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If anyone in the Akademiya were asked their opinion of Alhaitham, they would report that Alhaitham was the solitary type. The kind of person who preferred only the company of his books and his thoughts.
Or they would ask “who?”
Alhaitham preferred it this way. It was simpler for the people around him to assume that he enjoyed the silence. He had neither the time nor the interest to explain that it was not about the company itself, but the quality of the company.
Alhaitham did, in fact, enjoy spending time with certain people. There was a contradictory peace to be found in warm tavern evenings, when the food was good and the wine perfectly sweet and the opening of the door only helped to waft the smell of spices through the room.
This was not necessarily new. When he had been younger, he had always been easy to find– either in the House of Daena or, more frequently, reading in the shadow of a certain senior scholar. His reputation for being a person of solitude only came into being during his last two years in the Akademiya, when he chose to fill the absence left behind by Kaveh not with other people, but with books and an almost single minded pursuit of knowledge.
And people were so quick to forget, weren’t they? It was easy to overwrite the image of Alhaitham into this persona of a man too attached to his own greatness to ever give a moment of his time to somebody he deemed lesser than him. Besides, such an unflattering image was easier to swallow for spurned academics than the idea that they just didn’t offer Alhaitham anything interesting enough to be worth his time.
Not like some people.
The walk from his office to his front door was a quick one. Kaveh should be home by now, making something savory and a little spicy in the kitchen if Alhaitham was lucky. Or he would be lounged out on the divan that he had designed the layout of the living area around so he would have a space where the afternoon light fell perfectly while he worked. If Alhaitham was particularly blessed, he might find Kaveh napping in his sun-warmed spot, ink dripping down his arm from his still loosely-held quill.
Alhaitham would never admit how much he enjoyed the quiet domesticity of his evenings. Not because he was ashamed of himself or his feelings, but because he knew how easily Kaveh allowed himself to be trapped by the things others wanted from him. Like a fly in a spider’s web, wrapping himself tighter in the expectations of others until the silk stole his breath.
To allow his softer emotions to become another collar around Kaveh’s throat was not a choice. Alhaitham removed it from contention the day it first crossed his mind, and he had not revisited it since.
Alhaitham slipped his key into the lock. And he opened the door to, quite frankly, a whirlwind.
Kaveh’s well-worn trunk lay open on the divan, already halfway to overflowing with clothes and toiletries. Beside it, Kaveh’s canvas tool bag was open, measurement and drafting tools spilling out the sides. Mehrak sat on the table as though keeping watch. It beeped excitedly as Alhaitham closed the door and turned to hang his cloak on its hook next to Kaveh’s.
“Alhaitham?” Kaveh called from his room, followed by the hollow thud of something heavy hitting the floor. Alhaitham followed the sounds to find Kaveh in his room rifling through a box full of warm, thick shirts.
“Isn’t it a little late for spring cleaning?” Alhaitham asked. He crossed his arms and leaned his back against the doorframe, watching as Kaveh held up a jade green shirt with a high collar before dismissing it.
“Ha ha, very funny.” Kaveh tossed the shirt aside. Back into the box he went.
“You seem to be implying that you have a different reason for making this mess.”
Kaveh rolled his eyes.
“Not that you pay any attention to the notes I leave you, but I did tell you last night that I would be leaving for a commission today.” He eyed a cream sweater before nodding to himself and folding it neatly. It joined a small pile at the foot of Kaveh’s unmade bed.
Alhaitham crossed his arms, glaring at the pile of clothes with distaste. Okay, so maybe he hadn’t paid particularly close attention to the note he had found that morning. In his defense, when Kaveh said he had a commission to address, it usually implied an hour or two (or four) spent meeting with a client. Not packing.
“Hmm.”
Kaveh stood from his kneeling position by the box and gathered the pile of folded clothes before shoving them into Alhaitham’s arms.
“Here. If you’re going to stand around and stare at me, at least make yourself useful.”
He decidedly wasn’t staring, thank you, but he only huffed and took the clothes out into the living area to deposit them haphazardly in Kaveh’s trunk. Kaveh wouldn’t rest until he’d repacked the trunk thrice, so it didn’t particularly matter if Alhaitham kept things neat.
Kaveh followed soon behind, a heavy winter coat thrown over one arm.
“What do you need that for?”
“Hmm?”
“The coat.”
“Oh! The traveler is going to meet me in Liyue after my meeting. Apparently there are these crystals on Mondstadt’s Dragonspine that can be used to produce heat strong enough to melt ice in seconds. I’m interested in getting some samples to bring back.” This was the Kaveh Alhaitham most enjoyed, the one who seemed lit from the inside with the strength of his own emotions. Clearly, he was excited about this particular trip.
Alhaitham wished he could say the same.
“How long do you think you’ll be gone?”
“Mmm? About a week, probably, maybe a little longer. It depends on the traveler, really. I’m not foolish enough to try ascending that mountain alone.”
Relief and amusement mixed in a strange blend.
“Glad to hear you’ve applied your intelligence for once.”
“I– hey! What do you mean ‘for once’!”
Alhaitham only smirked and held out his hands for Kaveh’s coat. He brushed off the sleeves, making sure it was all in good condition before carefully tucking it into the trunk. Kaveh nudged him out of the way with his hip before beginning his process of unpacking and repacking.
Truthfully, Alhaitham knew how skilled Kaveh was. And if Kaveh was going to be with the traveler, of all people, then surely there was nothing for him to worry about. Alhaitham didn’t claim to truly know the traveler, but he knew enough to trust that no harm would come to Kaveh.
It did not even begin to address the snarled discomfort in his chest.
Alhaitham did not like when his home was empty. He had lived with empty halls and quiet rooms for years, finding comfort in the silence that had become his routine after his grandmother passed. If someone had asked the Alhaitham of two years ago, he would have replied that the quiet was familiar– if he even bothered to answer.
But that was before Kaveh had returned to his life, bringing noise and chaos and color back into Alhaitham’s home. Before Kaveh made this building a home at all.
Kaveh, who had once called Alhaitham out on the sharpest parts of himself in a way that made Alhaitham want to file them smooth. Kaveh, who could not let go of the ghost of those switchblade edges long after Alhaitham had blunted them for him.
This was not the first time Kaveh had left their home for an extended time. He was in demand, even more so since Alcazarzaray had been raised in all its shining splendor. But Alhaitham could not deny that there had been a shift in their relationship since the conclusion of the Interdarshan Championship. Sometimes, Kaveh would look at him with such a burning intensity behind his gaze that Alhaitham could only look away.
Alhaitham did not want Kaveh to go.
It was embarrassing enough to think, let alone speak aloud. No matter the messy, uneven stitches that had begun to close the gaping maw of the wound between them. They were not the kind of people that admitted their softer feelings in such clear words. They disguised them with glances and questions and neverending arguments.
“Have you done the dishes yet?”
Kaveh dropped the pair of pants he was folding with a huff.
“Really? That’s what you’re worried about?” Kaveh rolled his eyes. “No. I have been busy packing for my trip . Surely you know how to do dishes.”
“That seems unfair, since it’s your responsibility this week.”
Kaveh scoffed.
“I didn’t realize my junior would be so incapable of living without me.”
Still, he dusted off his hands and walked into the kitchen, already rolling up his shirt sleeves. Alhaitham followed.
“What?” Kaveh asked as he started the water running. “Can’t trust me to do something as simple as dishes without your expert guidance?”
“Something like that.”
Alhaitham took a seat at the kitchen table. With Kaveh’s back turned, Alhaitham was free to admire the long line of his spine through the open back of his shirt, the way it caught the shadows and welcomed the light.
“Well, don’t waste your time on my account.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Kaveh made a derisive little sound in the back of his throat. Alhaitham was grateful for the privacy of Kaveh’s turned back that hid his tiny, tender smile.
Perhaps one day the chasm between them would heal and Alhaitham would be free to say the words he refused to speak now.
I’ll miss you.
Please stay.
Don’t go.
He considered the words for a moment. Imagined speaking them into the quiet of their shared home, giving them their form and power. There was a reason so many cultures across Teyvat respected the oral tradition. Words carried weight, and Alhaitham wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of the power his words would take from Kaveh’s hands or the power they would give to him.
Alhaitham wasn’t sure he trusted Kaveh with the fragile thing fluttering in his chest. He wasn’t sure Kaveh wouldn’t drop it and let it shatter. Not yet.
Kaveh turned back to Alhaitham, a clean dish towel in his hands. The drainage board was full of his handiwork.
“There, done. No thanks to
you
, of course.”
Alhaitham raised an eyebrow at Kaveh from his seat at the table. Kaveh only huffed and threw his hands up.
“You’re insufferable,” he said as he tossed the dish towel back onto the counter. “No wonder you have no friends.”
“Right. That’s why I had to pay the traveler to pretend to be my friend, isn’t that right?”
Kaveh sputtered and pointed his finger at Alhaitham. “I thought we agreed to drop that!”
Alhaitham smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. Kaveh was always fun to rile up; the red that settled across his cheekbones was lovely.
“I don’t remember agreeing to anything.”
“Ugh!”
Kaveh turned and stomped back to the main room. Alhaitham only paused for a moment before following.
Kaveh had returned to packing his trunk. Unlike before, he worked with a kind of manic energy. Alhaitham joined him at the divan and started folding the clothes waiting to be repacked. He could feel Kaveh’s gaze on him, but said nothing.
It was hard not to be distracted by Kaveh. He moved like poetry. If Alhaitham were a gentler man, he might try his hand at prose, at putting to ink and paper the way he felt when he saw Kaveh’s shoulder blades shift beneath sun-freckled skin. But Kaveh did not shy away from pointing out all the ways in which Alhaitham fell short of romance. According to Kaveh, Alhaitham was not made for those kinder feelings, not designed for anything but cool rationality.
Alhaitham had nobody to share such poetry with but Kaveh, so he dismissed the idea every time. Even though sometimes the line of Kaveh’s throat made Alhaitham feel as though he was being tied to a pyre and set ablaze.
When the last piece of clothing was folded, Alhaitham reached for the book he had left on the side table, an analysis of a particular oral tradition popularized in Liyue. It was perfectly interesting, and Alhaitham had been enjoying the author’s conclusions regarding the ways small details changed between retellings and their effect on the audience’s reception.
Normally, it would completely capture his attention. Between a book and his noise-canceling earpieces, there was very little that could manage to disrupt his focus.
But he supposed that Kaveh had always managed to be his exception.
So instead, Alhaitham stared at the page before him and allowed the letters to blur into smears of black on cream, and he waited for Kaveh to turn his back so Alhaitham could drink his fill.
Time passed, as time must, and soon Kaveh was shutting the lid of his trunk with a solid click.
“Mehrak,” Kaveh called. It came floating over from the table with its inquisitive face already presented.
“Secure, please.”
Mehrak beeped, and there was an audible click as the mechanical locks engaged. Kaveh patted the side of it absently and tested the lid. Upon finding it solid, he nodded.
“Thank you Mehrak. Final readiness checks, please.”
Mehrak made a happy sound and lifted the waiting canvas bag from beside the trunk before heading toward Kaveh’s room. Alhaitham scowled into his book.
“Are you sure Mehrak will get everything?”
Kaveh turned on him, his pleased expression morphing into an annoyed frown.
“Of course Mehrak will get everything. I have been doing perfectly fine for the last year, in case you needed the reminder, Alhaitham.”
“Hmm. And what will you do if you are missing something? That seems like quite a waste of your meager funds, to repurchase tools you already have.”
Kaveh rolled his eyes and threw his arms up. “Oh, my god. Fine, I will check Mehrak’s packing myself. Okay?”
No, not really. Alhaitham always worried a little when Kaveh left. Not because he was incapable. Nobody in Sumeru knew how capable Kaveh was more than Alhaitham himself. But Alhaitham also knew the risk Kaveh carried against himself. Kaveh, who would give the last of his water to desert animals because they needed it more than he did. Kaveh, who carried a debt that weighed down his shoulders the way the world must bear down on the turtle’s back.
Alhaitham knew that Kaveh was capable. Kaveh, who swallowed down the barbed-wire cruelty of the world and let it make him kind. But who would worry for Kaveh if Alhaitham did not? Who would worry for Kaveh but Alhaitham, when even Kaveh himself dismissed his needs for those of others?
“Okay,” Alhaitham said instead, because those words did not belong in the chasm between them.
Kaveh had opened his mouth as though he was ready to argue. His jaw closed with a tiny, audible click .
“Okay,” he said.
Mehrak floated out with a canvas rucksack caught in its beam. True to his word, Kaveh unpacked the bag and checked its contents before repacking the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. His trunk rose from the divan to be suspended at his side.
“Alright, I’m leaving.”
Alhaitham closed his book with a snap. He always hated this part.
“If you forget your key, I’m not letting you in.”
With an annoyed huff, Kaveh produced his key from a pocket, letting the gold catch the late afternoon light between them before tucking it safely away once more. Alhaitham sighed.
“And you actually made sure you have all your tools?”
“You just watched me check. I have everything.”
“Have you actually arranged transport from here to Liyue Harbor? Or were you simply planning to wander to the docks and hope someone is as charitable as you are?
Kaveh made an irritated sound.
“What is your problem today? If I didn’t know better, I would think you didn’t want me to leave.”
“Think what you wish.”
Kaveh stood for a long moment, back to the door, as his eyes searched Alhaitham for something he would not find. For such an intelligent man, Kaveh was exceptionally good at missing things when he did not want to see them. Alhaitham had accepted that Kaveh did not want to see the softer feelings Alhaitham carried for him, and so he kept them tucked away. Out of sight, where they could not bother Kaveh with the inconvenience of them.
Alhaitham still breathed a sigh of disappointment when Kaveh finally looked away. What could he say? Hope was a heady master, and Alhaitham ate from its outstretched palm.
“Right,” Kaveh said at last. There was a strange waver in his voice that Alhaitham refused to think too deeply about. “I’m leaving. Try not to miss me too much.”
“Hmm.”
The front door opened soundlessly, allowing in the late afternoon sunlight. It painted Kaveh in shades of gold. If Alhaitham came across a moment like this in a novel, he would call it trite and heavy-handed, but in this moment, all he could think of was how beautiful Kaveh looked in the light.
“Be safe,” he said before he could bite it back. Kaveh’s eyes widened a bit. Slowly, a soft smile curved his mouth. Not for the hundredth time, Alhaitham thought about kissing the softness of those chapped, bitten lips.
It would be so easy to take those few steps forward, to cross the space between them, take Kaveh’s face between his palms, and finally know what it felt like to take the one thing that would be always out of his reach.
“I will,” Kaveh promised.
Instead, he only watched as Kaveh stepped into the sunlight and closed the door quietly behind him.
As he had done every time he has seen Kaveh off on a trip, he says his final words to an empty room.
“I love you. Come home soon.”
The house, as always, does not answer.