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everyone who knew kaveh knew that he was an individual man. he worked alone, preferring to push through any obstacles he faced on his own. anybody who had come into contact with kaveh in his lifetime, whether they knew him well or not, always said that he was someone who didn’t ask for help. hell, his closest friends even claimed that he never even asked them for assistance.
and that was only because kaveh didn’t make it look like he needed help. the architect was all smiles, no matter the weight on his shoulders. the only people to see kaveh in such a state of dismay would be the owners and patrons of lambert's tavern, where the blond was often found drinking himself into a new world of debt (despite how it seemed to magically disappear the next time he showed up; it always was paid off by an anonymous being). the scribe of the academiya was seen picking kaveh up from his drunken stupors, leading him back to the home they shared to coax the older through his archon's awful hangovers the next morning. kaveh never asked for help. he swatted alhaitham away when he could during those late hours in the tavern, grumbling about how he could do everything himself, before clearly struggling to get to his feet, to the amusement of the rest of the leaving patrons. alhaitham always won against kaveh those nights.
there wasn’t a day that went by where kaveh wasn’t asked how he was doing. it was clear that his projects drained him, both financially and physically, and he seemed to grumble to himself if he was a few mora short for a simplistic purchase of the day. many had reported seeing the light of kshahrewar discuss heavily pored over plans with dori, only to be seen later without the young woman and crumbled up blueprints, eyes burning with what could only have been tears. kaveh always said he was fine if approached and asked if he felt anything otherwise. a rough day was the go to excuse. he never asked for help, he never spoke about anything that could’ve bothered him throughout the long hours of his evenings. even drunk, the architect wouldn’t dare mumble a word about anything negative about himself.
the facade a person could pull off at the expense of keeping the other people around him content was the facade of a person who knew what they were doing. kaveh was practically an expert at this point, choosing his words carefully and making the right expressions. everything was calculated. kaveh was a smart man, always alert to the world around him and always prepared with responses that seemed automatic. it seemed to be second nature to the blond, as if he was raised that way.
kaveh thrived off of helping others. he was always willing to lend a helping hand, or a few mora here and there to a person in need. people who knew the architect well knew that he wasn’t very financially stable, and yet he still gave out those golden coins as if they weren’t the one thing keeping him afloat throughout this thing called life.
being an architect - a very well known and respected one, at that - was harder than what the common civilian might think. there were multiple nights, some in a row, where kaveh’s fingers would burn raw and bleed from the grip on the small wooden pencils that snapped under his tight hold. his wrists would ache at the way his fingers wound around the tiny tool in a grip so harshly. tighnari had diagnosed him with some kind of syndrome, which felt like it had happened years ago, ignored by the blond man. nothing could slow kaveh down - not even the sleep that he so desperately needed most nights. he worked himself to the bone, and he’d usually pass out atop the stacks of blueprints for a few hours from complete and utter exhaustion.
being loved by the public meant kaveh had to keep up an image. he was seen as a brilliant man, his designs inspiring people all over the regions of teyvat. he had a reputation to uphold - one he never even asked for. he never wanted to be famous. kaveh never meant to be practically worshiped the way he is. he just wanted to pursue the passion he grew up desiring, and to make his parents proud. even if his father wasn’t around, and his mother moved away from her son to remarry, kaveh couldn’t stop the way he secretly wished he they were still by his side to see his accomplishments. the architect was a grown man - missing your parents was a childish thing in his eyes, and he shut down the gnawing feeling of homesickness everytime it threatened to rise again.
the light of kshahrewar was falling apart, and nobody knew but the man himself. he was good at that. he designed walls that kept stable, unable to falter, both in his work plans and in his mind. though, the walls he built for himself all those years ago were finally starting to age, each negative thing spoken or action made towards him chipped away at the aged brick. they were destroying him, and they didn’t even know.
the side comments from the people he considered closest were the worst. even if there was no hurtful intention behind the jokes of his friends from his nights they played tcg together, it still felt as if there were swords being driven into his heart. it wasn’t their fault kaveh was a sensitive, overthinking mess. alhaitham was the worst to deal with. the scribe was always so blunt, and everything he did made kaveh want to curl in on himself and die.
kaveh, of course, hadn’t a clue what the scribe did for him when he’d find the older borderline blackout drunk, though.
the blond had noticed how important alhaitham and lumine’s friendship was the moment he met the traveler and her companion. it wasn’t a bad thing - kaveh was rather proud of the man he had to (unfortunately) call his roommate. he didn’t care for making friends, and their group of four had always been the only people alhaitham genuinely made time for outside of work. kaveh was usually the one who would drag him to nilou’s performances. lumine seemed to trust alhaitham really well, and they nearly looked up to him, so for the scribe to mention kaveh’s oversensitivity and things similar felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. it wasn’t like lumine was going to turn around and tease him - they knew better than that - but paimon would always run their mouth. he tried to ignore the pixie as much as he could.
it was only until after lumine and paimon parted ways with the citizens of sumeru to continue their journey to fontaine that things really started to change. something must have happened between lumine and alhaitham, because now that they were gone the scribe looked as if he was itching to tell kaveh something, like he was going to burst at the seams if he kept it in any longer. kaveh knew alhaitham well enough to know that he was struggling. even if anyone else wouldn’t be able to tell by the scribe’s stoic face, the strain of the voice kaveh had to listen to daily was enough. everything was off. kaveh brushed it off as nothing. no need to bring something up that most likely didn’t even concern him.
when kaveh announced he was leaving on a solo trip to the desert sands of sumeru for a few days to compose himself and spark motivation, alhaitham seemed to be the only one unhappy for the architect. he didn’t speak to his former upperclassmen at all as kaveh packed for the trip, leaving the home the two of them shared cold and tense. kaveh hated it. life with alhaitham was rocky at times, sure, but the two made their lives work, and their home life was so gentle and chaste that it nearly felt domestic in a way, as if they could do this for the rest of their lives. alhaitham acting in such a way disturbed the balance the pair kept, and it gnawed at kaveh the entirety of his trip. what was supposed to be peaceful then turned troublesome, which landed him back at the steps of his home three days later than he was supposed to be home, banged up and bruised from his mishaps.
it was night when kaveh finally returned, and the door swung open with ease as the small lion keychain clinged on it’s ring when the lock turned to allow him access. alhaitham must have been sleeping, which meant it was way later than kaveh had expected. the scribe was usually up pretty late, though that was usually because he was trying to coax the architect back to bed. without kaveh there, alhaitham must’ve just gone to bed.
for the voice of said scribe to suddenly scare kaveh out of his skin wasn’t what he was expecting, though. “kaveh. where have you been?”
kaveh froze. there was no way to explain the injuries he’d sustained, and he was so thankful for the darkness of their home to cover the unhealed parts of his body that he had yet to patch up.
“i took a longer route home. is that a problem?” kaveh quickly clapped back, placing mehrak onto the table in their living room. he wasn’t technically lying - he really did go a different route, but going off the path that had been carefully calculated for him to not encounter any harmful entities caused him to come across the worst of them. “now, if you’ll excuse me, i’d like to go to bed. i have a consultation tomorrow that i can’t miss.”
“kaveh,” alhaitham started, stepping forwards but stopping as kaveh tried to blow past him, only to be caught by the taller hooking his fingers under the older’s arm, emitting a hiss of pain to slip from kaveh. “don’t lie to me.”
the architect always lied. he was protecting himself as much as he was protecting others. they didn’t need to know that he was suffering. they didn’t need to worry about him. kaveh didn’t need people looking down on him and taking pity on him if they ever found out about the shit he’d been going through.
“i’m not lying,” kaveh’s words were bitter, his tone sharp as he yanked his arm away with a wince from the burst of pain slicing through his veins. “goodnight, alhaitham.”
alhaitham was quiet, choosing not to say anything as he watched kaveh quite literally hobble away, before sighing. without another word, the scribe ducked into the bathroom, reaching into the cabinet to find the first aid kit.
alhaitham knew. he’d known all along about kaveh’s misfortunes. he knew about the countless hours the architect spent making sure every single detail on his plans were perfect. he knew about what tighnari had diagnosed him with, he knew that kaveh didn’t care. he knew that kaveh wasn’t financially stable (obviously. the man doesn’t pay rent.), and he knew that kaveh had nobody to turn to. lumine caught on to the way alhaitham seemed to behave whenever kaveh had left a room, his chest letting out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding in, his cheekbones burning up at the mere mention of the architect. lumine had an eye for these things, and paimon teased alhaitham relentlessly, before the two outlanders had confronted him about it and told him to tell kaveh how he felt.
communication was hard for alhaitham. he trusted few people, and didn’t consider many people friends. he grew up the quiet bookworm, always choosing to go the opposite way of the crowd if it meant he’d be alone. that’s how life always was for him. it was easy that way. for kaveh to completely turn his world upside down when the pair met all those years ago was enough for alhaitham to hide away again. he kept quiet over the years, watching as his former classmate and now roommate struggled with everything in his life. he watched as kaveh failed, watched as he succeeded. he picked kaveh up when he was down, and paid the overflowing tabs from lambad's tavern to keep the artist out of the crippling debt he was already in.
alhaitham was in love with kaveh, and had been since the very beginning. it was safer to keep quiet, to avoid telling anyone in case of a rumor. lumine and paimon simply found out by chance, and despite how many things he’d done for the pair in a blink of an eye, their final request was something he would never be able to do. he’d still show his love in small ways, even if that meant patching kaveh back up piece by piece, until he was whole again.
alhaitham would wait for as long as it would take, if that meant kaveh stayed by his side. he had all the time in the world, if that meant kaveh would be with him. if kaveh was there, alhaitham was content.
kaveh didn’t like to show it, but even as alhaitham entered his bedroom with the first aid kit and sat the architect down to quietly treat his wounds, he was grateful.
calm teal eyes flickered up to meet the sea of emotions that was carmine, and it was in that moment that kaveh knew that things were going to be okay. if alhaitham was by his side, everything would be just fine.
the light of kshahrewar - alhaitham’s light - silently allowed the scribe to tend to his wounds, not once looking away from his careful work on his tanned skin. alhaitham was warm.
alhaitham was home.