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He should have stayed in bed. He knew it. When he woke up today in the morning, he knew it. As he finally slipped off the shackles of the uneasy sleep he had been burdened with, the gaping hole in his heart, ripped in there by so many things from his past, was hurting like an infected wound. Even though Kaveh felt its presence since his life fell apart many years ago, he mostly managed to ignore it. Sometimes, even when he gets a soothing hug from Alhaitham or he has a particular fun night out with Cyno and Tighnari, he even forgets it. But not today.
The doctor in the Bimarstan who treated him a while ago for his depression (Alhaitham’s idea, well not so much his idea, more of an ultimatum for their relationship after he witnessed a particularly rough night) warned him that it would be like that. The pain and the sadness would come and go in waves. The setbacks were part of the healing process, as well as the step forward. He also said that he shouldn’t be ashamed of the bad days, and he shouldn’t be hard on himself when they occur.
Kaveh knows that in his head. But between his logical thinking and his feelings, there has always been a discrepancy, a gap, that made it hard to acknowledge what he knew as the truth. Alhaitham told him that a million times, even in their days in the Akademiya.
“Don’t trust everything your mind is telling you, Kaveh,” Alhaitham once said after he voiced his thoughts that were running wild in his head.
It wasn’t the only conversation they had about his mind being a dick.
“I feel like everyone hates me. Even Tighnari, my best friend, is sick of me”, he once blurted out during dinner.
“Did he say something like that?”
“He doesn’t have to; I can feel it. We don’t go out anymore. He is always busy, and he seemed annoyed when I bumped into him last Friday.”
“Kaveh, what time of the year is it?”
Kaveh choked on his food, bamboozled by the sudden change of subject.
“Huh?”
“I’ll give you a hint. It’s the busiest time of the year for the forest rangers. It’s the slumber beast’s mating time. They go rogue in the rainforest, and the rangers have their hands full of protecting merchants and travellers from frustrated males,” Alhaitham explained matter-of-factly.
“Oh…,” Kaveh replied. He totally forgot that. That would explain why Tighnari was a no-show for so many occasions lately, but still, the grumpiness when they stumbled into each other…
As if Alhaitham could read his mind, he added:
“Don’t go all ballistic on the fact that he wasn’t that nice to you when you met him a couple of days ago. You know, he wears his heart on his sleeve, and his bad mood from work can take over everything. I heard Cyno complain about it and the lack of attention from his boyfriend yesterday, but that doesn’t mean he hates you. He probably will knock on the door in a couple of days, armed with a bottle of wine and an apology while shooting disapproval glances at me. You will see.”
That almost calmed Kaveh’s mind. It was astounding how skilled Alhaitham has gotten in dealing with his insecurities. When he first met the younger and skinny grey-haired boy in the library, who would soon become his friend, his crush, then his enemy, and now the love of his life, he was as dense and emotionally disconnected as one could be. His emotional intelligence was on the level of a toddler who doesn’t understand how somebody could be sad with an ice cream cone in his hand.
But he developed. After their fight, when Kaveh thought he had lost him forever, he seemed to go on with his life as if nothing had ever happened. Internally, however, he was devastated even if he didn’t like to admit to himself. The connection with Kaveh he so unceremoniously cut, its worth was only recognised after Kaveh was gone. He thought he missed his quiet house and the time he spent with his books, but when Kaveh was gone, the appeal of being alone was gone as well. He missed the storm named Kaveh that stumbled into his life and turned it upside down. Without knowing, the blonde filled a spot in Alhaitham’s life that died with his grandma a long time ago. He filled his life with the shenanigans and the drama of the living, which Alhaitham had tried to avoid for so long. He made his life more complicated but worth living.
After their reconciliation, Alhaitham made effort after effort to meet Kaveh’s emotional needs while hiding them behind their banter, knowing he would get scared by his own vulnerability if he didn’t.
“Uhm…”
“What is it now, Kaveh.”
“You didn’t deny that you hate me,” Kaveh muttered almost shyly.
“Archons, give me strength,” Alhaitham sighed.
“Kaveh, I don’t hate you! Why would I bother letting you in my house and being in a relationship with you if I hated you? Think about this logically! I am not known to care for other people, and still, you are here, eating my food, sleeping under my roof, drinking my money away at the tavern, and sleeping in my bed. Why would I let you do that if I hated you? And it isn’t because people would judge me if I didn’t let you in. Since when do I care what people think of me,” he raised his voice.
And still, Kaveh’s mind wouldn’t let it go. Then he noticed something.
“Wait, you heard Cyno complain? Since when does he vent to you?”
“Well, he didn’t. He was talking to an old friend from Spantamad in the House of Daena. He thought I couldn’t hear him through my noise-cancelling headphones since I ignored his greeting, but I didn’t turn them on.”
“Oh, he is going to kill you for that if he ever finds out.”
“Certainly.”
Today was one of these bad days. The weight on Kaveh’s shoulders was three times as heavy as it usually was. It took him an enormous amount of effort to even get out of bed. The doctor gave him a list of skills to do when it got worse again, so he didn’t have to resort to his other coping mechanisms, the drinking and the other thing Alhaitham once caught him doing. The famous ‘incident’. He rubbed the area on his legs where the scars were still visible, and the shame of his actions caught up to him and worsened his state of mind even further. He hated to be a burden, and the fact that Alhaitham now knows that he sometimes hates himself so much that he takes a knife from his art supplies and drags it over the skin, just to see himself bleed, was suddenly too real.
He reached out to the other side of the bed, just to find it empty. Of course, he has a meeting with the candidates for the position of the grand sage, he thought. Alhaitham, untypical for him, must have gotten up with the sun. When he has to get up so early, he usually lets Kaveh sleep. Alhaitham always complains that Kaveh sleeps too little, and he wouldn’t cut his night short by waking him up if he didn’t have to. He probably even left some coffee and breakfast in the kitchen for him.
As thoughtful as this was, Kaveh hated him at that moment. He needed him now, to ground him, to keep his thoughts at bay. And he hated himself for being angry at Alhaitham, who had done nothing wrong but was stuck with an awful boyfriend like Kaveh. Maybe he would be better off without him. What worth does he even have in this world, in this city, for his friends and Alhaitham? If he died, the scribe would get over it and would have a chance with someone who isn’t as broken as he is. Someone worthy of love.
Wow, that got really dark, really quick, he thought. The architect tried to remember what was on the skill list. I can’t let my depression win like this. Alhaitham doesn’t deserve to find me sliced open and bled out like a pig. With a sudden burst of energy, he stood up and walked into the kitchen, searching for the list. There it was, on the noticeboard, hidden under their shared shopping list. He skimmed over the list.
- Taking a bath, taking a shower
- Running a damp washcloth over the areas you would cut
- Affirmations
- Mindful breathing and meditation
- Destroying something old and useless
- Sketching
- Taking a walk
- Talking to friends
- Singing
- Writing into a dairy
- Eating chili-peppers
Well, I need to take a shower anyway, so let’s start with that, he decided.
He took a long and hot shower, said some affirmations in front of the mirror, and felt ridiculous while doing it. That calmed him down to a state of mind where he could finally do some breathing exercises Zakariya had taught him. He still had the tightness in his chest as he stopped, but it had become more manageable. Taking a last deep breath, he realised that he had to leave the house in a few minutes if he wanted to make the meeting with his client.
He knew it would be better if he would stay home and rest. His mind was still occupied by his self-loathing, although it wasn’t as bad as before. But the meeting with the client was important, and he already rescheduled it once. Maybe, he thought, it would be good for me to go out and work. If the meeting goes well, I will feel better because I will have accomplished something.
The meeting didn’t go well. The client had some budget issues and not only put the whole project on hold but fired Kaveh indefinitely. It was midday when Kaveh stumbled out, numb and shocked from what had just happened. The voices in his head that told him time and time again he was not good enough roared up. Shut up, please, he pleaded to his mind. I can’t take this anymore, not today. He debated seeking refuge in Gandhara Ville, but it was too long and too dangerous to walk there in his state. Also, one of the voices in his mind reminded him that he already was a burden to his long-time friend Tighnari, even without the freak out from today. Alcohol wouldn’t help, either. Being seen in the Tavern drinking at this time of the day wouldn’t help his reputation. His mind raced; he needed a solution. The last time he felt that way, he ended up cutting himself, with Alhaitham walking in on him. He could still see the horror in the eyes of his usually expressionless boyfriend.
Alhaitham. Perhaps Kaveh could wait in the Akademiya for him. If he got notice that Kaveh was waiting for him, looking like the world had ended, he might even cut his day short just to be with him instead. No, I can’t do that. He does so much for me that I can’t ask for more. He deserves better than that. Out of options, he made his way home. Maybe he could sleep it off.
He couldn’t sleep. He laid in bed, looking at the ceiling, spiralling thoughts running at full speed through his mind. He didn’t want to try any more skills or coping mechanisms. He hated that stupid list and his stupid mental health that made it necessary. Why couldn’t he just be normal? There must be something fundamentally wrong with him. Other people don’t struggle with their lives like this. If something bad happens, they move on. Why does his depression come back to him? Why can’t he just shake it off? I am weak, and that is why I still suffer from it. It must be it. I am just not good enough. I deserve this and everything bad that has ever happened to me. Dad died because of me, and Mum ran away because she knew.
Logically, he knew this was wrong, but he was already in too deep to acknowledge any rime or reason. I am scum, a waste of space, and nobody will miss me when I am gone.
His mind wandered to Tighnari, to Cyno and Collei, and his heart ached. The shame and guilt of not being a better friend to them took over. He loved them, and still, he puts them through so much. He knew the ‘secret’ meetings between Tighnari, Cyno, and Alhaitham. They would discuss him as the problem that he was and how to ‘handle’ him. No one else requires that. And Alhaitham. Why this tall mountain of muscles and brains ever agree to take him as a partner when he was more of a burden, he could never understand. But still. He made a promise to him on that night after the ‘incident’.
“Promise me, you will try. Promise me, you will stay with me as long as you can. Promise me, you will fight. I want you to do this for yourself, but since you are not quite ready for that, I am going to play my joker. If you can’t do it for you, then please, do it for me.”, Alhaitham whispered into his blonde hair, unusually emotionally, holding him close after patching him up with bandages.
“I promise”, he managed to mumble, with his swollen red eyes and no tears left to cry.
You promised. So, get up. Come on. Sit up, Kaveh. Yes, that’s it, you can do it! We will go into your room and give sketching a try. That always cheers you up. Now, put your feet on the ground. Both of them! Good, now focus on a point on the wall and walk towards it. Fine, now you're standing, congratulations.
Talking to himself as if he were a scared dog that he tried to lure out from under the couch, he managed to walk himself from Alhaitham’s room, which they used as a bedroom, to his room. He opened the door, and the familiar smell of wood and paint greeted him. It almost felt like a hug. He loved that smell. It reminded him of some of his greatest achievements and long nights working on projects he adored. Wow, finally a good idea, he thought to himself. He felt a little better.
Then Kaveh’s gaze wandered to his desk. No. There it was, one of his sharp cutting knives he used yesterday to finalise a carving for an ornament idea he had. No, no, no. NO ! He walked right into the proximity of the one thing he could not be near right now. How could he forget? No, please! Archons, help me! He sank sobbing to the ground as the voices in his head went rogue again.
Alhaitham noticed something was wrong as soon as he walked into their house. Kaveh’s key was in the bowl at the door, so he was probably at home, but still, the kitchen was in the same state he left it in. The coffee mug sitting on the counter, the pan in the sink, and the portion of Fatteh for Kaveh still sitting on the table, untouched. If Kaveh stayed home, he would have cleaned up by now and would have greeted him at the door with a lecture on the scribe cleaning up after himself. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach. It was like a Deja Vue. He had been here before. Despite his ambiguous nature, Kaveh wasn’t one to break his usual routine like that. The only time it had happened lately was when he found him in his room, sitting on the bed, crimson lines drawn on his thigh, pearls of blood dropping on the sheets.
Suddenly, he could taste his heartbeat in his throat and hear it in his ears. He lost no time and strode forward, making his way quickly to Kaveh’s room. He didn’t bother to knock and just barged in. To his left, he found the architect, crumbled on the floor, his face buried in his hands and not making a sound or acknowledging in any way that he realised he wasn’t alone anymore. Relieved, he noticed how his shoulders moved, so the architect must be still breathing, and he couldn’t see any suspicious red marks on any of his clothes. But still, Kaveh wasn’t well, and the scribe could tell.
“Kaveh, what happened,” he asked, trying to stay calm.
He got no answer. Kaveh only let out a deep sob but still didn’t move. Alhaitham kneeled beside him.
“Hey, talk to me. Please,” the scribe urged him, getting more worried by the second.
Finally, the architect opened his mouth. In a raspy voice, he whispered:
“It’s… It’s just a bad day, don’t worry.”
“I am worried. You are obviously hurting in some way. And you haven’t shown me your face yet. Why are you sitting on the floor like that?”
The question resulted in a series of sobs from Kaveh. He finally lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and the bags under his eyes were dry and crusty from salt. He looked like he had cried for hours. I need to get him some water , was the scribe’s first thought. The vermillion eyes of his boyfriend searched for him as he finally managed to explain:
“I can’t stand up. I’ve had a bad day. I got fired, and I wanted to come in here and do some sketching to take my mind off it. But my carving knife is on the desk from yesterday. I didn’t trust myself to not do anything stupid if I stood up.”
With a defeated sigh, Alhaitham let himself fall next to his boyfriend. He had been anxious that something like that had happened, and now he, the man with the emotional depth of a teaspoon, had to deal with that. And with the following guilt of the architect of being even in this state. The scribe took a deep breath.
“Then it is good you didn’t stand up.”
Kaveh, still shaken by sobs, managed to croak:
“I don’t see how this is a good thing. It is pathetic.”
Pathetic! How can you say that this is pathetic? Your depression has beaten you up, and you still managed not to hurt yourself like you did last time. Alhaitham closed his eyes. When he finally opened them, he said:
“Nothing about this is pathetic. You didn’t cut yourself; this is a good thing,” he tried to explain matter-of-factly.
He stood up and reached out to the still-sitting Kaveh.
“Come on. Let’s talk about it in the living room”.
Kaveh took his hand and let Alhaitham pull him to his feet. Almost instantly, his eyes unfocused, and he began to topple over, but he was caught by the waiting arms of his boyfriend. Dehydrated, as expected, Alhaitham thought as he lifted him up and carried him to the living room, laying him on the divan.
“I am so weak”, Kaveh muttered, fighting to stay conscious. I want to strangle that part of your brain that tells you this nonsense. Do you have any idea how strong you have to be to do what you just did? Alhaitham thought while filling up a glass of water.
“Here, drink that”, he said, giving the glass to Kaveh.
It wasn’t until Alhaitham found Kaveh on that evening a few weeks ago that he finally managed to take his boyfriend's depression seriously. He wasn’t one to drown in self-doubt and guilt, but missing all the obvious signs before the architect resorted to this drastic means has left a bitter taste in his mouth. A tiny voice in his head reminded him constantly that if Kaveh had been with anyone else, he would have gotten help sooner. Someone else would have seen the signs. But if Alhaitham was anything, then it was pragmatic. There was nothing to gain from self-loathing, so he took the lesson, thanked Celestia that all that got cut was a few layers of skin and no major veins, and took Kaveh to Bimarstan. Since then, he made up by consuming every book he could get his hands on on the topic of depression and self-harm and taking note of everything that Zakariya had said.
The doctor was great. He took his time and walked Alhaitham through the thoughts and doubts patients with depression might have and how to handle them. Without that, he would have been lost and would’ve probably done more harm than good in the past couple of weeks.
Kaveh drank the water, and Alhaitham took the empty glass and filled it again. With the second glass of water, he sat next to Kaveh on the divan and handed it to him. The architect took it and looked at the scribe with the shame and guilt in his eyes he always had when he wasn’t doing well mentally.
Alhaitham carefully thought about his next words.
“Kaveh, you never have to be ashamed of needing help. You are not weak, and you are not pathetic. Don’t do this to yourself. You are doing good, considering the circumstances. The last time you were in this state, you didn’t manage to fight the urge. Now you did. I am proud of you-”
“STOP IT,” Kaveh shouted.
“Why won’t you acknowledge that this is my fault? Especially you are one to point out my flaws in a heartbeat! And now, only because it escalated once, you start to treat me like I am made of porcelain like I would break if I heard the truth from you! I am obviously too weak for this world, and that is my problem, not yours.”
Alhaitham looked down, shocked. Kaveh was right about one thing. Alhaitham had been quick to spot every moment of self-sabotage that he witnessed and had pointed it out to him in the past. In his mind, he thought he was helping him. Providing insight so Kaveh could solve it himself. The bluntness he did it with was just his way of communicating. Not only did the intention of his actions matter, but it was also important to how they were received. He finally understood that, and only now he began to understand how much damage he had caused.
“I did, didn’t I? Kaveh, I am sorry, I was wrong. You have to understand that I am telling you the truth. Before, I didn’t comprehend what you were going through, and I didn’t have the knowledge to react in a better way. But this isn’t an excuse. I hurt you. I am sorry. This is not your fault.”
“How can this not be my fault? I did this to myself. I could have gotten up and just put the knife away and started sketching.”, the architect insisted stubbornly.
Alhaitham sighed. This was a typical response from patients with depression.
“When will you finally acknowledge this as the disease that it is and stop thinking about it as a personal flaw?”
Kaveh looked at him, puzzled.
“You couldn’t have done that, just like someone with a broken foot couldn’t have just suddenly started walking.”
Alhaitham had stolen that analogy from Zakariya personally. One of the first steps towards healing was that Kaveh understood that he was worthy of healing. He had to understand that this was not a matter of personality or discipline. It was a mental disease, and there was no shame in having it. And Alhaitham would do anything to help him get there.
Kaveh sighed.
“What did you mean, you didn’t have the knowledge then? What changed,” he asked with a shaky voice.
“Good question, hold on.”
Alhaitham stood up and vanished into his room. He came back with two arms full of books. Kaveh had noticed the stack of books beside Alhaitham’s side of the bed, but he didn’t pay much attention to it. There were always books there, and always different ones. The scribe was a fast reader.
He began to spread the books over the divan.
“After you got back from the Bimarstan, I talked to the doctor. He recommended some books on the topic-“ he pointed to the books on his right “and I found some by myself in the House of Daena. I had to go to the section of Vahumana. You wouldn’t believe the stupid conversations I overheard while walking through it-“, he rambled on while showing the books from the library to Kaveh. “Oh, and I had a stack of notes I took from the doctor, but I threw them away after memorising them”
Kaveh's eyes grew wide.
“You did all that? For me?”
What do you mean? I have overthrown the government of this nation because I didn’t like how Azar led the Akademiya and treated Lesser Lord Kusanali. What did you think I would do for someone I love? Alhaitham thought. Do you even know how much you mean to me? Well, how could you? I never told you. He sighed. Maybe it was time to be honest with himself for once. With a pounding heart, he gathered all the courage he had left and said:
“Of course I did. I love you. I would do anything for you.”
He almost choked on his words, which left him vulnerable and defenceless. But this was Kaveh, the man who loved him despite his many flaws. He didn’t need a defence. That was something he had to understand.
Kaveh couldn’t close his mouth from being astonished. Alhaitham had spent tons of effort gathering as much useful information as he could. Not only that, but he also finally said the words the architect always wanted to hear from him. Up to this point, Alhaitham has never said I love you before. Kaveh still knew that he loved him. The scribe would show him by caring for him, making him coffee in the morning, and when Kaveh said I love you, he would answer him with phrases like ‘the feeling is mutual’, but the architect always longed for the scribe to say it. The word love. As a member of the darshan Haravatat, Alhaitham knew of the meaning of saying these exact words to someone and what it meant to not say them. But he could never bring himself to say them before, the fear of being this vulnerable clawing itself into his heart, leaving him speechless. But he couldn’t stall anymore. Too much was on the line.
And there he was. The former skinny boy, now grown into a tall, buffed man, sitting on the divan with him surrounded by stacks of books he probably all read in a few days just to help him. Shaking like a leaf because, at last, he told Kaveh what he felt for him. The architect knew what Alhaitham was capable of. He witnessed it times and times before, and now he finally knew that that man who could take the world off its hinges was on his side.
Kaveh was hanging on a thread for so long, but now he felt hope for the first time in months. And maybe, just maybe, that could be enough.