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Alhaitham liked Kaveh.
This was no sudden revelation. No news. No shocking discovery. Alhaitham had known this, in fact, for quite a while, now.
Since their days studying at the Akademiya, to be precise.
Kaveh liked Alhaitham.
This was also no sudden revelation. No news. No shocking discovery. Alhaitham had known this, too, for quite a while as well.
Since Kaveh himself told him once, drunk, as he dragged him home from Lambad's.
Neither of these facts changed the course of Alhaitham’s life. They didn’t change the way he went about his days, not then and not now. They were simply pieces of information, details and facts he was aware of, the same way one was aware of... any food allergies, or even... well, color preferences. Inane information, yet sometimes important nonetheless.
Only when it mattered, of course.
It didn’t, to Alhaitham. Not most of the time, at the very least; and certainly not in the way it mattered to what he assumed to be the majority of people.
Feelings were one of those things in life that put everyone on the same playing field. Great equalizers, not all that distant from death itself. Nobody could control their feelings – not how they behaved, how they were born, or how they died.
One could not control the behavior of the feelings as chemical reactions in one's brain, but one could control their own behavior beyond that. What chemicals a brain produced were outside of most anyone's reach, but the commands and orders sent down to the rest of the body on how to act, independent of whatever feelings may or may not exist, were a very much controllable part of the equation. One could could not help being angry, but one could opt out of punching something in that anger.
It was as simple as having a modicum of self-awareness and self-control, ideally both at once, though the former was less useful in this regard.
This was all to say that Alhaitham, possessing the barest minimum of both self-awareness and self-control, was perfectly capable of going about his life without acting on his feelings for Kaveh. It may sound foolish, pathetic, even; but that was only if one assumed he was acting the martyr here.
He was not. Ask anyone and you'd be told he was too selfish to ever be that way. They wouldn't be entirely wrong.
The main reason why Alhaitham could go about life without acting on his feelings was not, as implied, his basic adult behavioral skills, but rather,
He simply did not feel the need to.
Why would he?
He knew better than to claim to understand how other people worked when it came to the more complicated parts of feelings – Archons knew he was a complete failure in that department. But the truth of the matter was, or at least the copious amounts of overheard conversations at the Akademiya had lead him to believe, that people seemed to operate as though liking a person meant one would be always inclined to want to pursue a closer relationship with that person.
Perhaps it was because Alhaitham was messed up in the head, because there was something so inherently wrong with his psyche that he was incapable of feeling whatever it was everyone else felt. Perhaps, even, it was because he was simply stupid, and was incapable or properly recognizing his own emotions and feelings for what they actually were.
Who really knew – not Alhaitham, that's for sure.
But the point was, that regardless of what the actual cause may be; Alhaitham felt no need to pursue a closer relationship with Kaveh, the person whom he liked.
Not only was he not inclined to get closer, to 'act on his feelings', as others put it, but...
Well.
The truth was, that while yes, Alhaitham liked Kaveh in a non-platonic way,
He wasn't particularly thrilled about that fact.
He used to be ambivalent about it, back when he first realized. When he was young and stupid(er) and had not yet quite grasped the magnitude of his... problem.
Back when he had managed to secure a bright, brilliant, sunny project partner and entertained the idea that maybe it could actually work. Maybe he could actually finish a project with someone, maybe he wasn’t an entirely lost cause.
Maybe, even, he could make a friend out of it. A friend with a burning passion for his area of expertise who wore his heart on his sleeve and who was not immediately deterred by Alhaitham’s ugly resting expression.
Of course he knew better now. Thanks to Kaveh, he knew he was, in fact, a lost cause. That he would get no friends if he continued being as he was (if he continued being), that the only way to do things was to work around people's eccentricities, and that he could not rely on anyone to keep their word, no matter how sincere they had seemed when they promised something.
(Alhaitham had learned much in that project with Kaveh, and he wold be forever grateful.)
Back in those days, then, when Alhaitham had realized that he liked liked his project partner; his immediate reaction to that knowledge had not been adverse. It had made sense, even – still made sense now, given he still liked him.
It had just... felt like the natural progression of things. Alhaitham was a downer, many had said so before, so it made sense that he ended up gravitating towards someone as sincere and radiant as Kaveh. It made sense to like him, it felt... correct. Not right, but correct. The same way a mathematical operation has a correct answer, it felt correct that Alhaitham liked Kaveh. All factors added up to that result.
So Alhaitham had taken it in stride, and continued on with the project with that added gravitational pull – keeping himself from leaning closer to his partner as they poured over ancient books and documents, trying not to look eager when they went out to investigate ruins together.
He never entertained the idea of telling Kaveh, let alone of acting on his feelings. It simply never felt necessary, and it never felt like it would make sense.
Kaveh had things he wanted to do. Dreams to pursue, goals to achieve. He had friends outside Alhaitham who constantly questioned how he put up with him, and who were always there to listen whenever Kaveh had to vent his frustrations about him to someone. Always ready to encourage him with the reminder that he wouldn’t have to keep dealing with him once the project was over.
So it never made sense in Alhaitham’s head to ever try and inform Kaveh of his feelings. He had no idea where they would even go from there, and even though at the beginning Kaveh used to scoff and give a short excuse on Alhaitham’s behalf about how he wasn’t all that terrible (something his friends rightfully never bought), it was clear to Alhaitham that his feelings were not reciprocated. At the very least, not consciously – and ultimately that's all that mattered.
But then Alhaitham’s own pathetic rose-tinted glasses started to slip. Kaveh was full of idiosyncrasies – contradictions and nonsensical details that, at the start, Alhaitham had assumed were something the young man was aware of and was working on. They were part of what made him so interesting, anyway, but-
Well.
Alhaitham supposes it was more that he himself had been in denial.
In denial that he hadn't yet been an entirely lost cause. That there was hope for him, somewhere, if someone like Kaveh could push past his ugly face and see what was below.
That he could work with someone – work well with someone.
In the end, as always, it was Alhaitham’s fault that everything fell apart.
(But was it really?
Was it really?
Would it all have fallen apart if it hadn’t been Kaveh the one across the table?
Wouldn't things have worked out if his project partner was someone who actually listened?
But it was selfish to try and push the blame onto someone else.
It was easier for all parties involved if Alhaitham simply accepted his mistake for what it was.)
It was his fault, truly.
People don't like to be called out on their misgivings. People don't appreciate unsolicited constructive criticism.
(Regardless of if those misgivings were actively costing them time and effort, regardless of if the criticism was aimed at something that could potentially cost them the entire project.)
Really, Alhaitham should've known better – but he'd been stupid(er), so he hadn't.
So he had started correcting Kaveh’s mistakes the further along the project they got. He started pointing out things about his partner that were jeopardizing their progress and that could be rectified with a little more diligence.
Then, since he liked Kaveh and didn't like seeing him suffer, watching the young man get caught up in unnecessary and entirely avoidable troubles, watching him spiral out into unstoppable rants, watching him self-sabotage by jumping to conclusions out of some leftover defensive mechanism that was no longer needed-
It had frustrated him.
He had overheard countless conversations in the Akademiya about how friends were supposed to be there to snap you out of your own mind, to point out your flaws so that you may try and mend them, to prune the hedge so that the garden may thrive-
And so, stupid, stupid, stupid Alhaitham had assumed they were friends.
Yes, outrageous indeed. Him and Kaveh, project partners, friends?
Kaveh’s decreased tolerance for him should've clued him in at first, but Alhaitham, dumb and worried, had convinced himself that he only had to explain better. That if only Kaveh actually listened to what he had to say for a second, that he'd see that things weren't as bad as he was making them out to be. That he didn't need to stress himself over everything.
That, no matter what may come, they could work it out.
But Kaveh didn't listen, of course he didn't. He never had.
Alhaitham had just convinced himself of the opposite in his barely restrained desperation to have a friend who would.
Kaveh’s screaming and slamming of books had been clear enough that final day. Alhaitham had needed no more hints. He'd gotten the message.
He didn't blame Kaveh for any of it. It was his own fault, after all.
But he couldn’t deny the frustration of having to finish the massive project on his own. The vague betrayal, even, at the fact Kaveh had sworn to not abandon their joint undertaking and had ended up leaving regardless.
That, despite it all, whenever he caught a glimpse of blonde hair across the halls of the Akademiya, he still felt that gravitational pull.
He still liked Kaveh.
Of course he did.
(He still liked him to this day.)
It made sense that he still liked Kaveh, even as he got lost in countless ruins as he tried to do the research of a dedicated team of two all on his own.
It made sense. Kaveh had never actually given him a reason to stop liking him. Alhaitham had been aware of most of Kaveh’s flaws from the moment he met him – he had just tried to convince himself at the start that they were not as bad as they seemed.
The difference, of course, was that now his feelings for Kaveh just sat there.
Detached.
Like a fond memory you can barely recall.
Alhaitham finished their project. Alone, of course. The investigation grants that fell on him after the fact, and the massive respect from the professors for his ultimately solitary undertaking allowed him to streamline the only thing standing between him and graduation:
The twenty languages quota.
Alhaitham’s feelings for Kaveh hadn't changed all that much, since their Akademiya days. He liked him, of course; but he was no longer as stupid as he was back then: he knew better now.
He liked Kaveh.
He didn't like that he liked Kaveh.
At best, it was a nuisance. Something he would inwardly scoff at whenever the man’s hair caught the light a specific way.
For the most part, though, it was numbing. Like putting your cold hands near the hearth.
Kaveh was, on the grander scheme of things, as sunny as he used to be back then.
Sunny in the same way the sun makes his skin burn.
Sunny in the same way the sun was loud, deafening, out in the desert.
Sunny in the way it would make his head hurt if he was exposed to it for too long.
Kaveh was like the sun in all the ways Alhaitham hated it.
But Alhaitham didn’t hate Kaveh. He liked him.
He hated that he liked him.
Alhaitham couldn't control his feelings. He couldn't control the betrayal and the disappointment towards Kaveh (and himself) whenever the man looked at him a second too long.
He couldn’t control the way his stomach churned and revolted whenever Kaveh didn't listen to him.
(As though he ever had. As though he was obligated to.)
Alhaitham liked Kaveh, and so he worried. Alhaitham liked Kaveh, and so he didn't like to see him suffer.
He didn't like seeing him in desperation. He didn't like seeing him stressed out of his mind in the middle of the night, trying to finish a project like he was being held at gunpoint. He didn't like seeing, knowing that half of Kaveh’s problems had their roots in Kaveh himself, but the man refused to see it. Refused to listen. Refused to try something different.
He didn't like having to pick him up from Lambad's at least once a week, drunk off his ass, sunnier than he ever was while sober.
Drunk Kaveh clung to him on the way to the house. Drunk Kaveh would hum mismatched tunes in his ear as he carried him back.
Drunk Kaveh would mumble how he liked him, almost too quiet to hear. He would happily mumble every little thing he disliked about him and then complain and bemoan the fact that he'd be so much easier to like if he wasn't so Alhaitham.
Then he'd giggle and say that he liked him regardless, and that he sure never learned.
And he never did. Kaveh never remembered any of the things he did while drunk. The fact Alhaitham knew Kaveh liked him felt both like an invasion of privacy and a curse.
Because Kaveh didn't like Alhaitham.
He liked the idea of Alhaitham that existed in his mind, one that only vaguely resembled the real him, like a mocking caricature staring back at him in the mirror.
Alhaitham hated all of this.
Maybe if he didn’t like Kaveh, he wouldn't feel so strongly about it. Maybe if he didn’t like Kaveh, he wouldn't be compelled to keep trying to help. Maybe if he didn't like Kaveh, he wouldn't be compelled to help in way that wouldn't result in Kaveh immediately fleeing.
Maybe he wouldn't bother trying to rile Kaveh up, because making him annoyed was the fastest way to get him out of a downwards spiral.
Maybe he wouldn't bother constantly making dumb jabs at him, because keeping Kaveh angry at him was the easiest way to keep him from being angry at himself.
Maybe he wouldn't bother.
Maybe his life would be so much easier.
Maybe it wouldn't all be nearly as bad if Alhaitham didn't know better – but he did.
Oh Archons, he did.
After he had finished their project, he had gone on to use all the new grants and permits to deal with his twenty languages quota as swiftly as possible. Most Haravatat students bypassed the quota by utilizing a long-known loophole in the graduation clauses and appealing for a more demanding thesis; but Alhaitham had made the math from day one.
It would be faster to go for the twenty languages, so he did just that.
(And if it got him away from Kaveh’s gravitational pull within the Akademiya, then all the better.)
Alhaitham traveled all over Teyvat. He learned all the dialects for all the nations, all their native scripts, and since that still left him with fourteen slots, he occupied the rest with ancient Sumeru regional dialects, one near-forgotten Inazuman root script, all that was available of the near-lost language of Khaenri'ah, and a handful of old Liyue dialects.
During his travels he met people. He never stayed long enough to make any friends, and he even made himself purposefully scarce in Mondstadt (a pair of knights kept tailing him and one of them attempted to coerce him into having a drink with him at the tavern in order to interrogate him); but he saw enough to know that not all hope was lost.
But it was just as well, given his subsequent call back to be the Scribe kept him anchored in Sumeru and away from the reason why he extended his stay in Liyue on a whim and managed to fill his slots faster than anticipated.
Alhaitham learned much in Liyue.
He learned he was not entirely crazy for turning down food on the sole basis of a specific texture in it.
He learned ancient history, preserved in a way that made him frustrated at the continued disregard of the Akademiya for record-keeping in the desert.
He learned silent company was not universally hated.
He learned there may yet be hope of fixing the situation with Lesser Lord Kusanali.
He learned the sun could be gentle. Soft. Comforting, even, like warm tea and the rustle of leaves and a pair of non-judgmental eyes. A sun he liked. A sun he could bask under, lulled to near sleep by ancient stories and a well of knowledge that could fill the House of Daena ten times over.
He learned he could make a friend.
(Or the next best thing.)
He hated his brain's insistence in liking Kaveh all the more upon return.
It was not Kaveh’s fault, of course. Alhaitham had nothing against him.
The hate was only towards his own brain for its horrible decisions.
So why should he act on his feelings? What would that even do?
He didn't want to. It didn't matter that Kaveh liked him – not only was Alhaitham likely not supposed to know that, but there was no way he would ever be able to be the Alhaitham Kaveh liked.
Nor did he want to. He didn't want to.
All he wanted was to be heard. Kaveh was notorious for not doing that.
Not to mention-
Half of Kaveh’s problems had their roots in Kaveh himself, yes, but they manifested in Alhaitham as a concept.
Somehow, somewhere along the line, Alhaitham had come to represent all of Kaveh’s frustrations. All his worries. All his shortcomings.
Not only did Kaveh not see the real Alhaitham when he looked at him,
He also saw a twisted mirror, laughing at him, something or someone he somehow believed he had to compare himself to. Like it was some sort of competition. Like he owed it to anyone.
(Like Alhaitham didn't pale next to all that Kaveh was, so it was ridiculous to even entertain a comparison.)
Alhaitham liked Kaveh.
He was a scholar at heart, so he was intrigued by things. The way things functioned, the way people behaved. The more disconnected from his own experiences, the better.
To fully appreciate the world one had to get as many different perspectives as possible.
So it made sense that he liked Kaveh, still.
Kaveh was sunny the way the sun was. Alhaitham was a pitiful little asteroid caught in the sun's orbit, burning, reflecting back the deafening shine of its violent glow. It was fascinating. It was eye-opening.
It was exhausting. Draining, even.
Alhaitham missed the sun he found in Liyue, sometimes. A glow gentle and quiet, yet no less powerful or intriguing – perhaps all the more so for it.
He missed being heard. Being recognized as a little asteroid reflecting the light not of his own volition, but by his simplistic nature.
Not mistaken by something to compete against. A threat. A mirror to compare oneself to and find all that is lacking and then fall into a deeper pit of frustrations and despair.
A pit that was not deep at all, but could only be escaped if you looked up.
Kaveh never looked up.
He was always looking back at the past, or down at the floor. He only ever looked up to look at Alhaitham,
And then he was only looking at that mockery of them both that somehow represented neither.
Kaveh liked Alhaitham. Alhaitham had to wonder if he was consciously aware of that fact. If, in the throes of his denial and frustrations condensed on the concept of him that inhabited his mind; if he even allowed himself to entertain the possibility that he could. Like him. Like him despite everything he hated about him, like him despite representing every single one of his failures and shortcomings.
Or if Kaveh had convinced himself of something even more ridiculous. Alhaitham didn't want to know.
Every single time he had to pick up Drunk Kaveh from Lambad's, he dreaded the walk back home. The slurred mumbling directly in his ear. The confidential declaration that he liked him, followed by the intoxicated giggle of someone sharing a secret they shouldn't be spreading.
Almost as though Drunk Kaveh himself was aware that Sober Kaveh would never say those words aloud of his own volition.
This made it all the more puzzling whenever Alhaitham caught Kaveh acting on his feelings. Staring at him longer than he should, with a distant expression, like someone mourning something that could be, but wasn't. Becoming lost for words in his own exacerbated frustrations over Alhaitham's entire person because he liked him. Softening his voice and lowering his eyes whenever he had to say something actually vulnerable, which was hardly ever.
Worrying over him. Making all of Alhaitham's business his own as well. Butting his nose where he really had no right to, but felt entitled to due to living together.
Living together. Despite everything, despite his numerous attempts at trying to leave – still living together. Almost like he desperately wanted to leave, but couldn't, because he was incapable of acting against his feelings.
That because he liked him, he couldn't let him go. He had to put himself through the harrowing experience of existing near him, because he simply could not bear for things to be otherwise.
Alhaitham liked Kaveh, so he didn't like to see him suffer.
Kaveh liked Alhaitham, so he suffered.
Alhaitham hated that he liked Kaveh, and he hated that Kaveh liked him, too.
And for as much as Alhaitham faulted Kaveh for being unable to leave,
He himself was incapable of acting against his feelings. He was perfectly capable of not acting on them, but against them?
No.
That was the problem.
That was the problem.
Because Alhaitham liked Kaveh, and so he couldn't push him away. If he tried to, Kaveh would suffer, because Kaveh liked Alhaitham.
And Alhaitham didn't like to see him suffer, so he had to stay.
Stay in Sumeru.
Stay out of trouble.
Stay under the bright scorching sun, slowly disintegrating into nothing but asteroid dust.
Kaveh looked at him for longer than he should, Kaveh worried over him, Kaveh vented his frustrations out to him-
Kaveh jumped and landed on conclusions. Made decisions all on his own, about people he didn't know. And whenever Alhaitham attempted to explain, he didn't listen. He was met with disbelief. Mockery. Anger. Frustration.
All in good faith. All out of genuine ignorance.
All out of a steadfast conviction in a reality that Kaveh had decided for himself years ago, since he first met him in the Akademiya.
Kaveh had never once listened, so Alhaitham, a scholar, did the best thing he knew how to do, and learned.
Learned to not explain. He had failed to change himself, and quite frankly hadn't wanted to in the first place,
(Why should he?
Why should he?
Why should he?
Could he not be heard?
Could he not be seen?
Were others blind?
Were they stupid?
They weren't.
It was Alhaitham's fault, it always was.
It always was.
It had to be.
His grandmother had been an exception-
And so had been his gentle sun in Liyue.
It was Alhaitham's fault. He was a failure, beyond repair, and so he had to work within his own limitations. He had to-)
So he had to do the next best thing, which was abstain from showing himself. If he couldn't change his colors, he could at least not show them.
Maybe then Kaveh wouldn't keep seeing him as a personification of everything bad that plagued him.
Maybe then it would be easier to exist. Maybe there would be less fights. Maybe he'd have to do less damage control.
Alhaitham liked Kaveh.
He hated that.
But there was nothing he could do about it.
There was nothing he could do about the way Kaveh, no longer faced with any allusions to the opposite, reached the conclusion that he had figured Alhaitham out. That now that Alhaitham had stopped 'making excuses,' that he had finally gotten through to him.
There was nothing he could do about the quiet hope in Kaveh's eyes. The quiet hope that maybe this could work.
An entirely different yet entirely similar hope to the one he himself had worn back when they began their project together.
(Alahaitham had to wonder if whatever project Kaveh was cooking up now would fail just as catastrophically as their last one.)
But he could do nothing about it.
Alhaitham wouldn't act on his feelings. He didn't like them. So why should he?
But he didn't want Kaveh to suffer. He didn't want to see him miserable.
And he couldn't lie. He couldn't act against his feelings.
He couldn't stop Kaveh as he tried to bridge their gap. As he started confiding in him more. As he started being more open.
It was good. It was good that Kaveh was less stressed, that he was less frustrated; that now that he had 'figured him out', he no longer felt threatened. He no longer felt like he had to compare himself, like he had to compete.
All Alhaitham had to do was not scream. Not explain. Not tell him otherwise, not push him away, not break the illusion.
What sort of monster would he be if he did any of that? Kaveh liked him.
Should he not be happy?
Should he not be grateful?
Should he not be respectful of his feelings?
He couldn't be an asshole and turn him down. He couldn't be an idiot and deny the man that he liked.
He couldn't be so pathetic. He couldn't be so annoying. He couldn't be so-
He couldn't be.
Alhaitham liked Kaveh.
Kaveh liked Alhaitham.
If Kaveh reached out looking for comfort, was Alhaitham to turn him down? He liked him.
If Kaveh asked for something, was Alhaitham to deny him? He liked him.
If Kaveh took the first step, intertwined their pinkies on the table, was Alhaitham to pull back? He liked him.
Why would he not want this?
He liked him.
He liked Kaveh.
How could he not want this?
How could he want anything else?
He couldn't want anything kinder – Kaveh was one of the kindest people out there.
He couldn't want anything gentler – Kaveh was nothing if not gentle.
He couldn't want anything softer – Kaveh had no sharp edges.
He couldn't want anything sunnier – was Kaveh not the sunniest man in Sumeru? The brightest one? The most brilliant?
(But what if he wanted a different sun?
One that didn't burn?
One that didn't reduce him to ashes?
One that didn't only thrive if Alhaitham went against his nature and made himself not reflect any of that brightness back?)
It was about time, Kaveh's friends would say.
Kaveh was happy. Kaveh was content. In tentative hand-holding and private smiles and outings together, Kaveh was thriving.
He wasn't suffering.
Was that not all that mattered?
Kaveh mattered. His emotional state mattered. He was a sun that shined when he was happy and scorched when he was not. His happiness, his sadness – it affected everything around him. It affected his work, it affected his friends, it affected himself.
He needed to shine, bright and brilliant and beautiful.
Alhaitham didn't. He was a pathetic little asteroid.
He didn't shine. So what matter if he didn't reflect any light back, anyway? If he vanished into the darkness of space, existing only on his cast shadow from the sun?
It was fine.
Alhaitham never acted on his feelings. He hadn't done that before, and he didn't do that now.
That's how things had always been.
He liked Kaveh.
It mattered that Kaveh did not suffer. It mattered that Kaveh was happy. Half of Kaveh's problems had their roots in Kaveh himself, but they manifested in the concept of Alhaitham that Kaveh had.
And so if Alhaitham took over that concept, followed the path Kaveh always wished he would, then Kaveh's problems would be less troublesome. The could be worked on. They would no longer constantly reflect back on him, mocking, a reminder of all that he couldn't be.
Kaveh liked Alhaitham. A version of Alhaitham that existed only in a lack of its dismissal, in the corners were it couldn't be proven but also not debunked.
All Alhaitham had to do was keep walking that line. Keep on not shattering the idea Kaveh had formed. Kaveh was good at jumping to conclusions and making up his own definitions of reality, after all.
Alhaitham simply had to be a blank slate. Project a blank slate, keep everything else under wraps.
That would keep Kaveh happy.
It wasn't as though he ever listened, after all. Alhaitham was not a good actor, but Kaveh had a brilliant imagination.
He could make up for his lack of characterization.
He'd been doing that ever since they first met, anyway.
It was acceptable.
He was not opposed to this – what was he, ungrateful? Not nearly this much.
It was fine.
Alhaitham liked Kaveh, in the end. Right?
But the thing was:
Alhaitham was ungrateful. Everyone knew that. He was selfish. Egotistical. A sociopath.
Everyone knew. Everyone was always ready to warn whoever was willing to listen.
And people were always willing to listen to things about Alhaitham, not to what he himself had to say.
So everyone knew he was ungrateful. Kaveh must, as well. Maybe he was just trying to pretend he wasn't, now that he was reluctant to make him the herald of all his problems and insecurities.
Alhaitham was ungrateful, so he didn't want this. Except he did, because he liked Kaveh.
So he must. He must want this. He must want Kaveh to like him, to act on those feelings. To try to get closer to him.
But he didn't.
He never had. He was wrong in the head, after all. He had never wanted to confess, and he had never wanted to pursue a closer relationship with Kaveh.
(But he liked him.
Why did he like him?
He knew why.
And at the same time, he didn't.)
Kaveh was sunny. Kaveh burned everything Alhaitham was, reduced him to ashes, to dust and splinters.
But Alhaitham had to be content with that.
He had to.
He had to.
He was ungrateful, but was he going to hurt Kaveh?
No.
And perhaps this was for the best, anyway.
(Was it?
Was it?
Was it?
Alhaitham liked Kaveh. Kaveh liked Alhaitham.
But in the quiet of the night, alone in his room, hidden under the covers like he was young again, like his grandmother was there again, like he was napping on a rock in a nation that wasn't his' with people who weren't his peers-
He couldn't help the passing thought-
That while Alhaitham liked Kaveh, and Kaveh liked Alhaitham,
Alhaitham wasn't sure it was for the best.)