Chapter Text
The first time Alhaitham doesn’t show up to their designated biweekly gathering with Tighnari and Cyno, Kaveh does not let it bother him. What is one late night in an otherwise cushy and stable work-life balance? So he drinks and laughs along with his friends, and if he happens to drop his roommate’s name a few times over cards, it’s hardly out of the norm.
The second time it happens, Kaveh can tell he isn’t hiding his concern as well as he wants to with how Tighnari and even Cyno throw him an occasional glance as though they want to ask, but aren’t quite sure how he might react. He is usually the main source of all-information-Alhaitham, even moreso than the man himself who at best wouldn’t share more than absolutely necessary and at worst would simply ignore any probing questions.
Lately however, things between them have been… not exactly tense, but certainly not back to their version of normal, and it shows in the abrupt uptrend in Tighnari’s weekly tally of “number of times Kaveh has mentioned Alhaitham Randomly and Unprompted in conversation.” And really, the title underlines and capitalization of the rather lengthy scroll were completely Unnecessary and Unprofessional in Kaveh’s opinion. What kind of scholar capitalizes purely for emphasis? Kaveh recalls the many eye-rolls and tail flicks that tend to correlate with the data found in Tighnari’s scroll. Apparently, one who is running low on patience.
By the third missed game night in a row, Kaveh’s skin is buzzing, sadly not from the alcohol, and his heel taps out an uneasy rhythm on the wooden floorboards. It seems Tighnari and Cyno share his restlessness as they finish their drinks quickly and make their excuses before paying and heading out together. Their easy companionship and the way Cyno’s shoulder brushes against Tighnari’s as they pass through the door only serve to make Kaveh’s discomfort grow despite his best efforts at repressing.
Kaveh peeks at the window and finds the sun still warming the horizon. He nurses his drink a few minutes longer before pushing himself back from the table with a loud screech of his chair. If Alhaitham were here, he’d throw Kaveh the “you’re being dramatic” look and Kaveh would promptly roll his eyes and ignore him. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Alhaitham isn’t here. And so Kaveh curses his roommate’s name as he leaves enough mora on the wine-stained tabletop to cover his unusually small bill before leaving Lambad’s himself.
Shivering at the thought of returning to a dark and, more disturbingly, empty house, he instead lets his feet carry him through the streets of Sumeru and forces himself to contemplate his current standing with Alhaitham. He still finds it hard to believe that his bare-minimum, book-obsessed roommate with a penchant for afternoon naps had accomplished things as drastic as orchestrating a coup and shutting down the Akasha, Sumeru’s main source of knowledge, all while Kaveh was busy with a commission in the desert.
Well, he admits to understanding the Akasha part; neither of them were frequent users of the hive-like archive, largely preferring hard texts or primary sources. However, Alhaitham had risked his very life in the process without so much as a written word to warn Kaveh should things have gone south, and that more than anything burns- not in the way that desert heat is relentless and draining- but in the way that, come nightfall, the cold worms its way into cracked skin, aggravating what was already damaged by the sun.
It doesn’t help that Alhaitham is largely unavailable now due to his newfound role at the head of the nascent government, no matter how temporary he claims it will be. If Kaveh were honest with himself, he had been looking forward to coming home after his stint in the desert. There’s nothing like a functioning shower to wash away the grime and clean linens to sink into at the end of a back-breaking work day, but even now that he has both of these luxuries and more, the one thing that brings all the pieces together into the shape of a home is still missing.
Not that the man is literally missing, but he may as well be as he remains cooped up in an isolating office sitting on a massive chair meant for an even larger ego. It is astounding how a room so central to the Sumeru both literally and figuratively is so segregated from the rest of the Akademiya. Kaveh frowns, disquieted by the possible functions behind the design. In an effort to comfort himself, he considers that Alhaitham would probably enjoy the restricted access provided by the elevator with how he prefers his solitude. But this does not explain his latest bout in an undoubtedly long line of transgressions.
Kaveh startles out of his thoughts at the shrill cry of dusk birds nesting for the night. Blinking up at the sky which now resembles the shades of a zaytun peach, he finds himself at the entrance to the Akademiya. He frowns, debating the merits of saving his ungrateful roommate from his very much self-imposed workload versus slinking back home… alone… again. Muttering “fool” and a few other choice words under his breath- whether aimed at himself or at Alhaitham he couldn’t say- he balls his fists and pushes through the doors.
Kaveh breathes in the still air as he makes his way through the Akademiya’s echoing halls. This is a trip he never would have imagined taking a mere month earlier. Who could have predicted that all it would take was an archon– albeit one with a childlike appearance– to make Alhaitham work into dreaded overtime.
Alhaithm will certainly owe him for this whether he realizes it or not, Kaveh thinks with a firm nod as he strides with purpose over tiles polished smooth by thousands of feet rushing to and fro to various classes or meetings. And he can be forgiven for being a bit miffed that his closest friend had, one: not seen fit to share such nation-upheaving decisions with him, two: failed to plan for the immediate consequences of such decisions and their impact on his work-home balance, and three: not considered the rippling impacts on their circle of friends.
It doesn’t take long for Kaveh to reach the base of the elevator in the center of the House of Daena. His brow quirks at the newly installed table next to the entrance before narrowing in concern. He hasn’t been here since shortly after returning to Sumeru, when he heard from Alhaitham the bare bones of what had happened “when Sumeru needed him most.” And whose fault was that? Certainly not his.
He forces himself to ignore the implications of an additional- though perhaps more ornamental- layer of separation.
The… secretary? Intern? Latif, he reads from the block carving dangling haphazardly over the corner of the desk, briefly glances up from his stack of scrolls, dark circles evident even in the dimmed evening lights. Clearly a good match for Alhaitham, and perhaps just as poorly-adjusted to the Acting Grand Sage’s impossible hours as the man himself. Latif peers up at him for less than a second before gesturing him past with a tired wave. Maybe he should be concerned that Latif didn’t even ask for his name, but he supposes he is reasonably well-recognized within the Akademiya as the Light of the Kshahrewar- and, he thinks begrudgingly, as Alhaitham’s… not-friend.
Nonetheless, Kaveh dips his head in thanks but also in apology for his ridiculous roommate as he steps onto the elevator and prepares to give Alhaitham a piece of his mind.