumphant smile curls on those lips.

"Yeah, see you."

As Alhaitham closes the door, he allows his lips to curl up slightly to mimic just a portion of the glow that smile gave off. Another thing to look forward to in his simple life.

Aspiring a higher position will only lead to difficulties in balancing work and life outside the confines of his office. Although it comes with a hefty pay, the load isn't something Alhaitham can round up in a single morning. He can finish reviewing one budget request, only to have three more added to his pile.

Some of the requests are ridiculous even. How come one needs three million mora for a desert surveying device without providing ample documentation such as market price review for at least three brands manufacturing the device? It seems like whoever wrote this request just placed an estimated cost without doing their research in favor of having the request accepted swiftly. He furrows his brows, as if that will happen, shoving the request to the rejected bin.

With towers of papers obstructing the view, he is unable to check on the person who, without knocking, entered the Grand Sage's office. Heels struck the stone floors, approaching the table where Alhaitham sits behind. "I have not approved any scheduled appointments for today," the acting Grand Sage mutters, not even looking up the file he signs on.

"Oh, I have one from this morning." With the annoyance in his voice, warmth courses from the body in front of him. It invigorates his fingers, allowing them to remain steady while penning his signature, all without getting the document ruined by a splotch of ink from scraping the nib longer on the paper than necessary.

Barely acknowledging the unexpected yet definitely welcomed presence, Alhaitham continues working. He grabs one proposal, reads it through his roommate's foot thumping. The beats between each thump progressively turn aggressive, minor tremors accompanying them that the acting Grand Sage doubt the building's integrity.

Before anything collapses and damages the books below, Alhaitham finally responds: "I'm afraid that one is an undocumented appointment." Garbled complaints echo from his roommate, pleasantly bouncing off the dull, monochrome walls giving the room more life and color. The blonde architect's mere presence dyes the room with the brightest of teals and browns. "Kindly request for a form from the receptionist then fill it up before filing it."

"Archons! Will it hurt to be less insufferable at times, Alhaitham?" Kaveh huffs, dumping a container adorned with little colorful bird prints on the only unoccupied spot of the acting Grand Sage's table. He has seen this bag before; despite being owned since their days at the Akademiya, his senior takes good care of this bag and only puts boxed lunches in it. 

He stares at the lunch boxes Kaveh takes out of the bag. His eyes drift towards the clock conveniently placed right in front of him. He didn't notice the time being half an hour past 12 noon. They are supposed to leave in the afternoon, why is Kaveh already here? "I brought you lunch since I figured out you will forget to get one yourself."

He keeps staring, silently and unmoving. Be it shock or glee, the blonde architect will never know. Alhaitham refuses to let him know what he feels as of the moment and how loud a thumping sound different from his heel thunders in his ears. "Since you consumed groceries bought by my mora, this lunch will not be deducted from your rent."

"Goodness, you still think about that?! Just eat, okay?" At his Senior's words, Alhaitham tends to his butter chicken served with flatbread but keeps his eyes on his senior who decides to keep himself busy by doodling on the most recent budget proposal he declined. As the flavors of spices touch his tongue, the former Scribe's shoulders ease the tension it unknowingly kept, enjoying the warmth the meal and Kaveh brought. "Need a hand? These stacks of documents seem to be unending."

He contemplates it for a moment. His senior, although most of the time he doesn't openly admit it, is one of the most brilliant people in Sumeru. He's quite aware of his capabilities, that this man can easily replace Alhaitham in this wretched role. Perhaps he's going to stop putting himself in debts when he's waist-deep in papers.

Even so... He is also quite unsure if Kaveh would like the role.

"No, I think I can finish them by today."

"Which means you can't come with me later," Kaveh readily states, placing the doodled paper back on the pile. If the former Scribe is one that hasn't learned his senior's nuances yet, he'll definitely think he's indifferent to the broken afternoon arrangement. But he's known the architect even before he met Alhaitham so he is aware that Kaveh is mildly upset. "It's alright; I can do it on my own. I'll be having a meeting with a client this afternoon anyways — that one from the morning who told me to move it last minute." He keeps smiling regardless, recovering through finding the smallest of the good things he can still look forward to. "You better come home later though, can't do the sampling by myself."

His roommate steps away from his table, bringing all the colors with him as he goes. He doesn't allow Alhaitham to bid his goodbyes, assuming he'll be buried in work again and not dreading the temperature dropping when the door leading outside closes.

Kaveh must've felt the need not to intrude therefore he didn't take much of Alhaitham's time, the acting Grand Sage muses as he finishes the last bites of the packed lunch, glad that the food seems unaffected by the cold. Covering the container with paper towels or else he'll sit through his roommate's lecture about not getting anything onto the bag. The silver-haired man drops the bag on the couch and walks back to his table.

Curious about what Kaveh doodled earlier, he takes the paper from the rejected bin. His face reveals no surprise but amusement is practically written all over it. Placing the paper back to the bin, Alhaitham is really now convinced that Kaveh is more than competent to take the position more than him.

On a paper is a detailed list of merchants selling the survey device and their contact details. Doodling a small falcon resembling Alhaitham on the bottom, the Architect told the authors not to snitch him to the Grand Sage for giving them leverage for budget approval.

With the sun returning to its home in the skies, the gleaming chartreuse of Sumeru waned and turned into moss. Enveloped by the dark with only the moon, countless stars, and small street lamps to illuminate the surroundings, the streets seem to lose not only its luster but also life. With his noise canceling earpieces and music humming softly, Alhaitham can never determine what sounds the city is making at this time of the night.

With time close to midnight, there is one sound that waits to be blasted right before the former Scribe's ears — Kaveh nagging about him going home late. Another agreement has been broken yet he greatly believes that the Architect will let him off hook once he learns that he filed a day-off to do an important task. No one has to know, even his blonde roommate, that the task is the coffee tasting, correct?

Approaching the door of their shared residence, Alhaitham decides to put on an unapologetic act about coming home late by opening one of the books he hasn't completed yet. He grabs his key and slots it in as he flips the pages of the ancient book. Failing to control his grip strength however, the poor book's spine gives up and snaps in half.

The scribe stares at it, dismayed. While securing the remains of the shattered book, his instincts all of a sudden come screaming at him. There is something wrong.

Opening the door reveals to Alhaitham that the house is empty. Kaveh hasn't come home despite the time being close to one AM. He assumes that his client dragged him to a nearby tavern to celebrate.

He knows Kaveh should be at Lambad's, drinking his fill until his body gets wrecked. And yet, the scribe finds himself walking towards Port Ormos. Wondering which tavern should he start searching in, he finds a group of people crowding near the lifts used to carry loads up and down the walkway.

"Alhaitham?" The General Mahamatra calls from behind. He has no idea why meeting him at such a time gives shivers down the acting Grand Sage's spine. "Good thing you're here. Come with me."

Parting the crowd, the pair walks right into the space where the people are gathered. There, they find Tighnari with his back facing them, shoulders shaking. The General Mahamatra approaches the Forest Watcher who immediately breaks into tears with the slightest touch from their friend. Tighnari is only second to Kaveh when it comes to expressing emotions but Alhaitham never witnessed him breaking down like this. Whatever he saw there, it must be as heartbreaking as learning someone he knows or at least as close to him as the three of them has died.

As the acting Grand Sage walks closer to comfort Tighnari, his nose picks up the scent of mourning flowers along with the stronger copper from blood freshly shed. Following the stench, his steps falter, unable to go one further the moment the gruesome scene presents itself to him. Loads of heavy cargo pile up on the collapsed platform, a puddle of red soaks up the wooden material meant to carry the parcels up and down the bridge. A few bags of coffee beans strewn a few centimeters away while an overly familiar suitcase peeks from underneath the debris. Half of its body is crushed under the weight when the architect who designed it ensures that only the strongest of blows can scratch its surface.

Alhaitham finally remembers to breathe when Cyno shakes his shoulder. His noise-blocking earpiece's battery died long ago yet he can't seem to hear what his friend is saying. All he can do is mutely look down at the carmine touching his boot. The scent of flowers and copper makes his head spin.

And then, everything turns black as if Kaveh took all the colors with him.

Chapter Text

Everything from the next few days comes and leaves — all blurred out before those turquoise eyes with rings of bright, now dulled out, orange. Alhaitham goes through the whole process on autopilot mode, allowing his body to move without his mind being on every activity he does. Being the only person Kaveh can call as his immediate family in Sumeru, all of the funeral arrangements inconveniently fall into his lap — from retrieval of the body to the preparation of its final resting place.

As if he took his mortal body with him, all of his remains that are still salvageable barely fit the closed casket. The acting Grand Sage sits by its side, only leaving it to see some guests out. On his hand, a gray, lifeless and annoyingly unscathed vision, is firmly grasped.

A day after his death has been publicly announced, a woman bearing the same hair color as his roommate, albeit now turned lighter, arrives. Her crimson eyes' stare is directed towards the casket, glazed with regret, she approaches it. She must be Faranak — the late architect's mother.

Kaveh, even if he wished he could, never begged for her to look at him again. But now that there's no one to receive her gazes but the cold wooden material of what houses her son's remains, her cries of his name grates on the acting Grand Sage's ears. He will accept her and offer all of him no matter how many times she leaves but why did she only return when there will be no son to take her in? Kaveh will gladly move with her if she decides to let him be part of her new life but why did she insist on having him when his soul is long gone and all that remains of him are barely recognizable pieces of flesh?

"No," Alhaitham coldly declines her wish of having the architect buried in Fontaine. Shock initially crosses her elderly face, turning into a simmering anger. The acting Grand Sage stares it down with his impassive expression yet underneath it, he expresses heavy disdain and judgment. It makes her back down, averting his crimson eyes to look at her son's coffin once more. "Kaveh was born in Sumeru and will be buried under its land as well."

Alhaitham sees her out soon enough, never allowing her to overwelcome her stay. She is not welcome anyways. This funeral is only for those who allowed the architect to impart his art and life with, not those who threw him away.

The week-long funeral proceeds after that without a hitch. The silver-haired man silently watches as Tighnari cries loudly while banging on the casket with Cyno and Collei holding him back from tipping it over its stand. He remains unmoving as Nahida drops by, putting various flowers which are mainly mourning flowers and padisarahs on the casket as if she has met the architect before and also one of her closest friends. Dori stands next to him, voice uncharacteristically soft as she offers to make Kaveh a mausoleum with her funds. The first words the acting Grand Sage has said all those days after Faranak's visit is a polite refusal of her offer. No one can design a great resting place better than Kaveh after all.

A long line of people follows the lone casket being carried towards its grave. Alhaitham continues to observe the procession like a part of the audience to one of Nilou's shows. His stern face betrays no emotion as he finally lets go of the masterless vision and places it among the bouquets of mourning flowers adorning the silver lid . The cries and wails of the people whose hearts are touched by the brilliant architect are loud as the casket sinks below the ground and yet soon, it starts to get muffled, much like the impact of the sound of loose ground covering the last of Kaveh.

His arms lifelessly fall to his side, unwilling to move even if his heart wishes to shove everyone away and take his roommate back to their home. He just stands still, even as the last of the visitors thin out and completely vanish. He stays rooted in place until he is the only one left.

He blinks and finds a mound of freshly dug soil before him. An epitaph stands right beside it where it reads: "Kaveh — Light of Kshahrewar" followed by his date of birth and death. The letters appear filmy so he blinks his eyes rapidly once more. Caught in his lashes, droplets of silent tears fall from his own eyes. It starts as small blobs until it turns into rivulets, Alhaitham bothers not to wipe them away.

Instead, he drops to his knees and slams his fist hard on the mound.

Days after Kaveh's death, the acting Grand Sage starts following a specific routine: wake up, skip breakfast, take two sets of keys to the Akademiya, work until hours past his shift, get anything to eat when his body trembles too much it's difficult to walk or skip eating all together when he's too tired, ignore how his house readily fell in a state of disarray with no one to clean and maintain it and sleep.

While his work efficiency is unaffected, his social life is. He starts ignoring both of his friends' invitation — be it to drink, eat or hang out. He is rarely seen outside his office, almost refusing to come out or go home. As much as everyone in Sumeru wants to help him, it appears like the man doesn't wish to seek anyone's assistance.

He doesn't need anyone's help when he can do it himself. He knows he is unwell, wallowing into grief much more than he wishes to divulge on. Alhaitham is forced to acknowledge it one morning his body moves slower than before.

His way to deal with troublesome affairs is to blatantly ignore it. He would let things brew as long as it doesn't actively affect him. Kaveh's absence however, is blatantly smacking him on the face more painful than he anticipated it to be — one he can no longer set aside and willed it to be gone by distracting himself using this constructed state of having his shit together.

The only way he knows how to deal with this is to leave... abandon everything that reminds him of the blonde architect — this house, the Akademiya, Sumeru for the moment. He has to allow the wounds he took from the blows to heal. Perhaps, even if it's temporarily, he could at least ease his mind and take time to plan for his next course of action.

He sits up, catching a glance at the pair of golden and silver keys he now puts on his night table. Whenever he returns from work, he now unlocks the door with a golden key instead of his silver one. He grabs them and unhooks the golden one with a lion keyring to leave it on his bed and pockets the silver one.

Heading out of his room, he is instantly greeted by paintings of light on the floor from the windows Kaveh designed for aesthetics rather than practicality. The books his former roommate griped Alhaitham to clean are still stashed on the floor near the kitchen, untidy as ever. There are the pots his roommate used to cook him lunch still on the sink, its surface turned to house an ecosystem. All of the things where the architect and the former scribe left them, the silver-haired man made no move to rearrange or touch them.

The house is silent save for his footsteps. Everytime he closes his eyes, he can imagine a hammering sound coming from the room next to Alhaitham's. Irritated groans often follow it, sometimes pained howling. Kaveh will often burst out of his room, rolled paper used for blueprints on his arms along with some devices he decides to tinker with right before his client appointments.

His reverie is cut off when he catches the sound of something falling on the floor of Kaveh's room. Sensing it to be not a part of his imagination, the acting Grand Sage walks towards it. Alhaitham breathes deeply, raising his shaky arm to grab on the knob right in front of him. Painted in muted yellow color in contrast with his white door, he always thought that whenever he opens it, he'll find his roommate there — haunched over the drawing table bearing the posture of a prawn with his arms madly moving here and his hands almost black with ink. And yet, even as the room remained the same as the last time the former Scribe saw it, Kaveh will never be in this room again.

He lets himself in, facing the scent of fading mourning flowers wafting towards his nose. He doesn't understand why his roommate wouldn't use normal fragrances like padisarahs or Sumeru roses. He always claimed Alhaitham will never understand. He wishes he pushed his senior into telling him anyway.

His eyes of mixed turquoise and orange land on the architect's working space. There on the floor, he finds the last gadget, an ancient artifact, that Kaveh tinkered with. Despite his active pursuit of art, the architect was well versed with ancient technology and possessed great interest with upgrading and augmenting gadgets of the past.

He picks it up, noting that it seems to be a dendro powered hourglass. It has ruby colored elements bundled on the bottom part resembling petals of an abstract flower. Three of these petal-like embellishments along with a circular green gem adorns the middle of the glass with leaf patterns circling the whole case. It has scratches except for the glass itself. It seems like Kaveh replaced them yet he forgot to put the sand back.

Rather, he put it off for later but was unable to get back to it. Unable to return to Alhaitham.

The former Scribe swallows. He has shed enough silent tears for the past few days. Or so he convinces himself. They still threaten to fall any moment from now.

He needs to make his hands work and it feels right to complete this hourglass. Alhaitham is no technician but some invisible force compels him to finish what Kaveh started. He fumbles through his late roommate's equipment and tools, hoping that he kept the sand in a container he can easily see to avoid forgetting the project all together. Soon enough, he finds the box housing sand but the dendro energy it should radiate off is long gone. Perhaps he can reinforce it by using his own vision?

Calling on his power, his vision lights up. A green colored light flickers on his finger and with a swipe, it moves towards the sand. It absorbs his power like water on parched soil while being under his control as well. With expertise, he commands the sand to float and flow back to the open lid of the sand dial, filling up where it can count at least up to twenty four hours. He closes the lid and lifts it near his face.

It gives off a beautiful glow, much like how radiant Kaveh uses his vision. Now the vision lays cold and gray, buried with the architect who'll never learn how much the former Scribe adores seeing him use his element.

Kaveh will also never know how much Alhaitham loves him, how deep it runs through his mind and soul that it made him too emotional and almost on the verge of turning insane. And at the day he's the least able to show it, his beloved senior vanishes with no means to reach him again. He has asked him one time where he was when Sumeru needed him the most but where is Alhaitham when Kaveh needed him the most? Just a moment he turns his eyes away from his light, he's gone and plunged his junior into endless starless night.

Alhaitham puts the hourglass back on Kaveh's work table, giving the dendro sands flowing down slowly, along with the rest of the oddly organized room, a final look before he turns around.

The unsaid feelings weigh his tears down that they flow freely whenever he thinks of the blonde man. He knows he can't carry them anymore so he'll leave it here for now, along with the things that remind him of Kaveh.

This is no longer his home. Without that person, the former Scribe can hardly call anywhere his home anymore.

Chapter Text

Alhaitham has been living in a seemingly endless night yet the sun unjustly keeps on rising over Sumeru. Its beams still pass through the large color stained panes at the right angle, still illuminating a perfect silhouette of Sumeru roses in the lush wild fields right into his face and the entirety of the single bed in the room. The brightest of greens exploding right into Alhaitham's eyelids still instantly rouses him awake.

But the one who designed these impractical windows is no longer here. 

He sits up, glad to have his face under the shade of the wall above the windowsill and away from the harsh kaleidoscope of colors on his bed. He cannot remember when he first closed his curtains but he recalls never leaving them open ever since that day. How come it's neatly parted in between and allowing the sun to disturb him from his sleep?

Deeming that dealing with the mystery from the place he will leave for a while is unnecessary, he starts his morning routine and leaves his room. He evades the drawings of light on the floor as he approaches the kitchen, averting his gaze so no moisture can blur out his vision. 

He decides to pack his things by morning and head off to the port by lunchtime so he'll arrive in Liyue at nighttime. He still, however, requires to have a cup of coffee before he can start with the activities he has planned for today.

Starting by looking into the cupboards for some beans, he finds the lone bag in the last door, where Kaveh puts them right in the front for ease of access. He grimaces as it's only convenient for his late roommate who knows where all the items in the house are but never tells Alhaitham where. And he wishes to let things be that way.

He barely checks the coarseness when he grinds them before brewing, only needing a cup but making for two out of habit. Unconsciously pouring a cup for its missing owner, Alhaitham bites his lower lip. Piping hot coffee perfect for his preferences but poured into the cup that isn't his — perhaps he'll just leave it there.

Turning his back from the lone cup, he notices the dishes on the sink. Surprisingly, it has less molds than he remembers but once again, he pays it no mind. At least it makes the chore easier now.

Hands moving on autopilot once again, the silence filled with only running water and dish clinking as it makes contact with the sink. A momentary peace manifests itself through the domestic sound and scent of coffee. It is disturbed however by a heavy weight falling on the floor, followed by several softer thuds and a familiar groan.

Alhaitham's head snaps towards its direction. Right by the doorway of the kitchen, he spots a head with a mop of once neatly done hair now disheveled from the fall. The owner's face is planted on the floor while his body is pathetically buried under the books, his books that no one bothered to keep away.

"For the nth time, you should've tidied up your books!" The acting Grand Sage still remembers that line despite being delivered in an annoyed, not mocking, manner. That voice... 

Turquoise eyes with orange pupils slowly double in size as it meets a pair of sparkling carmine ones from the annoyed, familiar face that it comes with. One orb is almost hidden by the messy strands of chocolate tipped blond hair, almost perfectly hiding how swollen the undersides are if not for the other one completely exposed. His roommate's face is pale, except for the spots of red where his forehead hit the floor, from pulling another all-nighter but it is just like how Alhaitham sees him whenever he has a deadline to meet.

"If only you listened to me, I WOULD NOT TUMBLE ON THEM!" Kaveh screams, plucking out the books that fell all over him. He stands up, putting them back on the tower they once belonged to before stomping towards Alhaitham, fuming like a pyro whopper flower.

"Kaveh?" The former Scribe calls, voice sounding so desperate that the architect's anger is replaced by bewilderment. His perfectly arched brows furrow, tilting his head slightly to adorably display his confusion.

Is this a dream?

Alhaitham's breath hitches, letting his eyes drift all over the other person. He always calls Kaveh blonde but the tips of his hair run darker than the last time he saw him. He insists on calling the other's eyes carmine but the Architect tells him they're scarlet, not that he can see the difference, actually. He often wears his cape and neck accessories that the former Scribe never realized how slender his neck is or how scandalous his shirt is with that front and back opening which he advertised as 'pathways to ensure good air circulation'.

No, it can't be... The blood, the funeral, and the loss — all of them, the former Scribe genuinely felt.

It was unbearable to lose the light that he barely acknowledged but is greatly important to him. The emptiness he felt back then is so gaping that he has to fill it with either tears or distraction. The words he's unable to tell Kaveh weighs him down to the point that he's forced to leave them behind.

If Kaveh's loss is his reality, then, what is this reappearance of his?

"Alhaitham?" His body makes a near unnoticeable flinch at the call but he's actually shaken to the core. On the verge of crumbling yet his hands refuse to grab the other man in fear of realizing that the man in front of him is a mere illusion.

"Kaveh..." He mutters the Architect's name again. It sounds no less longing than the first one. In fact, it rings like his cries whenever he dreams of his grandmother. Kaveh picks it up as well.

Arms more slender than his own struggle to embrace his frame. A flash azure sprouting out of a blonde sea floods his vision while mourning flower fragrance fills his lungs. His senior puts a hand on his ashen hair and gently strokes it.

The gesture is so much like when they're still students from the Akademiya.

It was when the former Scribe was too young, threshold too small to hold the overwhelming grief. One night in the middle of their joint research, he woke up from a dream of his grandmother leaving him. He tried to keep himself from being heard crying but Kaveh, who's used to caring for the grieving, noticed his noise and started consoling him.

Rough and calloused fingers tangle themselves on the silvery locks, nails scratch on his scalp therapeutically. He repeats these ministrations until Alhaitham's breathing evens out, matching with Kaveh. "Had a bad dream again?" He finally asks after allowing silence and calming touches to blanket them for a few minutes.

The silver-haired man shakes his head. What he felt for the past month is the worst but definitely not a dream. No matter how much he disassociated himself from Kaveh's death, it's far too real to be dismissed as a nightmare while this moment, if not for the warmth that seeps from the other body, feels more like a fantasy. He runs on pure rationality until the other's passing and it is evident on how he melts down from the touch he has never felt since forever.

His arms move towards the other's lithe body, fingers grasping on the fabric exposing the blonde's back. Holding Kaveh like he'll be gone like a water seeping through a fabric basin, he grips hard until he can feel the other's rising heartbeat against his skin.

His voice, the scent of mourning flowers and the warmth that emanates from his skin — this Kaveh in front of him is way too genuine, he can never dismiss this as a dream. There's no way he can have a dream with a Kaveh this well detailed.

"...tham... Haitham.... ALHAITHAM YOU'RE GONNA WRING ME DRY! " Kaveh screeches. He then recalls that the blonde is less physically built than he is therefore his grip might've squeezed his bones and muscles into discomfort. Alhaitham eases his hold but not completely leaving the other be so he instead wriggles out of the hug.

The former Scribe's fingers twitch, arms begging to grab the other back in its vicinity. He remains still however, keeping his eyes on Kaveh as if he'll be gone if he blinks. Sighing at the unusual behavior his junior shows, the Architect grabs the other's wrist and takes him to his usual seat on the dining table. He picks a chair and sits in front of Alhaitham with their knees almost pressed against each other.

"You don't have to feel obligated to tell me what happened for you to act like a kid clinging to their favorite toy," he starts, leaving out the 'I no longer have the right to demand' part. "But I still wish to know if you're truly alright or if you need my help."

There are tons of questions in his mind that need answers. If Kaveh already died, how come he is alive right now in front of him? If this is not a dream and certainly he has no recollection of attempting to revive his roommate through any forbidden arts, how come it appears like the time has moved backwards to when the blonde Architect is still with him? He doubts the blonde has answers or can help in any way without thinking his roommate has lost his mind. For now, finding answers to these is a task Alhaitham can and should do alone.

As for whether or not he is fine, it takes him a moment, or perhaps more to coax out a single word. "Yes," breathlessly, he answers. With Kaveh now here, he will be... "Fine."

Kaveh raises a skeptical brow, squinting to search for hints of truth in Alhaitham. The acting Grand Sage doesn't lie but it's not entirely true either. He closes them fully as if he tries to mentally draw a picture of his assessment. "Well, if you say so," the Architect finally dismisses, hints of concern clinging on the last syllables of the words he uttered.

His roommate always worries about things beyond his control. The former Scribe finds it too stressful for someone with a fragile soul, yet, at this moment, he feels warm at his attentiveness.

"Just sit there for now. I'm going to make breakfast."

He watches the other moving towards the counter where the stove is on, pausing as he finds his cup there with coffee cooled down to his liking. Without a moment's hesitation, the blonde man reaches for it and takes a sip. He puts the cup away from his lips immediately and then takes the entirety of the brew inside the kettle before dumping all of the coffee into the sink.

"No, no, no, you're NOT FINE. There's no way I can believe you are fine," he states, hysterical. "The usual Alhaitham will not make coffee that tastes like sewer water!"

"Perhaps if my roommate woke up earlier, when he should, then there will be a better cup for you to enjoy," Alhaitham replies, falling into the same habit of pushing his Senior's buttons whenever he stresses his dependence on the other.

"I-ugh!" He flails his arms around, searching for something to grab beyond the former Scribe's understanding before reaching towards the cupboard devoid of coffee beans. "And how am I supposed to brew another when you took the last stock? archons!" He turns towards him, fiery frustration staining his pale face red.

"We can buy more later," Alhaitham suggests. Exasperation blooms from Kaveh's face only to dry out and turn into fondness. He must be relieved that the former Scribe has recovered quick enough to converse with him the way they usually do.

He turns around to work with the stove "Yeah, right. I want to give the traveler some coffee beans then," Kaveh continues, back muscles moving while he is reaching for some pans and ingredients for fatteh from the cupboards. Alhaitham shudders at his words spoken in a similar manner as his memories recall, albeit in a different order. "You... You remember it's my birthday next week, right?" 

He slowly turns towards the calendar he bought on the wall behind him. A forgotten part of the routine after his roommate's passing is to mark it for every day that passes. As the one who usually does it is long gone, Alhaitham only rips the page containing the month that has passed instead of marking each day.

Strangely, the page adored with Inazuma's Sakura blossom prints that has the month prior to the one the acting Grand Sage remembers it should be is once again on display, with the day before that day marked with an 'x'.

It means that the date today is...

"Do you mind coming with me this afternoon to buy some so we can sample them tonight?"

...the day Kaveh was supposed to die.

Chapter Text

Nausea builds up in the pits of his stomach, acrid and bitter touching the back of his mouth. Mahogany, crimson and gold swirls into a beautiful yet dizzying cyclone of colors at the back of his eyelids whenever he blinks. Using the word upset is an understatement compared to how his entire being, particularly his stomach, repulses the memory of that coppery stench, urging the nothingness in Alhaitham's middle to come out. Lucky or not, none of his predicaments appear in his solemn expression. His lips instead slowly part to say what exactly he has told his roommate that day.

"You just want me to pay for it, no?" The delivery is off, almost robotic, but it never fails to make his roommate flustered.

"You—ack!" Kaveh screams in perfect copy of the version in the acting Grand Sage's memory. "Just when I thought you would let me enlist your help this once!"

"You should file a request for partnership at the Akademiya for this thesis proposal."

"HOW COME COFFEE BEAN BUYING AND SAMPLING TURNED INTO A THESIS?" As he yells, he serves the fatteh he cooked before Alhaitham. A serving plated normally and without the constructs he likes to make out of biscuits. The former Scribe missed out on how his roommate didn't make one for himself. Instead, he takes off the apron and walks towards the direction of his room. "You know what; forget it!"

"Wait, no!" The sudden raise on the silver-haired man's tone is making Kaveh stop from his steps. The two utter not a word — the Architect wears another frown while the former Scribe runs through a million thoughts in his mind to ease the downward tug on the edges of his roommate's lips.

If he keeps his silence, it will make the other even more worried. A worried Kaveh is a persistent Kaveh. He'll put Alhaitham through a wringer just to know what he wants to and he doesn't think he can tell his roommate about his own death that will happen soon. Perhaps, he should speak a bit of truth for now.

"I am just riling you up but I am actually looking forward to having a fresh batch of beans brewed with you so let's go with it," The former Scribe admits.

He carefully surveys the other's expression, noting how the corners of his lips curl upwards and into a smirk that's in between smug and relieved. He will believe it's either if not for the way Kaveh's ears burn red. "What the hell! You can just say that without getting me worked up!" He screams then significantly lowers his voice to mumble something more behind the back of his hand he placed on his lips to cover some of his embarrassment. Words muddled and spoken in a hushed voice, he doesn't quite catch it.

"It seems like the loss of coffee is already taking its toll on me." Trying to save himself from the damnation of being unable to hear or lipread what his roommate is saying, he says. "Can we go now?"

His roommate perks up at the idea but his shoulders immediately sag as recollection dawns over him. He gives the other an apologetic smile, flicking his fingers to call his assistant — Mehrak. The suitcase running on ancient technology materializes on his left, beeping at its owner's roommate in what Alhaitham can recognize as glee.

"I'm afraid you're gonna go longer without it; a client is waiting for me for a meeting at the café," he states, slotting his fingers on Mehrak's handle and letting it rest in his hold. Its lights flicker shut, detachable compartment sewing itself back to the base.

A client meeting — from what Alhaitham recalls, the Architect mentioned it when he left from his office that day. Tension looms over him and hangs heavy on his back. He can't just let Kaveh out of his sight.

"I'm coming with you then," he declares as he stands up, hitting the table in his haste. The cutlery makes a loud clink on the place of his half-eaten breakfast.

"Wait, what? NO." The Architect shakes his head.

"Why not? I need my coffee, you get to meet with your client and we buy the beans after."

"If we arrive at the café together, they will know we live in the same place!"

Alhaitham puts his hand on his forehead, thumb rubbing his temple. Kaveh cares too much about unimportant matters such as his current accommodation. Rationality fails to justify his severe repulsion for letting people know that he lives in the house which is still very much under their names.

Taking the former Scribe's stillness to his advantage, the Blonde swiftly goes to the entryway in an attempt to flee. It is a futile attempt however as all Alhaitham needs to do is to flicker in between his roommate and the door. Running at full speed, Kaveh clashes into the acting Grand Sage's body. If not for his quick reflexes, catching the other man as he falls, his bottom will be as flat as a pancake.

Keeping the architect in his arms as he doesn't believe this overgrown child can hold his weight, he utters a compromise. "You go first then."

The other man stares at him, then at the hand holding him stable. Alhaitham can figure out frustration building up in his roommate, judging by how the wrinkle between his brows grows deep. "Archons, fine!" Kaveh gives in, pressing his freehand against his roommate.

Deeming him able enough to stand, Alhaitham releases him. He ignores how phantom frosts seem to grow on his skin the moment the blonde's warmth leaves. "Why are you being extra insufferable?"

"Coffee deficiency," Alhaitham answers in a jiffy.

"That's your fault not mine!" Pushing away the large obstruction to the exit known as his roommate, Kaveh swiftly trades his home slippers with his outdoor shoes.

He opens the door, letting the unfiltered sunshine in. The morning light casts a halo of gold on his blonde hair. He then turns around, raising his pointer finger close to his lips as if trying to remember something. Shadows fill the valleys of his face while the rays cast orange spots on the raised areas as the architect faces him once more. 

"Oh, before you go, can you check the house out for the artifact I'm tinkering with last night?" He states. "I must've dropped it somewhere. If you see it, please tell me."

Alhaitham nods, lost in the ephemeral view that it takes him more than a minute before his roommate's words take root in his mind. Kaveh is long gone when he is finally able to process it. "...artifact?" He blinks, all of a sudden feeling an unknown weight on his waist pouch. He pats on it, hand slipping inside to grab the foreign object.

Sand falling despite being tipping upside down, the artifact — the hourglass Kaveh left behind and Alhaitham finished — is in his hand. It glows in vibrant green light as if telling the former Scribe that the artifact is the one responsible for returning the Architect. However there is something chilling about the pieces of sand continuing to fall despite the silver-haired man gently shaking it back with the rest.

It's as if telling Alhaitham that his time with the architect is limited and no longer reversible.

He is quite aware that artifacts enhance the elemental capabilities of vision users yet he hasn't encountered one that can turn back time or bring someone back from afterlife.

Perhaps he has garnered enough favor from the gods that he is allowed such an opportunity. They must pity such a man who claimed to prioritize the pursuit of truth, rather than express it to the architect.

He takes a gander at the hourglass once more before chucking it back to the pouch then turns towards his breakfast. After practically inhaling the meal and grabbing his coat, a book and two keys, he heads out.

At the deepest recesses of his mind, he knows that there will be no other chance. He will forever lose Kaveh if he fails.

Chapter Text

Particles of dust glitters like fireflies as it flutters towards the verdant sunbeams passing through the doors and windows of Puspa café. No one bats an eyelid as its existence is proven true, by frequent sneezing of some unfortunate individuals, despite this gaudy visible proof. Alhaitham will ignore it too, normally.

Over the steam rising from his coffee, he looks over the distant table situated right before a window. Dust fireflies dance in erratic circles as a pair of arms slashes through the air around them, doing a good job at highlighting the beauty that stands amongst them. Those hands gesture towards the large papers sprawled all over his side of the table, pointing at notable parts of the drawings on it.

His voice isn't too loud to compel all of the café patrons to listen to him yet it is clear enough to convey his thoughts, ideas and aspirations to his client. He is humbled by their praises yet is also oozing with confidence of completing the project in with the requirements. Kaveh's works are indeed the culmination of aesthetics and practicality yet seeing how he seems to glow brighter than the verdant light showering his image at the moment his client approves of his proposal, he is art himself.

Alhaitham finally takes a sip of his coffee after the half a minute-long glance at the Architect. As he flips another page of the same book he broke from that day , he mildly wonders how come he hasn't seen his Senior in a meeting like this? Ah, right. He'd rather spend his day indoors instead of staying at this crowded and noisy café.

If only he had the right opportunity, he'd be listening more to Kaveh's intellectual discussions with his clients. The bickering that leads to debates are also fun; however, being an audience to the Blonde's display of passion is just as wonderful.

Moving to the next page, he fails to hear a crack amidst the café's bustling noise. The spine of the ancient book soon snaps despite the gentleness of the former Scribe's hold. Breath suspended, trembling hands carry the pitiful remains of the book, fingers stiff as dread once again touches his skin with its icy tendrils.

Could it be that—?

"It finally gave up huh?" Another pair of hands take the book from him, making his heart shake hard with the lack of weight on his palms. Filled with dread, he grabs on its wrist, eliciting a shocked gasp from its owner. "Hey, cut it out! I'm just going to take a look at your book!"

Taking his time to look up at the other person, Alhaitham sees Kaveh standing right on his side, rather, leaning forward at an awkward angle due to him still having his significantly larger hands covering the other's entire wrist. Perfectly lined with his eyes, the former Scribe can freely take a peek at the skin turned red by the desert sun where he recently came from, barely covered by the Architect's shirt.

He observes how his chest rises and falls. Kaveh is still breathing, fine. He still looks exactly as he was moments ago, albeit a bit red from embarrassment, and not a mound or soul or unrecognizable pieces of flesh. And he will not be if Alhaitham is careful.

He is but the book still got torn apart, pieces of which are on the hand of the person he doesn't want to vanish too soon.

"My lower back is killing me, Alhaitham. Let go or I'll use my claymore on you." At the other man's annoyed declaration, reluctantly, he lets the other slip off his grasp. Half-expecting him to move back into the table he previously occupied, the acting Grand Sage is pleasantly surprised when he feels a brush of warmth where his vision lies.

Kaveh sits right on the empty seat on his left, inspecting the book by poking at the spine's seam. He can feel how he pushes back the stray leaves since the Blonde's shoulders almost lean on his own. "I don't have the tools here but I can fix it later," he says after gently closing the item. "Can I hold on to it?"

Absent-mindedly nodding, he witnesses the Architect summoning his assistant again. Mehrak beeps then opens its compartment to allow Kaveh to slip the book inside. Turning to his roommate, he speaks again. "I'll do a little bit of hammering tonight but rest assured I'm not going to damage your book further. Cheer up, okay?"

"Make sure you do," Alhaitham says, finishing his coffee. He turns to the spaces on his right, then to the tables on their front before leaning a bit closer to Kaveh before he lets the next words fall from his lips. "Or else you're going to sink deeper in debt."

"HEY!"

Despite the taunting, his distress might've shown itself on his face as he can still feel the Architect worrying for him. What other people can see as Alhaitham's usual frown, Kaveh can always, will always, see beyond just that. Despite being unable to pinpoint the cause, he can see how troubled the silver-haired man is.

Only in this fraction of a second will he openly show his fears before Kaveh. How can he not fret when that day he's just minding the book breaking one moment and then the next, he has to practically shut his emotions down so he can go through with the Blonde's funeral rites? The mere thought that he will leave the former Scribe again forces almost all of his muscles rigid, ready to snap at anything that will cause any harm on the man beside him. This irrational mindlessness may be out of Alhaitham's character yet he will rely on it if needed. He will grab on anything just to prevent what might transpire in the next moments.

"Alhaitham, nothing worse will happen to the book." Kaveh, it's not about the book , the silver-haired man wants to quip back but can't find the push that can force him to say it out loud. "You can continue sulking in there but I won't stop reassuring you that it'll be okay soon."

The blonde Architect has no clue how much weight his words hold. They are pertaining to something else altogether but as the acting Grand Sage's axis has been shaky since the day he lost him, he is able to ground him. He shifts greatly from being proactive in thinking of ways to prevent Kaveh's death to being easily distracted by the fact that there are some variables he cannot control — like the order of events that transpired and will transpire for the next few hours. 

"You really want to buy the beans so bad you're insistent on cheering me up?" Alhaitham, finally retrieving his composure, finds the energy to throw his casual taunts to get Kaveh annoyed.

Just as he anticipated, his roommate lifts his hands to squeeze an imaginary stress ball before putting it back on his lap. He also observes his surroundings before talking through gritted teeth. "Yes, so get your ass moving because I'm making you pay for it as the book's repair fee!"

"Fine by me."

Betraying his expectations once more, the Architect grabs on his glove and drags him towards the café's acting manager. After casually greeting her, two gets led by her to a door behind the counter — the one where sacks of freshly imported and produced coffee beans. Smiling, the acting manager tells them to take their time selecting beans before leaving the two alone.

The scent of freshly roasted beans wafts towards his nose, faint mourning flower notes mixes with it whenever Kaveh stops by to show a roast that they haven't tried before. A question pops in his mind, one he is unable to do so prior that day, as the perfume lingers in the air between them.

"That perfume, where did you get it?"

"This again?" Kaveh, halfway into grabbing another sack of beans, looks up at him in mild annoyance. Searching for hints of the other man sparking another rounds of debate with him and finding none, he finally relents and gives him the answer. "It's from Aaru Village. Ever since the first time I arrived there, I've been supporting them by purchasing some of their livelihood wares. It includes the perfume." Kaveh waits for the other to give a snarky retort, one that he always offers his Senior whenever he does something out of goodwill.

This time however, Alhaitham provides him with something else. "It smells great on you." There comes his sole commentary. It consists of just five words yet it appears to be powerful enough for the whole face of the Architect to turn beet red.

"I'll tell them your insights when they deliver a new batch to me," he declares, his skill in speaking works wonders in hiding how embarrassed he is. Without looking back, he starts grabbing random sampler beans before fleeing out of the room. A smile graces the former Scribe's features as he follows his blond roommate who's seemingly able to take compliments from other people except the silver-haired man.

Spotting him right by the counter waiting, Alhaitham brings out his mora pouch to pay. The acting Manager shifts her glance from Kaveh's still flushed face to the acting Grand Sage's tranquil one, hands moving with practiced movements despite her attention being on another affair entirely. Whatever she sees in them that makes her smile a bit wider, he doesn't want to brood over it.

Intent on joining the Architect to his next venture as he rests the enormous bag of their newly acquired supply, he almost ignores one of his assistants frantically looking around the café. Their gazes meet however and Alhaitham realizes he can't do things as he pleases unlike when he was the Scribe.

"Sir, there are proposals that require your personal approval," the assistant promptly states as she approaches the two. "We will be needing your presence today in your office."

From the corner of his vision, he spots the mop of blonde slowly escaping from the scene. Allowing the man out of his sight one time he's swamped with the Akademiya work is one mistake he won't allow himself to do again. Before he can successfully flee, Alhaitham grabs Kaveh's collar. "I'll be there, however I also require a bookbinding equipment set. This man over here owes me some repairs for his coffee supply and I fully intend on supervising his work."

"Hey—!" The Architect screeches like an unruly cat. He thinks his senior will claw at him if not for the beans he's carefully holding. "I told you I'll fix the book later ."

"The sooner you fix it, the better for me," he quips back. Peering into the reds of the deepest shade his roommate uses as his eyes, he hopes that Kaveh will pick up the need displayed in his own teal ones. Though he will most likely mistake it for his need to have his book back instead of wanting the Blonde to be safe or at least be within his sight when things get awry, he is quite sure his senior will cave in.

"Alright," he sighs, giving in to his whims just as Alhaitham trusted him he would.

He turns away only to look at the other man over his shoulder. Squinting his eyes, long lashes casting long shadows over his crimson eyes and the annoyance reflected on it. "You better treat me to lunch since you're basically holding me as a hostage," he declares to which the former Scribe merely nods. "AND I'll order everything I want for lunch then." Or so Kaveh adds but he knows more than anyone that he'll only order enough food to last up to dinner later.

Receiving another nod of acknowledgement, a beaming smile forms on his lips. He continues his earlier venture of approaching the assistant, striking a conversation with her and finally whisking her away towards the Grand Sage's office. He doesn't look back for he knows Alhaitham will closely follow them.

And the silver-haired man does just as the Architect knows he would.

Chapter Text

Surrounding the table of the grand sage's office, tall walls lined with shelves are packed to the brim with physical copies of information from top theses on various fields of study. Along with these are the Akademiya previous publications, some of the oldest policies that are recorded way, way before the previous scholars are able to directly place data on knowledge capsules and a few information on some of the nation's most brilliant students. A pair of turquoise eyes with rings of orange takes a swift glance at a certain shelf on the wall situated to the left side of his temporary office. It also is where a blonde conveniently had a table moved to accommodate the bookbinding tools and also the location of the little mischief he did when he got bored sorting the archive when he was still the Scribe. If he's to turn around and get his carmine orbs landing on the fourth shelf from the floor, leftmost division, he'll definitely spot two records of graduates that are incorrectly placed side-by-side. As those students are from different darshans, with one graduating two years earlier than the other, one as meticulous as Kaveh will get their nerves struck just and promptly place them back to the shelves reserved to their schools.

Before any of his thoughts can be picked up by the other man in the room, Alhaitham grabs a budget request proposal from the eerily identical tower of papers as the one he reviewed that day . Haunting him, it is of course the one that requests three million mora for a desert surveying device. Just as insufficiently backed by market price research as the first instance he has seen the paper, he automatically wants to put it on the rejected bin. Except his fingers remain clasped on its surface.

Stumped by how his fingers refuse to part with the proposal, a thought comes to him all of a sudden. The acting Grand Sage places the paper back where he took it and grabs the rest of its pile. Unceremoniously, he approaches the other resident of the office.

Long eyelashes almost touch his cheeks as his eyes are focused on the felting needle held deftly by his thin fingers. Kaveh silently lathers the needle with wood adhesive and runs it along the broken spine of the book. Adding one stray page, spreading glue on the edge where the spine is then sticking another page, the master Architect reattaches the fallen leaves, even and seamless with the precision akin to a bookbinding machine.

He takes a longer stick next, seemingly a knitting needle and applies the adhesive on it as well. Alhaitham is not even surprised at how creative he becomes when the need to use less conventional tools arises. After covering the spine with adhesive, he slips a thin piece of wax paper — one that's the same size as the book's thickness. Pressing the spine on the table while ensuring that the action will not further damage the book. He runs his thumb on the indents right in the middle of the spine and the book cover then places the knitting needle free from adhesives on it. Holding both the book and the needles, he sandwiches them on two wooden tablets.

"I told you, didn't I, Alhaitham?" The earnest expression he wears while he's putting all his attention on the book repair bleeds to one oozing with confidence when he learns that the other man is now in front of him and seemingly accessing his performance. He looks up yet only a portion of his carmine eyes can be seen where the former Scribe stands, his thick and long eyelashes blocking the view as well. "I just have to press some weight on it, let the glue dry overnight and your book will be fixed in no time!"

"I didn't doubt your capabilities even once, Kaveh." Alhaitham agrees with his roommate but it seems to rile him up more as he furrows his brows instead of feeling elation from the rare moment of his junior being less intolerable. The silver-haired man continues speaking, ignoring how his roommate just screamed: 'you dragged me here and announced you're going to supervise my work though?!' and places the pile he's been holding on the table. "While I still think you can be the next sage for your darshan, I can also remember you boasting about how you can do the Grand Sage's work better than I so let's put that hypothesis to a test."

The Blonde gasps, looking at the silver-haired man then at the pile he just dumped on his makeshift station then back to the man and his stoic expression hinting no sign of his statement being an unfunny joke. "You're just passing most of your work to me!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about; that's barely half of it." Alhaitham gestures to the ever growing pile of documents. He grunts upon spotting another stash where he took the one on Kaveh's table. "Think of this as a small experiment. Depending on your performance, your reward may range from receiving a crate of your favorite wine from grand bazaar, from my own pockets of course, to a direct recommendation for the Grand Sage position from me."

"Double the crate of wine and I'll take it."

"Deal."

A second after the affirmation of their small transaction, Kaveh gives the acting Grand Sage a radiant smile. Putting a splotch of reds and yellows in the room dominated with blues and teals, the older man brings warmth once again to the constricting cold of the office. He's set out to stick out like a sore thumb in this place, not only because of his choice in clothing but also for his prominent love for art, yet Alhaitham is now confident that he'll instead slip into the role like a pigmented watercolor on a wet canvas.

"The first thing I'm going to approve if I become the Grand Sage is the funding request for my darshan's research."

"Then I will do everything in my power as the Scribe to overthrow you if ever you take the same path as Azar," Alhaitham replies to his musings.

"AS IF I WILL!"

Kaveh stands and turns around, abruptly putting an end to their bantering. Following how the quill on his hair shakes as he moves his head left and right, up and down the shelves, silver-haired man assumes he is looking for something to put as weights on the book as the adhesive dries. The feather stops moving as his focus lands on the books on the leftmost side. As expected, he immediately spots the little mischief acting Grand Sage made. 

"What are these portfolios doing here?" He asks, plucking both of those books out. Falling out of the fragile structure it has been placed in, the tremor caused by the abrupt pulling of those books causes the shelf to tip over. Two flashes of dendro spills from the visions in the vicinity — books are shoved away from the scan perimeter wherein Kaveh stands in the middle of while Alhaitham teleports from the front of the table to the cramped space behind it. Pushing the shelf back to their undisturbed stance, the silver-haired man effectively traps the Blonde between his arms.

While locked in the position for a minute, the Architect's eyes never left the acting Grand Sage. Despite being an expert in words, he can't find which ones are running through that mind as those carmine pools view him at a close distance. They flick upwards, meeting Alhaitham's teals and oranges. Slowly blinking, the realization of their placement in an awkward position finally dawns on him.

He backs away, chuckling with a hint of tension seeping through the downward notes of his voice. "Feeble scholar my ass," he hears the man mutter while casually fixing the collar of his shirt. He taps on the former Scribe's arm to let him step aside to which he only responds by letting that arm fall to his side. Picking up the books that went flying, the Blonde places them back where Alhaitham remembers their cataloged location is. He places their profiles back last — his on the right and the acting Grand Sage's on the left. Only when the books were snugly tucked back to the shelf did the former Scribe let his hold of the shelf go and talk.

"Now you know why they're there."

"It doesn't make sense!"

"You just saw it did," the silver-haired man quips with a smirk, making Kaveh run his fingers on his hair. This action undoes the intricate braid on it but no one makes an effort to point it out. "I'll bring you other books to use as weights on it instead."

Taking random hardbound books with him, the former Scribe returns to his roommate in the middle of humming a familiar tune, one that has been sung by a Liyuen musical artist while rebraiding that portion of his hair. Without a mirror on sight, he struggles with weaving the golden strands.

An invisible force pushes Alhaitham to approach the other, place the books on top of the broken one and grab the loosely made braid on his hands. He removes the feather  quill Kaveh keeps on his hair everytime just in case he'll need to sketch down his little bursts of inspiration and puts it on the Architect's hand. His senior takes it and makes no unneeded movements as Alhaitham starts to work on his hair.

When his hands are full of ink or they need to do something else, when his hair gets into his bleary eyes or it's too hot to continue having them down, the blonde man sometimes asks the other to tie his hair up for him. The silver-haired man knows by muscle memory how his roommate always does his hair, how thick the braid should be and how much force to apply on its roots. It is the only form of physical intimacy between them that never grew awkward even after their fall out.

Once he's done braiding, Kaveh's hands fly towards where Alhaitham presses the tip of the braid to his head. Their fingers brush; the moment goes seconds too long as the former Scribe intentionally withdraws his hand a bit too sluggishly. Spinning around to face him, he puts the last of his crimson clips on.

Wordlessly, they fall into the work that's in front of them. Minutes turning into hours fly by. It used to be dreadful yet with the sound of another pen scratching papers' surface, the acting Grand Sage finds it more tolerable. His roommate, every once in a while, leaves his temporary office to dump documents he reviewed and sorted. He sets it aside yet the former Scribe places them on the pile he has already worked on. He catches the other man lifting a brow at his action yet opts to grab more documents from the unsorted paper tower. The cycle repeats until a day's worth of work is done a little past 2PM.

Finally paying attention to his Senior who stands in front of his table with a grin stretching from ear to ear, Alhaitham speaks just as he finishes penning a certain Architect's recommendation letter. "So, I infer you're now claiming your pay for the good work, correct?"

"Of course!" The man beams. "My two crates of the best wine from the Bazaar, please."

"So, how are you so sure you're getting the wine?"

"Well, we finished your entire day, no week's worth of work in just mere hours!" The smile vanishes from his lips and is replaced by a frown. He then places his fists on his hips and squints at Alhaitham. "Don't you dare take back your words, Grand Sage ."

" Acting Grand Sage," the silver-haired man corrects with a hiss. "I won't and you did..." He stops mid-sentence and plucks one paper on the rejected pile. Hilariously, as if coincidence is running as an unfunny joke, it is still about the desert survey device. It still bears the identical recommendation the Architect has placed before, albeit the clause about not telling the former Scribe about the advice is gone. "...well, except for doodling on the proposals."

"I can't help it, okay?!" Kaveh's posture stiffens, reminding him of that time he made a blunder on one of his designs during their Akademiya days — one that can cause him to fail his practical exam. "I'm still getting the wine... right?"

The acting Grand Sage purposely allows silence to weigh heavy between them, taking time to carefully fold the recommendation letter and tuck it into an unsuspecting envelope before nodding. "Of course. I can't let Tighnari and Collei get their ears deaf with how much you'll complain about doing work for me without any compensation."

As if he nabbed rolls of crimson flames, shaped it into an orb and consumed it, Kaveh's smile brings out a piece of that flame in the form of a smile and illuminates the room even brighter than the installation right in the middle of the office. For the first time in a while, he feels kind of wrong to douse out that warmth with a splash of bitter truth. "But I am not a fool to let your hands into that amount of liquor and engage in daytime drinking."

"You can't be ser—"

"Still, I owe you lunch." With his words as a blade, he slices through Kaveh's rebuttal. The Blonde frowns, red agitation dusting his cheeks. The silver-haired man turns away and walks towards the elevator before a pleased smirk forms on his lips. "Although it's a bit too late for one, shall we go to the Akademiya's cafeteria?"

"About that. I don't think I still have the time to eat there. I have to go to Port soon." Alhaitham's body stiffens, one foot hanging on the air before it steps on the elevator's floor. He musters all of his will to look back.

For a second there, he sees not the interior of his office but the greens and yellows of the port with curious observers surrounding the collapsed lift and  Tighnari's back quivering as he yowls out a pained cry. The General Mahamatra rushing to his partner's side while the former Scribe is rooted on his feet. The scent of copper, burnt rope and mourning flowers reaches him, attempting to force out whatever his stomach's contents are.

Out of the sensations that threaten to overwhelm him, the soft clinking of dendro powered sand hitting a certain hourglass's surface distracts him. It is both a promise and a reminder — he can never allow the same fate befall his dear Light this time.

Chapter Text

In order to graduate, all of Haravatat students must be an expert of at least twenty languages. Alhaitham learned almost twenty-seven by the time he did. Despite having nearly endless words in his arsenal to express his thoughts, no amount of it or even a careful composition of sentences will make a certain alumnus from Kshahrewar believe a word that falls from his lips, much less listen to any warning coming from him.

He never lied to him, not even once. He is guilty, however, of just letting the other assume things from the miniscule information he can provide the other. The silver-haired man places great trust in the other's intellect, believing the man will eventually realize if he expresses his affections through actions.

There is also no use in warning him about the unsavory fate when he will never take it at face value. The acting Grand Sage closes his eyes and forces the imagery of the bright carmine crawling towards his boot that day . When he opens them, another type of red pool appears before him in the form of his roommate’s eyes staring — glistening with curiosity and doubt.

This is his cue to provide motivation to Kaveh to theorize things on his own. Meeting its gaze, the silver-haired man cracks his lips open and pushes his voice out to utter: "I don't trust you to eat before you do your business there so I—"

"Fine, join me. You'll be free for the rest of the day anyway." Now it's his roommate's turn to cut his speech halfway. The said man rests his forehead on his palm as if trying to shield himself from the surging headache he typically gets whenever he's skipping sleep in favor of buying more time to meet his deadlines. "Even if I try to shrug you off my heels, you'll find a way to tag along or keep me under your radar so might as well just invite you. Saves both of us the trouble."

This is not the first time Kaveh being too sharp renders Alhaitham unable to access his seemingly bottomless vocabulary. The Architect, when he has his explosive emotions under control, can decipher even the most heavily encrypted thoughts the acting Grand Sage keeps unspoken. Either that or he has grown so transparent before the blonde that nothing can be hidden from him.

"While I don't believe everything that you say, you have this habit of keeping your silence when you have something you can't lie to me about," the Blonde continues, waving his hand vaguely in the air — a gesture similar to the ones he frequently makes when he's discussing a research topic. "Knowing you, I will never be able to force you into telling me so I have to figure it out myself, no?"

Alhaitham presses his lips close before slowly parting them. They insist on believing they will never see eye-to-eye and yet, they know each other so much they can practically read each other's thoughts like a book left open on one of the tables in the House of Daena.

The man gives the other a rare amused smile — one that catches the other off-guard. When he does open his mouth, words of admiration coated with a false tone of insult spills from it, an action that wipes that surprised expression off the other’s face and replaces it with the usual frustration.

"If only you would use your amazing deduction skills in busting scams, you'll never be in debt."

"Oh shut up, will you?" Kaveh gripes, striding towards the elevator and walks past Alhaitham. Their shoulders lightly brush against each other and rub the scent of mourning flowers on the patch of his exposed skin. The silver-haired man remains still, listening to the Blonde's footsteps along with the faint sound of sand hitting glass. "Hurry, I'm starving."

Turning towards the Blonde whose back is facing him, the former Scribe traces the patterns on that elaborate shawl with his turquoise eyes. After feeling that he has boarded, the Architect operates the elevator to lead them back to the lower floor of the house of Daena. Two pairs of footsteps echo through the high walls of books. The students inside the massive library, although currently occupied by the scholarly pursuits and activities, can't contain their curiosity as two of the high profile personalities of Sumeru walk side-by-side. Sensing their gazes, Kaveh walks swiftly towards the exit and the nearest waypoint.

Striding with large steps to catch up to the man as his vision lights up in tune with the waypoint's activation, Alhaitham joins the other in the jump from one spatial point to another. Less familiar with the laws of teleportation, the Architect tends to feel mild dizziness to extreme nausea whenever he uses the ancient device. Certainly, in the privacy of the hidden part of the footbridge where the landing waypoint is located, he wouldn't mind a hand on the small of his back supporting his wobbly balance.

Just as he expected, Kaveh tumbles backwards. Caught by his arms instead of just a steadying touch, the man's head turns towards the former Scribe in surprise. He immediately corrects his posture, warmth from the other leaving nothing but a fading impression on his palms.

"Thank... you," the man mumbles shyly as he walks a few steps down the ramp. Unaffected by verbal flatteries from the acting Grand Sage yet he is bashful from receiving support in the form of physical contact? How this person operates most of the time goes astray from rationality that it either surprises or baffles him.

Pausing as his companion doesn't seem to follow as close as he expected him to go, the Architect peers over his shoulder. Alhaitham opts to give the other a smirk instead of a smart ‘finally checking if you have your wallet with you’ before walking down the walkway where the other is. Resuming their walk, those orange-ringed teal eyes catch a glimpse of that lift.

From the edges of the short comfort he blankets himself with, dread starts to creep up. Visible from the walkway towards the tavern where he first met the traveler, the lift Kaveh designed silently whirls up and down, carrying not only humanoid passengers but also boxes wrapped with vines he assumes to be foreign merchandise coming from overseas. Unlike the side where they appeared, that part of the port is bustling with people, further explaining why they used the lift outside its intended use. What an unpleasant time to be this busy when someone is to conduct an inspection.

"Are they putting cargo in the lift?" Squinting as he stares in the same direction as Alhaitham, Kaveh voices out his irritation. Since he’s so close, he can practically feel the other man boil in both anger and fear. "Come with me, I have to check the elevator immediately."

Before the acting Grand Sage can even rebut, the Architect has already managed to run up the ramp and towards the bridge. Almost forgetting how agile his roommate can be if he wants to, the silver-haired man opts to use his vision to flicker a few inches behind him.

Faithful to his worries, laborers of the port are loading boxes upon boxes of goods on the lift. The gears holding the ropes in place creak in what Alhaitham can relate to Kaveh's crunchtime noises. They are old but now even more worn out with the weight it is not meant to carry.\

"Hey, cut that out!" The Blonde screams from afar, forcing them to pause and turn their focus towards Kaveh. The Architect approaches them, basically fuming. The acting Grand Sage is quite certain he doesn’t want to be on the other end of that man’s agitation.

"Mr. Kaveh," their leader greets him. His colleagues put their loads down, unable to carry it longer with the designer of the elevator about to berate them for his invention’s misuse. "I'm sorry for loading our merchandise here.” He scratches his head, trying to play it cool, as he continues to reason out. “The cranes are fully occupied with heavier cargo and these items are quite heavy to use a trolley for them."

Upon seeing the fatigue on the faces of the workers from an overnight sea expedition, the frown on his roommate's lips ease out. His sympathy is still as easy to win as ever. "I understand however, you must limit the item load per trip. This old guy isn't designed for heavy lifting." He crosses his arms, looking at the lift with a worried expression. "Although before proceeding, I have to check if it can continue helping you all out. Alhaitham..."

"I refuse."

Seemingly only noticing his presence the moment he spoke, the workers collectively flinch and scramble behind the Architect. "I haven't said anything yet," Kaveh scoffs, placing himself between the former Scribe and the poor porters who got the scare of their lives at Alhaitham's presence. "Stay here while I check the foundation of the lift." The Blonde continues ignoring the silver-haired man and goes on to explain the next courses of action he'll be taking despite the clear defiance on the former Scribe's part. He also takes his glider out, standing on the edge of the bridge to get into the bank below. "I need you to oversee things." He leaves the next part of the sentence 'should anything unpleasant happen' unspoken. Despite the lack of verbal confirmation, it is clear that Kaveh trusts Alhaitham to keep the platform from collapsing on him as he does some inspections. Of course that is one thing the former Scribe can't allow to happen. Can't let his light be snuffed out right before his eyes.

Arms folded, he commands the porters to immediately vacate the lift of any cargo as soon as his roommate is out of earshot. The gears creak, footsteps sound so heavy. Alert at every move with the same concentration as the bird in his constellation, he makes himself sensitive to every miniscule sound or a sight off from normalcy. Even the sound of every grain of sand hitting the glass of the timepiece seems too loud for him.

He gasps as an even deafening yell erupts. The ropes suspending the platform gives in, throwing the porter carrying the last box in panic. Setting aside the hartbeats thrumming hard inside his chest, he allows his body to be managed by his sound mind.

"Flicker!"

Placing himself in the platform whilst shoving the worker back to stable ground, he winds tendrils of dendro into ropes then guides them towards the severed twines. Wrapping the makeshift ropes around the pillars making up the lift's ceiling, he secures the platform in place.

Although the immediate crisis has been averted, he is aware that it'll never hold on long.

Jumping out of the elevator and into the bridge, he barely remembers to deploy his guilder until he's mere inches from the ground. Even with the air resistance softening his fall, he still badly lands on his left foot, possibly breaking his leg. Activating his vision once more, he is teleported thankfully near Kaveh.

Crouching to dig something on the ground inside the lift's base, he is unaware of the danger that looms above him. Literally. Alhaitham senses his dendro twines dissipating, unable to hold the entire platform from being pulled down by its sheer weight and gravity. Finally learning about death rushing in to crush them both, the Architect barely utters a phrase before his roommate shoves him out of danger.

All through the sound of sparkling friction almost setting the platform alight, the former Scribe picks out a certain sound missing.

The timepiece stops, green sands suspended permanently as the lift drops and crushes all unfortunate life below it.

Chapter Text

Wherever Kaveh goes, light comes with his presence and illuminates paths known or obscure for Alhaitham. It is no lie that after the argument that tore them apart, the silver-haired man often finds himself lost in the cycle with no visible means to jump out of it or steer into a different direction. It is not that he wishes to go astray from the academic path laid before him on a silver platter, as his Grandmother's wish is for him to have a peaceful life, yet his orange-ringed turquoise eyes still search for a particular head of gold who always brings a spark of interest in every moment those lips part and share his thoughts.

But alas, that light managed to avoid him, almost erasing his presence. If not for the appearance of grandiose but ingenious buildings and the word of the mouth passed around the gossipers featuring him, he would believe that his Senior has truly vanished from the face of Sumeru.

However, in the darkest hours of the Architect's life, Alhaitham finds his light back in their sudden, almost coincidental, meeting over bottles and bottles of beer. At that moment, he promises he'll never let go of him. Even if he has to wait for the other man to notice his feelings through his gestures. Even if it'll go unnoticed until their lives end.

The end of life which arrived far too soon and left Alhaitham literally swallowing his words back.

With the scent of mourning flowers and a mild tinge of coppery blood accompanying the warm air blowing on his cheek, the former Scribe wonders if this is also how his own end smells like. Instead of numbness, there is a gnawing pain on his leg, presumably from the bad landing he made earlier when he was still a living citizen of the land of wisdom. Aside from that, he also feels tendrils barely wrapping around his torso, as well as the soft surface where his body lays dead, puffing and deflating. 

"In these years we're apart, did all of your brain cells convert into muscle cells?" Kaveh's voice rings too loud and close over his ear, too raw and genuine, much like how he would scream at him for leaving his books piled up on the most inconvenient places like the floor. "Also, did you know how much I am thanking Celestia that your teleportation skill sucks when you're not using it on yourself?"

Shock coursing through him, the silver-haired man attempts to lift himself from Kaveh yet his arms grip him tighter as if he's not crushing the blonde man under his weight. They're lying on the ground near the lift, where in haste, Alhaitham uses his flicker to push Kaveh out of danger. Perhaps, as he never intended to use it on others except himself, the landing range is shorter than usual.

Because of how strong his roommate is holding him, the acting Grand Sage can barely move, only feeling his way out to place his hand on the Architect's hair. Kaveh breathes out, shakily expelling air as if trying to hold back from breaking down in broad daylight. "If I pulled you out just a second too late, you will be—"

"But you did it on time and I am still here."

His roommate squeezes him for no less than thirty seconds more before finally letting his arms fall on the side. "So many things, I kept unsaid," the man below him mutters. No one can pretend to go deaf at how hurt and dejected his tone is. It is after the silver-haired man manages to lift himself up and stare at the blonde that he is  finally able to look at the other. "You almost vanished without ever having to know even just a fragment of those."

Under the sun starting to set and dye the entire skies orange, his senior's glimmering eyes shift to a color closer to scarlet than carmine. He shifts his head to the side, causing the golden stands of his hair to scatter unevenly like a deformed halo. Once again ruffled by their scuttle, Alhaitham reaches for the feather pen that flew out of its rightful place and holds it up.

"Your hair is in a mess again," he points out to which his roommate's only response is to  scream: 'and you really have to mention that out now?!'. The silver-haired man gives him a chuckle at that. "You can yell, gripe and nag at me while we fix your hair. I... have things to tell you as well."

Surprise and confusion lingers on the Architect's features. Perhaps, all this time he thought that he's the only one capable of having those kinds of feelings. Maybe, it's not just the acting Grand Sage who will harbor such regrets if their sentiments remain unexpressed with the recipient having no chance to hear it.

The sheer volume of mixed emotions renders the other devoid of words, oddly quiet and observing as the former Scribe staggers to his feet. Or just one foot as he tries not to lean his weight on the injured one. His companion catches on quickly and runs to lend him a shoulder.

"We should head to Birmastan," he states, his tone growing worried and weary.

"I'll be fine. My leg can wait but our long overdue talk can't."

Expressive as ever, Kaveh can't hide how anxious he is, not when his eyes shift from Alhaitham to the people running towards their direction. The silver-haired man takes this opportunity to provide a summary of the events that transpired. He even instructs them to have the area cordoned off and some of the corps come to secure it to prevent more accidents from happening. Before his roommate can recover, he's already leading him away, safe from the place that could've ended his life.

Only when he tugs him to sit on one of the tables outside the tavern did the older man notice that his junior has taken him to a semi-private place to talk . Slipping into their routine, Kaveh orders on autopilot; his mastery on budgeting kicks in as the food that arrives is perfectly on the right quantity that both of them can consume. Once again alone with the dishes, some booze and the faraway sound of the sea, Alhaitham reaches to his waist pouch and fishes out the ancient device his roommate readily recognizes.

"That's the... you fixed it? Wait." The blonde grabs the artifact and observes it. He notices the oddity immediately, attempting to shake it as a means to get it working again. His effort proves to be futile as the sands remain suspended in the state it is after the silver-haired man saved him. "The sand... stopped falling?"

"Yes."

"So YOU damaged it!" Kaveh points an accusatory finger at him. "Argh, I told you to give it to me when you find it but now that you do, YOU BROKE IT. Do YOU know how many nights I spent on fixing it?!"

"I know; I can hear you hammering through the walls every night." The former Scribe covers that finger and the other's entire hand with his own. To his surprise, another one joins the tangle, squeezing on him. "It's really annoying that I have to wear my ear pieces in bed until the difference between having them on and not is lost."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Alhaitham grasps Kaveh's hand harder. Finally he allows himself to sink into the irrationality — expressing his grief and fear of losing someone who's now here with him, alive and breathing. It's like he's back to those days of dulled out colors and unwanted silence. This is real yet he feels like it's just an absurdly long and colorful dream that will plunge him back into the nightmarish monochrome reality. 

"In another timeline you died and took all colors with you , Kaveh," he breathes out. "I lived weeks after you're gone, without much thought lest I'll turn as miserable as you on your most stressful nights. At one point, I decided to leave everything behind to heal — that's the time I found this item and fixed it by placing back the sand invigorated with my vision. When I woke up this morning and saw you, alive and well with all of the things I lost, I realized it brought me back to the past — on this exact day you're supposed to be crushed under that elevator."

"Another timeline... where I died... and you mourn my death so badly you have to leave Sumeru? Alhaitham, you know time travel is a concept that's been unproven until now—" His senior stops then observes his pathetic form. Under his stares oozing concern, the acting Grand Sage wants to break down and let the other man comfort him like in their old days. Yet, he acted too irrational for the day that he forbids himself from regressing further. Instead, he continues holding on those calloused hands. "Hypothetically speaking while taking into account that you're not lying all this time, do you even have any plans of revealing all about this to me?" The man keeps his silence, eyes casted downwards as a confirmation to the truth that will instill fear in his roommate. "...You... don't ."

Anger turns the other's eyes redder. He attempts to pull away, presumably to hit the person who cages his hands. The Architect's muscle strength is far greater than the acting Grand Sage (despite his lanky appearance) yet desperation in the silver-haired man renders the other's physical efforts futile. He then resorts to verbal assault as a come back.

"Damn you, Alhaitham! Insufferable bastard! Scum lunatic!"

"More than anyone else, you should be the one most aware of my unsavory attitude."

"Fuck you and the efforts you did just for my sake!" The older man angrily gripes as he stands from where he's seated and navigates towards Alhaitham's position without breaking their contact. He sits right beside him, so close that even air is not allowed to separate them. At this closeness, it is revealed that his fury is nothing but a façade. "Can’t fathom why you can and will go as far letting yourself die for me but the pain of my passing must be too much to deal with. I'm sorry you have to go through that without me... because of me."

"Stop blaming yourself. No matter how many times I tell you to be careful, you will go ahead and march straight into danger so it has been my duty to keep you safe instead. The moment I felt something off, I should've been by your side to protect you. My lapses led to your demise," the silver-haired man snaps. "Now that my intervention saved you from it, let me indulge in this win."

He leans into that warmth, allowing it to fully submerge him with its comfort. The gentle scent of mourning flowers eases the exhaustion that he has been carrying for months now while the other's breathing aligns all of his thoughts running rampant in his mind until it lands on one.

Alhaitham opens his eyes and finds Kaveh dozing off as well. His pristine shirt has turned dusty from lying down the riverbank earlier while his hair is significantly disheveled. Even so, the tranquility oozing from his relaxed posture and features seems to only amplify his radiance.

It's a shame to let such a beauty vanish yet one his mind latched on to a thought, he'll be less likely to let it go. He mildly shakes him while asking, "hey, aren't you supposed to say something to me too?"

After blinking the sleep away, the blonde visibly stiffens. "I do?" He chuckles, looking around for an escape. His eyes land on the food almost forgotten by their conversation earlier. "Oh we haven't eaten yet! Food's going to go cold. Let's eat."

Regrettably, in his haste, the silver-haired man is unable to continue holding the other's hand as he busies himself with their lunch slash dinner. He slithers back to his seat, grabbing all the food he can reach and downs it with giant gulps of beer. In order not to get his senior too intoxicated, he takes some of the dishes and the rest of the glasses of liquor, munching on it while watching the other man grow nervous with every second.

Taking a glance at the timepiece, it dawns on Alhaitham that if he waits for Kaveh to make the first move, they'll definitely require another artifact to help them.

"Senior Kaveh, if you're not going to talk, at least guess why I'm going as far as performing self-sacrifice for you."

Pausing halfway through his second glass of liquor, the blonde answers: "because I haven't paid my rent yet?"

"I don't desperately need the rent money from a financial standpoint," says Alhaitham with a smirk on his lips. "Also, I am quite certain that if I sell Mehrak, your mechanical assistant will fetch a hefty sum."

"Touch her with those thoughts and I'll haunt you to drag you to wherever hell I am!" Upon noticing that the former Scribe is bluffing, Kaveh clears his throat and tries to guess again. "Is it because I am your senior?"

"No one in Teyvat believes I call you 'senior' out of respect." He states with a smirk. The Architect grumbles but remains silent afterwards, letting him this as a small win. "Don't you think it's about time you realize it?"

"Realize what?" His Senior bites back.

At this point, Alhaitham is so close into believing Kaveh is genuinely unaware of his feelings. No. It can't be right however as the man is far emotionally smarter than the former Scribe can ever be. Either that or he is firm with his mindset of never having someone to lovingly look at his image every single day just as his mother did to his late father.

Well, he is here to prove him wrong.

He may never know what kind of face he is wearing as he reaches out a hand to tuck away most of Kaveh's bangs blocking his carmine eyes. But, he is aware that it is enough to paint the other's expression with the yellow of surprise. Alhaitham's hand lands on his cheeks before it finally finds the other's chin. Lifting it up, he centers the attention of his turquoise eyes ringed with sparkling orange on his love.

"Kaveh, my light, my reason all along is that I love you so much I can and will trade my life to save yours."

Words die on those lips as they part at an attempt to vomit some out. Immobile one second, almost jumping at him on the next. The blonde kneels on the table, arms wrapping the silver-haired man's shoulders like a lifeline.

His breath comes with the scent of beer from the rounds he has consumed earlier in the evening. Lips almost brushing against the former Scribe's, the blonde architect asks: "you say that but when this day ends, are you still going to love me?"

Alhaitham inhales, taking in all the stench of liquor, insecurity and doubt Kaveh gives off. As dizziness settles in, colors surrounding the man in front of him blurs out yet his focus remains undiluted with one goal in mind. If not now, there might not be another chance to tell him.

"I will still love you," the former Scribe declares. "Tomorrow morning, on the next days after that or perhaps, as the traveler attests to, on the days even from another world and lifetime — there is no one I will love except you."

Emotions flash on the surface of Kaveh's carmine eyes — surprise and joy being the most prominent. He blinks rapidly, shaking off the tears before they fall yet as he smashes his forehead on Alhaitham's shoulder, wetness blooms from where it comes in contact with his eyes. He tightens his hold on the architect. If he doesn't, he's sure to see a golden puddle on the table. It takes him a good minute of silent sobbing before lifting his head to show the former Scribe a goofy smile on his reddened face.

"From the moment we shared the same book at the House of Daena to the night we fell apart, from the moment you found me to the day you saved my life, I never stopped loving you. Now, you claim to return these feelings of mine—I..!" His breath hitches, lungs failing to ingest ample amounts of oxygen. "I love you too. Archons, you don't know how much I wanted to grab your headset off your ears and just scream this right into it."

"There's no way I can know of that. You're busy elaborating on how bad my tastes in decorations are."

"Because. It. is. TRUE!" Kaveh gripes, putting emphasis on every word that falls from his pretty lips. Those lips are so attractive, Alhaitham feels his own gravitating towards them. "Why do you even keep on buying antique wood carvings that clearly clash with the house's overall interior motif—" Giving in, the silver-haired man muffles the other man's protest with a kiss.

Melting with a single lick on his lower lip, Kaveh opens his mouth to give Alhaitham access. Greedily taking dominion over the warm cavern, he explores every part — from his teeth, roof of his mouth to the soft tongue that once uttered his endless complaints of the former Scribe's habits. He wouldn't mind kissing Kaveh forever but their lungs say otherwise.

Their lips regrettably part but their bodies remain intertwined. Soaking in each other's body warmth, they silently savour and bask in each other's embrace. Time seems to match their pace, letting the two enjoy the moment. If they could, Alhaitham wishes for this day to never end. But, he promised Kaveh all of his tomorrows and the days after that. He should dedicate them to loving the architect endlessly.

Chapter Text

Time always continues forward, consistent about never turning backwards. Alhaitham is made aware of that fact the moment that ever familiar back with the head of gold and chocolate brown marches towards the hall where all graduating students from the Akademiya go, never to return to the halls of the House of Daena wearing the same uniform as his. While time has taken his precious senior away, it has also given him the much needed break to process how they fell apart and what it did to their connection that once felt like centuries old now nothing but a weathered down broken link.

When he finds the other man again in the tavern, it has made him believe he now has a lot of it in his hands. Ample enough to allow the other man to process his own emotions and accept Alhaitham's. They can naturally progress on with the right timing.

But then he becomes too relaxed, he loses Kaveh in a blink of an eye.

In brief moments of wishful thinking, there are times he has begged the Gods to bring him back to hours, days and years prior where he could've stated his affections clearly. As he doesn't want to fall deeper into despair, he stops hoping right away, only breathing and functioning as he has no other option but never actually living. Maybe bearing a vision makes one closer to Celestia that they, if not Nahida, allow his wishes to come true.

Despite the favors he obtained, time remains cruel. It will claim what must be taken.

And so the sand from the timepiece starts falling down again. The pair who are still tangled with each other's limbs inside the privacy of the carriage remain unaware of this. Dread soon manifests itself in the form that always steals and steals.

After administering first-aid, it is recommended by the medic for Alhaitham to use a carriage instead of teleportation. Although with the splint and the temporary cast placed on his leg, the medic still advised the acting Grand Sage to go to Birmastan for a more in-depth medication. It is a relatively uneventful treatment if not for the man in question holding another person's — Kaveh's — hand like a child having a checkup for the first time.

"You. Are. SHAMELESS!" The blonde screams. "Now, I wonder what that medic is thinking after seeing the Grand Sage acting like a brat and wanting to hold hands with another grown man..."

" ACTING Grand Sage," Alhaitham corrects him before focusing on playing with the Architect's hand. He traces all of the calluses on each pad, mildly wondering how his senior got them when all he holds is a pen. He wields a claymore but he modified Mehrak's features enough for her to lift the weapon on his behalf. "She would definitely think: 'ah they're finally together' and while some rumors about us will die down, most will have a more solid foundation."

"What rumors?" Alhaitham just smiles, taunting the other with how ominous it is for him to show happiness openly. "What are you talking about? How come I didn't know this? DOES EVERYONE KNOW—" The silver-haired man closes the distance and places a quick kiss on the corner of the other's lips to silence him.

In the absence of another's anxiety-riddled noise, his ears pick up another sound — one that he thought he'll never hear again.

Leaving Kaveh flustered, the former Scribe takes the timepiece out of his pouch. Their short moment of bliss instantly melts into a puddle of dread as both of them gazes at the artifact. Its dendro sand flowing down signals another disaster that befalls on them.

The cart shakes violently with the sumpter beast crying along with inhuman screams echoing from outside. Gravity seems to be nonexistent as they're pushed back to the vehicle's roof before dropping them down with a crash. Aside from the fall, an ever familiar nausea of a tainted place renders both vision-users dizzy. Fearing they descended into an unknown withering zone, Kaveh steps out and ignores Alhaitham's calls. Hissing in pain when he accidentally puts his weight on his broken leg, the acting Grand Sage also steps out and instantly sees the peril they're in.

Trees deprived of vigor encircle the perimeter of the sinkhole they fell into while a large tumor sits on the center of the crater. Three buds are scattered in various locations, their exact location only given away by the link of wither connecting them to the tumor. Searching a nearby auspicious branch, he shudders when he finds out that it is just behind the wall of Riffhounds surrounding them.

Their blood draining ability immediately kicks in; their fangs show as they sip the blood in the air. The poor driver who isn't blessed with a vision instantly perished while the animal carrying the carriage immediately followed suit. If this isn't a deathtrap, the former Scribe can't find another word to describe it.

And of course, Kaveh has to be walking right into it by placing himself between the injured man and the endless monstrous wave, hacking away one hound after another while advancing.

Carrying the same element, they are at a disadvantage in this battle. Willing his mind to quickly formulate a strategy to get them both out, another wave of hounds attacks his partner. Summoning his mirrors, he neatly slices some while the Architect continues to cleave through the rest. Even so, more monsters appear, outnumbering them significantly. They push Kaveh back to his side, groaning. At this point, there's no other way to clear the zone; they have to climb up to retreat.

With him being injured and both of them constantly feeling the effects of the withering, his mind lands on only one escape route — a choice his love will hate him for making.

"They're too many," Kaveh complains out loud. "If only we can wait until rain comes but—"

"Kaveh, I have a plan."

"Finally, you—" The Architect pauses when he gets a glance at the expression of his lover. The hope he carries immediately vanishes as he receives the idea they telepathically shared. Despite wanting to look away, the waning yet determined teal continues meeting the carmine starting to glisten, asking its owner to take his suggestion.

More crimson steam wafts from their bodies, loss of blood renders them light-headed. All through the struggle, there is one thing the acting Grand Sage thinks of wanting to say before executing the only plan he has. "I... always regret making the wrong choices — exposing the fragility of your heart that day we split, opting to preserve what was left with our relationship instead of taking the risk earlier, picking actions over words to express how much I adore you knowing how dense you can be despite being so thoughtful." The silver-haired man can taste blood on his tongue, all senses screaming to leave the space yet his soles remain rooted on the tainted ground. "I'm done making the same mistakes over and over again. This time I am choosing you."

"Alhaitham, we haven't even made it to tomorrow. It's less than half a day after I finally got what I... we always wanted," Kaveh shakes his head, trying to slip away from the gentle touch from a thumb wiping away the tears forming on his eyes. "Don't do this to me. You never wanted to leave me, right? We can make out of this, aliv—"

"...I am glad it is you I fell in love with, Kaveh." Before the blonde can express his objections or even utter how much he feels the same, the former Scribe summons the last of his strength to ask his vision to do him one last favor.

Having done it once, he is certain enough that he can finally do it correctly at this moment. Not that he can afford to fail. Definitely not when his lover might attempt to do something stupid if he's only pushed away to a distance too close to this space.

"Flicker!" 

Verdant flashes explode. The moment the embers die out, only one man remains in the corroded land. Lifting his sword as a final fight, Alhaitham stared down at the riff hounds closing in on him.

In the middle of deafening growls and bone-crunching slashes, a voice similar yet so distinct from his own resounds inside his head.

" After centuries of seeking wisdom, we finally corrected one error from the past." In tune with the relieved voice, the artifact in his possession turns warm. It unleashes the last of its powers, never to aid Alhaitham but to convey the thoughts and one final memory buried under piles and piles of sand. " They are certainly bound to weep and bleed themselves for sakes never their own, yet you and I agree — they never deserve the fate of disappearance. "

The dream of the old Gods flashes before him .

Padisarahs bearing the shade of purple long forgotten spread throughout a small clearing. A woman? A man? Whoever they are, they sit in the middle of it, weaving the flowers into a wreath. Their golden hair with streaks of chocolate brown frames their face enchantingly, reminiscent of his roommate's image every morning he's gotten enough sleep.

Another person appears behind them, finding a spot to sit on the clearing. He takes bundles of those silken strands and expertly makes an ensemble of braids. Afterwards, the man places one on the other's shoulder, the feminine hairstyle oddly bringing out the blonde's sharp features. They offer the man a smile who returns it as warm as someone with Alhaitham's face can give.

"I love you," the man the former Scribe identifies as King Deshret, declares. "I will love you."

A hint of pain flashes on the eyes of that person with Kaveh's face — Nabu Malikata. They stand, meeting the other person eye to eye. "Thank you for loving me. When we see each other again, I shall return your feelings in full, if not more."

"Holding on to the thought of meeting you again in the future is more than enough for now."

"Perhaps its effect will last longer if you're less greedy," they giggle while stroking their hair. With every touch, flowers bloom and act as ornaments on it. "But I am merely following the fate laid upon me. My future incarnations will face the identical one as a consequence for our shared wish; however, no matter what form I take, I shall devote all of my affection to you."

The man stares at them, dejection crawling on his skin. Ambition weighs heavier than his love; a shared vision in exchange for one life perishing while the other carries loneliness for the rest of it. 

He allowed it once, twice, even thrice. But, no longer can he accept his love's fate... "... for this time, I will be the one to bear the punishment," finishing the thought he and the ancient voice share, Alhaitham drops his weapon.

A realization, albeit far too late to share with his love over drinks and hear his academic take on it, dawns over him. Kaveh's fate involving self-sacrificial death is written in the stars, an ending to his story long orchestrated before the main character is even born. He is foolish, like that deceased king, to think he can rewrite it without swapping out his role for another.

Embracing the unfitting end for the blonde as his own, he remains stationary as the riffhound raises its claws to deal the final blow. Before everything turns into a canopy of reds and blacks, the former Scribe manages to come up with one final taunt. "At least I am able to kiss him." The last thing he hears is a fond yet envious, borderline maniacal laughter.

Kaveh enjoys acquiring small joys — a visually pleasing home, perfectly brewed coffee cooled down to his preferred temperature, warm soup, having most (if not all) of his proposals approved AND his roommate being cordial with him.

Although Alhaitham being nice to him sounds like a warning before the world ends.

At a young age, he already learned that trying to acquire greater joys in life will only lead to having more taken from you.

He wanted to have a certain diadem and he lost his father because of his wish.

He wanted for his closest confidant to understand his point of view but he pushed him away instead.

He wanted to actualize his dream but he lost everything, mora and possessions, in the process.

When the only thing he thought he'd never get back returned to pick him up and his shattered pieces, he resolved to settle with whatever Alhaitham gives him and silently do all he can for him instead. Even the tiniest of the tiny happiness is still worth treasuring, especially when it's all he deserves to have.

Unsurprisingly, however, that man managed to do the unexpected. The person he silently wished to covet has been his all along, never realizing it until hours prior. And with his reassurances of a tomorrow with him, he hopes for one final time, that he indeed deserves more than small joys.

Now, as tears flow without pause from his unseeing carmine eyes. He reaches out yet the one he wishes to grab is so far away. His beloved junior outdid himself once more by teleporting Kaveh out of danger, too far to grab him out of the zone much like how he did in the port.

Footsteps and voices bounce, arms grab him to embrace his person in warmth to ground him. He can't hear them nor feel them warding off the cold. The tears continue to flow along with the realization that he'll never be able to obtain a piece of glee in this world devoid of that person's presence.

And then he wonders: if he refused the greatest joy in the form of having Alhaitham as his lover, will he actually do as he says — to exchange his life for Kaveh?

The answer will never come.

Light of Kshahrewar — a moniker that has been associated with the darshan's most distinguished graduate and the architect behind the Palace of Alcazarzaray. With his blonde hair, blinding smiles and equally radiant personality, the title indeed suits Kaveh. Perhaps everyone will agree until they see him help in carrying a casket of the most lavish teal towards its final destination — an equally elegantly designed mausoleum built by his own hands. 

His hair, once held in an elaborate setup of a single braid pressed on the back of his head with red hairpins and a blue quill tucked on his ear, is now loosely hanging on his shoulders without any ornaments. The Architect no longer smiles and his carmine eyes have lost their glimmer along with the man that occupies the casket. His brilliant personality seems to have died along with the stoic acting Grand Sage — one can barely hear him talk, if anyone can even make him.

One of those is a pink-haired merchant. She arrives by his doorstep, taking a swift look at the man before immediately offering a room in her house . A soft "let me clean our house first" resounds before she nods, invited inside a once shared residence, now too big for the sole person occupying it.

Sitting on one of the couches, Dori observes how the architect slowly moves around the house. He tidies up the pile of books near the kitchen and places them back on the shelves. Next, he washes a week-or-so-old dishes and neatly stacks them back into the cupboards. And finally, he approaches one of the rooms at the further back of the hallway.

The merchant decides not to come with him until she hears something heavy fall on the floor followed by an anguished scream. The Architect is slumped on his knees, fingers from one hand hanging on the doorknob of the room Dori assumes to be Alhaitham's. His shoulders shake and tears everyone thought long dried after crying non-stop during the wake fall from his eyes in a way the merchant is so familiar with. It oozes with grief — a realization that a precious thing has been taken away with no chances of reclamation.

The Merchant sits by Kaveh's side, grasping one his free hand similar to when she held her sister's. They stay in that position until all sounds vanish from the man, or rather, until he loses what remained of his voice.

Later that night, the blonde is seen with a Pink-haired girl, going out for the first time that week after the Acting Grand Sage's death. From what they testify later, the pair walk towards the direction of the Palace of Alcazarzaray before vanishing into the darkness.

Days after his disappearance, Cyno dispatches himself to look for Kaveh. Tighnari explicitly asked him to allow the Architect to process his emotions yet he can't remain on standby after learning about that recommendation letter followed by his apparent kidnapping. Finding the blonde may cause more harm than help to his well being yet he decides that it is a matter that their friend must know... unless he'll fall deeper where they can no longer reach him.

Sneaking past the Palace's alarming increase in guards, the General Mahamatra anticlimactically finds the subject of his search standing outside before an array of canvases filled with vivid colors. A brush on one hand and a mixing plate on another, he makes gentle strokes on the work-in-progress painting of a familiar interior he positively identifies as the Grand Sage's office.

Vivid blues dominate the canvas. The colors of the books on the shelves surrounding a lone table is as eerily accurate as Cyno remembers. There are only two occupants in the room filled with stacks of papers — one silver-haired man and the other is the painter himself. Their poses seem to be so relaxed as they appear to be discussing the contents the man sitting on the Grand Sage's table is holding.

He puts the brush down and reaches towards the image of the silver-haired man in the artwork who appears to be Alhaitham. Stopping centimeters before touching the wet paint, he keeps his hand raised as if hoping that the man he painted will reach out to him as well. Cyno blinks and finally notices that the various canvases surrounding Kaveh feature him and his deceased lover in various locations like their quaint kitchen, the café, the tavern at Port Ormos and now the Grand Sage's room.

"Documentation complete," Kaveh mutters all of a sudden that snaps Cyno out of admiring the artworks the Architect made. "Now that I have nothing else left to do, can I go with you now, Alhaitham?"

Chill creeps up on the patches of skin exposed by General Mahamatra's clothing. His friend is slipping away, one step too close where no one will ever see him again.

"Sorry to spoil that plan. Kaveh, can we ask you a selfish favor, for the people of Sumeru?"

Before he realizes where his legs bring him, he's standing beside his good friend, handing a masterless vision and the letter. For the fragile-hearted Architect, having those items in his person will be a cruel punishment of forcing himself to live on despite wanting to be with his love. Yet, when the littlest glimmer of life reappears on those dull carmine, almost mauve, eyes as he reads the letter, Cyno can only hope that he will recover.

More than a month after the Acting Grand Sage Alhaitham passed away, the rest of the sages accepted his recommendation to elect Kaveh — specifically citing how emphatic his insights are compared to the late former Scribe. No one attempts to voice out this opinion though, or they'll risk being stared by those lifeless rubies turned eerily ferocious.

Most of the time, he is the more-than-capable Grand Sage, some of the it, he is a broken, loveless man. Everyone has to keep themselves deaf whenever a series of muffled cries echo from his office at times. It is not for that man's sake, for everyone with a heart will definitely have it ripped away and crushed the moment they witness the view of a man mourning for the loss of his entire world.

No one, except for the Archon of the nation, knows if allowing him to take up the position is good for his soul or not. She visits him frequently to check, looking after the man as if confirming the justness of her initial decision. This current visit is one of those that makes her doubt her own judgment.

Amidst the towers of papers awaiting approval or rejection, there is only one thing the Grand Sage has his eyes on — an ancient book that is seemingly restored back to its prime. Orbs of carmine devoid of mirth stare down the item, rivulets of tears threaten to destroy the cover with moisture damage as they fall on it.

Undiluted pain pricks the hollowed part Alhaitham left inside Kaveh. He pretends not to perceive it ever since that insufferable man is gone yet today, the hurt comes hurling towards him and all of his functions stupidly shut down. This must be how his mother felt when his father died; no wonder it took her years to recover.

Will he even? He isn't sure.

"...Kaveh?" He immediately attempts to wipe his tears away but a smaller, shorter and chubbier finger does it for him. The God of Dendro floats above the table, verdant eyes watching him, worried.

"I—I'm sorry you have to see me like this, Lesser Lord Kusanali."

The archon shakes her head, bundled silver and green hair strands follow its movements. "You don't have to hide it from me."

Nahida moves from the table, to the space behind him. She points at his hair that now grew a few inches longer as if asking for his permission to play with it. He nods, seeing no problem with it.

If he is the one to touch it, it'll be another story though.

She pulls a few strands of his hair that's been unstyled since the passing of his lover. He only combs it to flatten out the kinks before ghostly fingers tangle themselves on the strands. Her hands are so much smaller than his and Alhaitham's so it's less likely for him to show more of his embarrassing and messy mourning.

"Based from my observations, feelings of grief and loneliness eases out by a bit when you verbally address it with other entities to listen to you," she continues, sweeping more of the golden locks away from his pale face. "Since there's no one here except you and I, would you like to tell me?"

She floats away and gets herself seated on an unoccupied space on the table before handing out a mirror. Taking a glance at his reflection, he learns that she styled his hair similar to how he typically does it with the exception of placing a pair of a mourning flower and a padisarah in exchange for his favorite feather pen. His image flicks a certain switch inside of him.

Like a dam passing its volume limit, the Architect crumples before the kind archon. "I miss him so much. I feel like I'm about to lose my mind every day I wake up without him," he laments, a hand going up to hold the cold masterless vision he pinned on the left shoulder of his cloak. His eyes turn redder than usual, puffed up from nights of sobbing while cries with a voice hoarse from repeatedly screaming one name. No matter how many times he calls, that person will never arrive. "Is there any way I could meet Alhaitham again? Can I even see him once more?"

"Yes, you will. You already did... Lord of Flowers — my dear friend." The gentle God reassures, calling him by a title he never knew he had. The name sounds familiar to the ears of the Architect though. It feels like he has been called by that name before. "You found Deshret in this lifetime. And, as deep as the irminsul's roots go, you two are bound to meet each other again."

All while listening to her words, Kaveh's eyes turn heavy, and the sleep he has deprived himself of for days blankets over him with comfort. Sluggishly, he rests his head on the table Alhaitham used and now as the newly appointed Grand Sage, the table he occupies. He has his arms folded to be used as his pillow, sighing in comfort as his God, perhaps his friend from another lifetime, takes his mind to peek at another world.

It is where the architecture of buildings are far different than what Kaveh has visualized before, he dreams of a blonde man wearing an otherworldly clothing and operating a machine much advanced than his coffee brewing device. He bears the same carmine eyes, a carefree smile and a voice similar to his own. Separated by a marble counter, he talks over to a silver-haired man bearing the same face as the Architect's lost lover, albeit wearing more layers than Kaveh's Alhaitham. Those turquoise eyes with rings of bright orange stares lovingly at the other Kaveh. He, the other Alhaitham, reaches out a hand to tuck a stray behind the other man's ear. The silver band on its ring finger glints, matched by another golden band around the finger of the other Kaveh's hand.   

The Grand Sage smiles at what he witnesses in his dreams while Nahida gently pets his golden hair. "Good night, I hope this dream will get you through another samsara's wait."