Chapter Text
“Today, we're joined by Alhaitham, an akademiya award-winning actor whose career spans from global hits to iconic character performances. From the heartbreaking classic ‘Lay of Al-Ahmar’, ‘Hamavaran’, and the record breaking show ‘Shiruyeh and Shirin’. Keep your eyes peeled for the brand new blockbuster ‘A Thousand Nights’, starring Alhaitham as the researcher who’s in over his head, which is set to release in theaters near you.”
The man of the hour stepped into frame, wearing a sleek suit that complimented his viridian eyes. His hair was slicked back, his strides long and comfortable as he smoothly shook hands with the welcoming host.
Alhaitham was the focal point, brightened by several studio lights, wearing a gentle smile that could rival the lighting.
He was in his element. The right amount of casual, the right amount of confident.
He arrived on the stage, waving to the adoring crowd as he sat on a plush, cushioned couch. They exchanged friendly small talk, rehearsed. Enthusiastic claps, hollers—from men and women alike—to be wed for marriage, and various cheers of his name were backed with an enthusiastic house band.
He settled down, as if he was in the living room of his own home. He made eye contact with the camera. "Thank you for having me—"
Kaveh turned away.
He scowled, cursing himself for getting distracted. It was hard not to when the clip was being played everywhere he went.
As much as he wanted to block the interview out, the battery of his headphones died, and even scrolling through his phone wasn’t enough to distract him.
How many times can a man scroll through the same weather app before he went insane?
Alhaitham’s face was the same as it always was. When the man told the press about his one step skin care routine, which was just water? Lies. There should be, at the very least , 12 steps to his routine.
Kaveh was quick to call bullshit.
His fans embraced the fact like Alhaitham was sculpted by the hands of their archon herself! But throughout all the years Kaveh spent in the industry, it was far more believable if the man sold his soul to the devil for those looks.
Whether it was the camera angle or his makeup artist’s doing, even an enlarged face in a huge screen did not subtract any points from his appearance.
His advertisement was at the side of a towering building, surrounded by other brands that blinked and persuaded others to pay attention to their products.
Although it was not the largest, it was awfully distracting. Like an eyelash stuck in Kaveh’s eye, he could barely keep his attention away from it.
It was a stupid marketing tactic, a low effort trap for investors to throw mora into a bottomless ditch.
Kaveh read the book, and knowing the pattern most movie adaptations went, his expectations went lower than the Mariana trench. Just because they had a star studded cast didn’t mean anything.
Even Alhaitham, with his so-called genius acting skills and eye for films that never flopped, couldn't redeem this dumpster fire waiting to happen.
The traffic light signaled the crowd of people to cross the road. Kaveh adjusted his face mask, keeping his baggy hoodie close as he kept his head down.
Through his shades, Kaveh squinted at his phone.
He kept an eye on the paparazzi, specifically the ones that posted daily updates on his whereabouts. It was a breach of privacy but it’s not like he could arrest any of them. Kaveh was on his own in this one, so he could never be too paranoid.
Faruzan would kill him if he was caught sneaking outside of his flat—there were times he felt like the woman was more like an irate mom than a manager—but he couldn't miss this.
His schedule was packed to the brim, from sponsorship shoots to rehearsals for hosting the incoming akademiya-awards.
He knew it was bad when he could barely find the time to work on his own songs. Anyway, his company had it handled. They'd hire extra hands to get started on something catchy.
Time was mora and Kaveh was broke. He promised to make time for Nilou, and his promise kept getting pushed back.
From days to weeks, then it eventually became months. He had to time his escape perfectly. Faruzan was great at her job, a little too good .
Kaveh was aware of the new idol group Faruzan was getting busy with, so his activities were gradually getting the backburner treatment.
This was his opportunity.
Kaveh has yet to cause any scandals, at least none of them were the ones that stuck (every idol, including him, had some highschool bully or gigolo allegations come and go).
And half the time, Faruzan’s damage control made sure his reputation remained squeaky clean.
Of course, no idol in their right mind wanted to be the target of an angry mob.
Kaveh had the same sentiment. But one night out without Faruzan knowing wouldn’t hurt, right?
For extra measures, Kaveh used his private account to watch over the paparazzi. They were like bloodhounds. Whatever photo they take out of context, they can spin a scandal out of it. Kaveh was keeping his eyes peeled.
Last time he heard, they were camping by his entertainment company, Kshahrewar.
He was heading to the train station, a public location that was nowhere near his workplace. In a way, he was hiding in plain sight.
Besides, people would be too busy heading back home. Who would have the time to care about some idol?
Kaveh put one step in front of the other, relaxing his guard as he let himself walk with the crowd. His disguise was working perfectly. Or maybe he wasn’t as popular as he used to be. But what did he know, it’s been a while since he last went out on his own.
City buildings towered above them, light polluted sky bare of any stars, advertisements brightly blaring out products for customers to buy.
Scattered conversation passed through his ears, from backhanded gossip about two-faced friends, indecisive dinner options, or hurried phone conversations with an irate boss. An ambulance sped past, sirens blaring, while muted music blasted from copy and paste convenience stores.
Alhaitham’s big screen interview continued, but Kaveh refused to lend it a glance. He’s seen it a thousand times, all unwilling since his face was just everywhere, so he felt like his brain was starting to melt and drip out of his ears.
Alhaitham brought up the same few stories every interview.
It was always about his out of touch comments on internet culture, his inability to feel second hand embarrassment, or misunderstandings he had with fan interactions.
There were some stories about his culture shock in other countries (he studied abroad and everyone’s obsessed. He’s rich, so what?), but he routinely went over the same things repetitively.
Sure, Kaveh wasn’t arrogant enough to claim to know what should and shouldn’t be done in interviews, but come on.
Shouldn’t he give the public something new to chew on? It’s like he lets his fans regurgitate the same things on purpose. Whether it was the interviewer’s fault for having shit questions, or Alhaitham’s fault for doing it on purpose and just not caring —Kaveh was done.
The noise faded into the background as he ran down the stairs towards the subway.
Kaveh scowled.
First thing he saw on the walls—Alhaitham’s face plastered on a movie poster. It spanned several walls, from one point to another.
He was dressed up like a researcher, with an inquisitive look on his face, magnifying glass at hand.
Kaveh scoffed.
What was he supposed to be, a detective or a scholar? Budget Indiana Jones? Make up your damn mind. He was backed by an impressive cast, with familiar faces from Liyue to rising actors from Sumeru, wrapped together by the sandy dunes of a desert.
Were those floating heads? Who’s idea was this?
Kaveh had half the mind to smack whoever green lit the promotional materials for it. This wasn’t Mount Rushmore.
Kaveh gave the poster a 0/10. Even he knew that score was far too generous.
Kaveh ripped his eyes away from the posters, then something, or more particularly someone , caught his eye.
Nilou’s bright red hair stood out like a lighthouse in the dark. She was wearing a cute fit, some casual shorts and a chiffon top.
As if she just walked out of rehearsals, looking ready to dance to an idol song, or maybe grab a mic and perform for a crowd.
He wouldn't be surprised if she suddenly broke out in song. Kaveh was the theater kid, but Nilou lived everyday like she was a Disney Princess.
Singing to communicate with the birds and all, like some hippie high off shrooms. She had a bad case of breaking out in sing-a-long tunes in public.
But you know what? Good for her. Seize the day and all that. Be your own main character.
The only ‘disguise’ she wore was a face mask. And that was as low effort as it got. It did little to hide anything when she was literally right in front of her own poster.
Nilou was a newbie trainee in Kshahrewar’s idol show, but Kaveh knew her long before that. It was his mother that scouted her in the first place. He loved her, he really did, but did she have to come to a public location with her everyday fit?
Kaveh wasn’t blind to the not so subtle glances people gave Nilou. Sure, none of them approached her yet, but he spotted several give one glance at her poster, then do a double take at the real thing in front of them.
Whatever, it’s fine. What’s a few glances at the end of the day?
They can just quickly take the pic and leave. It was Nilou’s first promotional material in her career, so why not make it memorable for her.
“Did I keep you waiting?”
Kaveh must look suspicious, with his baggy hoodie and thick shades. Especially when it contrasted heavily with Nilou’s cute fit. He hoped his face mask wouldn't distort his voice like a budget supervillain.
Nilou stared at him.
She ignored his question, and her smile was as bright as ever, if not a little stiff. She was clearly new to it, but she was adapting as well as she could.
“Hm?" She laughed. "Would you like a picture?” Nilou asked awkwardly, as if she was talking to a stranger.
Nilou didn't recognize him. Kaveh felt smug. Budget supervillain or not, it was worth it.
"Weren't you the one who asked for a pic? It’d be cruel if I ghosted you. How can I reject my junior?"
She paused for a moment, a critical gaze going over what Kaveh was wearing. Then, some recognition brightened her eyes.
“You’re wearing shades at night?” Her shoulders relaxed, at ease in the company of a friend. “In a subway?” She questioned his choice of outfit.
Kaveh felt like that wasn't the only question she wanted to ask. With his socks and sandals, faded joggers and beaten baseball cap—Kaveh's idea of getting comfortable was as comfy as he could get.
Cyno's gift for him, it was more of a joke than a proper gift, was intentionally oversized on him.
The sweater was part of the merch collection from the live action movie, Murder on the Liyue Express. His friends must've been exasperated by how often he ranted about it's trash adaptation, so they gifted his frustration with an eternal reminder of its blight in the world.
Jokes on them he didn't throw it out.
“Disguise, remember?” Kaveh pointed out. “It took you a few seconds to recognize me, so it’s working as well as it should.”
“It’s been a while, so it could be a bit of both.” Nilou admitted sheepishly.
There was merit to her words, as both their schedules have been busier than ever. Whether it was idol training in a show (plus the staff confiscated their contestants' phones during recording), or juggling fan meets and variety shows, finding a vacancy was a miracle in itself.
“Where’s your disguise?” Kaveh asked. A face mask alone barely did the trick.
Nilou shrugged. “Isn’t the face mask enough?”
“Fans can be the most perceptive when you least expect it." He of all people was aware of it. "Sometimes it’s great getting recognized, especially when you’re first starting out, but when has a little caution ever hurt anybody?”
Sure, there wasn't much to worry about, since she has yet to have a fanbase that reached international fame, but preparing for anything was always the way to go.
"You haven’t been approached for pictures yet?”
“Not really. For a second, I thought you’d be the first fan to recognize me.”
"Where's the lie in that?" Nilou was a family friend. It wasn't a lie to say that he was technically her earliest fan to recognize her talent.
Nilou laughed, hitting his shoulder jokingly.
"I was first!" Nilou was quick to claim her fan status. "Are you ever going to update your MeTube channel? Your film reviews were a breath of fresh air."
Nilou didn’t bring it up, but Kaveh’s rise to fame was rooted in MeTube.
It started as a way for his mother to share baby Kaveh’s update videos to their relatives.
They were far too large to fit in a regular messaging platform, and as a doting mother, she could hardly be forced to cut out any part of Kaveh’s life.
She’d share the link to her family abroad, her small group of friends—and while accidentally forgetting about the ‘private link function’, she shared it to a larger demographic. It was in public, so it was bound to pop up in someone’s recommended. Moms who were just as happy to watch videos of Kaveh saying his first word.
He's been doing it since he was a baby—from get ready with me's, toy reviews, joining dance trends on ClikClak—he'd always crack a smile when the lens was around.
Their videos in MeTube have gathered quite the following, so Kaveh had a taste in handling fame to some extent. Watching the numbers climb was the first taste of dopamine that rushed into a mini-Kaveh's head, and none of that changed as he grew older.
Kaveh cringed. "Let's not get into that."
There were times he was tempted to delete his history, but Faruzan told him there was no need to. There was nothing he said that could cancel him (thankfully), and his videos were still getting comments. It was a surprise that they still cared about his old content.
He kept it up for them more than anything. It didn't make him like it any less, but who didn't find their own past cringe? Besides, what's been posted on the internet can never be truly taken down. Might as well own up to it.
“We should take some pics of ourselves and go." Kaveh redirected their conversation to why they were there in the first place. "I’ve seen the state of your Akashagram. I know you haven’t touched it for years, but more can be done with a little work. And if you do it yourself there’s a more personal touch to it.”
Nilou nodded, getting the point. “Are you worried that it’ll look contrived?”
“We’re marketing ourselves, but don’t make it too obvious. Make it genuine.” MeTube was accessible to everybody and that was the beauty of it. Posting home videos taught him how well a solid personality can take you.
"Then we can hit up a cafe?" Nilou was looking forward to some caffeine.
Kaveh was quick to agree. He could feel the ghosts of his eyebags haunt him. "A classic never gets old. Let's get those aesthetic coffee shots, an Americano and a frappuccino can complement one or the other."
It’s hitting two birds and one stone. Get that caffeine and post more content.
Although Nilou wasn’t allowed to post on her social media (due to contract policies from her idol show), she can post it for another day. There was no harm in saving pictures for some future use. Kaveh did it all the time! That’s how he can post daily while taking some breaks in between.
"Sudobucks?” Nilous asked, frowning, “I'm on a budget."
Kaveh could sympathize with her. He might have more compared to himself in the past, but it still pained him to shell out more mora than it was worth. "In this economy they're both overpriced. I'll pay, take advantage of it and take the prettier option. I’m tired of Sudobucks, let’s get something vegan."
“Can coffee beans be vegan?”
“It’s a buzz word for something overpriced.”
"Are you sure you want to pay?” Nilou rejected his offer at first, but by the smile on her face, she was ecstatic. “You paid last time, so I can take this one."
Was Nilou keeping count? Same. "I insist."
Sure, it was just coffee, but spoiling his friends always brought him to a good mood.
Nilou sighed happily. "It must be nice to have mora."
"Damn right." Whoever claimed being happy and broke was possible—they were talking a load of shit. "An Americano is practically 50% water and 15% ice, so you're paying for a glass of watered down caffeine. It's a scam yet people prefer that over black coffee! Capitalists can suck ass, but until then, you'll get there."
"I pray for the day I no longer need to glance at menu prices." She lamented.
"With the way things are going, the more you earn the higher prices become."
Nilou sighed, just about ready to leave the subway. "Do you want to reward ourselves with overpriced cups of Americano?"
"What reward?" Kaveh stopped her there before she forgot. "We haven't even started."
Nilou took a u-turn. “Oh yeah!”
“You can go first. I'll take a picture for you.” After a quick thanks, Nilou lent him her phone. She removed her face mask and hid it inside her purse.
He distanced himself a little, taking note of where the lights were. Subway lighting wasn't the greatest, but he made do.
He adjusted the options of the camera then crouched to get a good angle. He was a little picky when it came to getting the perfect shot, furrowing his brows together as he concentrated.
Kaveh didn't want to be that one obnoxious influencer, so he was quick with his shots.
There weren't a lot of people passing by. Since there was enough space to move around, Kaveh was efficient in snapping her pictures.
Nilou imitated her pose in the poster, pointed at it with her finger, then finished it off with a goofy pose.
Kaveh was directing her, then motioned some poses himself so she could copy it better. “A little to the left, relax your shoulders. Lift your chin, no not too high—you look like a peacock. Okay, more natural, hold that pose.”
Kaveh efficiently snapped all of them. After he gave her the okay sign, Nilou excitedly bounded over to where he was.
"Can I see?" Nilou peered over for a look.
Kaveh confidently gave the phone back to her. He knew it was good.
Nilou gratefully accepted it. She scrolled through the pictures. "Woah, my skin is so clear! How'd you make me look photoshopped?"
"All you need is a good subject and some good lighting. I just tweaked it a little to show off your potential."
The light in the subway was grainy, not as good as natural light, but he made do with what he had. Kaveh would definitely draw attention if he suddenly pulled up a ring light.
Nilou made grabbing motions towards his phone. "Your turn! Will you remove your cap?"
"I'm good." Kaveh was as paranoid as ever.
Other than the possibility of being exposed, he might have hat hair after wearing it for too long. But it's not like it improved anything, since his disguise looked more like pajamas than going out clothes.
He lent his phone to her as they traded places. He removed his shades, then he was debating with himself on which pose he should do. Should he imitate his friend or should he do something original?
Kaveh didn’t even notice when Nilou already gave the okay signal.
She rapidly took her shots. Her pose was just like a mom on her kid's first football practice. "Hm. Is it the lighting?"
Nilou asked herself, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. That was quick. She didn't even give Kaveh the moment to breathe.
Kaveh understood why it was so fast the moment he saw it.
He frowned. "Are you taking a picture of a ghost?" He scrolled through the photos, each one of them blurrier than the last. "How'd you make me look so short?!"
Kaveh was wearing insoles— a secret he would take to the grave —yet his height looked squished due to the angle. He looked out of place, clueless, just like he got out of bed.
Unlike the photos he took of Nilou, Kaveh was like a lost kid wearing his older brother's hand-me-down clothes. Perhaps it was the cut, or the ratio from torso to legs—but none of it was working. His shorter stature was even more stark when compared to Kshahrewar’s large advertisement.
Whether it was his outfit or the photographer, none of it was redeemable.
Nilou was defensive. "You’ve always been short.”
“What!” Kaveh balked. “Who told you that—that isn’t true! You just suck at taking pictures.”
“Your wiki said so.”
Kaveh should’ve known. His damn fans, those traitors— “Don’t believe everything you see on the internet. Anyone can edit the wiki so archon knows what kind of misinformation is spread there. I’m taller than I look in pictures, so I don’t know how you managed to make me look like—some mole rat!”
Nilou was stubborn in her stance. “Isn’t the subject important? There’s nothing that can redeem your disguise and the subject itself.”
Nilou had him there. Besides the less than subtle hit at his height, even he could admit that his clothes were less than desired—but that was never the point in the first place! He wasn’t supposed to look good!
Clothes weren’t everything. With a good quality camera, some understanding of lighting—even hobos can look like nobles in front of the right lens. If Nilou needed an example, she didn’t have to look far. Some runways in high fashion made the point.
Kaveh wasn’t going to be strutting his stuff around highways in his pajamas anytime soon, but the average person can’t botch a picture that badly!
Archons, he looked like a pancake.
"Give me your phone."
She quickly hid it in her own purse. Like she was guarding a pile of treasure, she turned away from him. “I took the photos with your camera! Erase it there.”
“No,” Kaveh sighed, “as bad as it is I won’t delete it.” As long as the accident remained in his cloud—his pajamas won’t be exposed on the internet as a public spectacle. He could imagine the headlines clowning him for weeks to come.
”Don’t you want a selfie?”
"Oh.” Nilou relaxed, then she brought out her phone. ”Can’t we ask someone to take a picture of us instead?”
With her suggestion, Kaveh turned around to look for a stranger to ask.
Ah, shit .
Kaveh felt cold sweat run down his back. It was like a throwback to the past, where he’d have an oral presentation about a topic he was severely unprepared for.
There was an oppressive pressure, the weight of various eyes pressing down on him. It was in all directions, without a single source. He couldn’t even tell if someone recognized him, or they were just curious about what was going on.
Kaveh and Nilou were slightly encased in a bubble. A group of teens huddled to the side, their phones pointing at their direction as they excitedly spoke to one another. Bystanders came and went, an older couple hanging around their space to be nosy, white-collar workers glaring at the disruption as they muscled their way through.
The density of people watching them was blocking the way, causing a barrage in the path. He didn’t know when exactly it happened, but nobody had to tell him that their disguises were blown. It was obvious.
The amount of people recording them was like a slap to the face.
If Faruzan didn’t know then, his manager would definitely know now. It wouldn’t take long for this public appearance to be spread across the local circle. How’d he fuck up so badly? He glanced at Nilou, then he grew worried at how pale she appeared.
Nilou was as fluid as water on stage. She was charismatic in her movement, garnering her audience’s attention with a simple flick of the wrist. Social anxiety never came to mind when her fans watched her perform.
But the subway wasn’t a stage, and they were at eye level with a crowd of strangers. In a stage there was a barrier, in public there was no such thing.
The more people gathered, the more suffocating it became. Like an enclosed space, this claustrophobic feeling was far different from performing in front of thousands.
They weren’t at work, they were caught unaware during their free time. Yes, he knew he should have expected it, Kaveh of all people should have known what to expect.
He should have cautioned Nilou, however new her fanbase was—but she wasn’t to blame. This was her first time (and his presence might have worsened it).
Due to recording the idol program, Nilou spent months training in an isolated location. Day in and day out, socializing with the same people for weeks without end, no phones in sight.
His friend set aside some of her free time to hang out with Kaveh, but interacting with a familiar face could not compare to an impromptu 'fan meeting'. Whether they were here for Kaveh or for Nilou, getting surrounded by this volume of people would overwhelm anyone.
Most of them were looking at him, but the attention was also being given to Nilou.
Kaveh grasped her hand in his. It wasn’t much, but he hoped the wordless message could comfort her, however little it may be.
A stranger, a salary worker with a face mask, approached them. She wore her hair in a ponytail, and her outfit made her appear like she just stepped out of the office.
Before Kaveh could politely greet her, the stranger walked right in the middle—bumping away Nilou so she could scoot into their space—as she broke up their hand holding.
The stranger brought out her phone to take a selfie. She made a peace sign, then without asking, snapped a photo of herself and Kaveh. He squinted his eyes (there was no need to smile under the mask, it’s not like the camera could pick up on it) as they posed.
Nilou awkwardly stood at the side, not really knowing what to do after her place was taken from her.
His fan grumbled about not being able to see his face, then he flinched when he felt her hand grab at his cap to remove it. Before he knew it his hat was gone. She made the motion to take off his face mask, but he gently held her hand to lead it away from his face.
“Warn me next time?” Kaveh laughed as he said, his words felt stale against his tongue.
He loved his fans, he truly did, but did it hurt to ask for permission before they touched him? Sure, his career would be nothing without the public—but at the very least some words of warning would have been appreciated.
After taking several more (Kaveh felt like his hat would no longer be returned to him), she addressed his friend. “Can you take a picture of us?” The stranger asked, motioning for Nilou to take her phone, as if she already agreed with the request.
It was a little rude, but nothing they couldn’t handle. It was just a picture. However impolite the stranger was with asking for it.
To be fair, she didn’t even ask—she just took it. It’s been a while since Kaveh encountered a fan like her. He wasn’t fond of her type.
Nilou awkwardly distanced herself. The people watching backed up, giving her a wide berth as she approached.
Even the simple act of taking pictures was like a show to them. Or, they were waiting for their turn to ask for pictures with them.
After a few seconds, Nilou walked back to return the phone back to the stranger.
The look on the fan’s face soured. “I could barely make out a thing.” She brought it closer to her face, then turned to them again. “Can you take it again?” It was phrased like a question, but the tone was anything but.
Kaveh answered her before Nilou could. “I can be the one to take the selfie for us, how about that?” His voice was muffled behind his face mask, but he tried to keep his voice level.
Nilou sighed. “Don’t worry, I can do it.”
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Kaveh felt guilty for dragging her into this.
“Really, Kaveh.” She said his name to hammer down her point. “It’s just a picture, it’s not that hard.”
“You sure?” Kaveh asked again. ”My arms are long enough to take the selfie just fine—”
“Just get your girlfriend to take the picture.”
“—she’s not my girlfriend—”
“—we’re not dating—”
“Fling, girlfriend—I don’t care.” His fan rudely interrupted them both.
There was an evident bitterness in her voice, as if her jealousy was barely holding itself back. “The more you defend her, the clearer it becomes. You return our affection with this? I thought you were different, but you’re as bad as they come.”
“Nobody’s betraying anyone, okay? Kaveh and I are just friends. Practically siblings.” Nilou tried to correct the misunderstanding. “There’s nothing more to it. Can we set it aside now? Look, I’ll take the picture for you.”
“I don’t want to hear from you.” His fan didn’t spare her a glance. She clutched the phone closer to her purse as if Nilou was interested in stealing it.
If Kaveh was irritated, he wondered how Nilou felt. She was clearly getting targeted by this stranger, but it wasn’t like they could do anything about it.
“Nilou said it better than I could.” Kaveh reiterated his friend’s point. “I see her as a little sister, there’s nothing romantic between us. It’s only platonic.”
“Quit saying excuses. Why would you defend her like that?” The stranger was getting heated, her voice getting louder as she continued.
It had nothing to do with romance. Was defending a friend so wrong? He found it irritating, but he couldn't voice it out loud.
This was all because they were friends of the opposite gender. It was like there always had to be some sort of romantic subtext hidden beneath the surface. Can't something platonic stay platonic?
“You were holding hands earlier, taking pictures together, exchanging eye contact—just like you came from a date. Stop lying, we caught you in the act!” She shouted, finger pointed at his chest, blaming him.
Kaveh was sweating. Shit . Phones were still being pointed in their direction, so Kaveh’s next actions wouldn’t just be seen by this crowd.
It’ll be posted online.
The stranger kept accusing him, like he was guilty of hiding an affair. Somehow he was at fault for cheating on her?
People were talking. Hushed whispers, confused exchanges, eyes judging them from every direction. He was placed underneath a magnifying glass.
Kaveh felt like every small detail was being put under intense scrutiny. The stranger was breathing heavily, as if one wrong move would set her off.
Backtrack. They needed to disengage, there was nothing he could do to address her concerns. Nothing he could say will ever change her mind.
“Excuse us, my manager is calling me."
"Your phone isn't ringing—"
Kaveh grabbed Nilou's wrist and ran. Well, it was more like an aggressive speed walk. There were far too many people for them to properly run. There wasn't enough space.
Kaveh broke through the wall of people, toughening his skin as he ignored the numerous shutters that flashed loudly in his ears. Great, the paparazzi were there.
They snapped photos of Kaveh in all his pajama glory. Just his luck. He tuned out the numerous questions they peppered him with—from Nilou's presence to what he was wearing—focusing on getting the hell out of there.
They were by the stairs, struggling to get through as people were moving around, packed like sardines. Numerous calls of his names sounded from right behind him. Kaveh left like his heels were being set on fire.
"Wait—"
A shrill voice grated against his ears, the same tone that delusional fan used on him as she demanded for his remorse.
Kaveh's eyes widened. In a flash of movement, he saw the stranger grab Nilou's wrist, pulling her against other people with a force that could make her trip.
Nilou stumbled, struggling to balance herself after the near fall.
"Get your hands away from her!" Kaveh shouted, ripping the grip of the stranger away from Nilou.
He shoved passed her, ignoring the startled cries the sudden push left the stranger.
Kaveh didn't have the time to register what he just did.
He quickly steadied his friend, worriedly looking her over to see if she was fine. "Are you hurt?"
A quiet hush fell on the crowd.
There was a woman on the ground, looking at him in despair. As if he carried her whole world and mercilessly destroyed it right in front of her.
Kaveh took a second to realize what just happened. He was frozen, staring at the stranger, then the increased number of phones recording his mishap.
Another shutter of a camera. The judgemental side-eyes, the disappointed looks, the gazes of seeing a side of someone you never truly knew.
He sucked in a breath. Kaveh was fucked.