Chapter Text
Love: an intense feeling of deep affection:
The dictionary definition of love is an intense feeling of deep affection. It’s when you feel so much for someone or something, when all of that feeling turns into something you wish you had a word for, that’s love.
But for Kaveh, love was different. Love was something that took root in his heart and grew. Love was something that he took care of and watered and nurtured right in the carve of his chest. Love was something he held gently, something he wished to explode with in feeling and life. And when he nurtured that love enough, it grew. In most cases, it would grow and burst out of his chest to be shared with the other person.
In this case, it did not. Instead, it grew past his heart. It grew so large, so passionate, so deep, so meaningful–
That it had no more space to grow. And Kaveh refused to let it out.
So it took root elsewhere. It took root in his lungs. In his lungs they carved a home. In his lungs they dug their teeth into his maw and they grew.
And through all the pain, he still did not let it out.
Not even for his life.
~
Kaveh loved Alhaitham. So much that it
hurt.
Kaveh was no stranger to loving or losing, he’d known it since he was a child. He’d been shaken and tossed into the cruel ocean of grief, forced to deal with it ever since he could remember. At least, what he could remember.
With Alhaitham it was different. He didn’t even realize it was love until their relationship changed far past repair. Since their Akademiya days, it’s been hard to tell. Sort of a mixed bag.
It was much simpler in the Akademiya, when they were young, naive, and simply… happy. Oftentimes, Kaveh would think about the first time he met Alhaitham in the House of Daena. He was studying, scrolls unkempt, pens astray, a typical Wednesday afternoon.
He had rushed out of the hall, late for his afternoon lecture when he’d catapulted into his fellow junior, soon to be known as Alhaitham. Alhaitham was much shorter than him during those days, carrying a certain boyish air to how he held himself. It was sweet, endearing. Kaveh had apologized profusely, barely giving himself time to spare a glance at his junior before sweeping himself off to his next class.
It wasn’t until he made it to class that he’d realized that he left important papers on the floor with the boy he had crashed into.
After his class, Kaveh found the silvery tufts of hair peeking out over the uniform, hunched over his papers.
When Kaveh sat down next to the boy all he had to say for himself was, “You dropped these.”
Kaveh stared at him in a gentle wonder for only a moment, entranced by the soft-spoken voice yet piercing stare that looked right back at him.
“Oh…ah, thank you,” Kaveh had managed to utter back, taking his papers back from the junior.
“You have fascinating work. It’s very intriguing,” the boy seemed to be shy, and didn’t want to look Kaveh directly in the eye.
“Thank you,” Kaveh said again simply.
At the time, Kaveh didn’t notice the poor boy trying to say something, perhaps introduce himself, or ask if they could be friends. And it wasn’t until many years later that Kaveh had realized that Alhaitham would come to the House of Daena every day after they exchanged words.
Simple greetings, nothing more.
It’s cruel, in a way, to revisit moments in the past that felt like nothing in the moment but become a fleeting whisper etched into the stones of time.
Yes, Kaveh would often reminisce, especially when his day had been thrown off the rails (as it does most days), and he would drop his pen onto the table and tuck his chin in his hands. He’d recede back into the depths of his memory and pull out small golden ones, remembering how simple things were back then.
Most of those memories included Alhaitham without him even noticing. Showing up to the House of Daena to see Alhaitham hunched over their shared work with his awful posture, going out to eat with Alhaitham, settling down with Tighnari and Cyno over a round of drinks, the list goes on.
It doesn’t happen on purpose. In a sick and twisted way, Alhaitham had wormed his way into the most important parts of his life, whether it be sweet and easy, or uncomfortably vulnerable.
Like the time where Kaveh had broken down about his horrible misfortunes, or the time Alhaitham found him crying to the accidentally shattered picture-frame of his mother and father.
He’d seen it all, in every small and stupid crack and crevice of Kaveh’s life, Alhaitham had become a constant. Nobody could refute that.
Alhaitham had become a whirling constant in Kaveh’s simultaneously overwhelmingly bright yet dull life. At that point, who could blame him for falling in love?
It wasn’t some huge, bright realization, somehow Kaveh had always known, maybe even from the very beginning that he loved Alhaitham. But realization came with awareness, and suddenly everything became harder. Everything…meant more.
Touches on the shoulder that lingered far longer than it should’ve, and meant far more to Kaveh than reasonable. Glances that cut through him like a knife that could bring him to his knees or tears to his eyes. Simple gestures that Alhaitham probably meant as an afterthought that really meant the world to Kaveh.
Things like that framed their complicated, confusing relationship. Especially lately, with all the help Alhaitham had provided to Kaveh. The house, the food, his bar tab, all simple comforts. He felt like he owed the world to Alhaitham. If it wasn’t for his bruising pride, he’d be singing words of appreciation, gratitude dripping off of every word; but Kaveh didn’t have much except his pride. He didn’t want to grant Alhaitham the satisfaction of the sugary words anyway, some criticism probably hiding somewhere in his next clipped phrases.
It wasn’t fair to Alhaitham, to have a pathetic love-sick imposter living in his home, leeching off of his well-earned success. Kaveh despised himself for it every day, when he woke up drinking coffee from a pot that wasn’t his, brewing beans that he didn’t buy, sitting in a chair that belonged within a house that was never his.
He didn’t deserve these comforts provided by his generous junior, and every silvery wisp or piercing gaze reminded him of it.
Sometimes Kaveh wondered what it’d be like if he knew for a fact that Alhaitham didn’t love him back. That he didn’t want his love; because then, it’d be easier. It’d be easier to get over it, even if it ripped him from the inside out. Even if his heart shattered messily, crumbling around the confines of his ribcage, sinking to be dissolved by the acids of his stomach.
He’ll wish and crave for the sturdy safety of confirmation when Alhaitham looks at him, eyes softened just so around the edges.
And yet, every now and then Alhaitham will do something that shakes Kaveh to his core. He’ll come home late, Kaveh will be on the divan, and he’ll trail over wordlessly. He’ll stop at the foot of the divan, inches away from where Kaveh is sitting, waiting for him, and then he’ll settle himself onto Kaveh’s shoulder beside him.
He won’t say anything, Kaveh doesn’t question it, but the affections are there, and they fill Kaveh with so much desire to hold and to be held. It floods in from the small heat radiating off of Alhaitham’s head and spreads deep into Kaveh’s skin, piercing it’s way through his blood and through his bones settling into his soul.
Body, flesh, and soul he loves and craves Alhaitham so much it hurts and tears him apart because he knows he can’t have him. He knows he can’t love Alhaitham. He isn’t allowed to. He won’t allow himself to.
So any crumbs of affection have to be brushed off by him, anything that made Kaveh feel like maybe Alhaitham loved him back– he suppresses them. He buries them deep deep down because no amount of love or longing can destroy suffocating guilt.
He’ll let Alhaitham warm up against his side, savoring every moment before he has to return to reality, and then Alhaitham will get up and leave. Kaveh will swallow his disappointment and blink back the stupid tears that spring in his eyes, brushing off the naiveté he was mistaken to have.
Except this time… this time, Kaveh didn’t just have disappointment or tears, his whole chest wracks with pain, making him double over with a grimace.
He stays bent over, eyes blown wide, chest shuddering, and then his body shakes with coughs as he gasps for air, throat burning with the effort. He clamps his hand over his mouth and forces himself back into a sitting position, body still trembling with the force of the coughs.
He takes in shaky breaths when the coughing stops, calming himself down. He brushes off the coughing attack and goes to bed, curling in on himself, ignoring the lingering ache deep in his chest.
Kaveh forgets about the coughing until two weeks later. He’s bent over his desk, hand cramping around the pencil, brain begging for reprieve. His eyes are tired from focusing on the paper for so long, his candle basically burnt out already.
He puts the pencil down, and sags back into the hard chair behind him, screwing his eyes shut, a puff of air leaving his lungs. He spares a glance for the clock on his table and it reads three in the morning. It’s nothing new to him, to work deep into the night, burying his mind and body in his models and designs, dragging out sketch upon sketch until the evening becomes morning and the morning is dawn, prompting him to start his new day.
It’s nothing new for him to work himself to the bone, yet lately, he’s felt weaker. Like his hands could no longer bear the weight of the simple pen.
He places his head on the desk, promising himself to only rest his mind for just a moment–
And then he wakes up the next morning, a thick blanket on his shoulders. He stumbles for just a second, pulling the woolen blanket off of his shoulders to give it a long stare.
It’s brown and sturdy, probably made out of wool. It’s soft and well-worn, and it’s not his. It’s Alhaitham’s.
Some time in the night, Alhaitham had come in and draped this blanket over Kaveh’s shoulders when he had fallen asleep. The sentiment touches his heart, almost as warm as the heavy blanket that hangs around his frame. The sentiment is only allowed to linger for a single moment before his chest seizes up and he gags over the table, coughing hard, bringing tears to his eyes, forcing air past his throat.
He doesn’t stop coughing for a while, the effort of the coughing makes him slump over the table, breathing harshly, and a small tear slips out of the corner of his eye into the design that he was working on from the night before.
He pushes himself off of the table onto shaky legs, trembling with the effort. He drags himself to the bathroom and peers at himself in the mirror. He gasps at how pale he looks, like all the blood has drained from his face. He shudders, missing the warmth of the blanket that had encased his shoulders only moments ago–
He doubles over in coughs again, fingers digging into the cool material of the sink as he coughs into it, his chest burning with every pitiful forceful push that leaves his chest. He gives another forceful hack, a bundle of white clover flowers tumbling out of his mouth, the taste of leaves lingering on his tongue for barely a moment before landing in the sink.
He stares down in bewilderment as the flower unfurls from its ball, blooming almost tauntingly at him. The white of the petals are barely flecked with blood. He stares in horror at the splatter of petals and a singular flower that presents itself in front of him and the white sink.
He grabs the flower, balling it up in his fist and then tosses it into the waste can right beside the sink. He grits his teeth, ignoring the implications he truly wished were false.
~
He stumbles into the kitchen, seeing Alhaitham already sitting at the table, sipping his cup of coffee, novel in hand. He looks devastatingly handsome and graceful, illuminated by the gentle morning light, and Kaveh’s throat tickles with the desire to hack up more flowers.
He coughs in his mouth, hand flying up to catch himself, but it’s too late. Alhaitham notices and his eyes flick up from his book to stare at Kaveh slumped by the doorway.
“Good morning, Kaveh,” is all he says, and then he busies himself with his book again.
Kaveh grunts, suppressing another cough, and then stumbles over to the counter that holds the coffee. He picks it up, and it feels unusually heavy, as he pours the liquid into a mug with shaking hands.
Some of the hot liquid sloshes onto the counter and Kaveh mops it up with a sleeve of his blouse. He takes a drink of the coffee greedily, paying no mind to the almost too-hot temperature, eager for the smooth bitterness of it to wash away the tang of blood in his mouth.
He finishes the cup at the counter, the warmth of it calming down the pain in his throat and chest, allowing him a sigh of relief. He pours himself another cup and grabs breakfast as a second thought and seats himself across from Alhaitham.
Alhaitham spares him a small curious glance, wondering why Kaveh was acting so odd, but doesn’t really say much about it. He puts his novel down and stares at Kaveh head-on, almost as if he wanted Kaveh to say something to him.
“Thank you for the blanket last night,” Kaveh mumbles out around the mouthful of food he’d shoveled into his mouth.
Alhaitham hums, “Don’t worry about it. You should be sleeping more, you’ve been looking sick lately.”
The comment strikes Kaveh to his core, burning him with shame from the inside out. He mumbles something about being fine, and puts more food in his mouth, hoping that Alhaitham will take the hint to drop the subject.
He does not.
“Really Kaveh, you’ve been looking pale, sleep early tonight–”
“I’m fine,” he cuts him off, “I’ve just been coming down with a cold, that’s all. I’ll be fine in no time.”
Alhaitham drops the subject, but he doesn’t look happy about it. He parts his lips as if he wants to say something more, but he just reopens his book. Kaveh sinks a little bit into the backing of his chair, relief that the conversation had ended.
He finishes his breakfast, bidding Alhaitham farewell with no intention to work for that day. When Alhaitham leaves, Kaveh retreats into Alhaitham’s study, praying that there’s a scroll about special diseases and such because he has a horrible, awful hunch that he prays with every fiber of his being is incorrect.
He opens the door carefully, and distantly he thinks it feels wrong to poke around Alhaitham’s private space like this. But his hunch was eating away at him, and he had to know if he was right or not.
He pokes up and down around the various bookshelves Alhaitham has, and finds the specific scroll he’s looking for.
Diseases and Ailments
He stares at it in momentary shock that it is a hardcover book, proving its elderly status. He blows the dust off of the top and cracks it open, flipping it through the delicate pages. He skims the pages, tracing his fingers down the cracking ink in awe. He flips through to the back, and then back to the front, landing on the table of contents. He searches down the list until he finds what he’s looking for.
Hanahaki:
A rare, but very real disease. This disease is born out of “unrequited love.” No one knows how or why this disease happens, some theorize that it has something to do with Ley Lines. Since there have only been around one-hundred recorded cases (courtesy of the Teyvat census) the disease has barely been studied, and there is no cure as of present-day other than the known method of requited love. Hanahaki disease starts with seeds lodging itself into your lungs. They pierce the flesh and nestle deep into the lung and take root, feeding off of negative emotions such as the ramifications of unrequited love. As the disease progresses, a plant will grow within your lungs and then expand into vines, and soon, flowers. When the flowers grow in number and size, the victim will suffocate and eventually die. The type of flower varies in shape and size depending on the patient. Most people tend to cough up meanings associated to the certain flower, list entailed below:
Aloe: affection, grief
Amaryllis: pride
Aster: love, daintiness
Baby’s breath: everlasting love
Camellia, pink: longing
Red carnation: deep love
Yellow carnation: rejection
Clover, white: think of me
Daffodil: unequaled love
Forget-me-not: do not forget me
Honeysuckle: bonds of love
Purple Hyacinth: sorrow
Yellow Hyacinth: jealousy
Marigold: grief, jealousy
Wisteria: jealousy
Yarrow: everlasting love
Zinnia: lasting affection
These are the only flowers that have been recorded, other than the infamous rose, which kills almost immediately when it takes root. If you’ve contracted this disease, my sorrows go out to you. It is rare for those inflicted with this disease to make any recovery, your sole option is to confess your feelings, in hopes that the other person may requite them.
Kaveh closes the book numbly, as if he’d been tossed into autopilot. He drops his weight onto the desk, the book slipping out of his fingers to land on the table. He panics deep inside, hands trembling, air suddenly colder around him.
He scans the room around him, breaths coming in shallow.
Would he live long enough to be invited back into this very room?
He pushes himself off the desk, hot tears dripping from his eyes, but he doesn’t notice them. He slides down the bookshelf, head in his hands, eyes scanning the room frantically, almost trying to commit the bits of it to memory, clutching onto scraps of life in front of him.
How much longer will I be alive? How much time do I have left?
Kaveh pushes himself back up to the desk, flipping through the book frantically, begging for something else, a time estimation, something, anything–
He comes across nothing. He doesn’t know much much longer he’d be alive. He does not know how much longer his choked lungs would draw breath.
He slides back down the length of the bookshelf, clutching at his knees, desperate to hold onto something. He starts to gasp for air, looking around frantically.
Is this it? Is this how I die?
He throws his arms around him, grasping at the floor, tears pricking at his eyes. His breathing has come so fast now that he has no control of it, oxygen being dragged unwillingly into his system with frantic breaths. He starts to feel aches and pricks of pain twinging at his chest, shattering him to his core–
He starts to cough and hack, a broken, ugly thing. His chest convulses around nothing and he lies on the floor, the effort of holding any body weight too much effort for him. He lets the ground take his weight as he struggles for any breath in between sobs and coughs, body flailing on the ground before coming back down painfully.
He doesn’t know how long he suffers, mind and body, terrified for his life, begging for air, but at some point, it stops. The hacking ceases, the tears dry in long tracks. He’s almost scared to take another breath, fearing that a painful cough will accompany it. Yet, he takes a deep breath, chest rattling with the effort. And then he takes another, and another.
Eventually, he regains the energy to sit himself up, raspy breath accompanying his effort. He drops his head against the bookshelf once more.
Kaveh starts to think, mind racing. He was as good as dead. There was no doubt about it. How long had it been since he started showing symptoms? A month? Perhaps two? In any case, he didn’t have that much time left, his condition says that much.
Kaveh gave himself one more month at most before he passed. The thought passed bitterly. Here he was at twenty-seven years old. He would never grow old. He would never have children. He would never see Liyue. He would die bankrupt.
He would die.
Kaveh would die.
Tears would’ve pricked at his eyes once more, but he had run out, all that was left was sheer exhaustion.
He would die.
Kaveh was staring at his death sentence straight in the face, yet he felt calm. He was scared, of course, but he couldn’t do anything about it. His love was going to kill him, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
Now was no time to think of regrets or sorrows, he only had so many days left to walk Teyvat. His days were numbered, and there was no point in wasting any more puffs of air pitying himself. He had spent much too long doing that in his short lifetime.
Kaveh was okay with dying young, but he refused to die alone.
He had his work cut out for him.
~
The first thing he did was write out “of sound body and mind” exactly what he wanted to happen when he passed, and exactly what to do with his belongings and body. When that process had wrapped itself up, the issue at question here was what to do with his remaining life.
Kaveh paced the room silently, his will in hand, pencil in the other.
Well, Kaveh knew that he didn’t want to live the rest of his life drawing out models and going to work seeing clients, so he would cancel all of his ongoing projects tomorrow. He wanted to see his friends a few times, but definitely not spend the rest of his fleeting moments in Avidya forest with the forest watchers or in the desert with Cyno. He didn’t want to spend much time with his mother, if not any, in Fontaine, so that left Alhaitham.
The perpetrator for ending his life so suddenly.
In a sick, twisted, way, Kaveh wanted to spend the rest of his days with Alhaitham. He wanted to spend any last ticking moments or seconds with the one who had helped put him in this very predicament.
But that wasn’t all, Kaveh wanted to live, he wanted to go out and see what was left of the world that he would never be able to witness in the rest of his years. He wanted to do so much, see things that lay in and out of Sumeru.
So he drafted a list.
Go to Liyue, Mondstat, and Sumeru one last time
Return to my hometown
Qingyun Peak
Kaveh wrote down as many as he could think of at the moment, albeit a sad list. While he wasn’t entirely satisfied with it, it would have to do. He didn’t have much time, anyway.
He walked into the kitchen, placing the slip of paper down onto the table, sitting down at his usual spot. Some part of him wished that he had more time. Actually, every part of him wished for more time. More time, more money, more places to go, more substance. He wished to be alive. Truly alive, not just to exist.
He wished with all of his aching heart and dying breath that he could have the time to mourn his own life, and reminisce the sweet memories that shaped his childhood, but starting tomorrow, he would be off. Ready to check everything off of that slip of paper. He needed to live in the moments he had left.
It was at that time that Alhaitham had returned home from work, opening the door, tossing the keys into the bowl, slipping his coat off, mumbling off a greeting to Kaveh, tired from his day at work. It was all routine, familiar to the two of them.
Kaveh ignored the pressing warning not to do what he was about to do, but he had become a new man, and consequences truly meant nothing to him anymore. He got up from the table, ignoring the small tickle that threatened to explode from his chest, and pulled Alhaitham into a hug.
A real, true hug.
They had never hugged before, not even in the Akademiya, nor after their scathing fight. This was the first time in Kaveh’s lifetime and regrettably most likely the last time he would ever pull Alhaitham’s body against his and feel the heartbeat next to his.
“Kaveh? What’s wrong? What is this?” Alhaitham questioned, pushing Kaveh's shoulder back.
If this was Kaveh’s last hug, he needed it to be worth it so he hugged Alhaitham tighter, “Please, don’t ask.”
Alhaitham noticed the warbled desperation in Kaveh’s voice and did not argue. His hands came up and rubbed at Kaveh’s back, embracing him back tightly.
His scent, his warmth, his arms, his everything encased Kaveh and he let out a small sigh of contentment. The twinges of affection and happiness were short-lived, accompanied by pricks of pain deep in his chest, aching and begging to be released.
He let go of Alhaitham reluctantly, keeping him within arm’s reach.
Alhaitham too, let go and then asked, “What was that all about?”
Kaveh sighed, “I just wanted to. At least once.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s…difficult to explain. Actually, come sit down for dinner, I have to ask you about something.”
Alhaitham came down to sit, just as Kaveh had asked, the weariness in his bones evaporating, replaced by curiosity.
“Well?” Alhaitham asked after thanking Kaveh for the meal.
“I…”
Originally, Kaveh was going to tell Alhaitham about the disease, yet he couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t bring himself to share the death sentence that loomed over his head. It was his own burden to bear. But he didn’t necessarily want to go through all of it alone. He couldn’t.
“I have to ask you something. And it’s very big and important to me, so please do not think of it as a joke.”
“Okay…” Alhaitham was nervous. Kaveh had never spoken to him with such a tone.
“I’m quitting my job, and I’m traveling the world. I have a list, and I have to complete everything on that list or I will never forgive myself. It has to happen soon because of special circumstances, and I would like for you to join me. Actually, I almost require for you to join me because I may never forgive myself if this doesn’t happen either. I know it sounds ridiculous but you need to understand that this is the last thing I may ever ask of you and I promise you will understand why soon. I just need you to go with me. Please.”
Alhaitham’s mouth lay agape for a moment.
“What?” was all he could say, stunned.
“Please, Alhaitham. Please.”
“What? I could– I could never…I…your job, what about your future?”
Kaveh laughed at that, “I have it all taken care of, I promise it will make sense soon–”
“Soon? When is soon? What is your reason? I simply don’t understand–”
“Listen, I can’t tell you. I just can’t. But please I have to do this. This…this is worth more to me than anything else in the world right now, and I’m begging you, please go with me.”
“I…” Alhaitham’s arguments melted away when he saw the sheer desperation on Kaveh’s face.
When he saw the pure desperation, the raw voice, everything about it screamed real and urgent. Kaveh was right. Alhaitham could see it in his eyes, and written all over his face. Kaveh needed this. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know how, but something inside of him knew that this was incredibly important to Kaveh. Incredibly.
So past reason, and past logic or rationale, Alhaitham agreed.
The relief that spread through Kaveh’s face and body only managed to confuse Alhaitham more, absolutely nonplussed by the behavior.
“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you Alhaitham. I promise, this is the last thing I will ever ask of you.”
“Don’t…mention it. When do we leave?” Alhaitham almost couldn’t believe the words that were spilling out of his mouth right now.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Alhaitham spluttered, “How would that even work? I…I have to put in a notice, and we have to pack, where are we even going?”
“Oh, come on, scribe, you’ve never taken a vacation, they can’t reject your leave, besides, what would you even do with the months of untouched vacation?”
“I can see that, but tomorrow? That’s far too short.”
“Please?” Kaveh stared at him.
Alhaitham broke eye contact, scratching the back of his neck.
“Fine.”
Kaveh only grinned in response.