Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kaveh wakes up feeling like he accidentally spent the night in a Withering Zone. 

His head is pounding. Experimentally, he tries to shift his arm, but ends up biting back a swear instead. Forget the Withering Zone— why does it feel like he had an unfortunate meeting with a Lawachurl’s arm and lost, miserably?

Kaveh casts his mind back to find an answer to that, but finds nothing. Not even an inkling of a hint. Just total darkness, no matter how hard he tries to remember.

He blinks, instead, and waits for the world to swim back into view. It materialises in the familiar image of his room, looking exactly as he had left it, with every inch covered in papers bathed in the afternoon sun. 

Kaveh blinks. Lovely as it is to be back, this is decidedly not the same place he remembers blacking out in.

He makes a valiant attempt to swing out of bed, but instead fall backwards as his headache reaches epic proportions. Perhaps that was a bad idea. 

“Why is this happening to me,” Kaveh laments, squeezing his eyes shut. It thankfully helps a little, and grants him enough time to think as the pain gradually ebbs into a dull ache. 

He has no idea how he returned to Sumeru City, seeing as he was in the desert the last time he checked. However, since he’s back home anyway, there is one other person who could possibly explain what exactly is going on.

What are the chances that said person would take pity on him and explain this situation without riling him up? Zero. Definitely zero. But what other clues does he have?

Kaveh groans for the second time, and settles in to wait for his roommate to come home. 

“There you are,” Kaveh huffs, when Alhaitham finally sees it fit to stroll through the door. He has two bags of shopping in each hand. “Mind explaining how I returned here?”

Alhaitham ignores him, which is typical, but aggravating nonetheless. Kaveh is really not in the mood for it. Really, who leaves their unconscious roommate alone to go shopping , of all things?

“Hello?” Kaveh says, offering a wave. “Are your headphones on again?”

Silence. 

Kaveh feels his cheeks redden. He crosses his arms. The nerve of this man!

“You know, there is a limit to how childish someone of your status should be,” he snaps. “Especially towards his own roommate. Especially in this condition! Could you not have left a note, at the very least?”

Instead of responding, Alhaitham starts to walk towards him. His gaze is fixed on the wall past Kaveh’s head, and his mouth is turned down into a frown.

Kaveh scoffs. “So now you want to answer—hey, watch where you’re going! You’ll collide with me, you brute—”

Alhaitham doesn’t slow down, so Kaveh flings his arms out, alarmed. He braces for impact.

There’s… nothing. He feels a swooping sensation in his arms, tingling through his chest and stomach, and then… nothing.

Huh.

Kaveh turns around, and feels his breath stop short. Somehow, Alhaitham is behind him, except—except he swears that he never saw Alhaitham sidestep around him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d swear that…

Slowly, Kaveh lifts his foot, and aims a gentle kick at their table. His foot slips through, as if the table leg isn’t even there. Behind him, Alhaitham fiddles with the newest painting they’ve acquired for the house. 

Kaveh looks down at himself, realises that he can see the rug through his feet, and shrieks.

Once his headache finally dissipates, Kaveh’s muddled recollection of events goes something like this:

Three days ago, he left for a project near Aaru Village. He had been asked to consult with the villagers regarding the construction of a local school, and discussions had been progressing smoothly.

Kaveh remembers retiring to his tent one night, and waking up early the next morning to trek to the planned construction site. He had initially wanted to carry out a brief survey of the site, but something had distracted him along the way.

A girl. Yes—this Kaveh remembers, because he barely saw her over Mehrak’s floating form, and had accidentally knocked over her campsite.

“I’m so sorry,” he had apologised, feeling truly regretful. “Here, let me help pick that up for you.”

He remembers that she had looked young—far too young for the unfettered rage slowly clouding her features.

“How dare you? Do you know how hard I worked for this?” she had seethed. Kaveh had put his hands up placatingly, but she had barrelled on. “You’ll pay for this!”

And then Kaveh had blacked out, and apparently somehow woke up in his room, on the floor, invisible and without Mehrak. He hardly believes in superstitions, but this doesn’t bode well for him at all.

He thinks, and thinks, and finally manages to arrive at three possible scenarios:

1. He is dead. His body is lying somewhere in a ditch in the desert, possibly buried under the sand, and no one will find him. (He hopes this is not the case).
2. He is stuck in limbo, meaning that he is still alive, but his body is still lying somewhere in a ditch in the desert. (In that case, is there any certainty someone will find him?)
3. He is in a dream. (How the hell does he wake up?)

There’s no way for him to prove any of this without any evidence. In other words, he is stuck, until he gleans some information from his surroundings.

Kaveh half-heartedly tries to lean against the wall, hoping against hope that somehow this is all a trick on his mind. A result of overwork, maybe?

As if one cue, he phases through the wall. It’s almost as if the universe is out to mock him.

“Archons,” he mutters, when he rights himself. 

Of course this sort of thing happens to him, of all people. Of course.

Kaveh quickly creates a list of hypotheses he wants to investigate, in order to discern exactly what sort of mess he’s gotten himself into. 

Firstly, he finds his roommate, who is, predictably, reading a book.

“Just to make sure, you really can’t hear me, yes?” Kaveh says, snapping his fingers in front of Alhaitham’s face. “This isn’t some sort of sick joke?”

Alhaitham doesn’t even blink. He stays completely engrossed in his book—which, granted, isn’t out of the ordinary, but Kaveh would have expected him to make an irritated expression at the very least, as he is wont to do when Kaveh bothers him.

A different tactic, then. 

Kaveh flings himself onto the divan, and spreads out along it as far as he can go. He plasters on a smug smile. “Poetry? For leisure? I’m surprised someone as unromantic as you can appreciate and enjoy the finer intricacies of any stanza, let alone a collection like this.”

No response. No Alhaitham giving him an annoyed look and slowly inching away.

Kaveh frowns. He leans forward, feeling more than a little desperate.

“I actually did eat the last samosa,” he tells Alhaitham, very seriously and very truthfully.

Alhaitham doesn’t even twitch. In a last ditch effort, Kaveh tries to pull the stray lock of hair on top of Alhaitham’s head—the one which makes him look like a budding sprout. Again, his fingers pass through, and the lock remains still.

Kaveh sighs, and turns to the kitchen counter. For a brief moment, he contemplates slinging tomatoes at Alhaitham’s head. 

For a second he thinks it actually works, because the stem of the tomato feels rough under his fingertips, whereas he had expected nothingness. Unsurprisingly, his hand slips through the tomato anyway. The sensation is almost like sluicing his hand through running water, and as futile as grasping that same water in his bare hands.

“You’re lucky the same rules apply to inanimate objects,” Kaveh says, ruefully. “I would have loved to see the look on your face if I used your head as target practice and you couldn’t see me.”

Alhaitham makes a noise. Immediately, Kaveh perks up.

“Alhaitham?”

Alhaitham grunts again, and Kaveh holds his breath, hopeful— 

—until Alhaitham sneezes, and goes right back to reading his book.

Kaveh deflates, and contemplates his next move. 

He decides to try and leave the house next. Perhaps the issue is something that only affects the current space they are in—although he wonders what the girl would have to do with it, in that case.

Still, it’s a starting point. Even if it does prove futile once Kaveh realises that the people of Sumeru also can’t see him. 

“Of course,” he mutters. 

Kaveh decides to do something nondescript to test his theory, so he settles for walking into people. As predicted, no one swerves for him, and he phases through all of them. 

At least it’s not just an Alhaitham issue, because that might have been worse. Still, this is hardly what he wanted. Kaveh has never felt so unseen. 

This is so frustrating he could scream. He then quickly realises that he can , actually, scream, and so with some trepidation he lets out the loudest scream his lungs can possibly generate in the middle of Treasures Street. It makes him feel marginally better, but no one bats an eye, which then just makes him feel infinitely worse.

Kaveh does five laps around Sumeru City like this. In a final effort, he tries to pretend to steal something from a stall, but winds up feeling too guilty to try that particular theory out, so settles for sitting on the stall itself. A customer reaches through him to inspect an item, and it feels like someone stirred his insides. It’s very unpleasant. Kaveh resolves to avoid that sensation in the future if possible.

He returns home with another headache. Surely it would have been useful if someone had at least felt cold when passing through him! But no—they had all felt nothing, apparently, which helps him none. 

Neither does Alhaitham, when Kaveh makes a poor attempt at patting his back. He doesn’t even flinch—just continues to chop his onions with his signature unbothered expression.

“Figures,” Kaveh grumbles, as he flops onto a chair.

At this point, it seems as if the prospect of help is scarce. Kaveh is currently freelancing, and isn’t expected back from the desert for another week at least. This means Alhaitham has no reason to grow suspicious, because his client won’t be asking after him any time soon. She had also seemed fairly relaxed about the project at the time, and Kaveh finds himself wishing that she was a bit more draconian, if only to alert Alhaitham that something is wrong. As smart a man as he is, Alhaitham currently has no reason to feel suspicious. Therefore, he has no reason to investigate.

Kaveh laughs bitterly. Would Alhaitham even investigate his disappearance, for that matter? Kaveh considers the two of them friends, but on their bad days he gets the impression that Alhaitham considers him a grudging friend at best, and a charity case at worst. 

Plus, Kaveh being caught up in his work is unfortunately not uncommon. Even if he is late by a week or so, Alhaitham would probably dismiss it as normal, and then spite him right afterwards.

And in all the time Kaveh has known him, right from their Akademiya days until now, Alhaitham only ever pursued something that would personally benefit him. This situation… probably isn’t something that would fall into that category.

Kaveh lets his head fall into his hands. What a right mess he’s in. And the one man who could possibly help him out a) can’t see him, and b) would rather spend his time mocking him than actually being of use.

Case in point: the man in question has currently abandoned his cooking pot in favour of staring at one of Kaveh’s paintings. Kaveh looks on, somewhat concerned, until Alhaitham reaches out to one of the corners and rotates it slightly.

Huh. Huh. 

Alhaitham smirks, turning on his heel and walking away. It takes a second for Kaveh to register what he just did.

“I knew it!” Kaveh explodes. “I knew you had something to do with that! All this time I thought my mind was playing tricks on me—I knew my paintings looked more and more crooked every time I turned around!” If he could feel his feet he would be stamping them right now, but all Kaveh can do is seethe at Alhaitham’s general direction. “You are insufferable! I won’t let you hear the end of it when I return, mark my words.”

Alhaitham returns to the kitchen and whistles. He seems pleased. Nevermind that he can barely hold a tune, or that he’s somehow been driving Kaveh up the wall for a month straight and Kaveh only managed to figure it out when he became invisible and unknowable.

Kaveh wishes that he could turn visible right now, just to give Alhaitham a piece of his mind. Despite his sudden spike in murderous willpower, it doesn’t happen, and he has to resist the urge to tear out his hair instead.

He hopes to Celestia that his body isn’t rotting somewhere, and that he isn’t dead. A part of him despairs enough to want to give up. It would be much easier than having to worry endlessly like this.

But at his heart, Kaveh is a scholar. He is the Light of Kshahrewar, and he has never let a client down before.

Somehow, he will get to the bottom of this, and when he does, he’ll bicker at Alhaitham enough to last them a decade.

While he figures out his next course of action, Kaveh decides to accompany Alhaitham to his office.

“Oh, you really weren’t joking when you said the work was piling up,” Kaveh notes when he says when he sees the towering pile of applications on Alhaitham’s table. 

Alhaitham looks vexed as he works, periodically tossing applications to a haphazard mess on the left of his desk, while reserving the right for a smaller, neater pile. Kaveh peers over his shoulder to have a look. It all looks awfully drab.

“This is a far cry from your usual scribe work, isn’t it,” Kaveh hums sympathetically. “I’m sure you’ll find a good replacement soon enough.”

There’s a knock on the door. Alhaitham puts down the application with an almost grateful look, and rubs his eyes. 

“Enter,” he says.

A woman hesitantly steps through the doorway, a stack of envelopes in hand. She looks frazzled. 

“My apologies for disturbing you, Acting Grand Sage,” she squeaks. “I was told to pass these on to you?”

If Alhaitham notes how nervous she is, he doesn’t say anything. “Leave them here, thank you,” he says, gesturing to the mess on his desk. “For reference, you can leave them on my desk in the future.”

“Ah! My apologies again,” she says meekly. 

The poor girl looks terrified. Kaveh aims a pointed kick at Alhaitham’s leg for good measure. 

Alhaitham ignores the woman in favour of rifling through the envelopes, and Kaveh fights the urge to roll his eyes. The woman, probably realising that she won’t be getting a proper dismissal any time soon, turns to leave. 

“Wait,” Alhaitham says suddenly. “This clearly isn’t addressed to me.”

Kaveh takes a peek. Alhaitham’s right—there’s one envelope that isn’t addressed to him. When Kaveh takes a closer look, he nearly startles, because he didn’t expect the letter to be addressed to him instead.

How did his own correspondence arrive at Alhaitham’s office?

“I’m sorry, I was just directed to you,” the woman says, wringing her hands. “I apologise for the trouble, but I assumed you would be able to pass them onto Senior Kaveh?”

“Hm,” Alhaitham says. He takes one last look at Kaveh’s letter, before letting it fall on the messy pile. “That is true. Whether I’d take the time to find him, however…”

Kaveh gapes. The woman edges towards the door.

“Are you serious?” Kaveh explodes. “At least have the decency to deliver my own letters to me, even if they were mistakenly sent to you!” 

He could wring Alhaitham’s neck right now, because Alhaitham just looks faintly smug . Kaveh seethes. This is possibly the worst kind of hell to be in—definitely worse than all-nighters he pulled in the Akademiya. Arguing with Alhaitham is infuriating in itself, but being mocked by the man without being able to rebut or defend himself is agonising.

Alhaitham tosses Kaveh’s letter onto his office chair. Kaveh opens his mouth to scream in his general direction, before the stamp on the envelope catches his eye.

He knows that stamp. It’s from his current client.

“Never mind. Alhaitham, please open that letter.”

Alhaitham returns to his work. The letter remains unopened. Kaveh grits his teeth.

“Alhaitham, please do the conventionally annoying thing and open my letter, since you’re so good at doing the conventionally annoying thing on a daily basis.”

It’s like talking to a brick wall. Alhaitham completely ignores his letter, even leaving for a meeting with the thing left out in the open in his office. Kaveh huffs as he tries to keep up.

“I’m giving you permission to be rude! Just this once!” Kaveh wheedles. “Come on, you know you’ve always wanted to read my correspondence.”

He feels like a devil (or an angel?) whispering into Alhaitham’s ear, except the devil in question is being resolutely ignored. Great.

Who the hell did he piss off enough to become like this? Evidently the answer would be ‘that girl’, but how is he supposed to find her? And get her to fix this?

Kaveh tries— and fails—not to despair.

Alhaitham clocks out at exactly 5:31PM. Kaveh knows this, because he has been staring at the clock on the wall for the past half hour, after spending the hour before that walking around the Akademiya and watching students agonise over their assignments.

“Finally!” he says, leaping to his feet as Alhaitham begins to clear his desk. “I had almost forgotten how dull office work was.” 

Alhaitham strides out the door, and Kaveh is pleased to see that he’s taken the letter with him. 

The sun hangs low in the sky as they make their way down the slopes of Sumeru City. The city is livelier than ever at this hour, and Kaveh finds himself missing the familiar smells: the headiness of the pani puri and chicken shawarma, the sharp iron of the forge, and even the weekly mehndi stalls. Things he would take the time to appreciate but only in passing, but now feel as far away from him as the horizon in the distance.

Alhaitham stops at one of these stalls. He picks up spices—cardamom, star anise, bay leaves, and cinnamon sticks—before continuing on his way. When they pass the tavern, Lambad steps out and waves to him.

“I haven’t seen Master Kaveh in an age!” he calls.

“He’s currently occupied with a project in the desert,” Alhaitham tells him. “He won’t return for another two weeks. Enjoy the peace while you can.”

Kaveh knows it’s futile, but he tries to smack Alhaitham for that comment anyway.

“It was getting a little quiet,” Lambad agrees with a smile. “Send him my regards when he returns, eh?”

Kaveh huffs. At least someone misses him around here. 

He crosses his arms, and makes it a point to not look at Alhaitham for the rest of the journey.

As soon as they arrive home, Alhaitham toes off his shoes, tosses the letter on the table, and begins to boil a pot of water on the stove. Kaveh watches with increasing fascination as Alhaitham carefully breaks open the cinnamon pieces and cardamom seeds, before upending it all alongside a palmful of star anise and bay leaves into the pot. He then adds the evaporated milk and normal milk before topping it off with a spoonful of sugar, keeping a careful eye on the pot so that it doesn’t bubble over.

Kaveh knows that Alhaitham prefers his coffee strong in the morning, but he’s rarely home to watch this particular evening routine. It must smell divine. Kaveh’s mouth would water at the sight if it could, because this is exactly how he prefers his chai.

“You’re a cruel man, Alhaitham,” Kaveh bemoans. 

The man in question has curled up on the divan, book in hand and a steaming cup of chai on the table beside him. He’s made enough for two cups, and Kaveh desperately wishes he could have some himself.

Back when they were students in the Akademiya, Alhaitham had once turned his back on the pot and realised too late that it was bubbling over onto the floor in seconds. Kaveh had to sit his junior down and show him how to make a proper cup, and to his knowledge, Alhaitham had made chai the same way ever since. Most people adjust the spices to their taste, but Alhaitham still made it exactly the way Kaveh liked it.

Realistically, Alhaitham probably preserved the recipe out because he enjoyed the taste as it was, and from a lack of desire to experiment further. Still, Kaveh likes to think he had some influence. The sight of Alhaitham with his own chai now does make him feel fond, although he’s sure Alhaitham would hardly appreciate the beauty in that shared memory.

“Well, since I’m currently fresh out of ideas,” Kaveh tells Alhaitham, a touch warmer than he intended, “I suppose I’ll just have to keep you company until I think of something.”

He sits next to Alhaitham and cranes his neck to see what he’s reading, before realising that for once, he doesn’t have to.

Things pick up the next morning, while Alhaitham is getting ready to leave for work. 

For some reason, his morning routine includes him making sure the painting is still crooked (Kaveh pointedly looks away). It’s only interrupted when someone knocks on their door. 

Alhaitham furrows his brow, and Kaveh finds himself mirroring him. No one calls on them this early. 

The knocking grows more insistent. Alhaitham makes a face, before finally opening the door.

On the other side stands the General Mahamatra in all his glory. Alhaitham raises his eyebrows.

“Cyno,” he says flatly. 

“Alhaitham,” Cyno says back, equally as curt. He looks especially grim. Kaveh’s only ever seen him this serious when he’s at work. “May I come in?”

“I leave for work within the hour,” Alhaitham says. “So no.”

He moves to swing the door shut, but Cyno wedges his foot between the doorway. “Believe me, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t urgent,” Cyno grits out.

Alhaitham scowls. “What could possibly be so important…?”

His voice dies away when Cyno produces a familiar briefcase from behind his back.

Kaveh gasps. Mehrak is in a sorry state; missing several hinges, with dust and sand covering nearly every inch of its surface. Its beeps are irregular and dissonant—almost sad, even. Cyno is gripping it with both hands, and Kaveh registers belatedly that this means it probably can’t even hover.

He claps a hand over his mouth, horrified. Alhaitham actually frowns when he takes a look. Mehrak has always been nothing short of pristine, so seeing it like this is uncanny.

“I was hoping Kaveh had just misplaced it,” Cyno says. “But judging by your expression, I see that isn’t the case.” He fixes Alhaitham with a steely look. “I trust that this is enough reason to have a discussion?”

Cyno and Alhaitham relocate to the dining room, and Kaveh follows in a daze. He feels his heart twist when Mehrak beeps faintly from its position in Alhaitham’s lap. 

“So, Kaveh has been visiting sites in the desert,” Cyno says, leaning forward. “When did he leave?”

“Three days ago,” Alhaitham replies.

“Did he mention where he was going?”

“No. He stormed off in the morning without a word.”

Strictly speaking, that isn’t untrue. It wasn’t unexpected, though. Kaveh can hardly remember the argument now, but it was one of their usual. Nothing out of the ordinary for them.

Judging from his deadpan expression, Cyno seems to think otherwise. Kaveh begins to fidget.

Open your letter, he urges Alhaitham. 

After a pause, Alhaitham actually does retrieve it. After the flash of surprise, Kaveh briefly wonders whether Alhaitham really heard him, before dismissing the thought.

Even Alhaitham’s not that good of an actor.

“This was delivered to me today,” Alhaitham tells Cyno. “It’s Kaveh’s.”

He slices the envelope open and scans the contents for himself. After a beat, he apparently comes to a conclusion, because he lays the letter on the table so that it faces Cyno.

Kaveh floats over to take a look. From what he can make out, it seems his client is simply asking for an early update on his design.

Cyno’s nose twitches. “And I assume there’s no possibility he’d leave Mehrak while onsite.”

“None at all. He treats it like his own,” Alhaitham says. “And its mapping functions are necessary for his work.”

Cyno sighs. “Alright. You’re sure he didn’t make mention of any stops along the way?”

“If he did, I wouldn’t know about it.”

Cyno closes his eyes, and presses a hand to his temple. “Can you operate Mehrak?”

Alhaitham taps the side of the briefcase. There’s no response. Kaveh’s stomach sinks. 

He desperately casts his mind back. As ever, the only thing he can recall is the girl knocking him out after hurling a barrage of insults at him. He doesn’t know how, but surely that couldn’t have led to a situation as serious as this…?

The silence settles in the room like a thundercloud. Cyno continues to inspect the letter, while Alhaitham taps his foot against the rug.

Finally, Cyno sighs. “Ordinarily this wouldn’t be much cause for concern, but Kaveh never leaves Mehrak behind, and his client is expecting correspondence,” he mutters, before standing. “I will file a missing persons report. And I will speak to his client. If he’s lost in the desert, I will find him.” 

Cyno casts a look behind him. “I trust that if you hear from him, you’ll report it?”

“Naturally,” says Alhaitham, still tapping his foot.

Cyno crosses his arms, unimpressed. “You know, I would’ve expected you to be more concerned.”

“Kaveh can handle himself,” Alhaitham shrugs. “He regularly undergoes solo trips to the desert; it is an integral part of his work.”

Kaveh almost feels flattered that Alhaitham openly admits his strength in front of others. He wishes Alhaitham said it to his face, but he’ll take what he can get.

He also wishes that this one time, Alhaitham could think the opposite, if only to realise that something has indeed gone terribly wrong. 

Cyno’s expression remains indecipherable. “I will keep you updated, then,” he says, before he slips through the door and disappears as silently as he had come. 

Mehrak beeps sadly. Alhaitham lifts it, seemingly inspecting it for something.

“Be gentle,” says Kaveh sharply. 

Again, almost as if he heard him, Alhaitham places it on the sofa far more gently than Kaveh would’ve expected. But Kaveh knows better at this point. Alhaitham cannot see him, because he would have made at least one snarky comment about it if he had. It really is up to him to find his own way back.

But Cyno is looking for him. This means that at the very least, his body will be found, because once Cyno sets his eyes on someone, they never escape. Perhaps once his body is recovered, Kaveh can just… float back inside it, and resume corporeality that way.

Yes. It should be fine. Until then, he just has to hold on. 

The next day, Kaveh once again follows Alhaitham to his office. His roommate looks unruffled, and works through the day as silently as he did before, with minimal interruptions.

At the end of the workday, however, Kaveh watches as Alhaitham fishes the letter out from his pocket.

“Aaru Village,” Alhaitham murmurs cryptically, before tearing off the portion of the letter with the address and stowing it back in his pocket. Kaveh barely gets the time to blink before Alhaitham is already leaving his office, striding down Sumeru City with those horrendously long legs of his. Even in ghost form, Kaveh can hardly keep up.

“Wait!” Kaveh gasps. “Not all of us—are blessed with long legs—you unfair man—”

By the time they get home, Kaveh is huffing and puffing. Alhaitham is completely unaffected, and instead strides to the sofa that Mehrak is resting on. 

Mehrak beeps softly when Alhaitham draws near. Alhaitham bends down to its level, and despite the sorry sight the pair of them make, it still makes Kaveh feel warm with affection. 

“Hello,” Alhaitham says, prodding Mehrak’s face bluntly. Forget being warm with affection—Kaveh wants to smack him now. “Do you know anything about Kaveh’s whereabouts?”

Mehrak is silent for a bit. Kaveh fears that it completely lost its responsive functions, but finally it beeps a negative. 

Alhaitham peers at it. “I thought you would respond to my voice,” he muses, drawing to his full height, “but it seems Kaveh has still kept you password protected.”

“No, you idiot, it needs repairs!” Kaveh snaps. “Mehrak clearly said no. It’s tired!”

Alhaitham picks Mehrak up. He deliberates a while, turning it around in his hands, before he sets it down again and fiddles with the broken hinges on the exterior casing.

Finally, in a softer voice, he speaks again. “Sorry,” he says, placing it back on the sofa. “It seems you’ll have to wait for your master to get back.”

Alhaitham walks away. Kaveh stays rooted to his current position, flabbergasted. 

He has never heard Alhaitham apologise in his life. Not once in all the years Kaveh has known him, and if he has, it certainly hasn’t been in front of him.

For once in his life when it comes to Alhaitham-related matters, Kaveh doesn’t know what to think.

Alhaitham becomes even more confusing a few days later, when, in a show of uncharacteristic spontaneity, he decides to set off outside Sumeru City.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Kaveh yells after Alhaitham’s retreating figure. “I’ll be stuck here, you know!”

Kaveh ends up accompanying him to the border of Sumeru City, gesticulating widely the entire way. He usually feels lightheaded so close to the city border in this state, so he prepares to grumble and turn back, resigning himself to wait for Alhaitham to return from his impromptu trip.

This time, however, he feels faint when Alhaitham disappears into the wilds, rather than the opposite. The feeling persists until Kaveh follows him, and somehow, he doesn’t feel like blacking out when he does.

Kaveh is dumbfounded. This is the first time he’s been able to set foot outside the city since he became like this. Is he tied to Alhaitham, then? If so, that would be horrendous. It would also explain why he feels faint when he tries to stray too far from the road.

Regardless, Alhaitham presses on, so Kaveh follows suit. 

They walk for hours. Alhaitham doesn’t stop for a single break, so they wind up at Aaru Village by sunset, and book a room at the inn.

Alhaitham dumps his travelling bag onto the bed, before taking out the scrap of Kaveh’s letter and heading outside. Kaveh trails behind him as he converses with the residents, before finally ending up in front of a familiar house.

Alhaitham knocks on the door. After a few moments, it swings open to reveal the familiar face of Kaveh’s client. 

“Miss Zahra?” Alhaitham asks.

“That’s me,” Zahra says hesitantly. “Anything I can do for you, Mister…?”

“Alhaitham,” Alhaitham says smoothly. Zahra’s eyes widen in recognition, but Alhaitham barrels on. “I understand that you are one of Kaveh’s clients. Has he informed you of his itinerary?”

“He’s given me a preliminary sketch,” Zahra says, “but nothing concrete. I was expecting correspondence this week.” She frowns, already looking a little concerned. “Is something the matter?”

“Nothing at all,” Alhaitham says, tucking the letter back into his pocket. “He simply left something behind. I thought I would catch up to him, in case he might need it.”

Oh, that is a lie. Alhaitham has never been that proactively helpful towards Kaveh. If he had really left Mehrak behind (not that he ever would) Alhaitham would simply wait for him to come home before laughing at him for it.

The pair converse for a while longer. It seems the walking somehow tired him out, because Kaveh tunes out most of their conversation. How Alhaitham managed such a strenuous  journey out of the blue is beyond him.

“Thank you, Miss Zahra,” Alhaitham says when they finish. She nods, and wishes him good luck, none the wiser. They return to their inn, and Kaveh watches as Alhaitham prepares to retire to bed.

Kaveh can’t help but feel somewhat deflated. His client knows nothing, and has no reason to be suspicious. They’ve gained no clues. Alhaitham might go snooping, but he probably won’t voice his reasoning aloud. Besides, he has work the day after tomorrow, and Kaveh doubts he’d take leave for a situation that he hasn’t deemed critical.

Half-heartedly, Kaveh decides to go outside. Even though he can’t feel it, the prospect of getting fresh air right now seems more helpful than stewing in his own misery indoors.

Before he leaves, he glances back. Alhaitham is dozing off in bed, sleeping rigidly on his back as he always does. When he’s near sleep like this, the lines on his face smooth out a little. He looks more boyish. Softer.

Kaveh sighs. “I wish I could help you,” he admits. “Funny as it is watching you flounder for once, the benefits hardly outweigh the costs.”

Alhaitham snores on. Kaveh ducks outside, and slumps onto the nearby bench.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” says a familiar, smug voice to his right. 

Kaveh whips around, and comes face to face with—

“You!” he screeches. 

The girl from the desert waves at him from her perch on the nearby wall. She cackles like an imp, mouth stretched in a mocking grin, and Kaveh is suddenly wide awake. 

“You—Put me back to how I was right this instant—!”

His hand, pointing at her, is quivering with rage. She seems to take this as a joke, because she laughs again.

“Absolutely not,” she cries gleefully. Kaveh feels his face grow hot. “Serves you right for destroying my potion. I spent months on that, only for you to come blundering along and knock it all over!”

What sort of equivalent exchange is this? Kaveh seethes, and tries to snatch her collar. She smartly hops off the wall, and he ends up spinning wildly and only grasping air. 

“I—” Kaveh grits his teeth. He forces himself to calm down. The first step is negotiation; after that, he can speak about her manners. “I really am sorry for that. It wasn’t my intention.” He forces a smile—the one he knows wins him drinks at the tavern. “I will try to make it up to you—if you could please turn me back to the way I was?”

She turns her nose up at Kaveh. “And why would I do that?”

Kaveh wills himself to breathe. Inhale. Exhale.

“I’ve said I’m sorry!” he snaps, instead. Oops. “And—I’m an architect. I also have friends who know this desert better than you or I. I could help you.” Nevermind that Cyno probably will try to arrest her on the spot, but he can omit that information—probably. “And this is causing problems far beyond me. Please.”

Something in his little speech seems to mollify her, because she looks less like a puffed up hissing cat now. More hesitant. “You’re… an architect? You’re the one building the schools?”

He nods. An emotion flits across her face. Shame—or guilt?

“Ugh, fine ,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “I was joking, you know. You should actually be  returning to normal any day now. To be honest, I’m surprised that you haven’t already.”

“What does that mean,” Kaveh says, exasperated. “Can’t you just turn me back?”

“Er. No,” the girl says, more sheepish now. “I would need your body for that, and I have no idea where it is.”

Kaveh throws his hands up.

“But out of the goodness of my heart,” she says quickly, and okay, she really does seem a bit guilty now, serve her right , “I will tell you all you need to know about what you can do.” She sits down on the bench, and raises one finger. “One! You do need your body. But that’s all you need. And two!” She raises another finger, looking far more triumphant than Kaveh feels. “This is the factor that makes this cure infinitely easier than the first. No seeping dried petals for months under the full moon! Or slaving away scouring the desert for pure minerals.” 

She shoots him a pointed look, but Kaveh only feels a rising headache coming on.

“What is it,” he says tiredly. How Alhaitham hasn’t woken up from the racket she’s making is beyond him.

She spreads her arms, triumphant. “A kiss!”

Kaveh looks at her. Crickets chirp in the background. A tumbleweed possibly rolls by. The wind howls.

The girl huffs. “What’s that look for?” she demands. “It is quite possibly the easiest cure to a curse in the history of curses.”

“A kiss,” Kaveh repeats. He rubs his eyes. “Alright. What’s the alternative?”

“You cannot be serious,” she scowls. “Surely someone out there would kiss you out of pity and admiration upon gazing at your limp, weak form—”

Kaveh feels like crying. “I have no romantic partner!”

“And when did I say the kiss had to be romantic?” the girl demands. “All types of love should be celebrated, and this curse is a kind one. Any kiss will do. It celebrates love in its purest form; a selfless commitment to the care of another.” She squints at him. “You said you have people who care about you, so what’s the problem, exactly?”

“Not enough to kiss me!”

“What about your mother?”

“I have no familial attachments.”

“Friends?”

“None that would think to kiss me!” Kaveh hisses. “If they can even find my body first!”

At that, she coughs at that. “Ah. Hm.” A pause, and then she’s raring again. “Surely there is someone out there who would kiss you? You shouldn’t sell yourself short!” She peers behind him, and brightens. “What about him?”

Kaveh follows the line of her pointing finger to see it trained on Alhaitham’s sleeping form through the window. 

“Him?” Kaveh scoffs. “What we have can hardly be called ‘love’. It’s something infinitely worse.” He makes a face. “Maybe even a third thing. I’m not sure how to categorise it.”

She stares at him. “What?”

“Never mind that,” Kaveh dismisses. “The point is, it seems unlikely that there is somewhere out there to kiss me awake.” He gives her a meaningful look. “So what are we going to do?”

“Never doubt,” she says, wilting. “...I suppose I could try and explain a few things to someone else.”

Kaveh shakes his head. “Not try! Do! Come to the Akademiya. Ask for Acting Grand Sage Alhaitham. He’ll know what to do.” He gets up, beginning to pace. “And worse comes to worst, you can just—I don’t know. Kiss my forehead?”

She looks disgruntled at the prospect. Kaveh doesn’t know whether to feel offended or not. “Yes, that would work,” she sighs. “Provided that your body has been retrieved by the time I get there.”

“It will be,” Kaveh says firmly. If Cyno can’t find him, no one can.

She groans, and Kaveh almost feels sorry for her. She looks fairly young, and he’s always been weak to children. Even the ones that curse him, apparently.

“Why did you do it?” he prods. “This seems a bit far.”

She looks away, fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “... I was angry that you ruined my experiment,” she mutters. “And… I really thought you would have been found and kissed by now.”

“What a ridiculous curse…” Kaveh sighs. “Who tries to kiss a body?”

She stamps her foot. “Plenty of people!” she huffs. “Wouldn’t you do it if your friend was sick? Or family?”

Kaveh tries imagining kissing a sick Alhaitham. The man would probably throw him off immediately, citing germs transfer and general disgust and whatever else.

He rubs his temple. This is so much more hassle than he had expected. “Please don’t do this to anyone else,” Kaveh sighs. “You're sure there isn't any other cure? Some kind of—oral medicine, perhaps?”

“Positive. This curse is quite harmless, anyway, so relax!”

He grits his teeth. Relax, she says. He has deadlines and a roommate he’s stuck to like glue, and she tells him to relax?!

On that note— “Why am I stuck with him?” Kaveh demands, gesturing in the direction of the inn. “It’s infuriating having to follow him around, you know!”

She opens her mouth presumably to explain, but pauses. Her eyes widen in panic, fixed on a point just past Kaveh’s head.

“I have to go!” the girl gasps.

“Wait—” Kaveh tries, but it’s too late. The girl slips into the night as easily as she appears. Kaveh opens his mouth to shout after her, but stops once he hears rustling behind him.

Alhaitham’s standing in the doorway, blearily rubbing his eyes.

“Kaveh?” he mumbles, hiding his yawn behind one hand.

Kaveh’s heart leaps. He rushes to the inn.

“Can you see me?” he demands. His voice sounds frantic, even to his own ears. 

Alhaitham blinks. His bangs fall messily across his forehead, and Kaveh feels the sudden urge to sweep his hair out of his face.

“No,” Alhaitham says to himself. “A trick.” 

He promptly goes back to bed. The girl doesn’t return, either, and Kaveh feels infinitely more tired. 

Alhaitham returns to their house by the end of the next day, seemingly unaffected by his little trip. Kaveh can’t do much but follow him around and mull over the new information he’s received.

Now that Kaveh at least knows that there is a cure to this whole thing, the situation is no longer as dismal as it was. The prospect of acquiring said cure, however, makes him want to bash his head against the nearest wall.

“Please kiss me when you wake up,” Kaveh tells Alhaitham at his office desk, feeling incredibly stupid doing so. “Even if you don’t have a single romantic bone in your body, please feel a shred of sympathy when you see my malnourished body, and feel the urge to give me a kiss. Out of pity, even. I would accept that!”

Kaveh hopes his body is recovered. It’s been a week or so, at this point, and Cyno’s notorious for his ruthless hunts. It usually doesn’t take him this long to track someone down.

Alhaitham, on the other hand, seems unaffected. Kaveh can’t help but wonder what it would be like if their positions were reversed. Surely he would show a modicum of worry if Alhaitham suddenly went missing? Kaveh feels slightly disgruntled that his disappearance incites such a lack of anything in Alhaitham, but he supposes that with Cyno on the case, there isn’t much left for Alhaitham to do except to return to his meticulous daily routine. 

Kaveh’s prayers are answered when Alhaitham receives another letter. It’s barely a scrap of paper, but it has an address on the back of it, and a hasty scrawl underneath. He peers over Alhaitham’s shoulder to see  Cyno’s familiar handwriting, and his heart leaps to his throat.

Bimarstan, it says, with a list of short instructions underneath. The note ends there, but it’s enough to spur Alhaitham into action. He gives it a quick scan, before stowing it back in his pocket and striding out of the door, Kaveh following close behind.

Bimarstan. That can’t bode well.

Chapter Text

Cyno’s already at Bimarstan when they get there. He’s accompanied by a doctor.

“He’s here,” Cyno says. He’s sat on a chair, eyes fixed on the bed in front of him.

Kaveh’s body looks—for lack of a better word— terrible. His hair resembles burnt straw, and his lips are chapped beyond saving. His skin looks like it was left in the sun for too long. It would probably feel like sandpaper if he could pinch it. 

Kaveh winces. He takes pride in his appearance, waking early to apply his serums and moisturisers and adorn himself with flattering jewellery. Frankly, this is embarrassing.

But at least he is alive.  

“How long will it take for him to wake?” Alhaitham asks brusquely, settling in the opposite chair. “His client keeps asking after him.”

Cyno turns to the doctor, who only gives them a wan smile.

“We’ll continue to monitor his condition,” the doctor says. “Once we receive his test results, we’ll let you know what the next course of action will be. For now, it’s imperative that he gets plenty of rest, seeing as he was out in the elements for an undetermined length of time.”

“When will you receive the results?” Cyno presses.

“Soon, I hope,” the doctor says kindly. “If you wait a little longer, I will be able to obtain them for you.”

They end up waiting for three more hours. Cyno slips out of the room and returns with two plates of tahchin in hand. Alhaitham spends the time restlessly tapping his foot against the ground.

Both of them rise to their feet when the doctor returns.

“All tests returned conclusive,” the doctor tells them. “Physically, there is nothing wrong with him. We will continue to monitor him for changes, but for now, at least, he’s stable.”

Thank Archons. At least his body is safe and sound.

“Is there anything we can do?” Cyno asks.

The doctor shakes his head. “For now, we can only wait.”

The waiting, as it turns out, takes an age.

“He still hasn’t improved?” Tighnari says, frowning intently at Kaveh’s body.

Kaveh is touched that Tighnari came all this way to see him, but he also feels incredibly guilty that he even had to in the first place. It’s been three days since they found him, and… well. None of them look like they’d even thought about kissing him. They only look worried.  

Kaveh hates that look on all of their faces. He much prefers his friends be squabbling over Genius Invokation TCG, or gossiping about Alhaitham. This perpetual sombre mood is just unnatural.

A different doctor has been tasked to look after him today. She shakes her head at Tighnari’s question. “His vitals are positive. Again, physically he is in good health,” she says. 

Kaveh wants to interrupt, because in his opinion he looks physically dreadful. Look at the state of his hair. 

“There should be no reason why he shouldn’t wake, but sometimes, these things just take time,” the doctor continues. She turns to Alhaitham, while consulting Kaveh’s file in her left hand. “You are signed to make medical decisions on his behalf, yes? You have the option of caring for him at home, if you wish. It may save you the trip here every day.”

“Please say yes,” Kaveh groans. Home care would be infinitely better than having to hang around the Bimarstan the entire time Alhaitham is here. The place is drab enough as it is.

“It might be good for Mehrak to see him,” Alhaitham says thoughtfully. Behind him, Kaveh whoops delightedly.

“You’re signed to make medical decisions for him?” Cyno cuts in. His eyebrow is raised.

Althaiham shrugs. “Not by choice. He put my name down when I wasn’t looking.”

Yes, well, it wasn’t as if Kaveh had anyone else. And Alhaitham hadn’t complained too much, if he remembered correctly, so there was no need to get defensive…

Kaveh sends Alhaitham a withering look, and trails behind him as they begin preparing his body for transport.

And so begins the waiting game. Cyno departs on some work duty or the other, and Tighnari promises to visit them when he can. Once the carriage arrives at Alhaitham’s house, the two of them are alone.

“Well,” Kaveh says briskly, as Alhaitham lays him in his own bed. He watches, distracted, as Alhaitham draws the blankets up around his shoulders. “I hope you’ll take care of me. I don’t want to see a single hair out of place when I get back!” He pauses, and clears his throat meaningfully. “This is your cue to brush my hair.”

Predictably, Alhaitham does nothing of the sort. Kaveh can only groan as the man swiftly walks out of his room, presumably back to his reading hole. 

What an inconsiderate roommate. He won’t even brush Kaveh’s hair, let alone kiss him. No bedside manners at all.

Maybe the desert should have made him look even more pitiable, Kaveh thinks in a fit of despair. Perhaps then he would look terrible enough to warrant some comfort. 

He flings himself onto the couch, and prepares to wait.

In the following days, Kaveh makes a series of observations.

Firstly, Alhaitham acts largely the same as he has always done. He keeps to his meticulous routine, going to work and returning home at exactly the same time, and spends his free time either reading or preparing meals for himself. 

Despite this, there are some subtle changes to his routine that strike Kaveh as odd. Some that only a trained eye (or, someone who had lived with him for years) could notice. 

The first oddity presents itself when Alhaitham makes his chai. He brews it as he usually does, but for some reason he makes two cups. This wouldn’t be so strange if Alhaitham had made enough for two people, but he had gone out of his way to pour two cups of chai, drinking one and leaving the other on Kaveh’s nightstand until it cools.

It puzzles Kaveh at first, because Alhaitham is a rational man, and wouldn’t make two cups because of something as mundane as sentiment (to him, anyway, because Kaveh can actually appreciate the thought) while it only wastes his own resources. Kaveh feels even more alarmed when Alhaitham takes the cold cup, reheats it, and drinks it for himself. Not only is the taste completely ruined—although who is Kaveh to digress, because if Alhaitham wants to have a cup of horrible chai then that’s on him—but it’s just… odd.

Perhaps Alhaitham hopes that the aroma is enough to wake Kaveh up. The idea becomes a likelier probability when Kaveh walks in on Alhaitham chewing on his own signature dish, slowly and obnoxiously, at his bedside.

“You are awful,” Kaveh tells him, trying his best not to drool. “At least try to make the dish aesthetically appealing. This barely resembles the shape of anything.”

Alhaitham chews on, oblivious. Kaveh sighs, and watches as he demolishes the—admittedly very enticing—fatteh.

“I don’t understand,” Alhaitham says, between chews, “why you refuse to wake up.”

“I would if I could,” Kaveh grumbles. “Or if you would—you know. Kiss me.”

He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. Even voicing the prospect makes him feel funny.

“Commonly, coma patients wake after a few weeks,” Alhaitham continues, “and there’s nothing to suggest that you should be out for this long. You have no preexisting medical conditions to cause or exacerbate this. Even if something did happen to you in the desert, there’s no external sign of it.” 

Alhaitham sets down his plate. Somehow, the lines on his face seem more pronounced.

“Coma patients are commonly said to hear what is being said about them,” says Alhaitham. “So, Kaveh, if on the off chance you can hear me, then this is my request for you to wake up.” He pauses. “Your rent is overdue.”

“So much for love and care,” Kaveh fumes. “Thinking about my rent even at this time!”

Alhaitham squints at Kaveh’s body, which lies as still and as unkempt as it was when they found it. He makes a face, halfway between a grimace and a sneer. “If you don’t wake up, I will throw out your blueprints. They’re littering the place.” 

“Hah! No, you wouldn’t,” Kaveh dismisses. “I’m long past believing that threat.”

Another pause follows. Alhaitham stares at Kaveh’s body again, perhaps expecting it to leap to life and perform an interpretive dance for him. Naturally, it does nothing of the sort.

Alhaitham cocks his head. Then, he lights up.

“I will use your skincare products for myself,” he says promptly. 

Kaveh tries, in much vain, to thump his head.

The next ten minutes are spent yelling at Alhaitham. Of course, Kaveh goes unheard, but it feels very good to let off some steam. Perhaps it’s because of Alhaitham’s current inability to talk back to him, although Kaveh will grudgingly admit that it feels wrong to not be rebutted at every turn of the phrase.

Through all this, Kaveh’s body remains stubbornly still. Alhaitham still has that expectant look on his face as he gazes at it, which only morphs back to his usual expression once night falls. Then, he gives a disgruntled sigh—as if he’s the one inconvenienced by this!—and walks off.

It would be fine if that were the extent of Alhaitham’s new, odd set of behaviours. Unfortunately, Alhaitham only gets even more strange.

For example, instead of following through on his threat and actually using Kaveh’s skincare on himself, Kaveh walks into his bedroom one night to find Alhaitham applying his products on Kaveh’s face. In the right order, even. Kaveh is rendered speechless the first time he sees it, and gets taken aback still when he sees Alhaitham strike up a routine of it—even following it religiously.

He’s appreciative, of course, but mostly just befuddled.

In the following weeks, alongside the strange skincare ritual and cups of chai, Kaveh also increasingly finds Alhaitham with his nose buried in a book. He’s hardly reading for leisure, if the scribbled notes strewn about on the side table say anything. It gets to the point where Alhaitham very nearly skips dinner to continue taking whatever notes he’s decided to take, and that’s enough for Kaveh to feel concerned.

Alhaitham never worries like this. Not that Kaveh would call this worrying, exactly, but this isn’t like Alhaitham, either. 

Kaveh feels slightly hysterical. Did it really take him falling into a coma to finally glimpse this side of Alhaitham?

“There’s no need for this! I’ll be cured within the month,” Kaveh says, wringing his hands and hovering by Alhaitham’s ear, “so just go back to relaxing. It’s not like you to be working past your office hours.” He frowns, and pokes Alhaitham in the shoulder—more for the sake of it at this point, than to elicit any reaction. “Honestly, you’re the one worrying me now!”

Alhaitham continues to work. From his vantage point, Kaveh identifies the majority of the books as medical ones. Some of them look like they were borrowed from the Akademiya. 

He casts a glance towards the untouched kitchen, frowns unhappily, and resigns himself to waiting by Alhaitham until the man finally decides to call it a night. It’s not like he can do anything now. If he could physically force his stubborn roommate into a bed, he would do it happily. In this form, he’s essentially useless.

For the hundredth time, Kaveh wishes he had his body back.

Hours pass before Alhaitham finally stops scratching away at his papers. He leans forward and rests his head on the closed book. In the next minute, he’s out like a light.

Kaveh sighs. So much for getting a healthy eight hours. He leans down, and absently tries to tuck the loose strand of hair falling into Alhaitham’s face behind his ear.

It doesn’t happen, of course, but Kaveh wishes he could. He’s never seen Alhaitham this tired—not even from their exam seasons in their Akademiya days.

“You silly man,” Kaveh murmurs. “Where’s the point in lecturing me for working too hard when you turn around and do the same?”

Alhaitham wakes up again after half an hour, presumably because of how uncomfortable his current position is. He blinks slowly, before rising and padding out of the room.

When Kaveh finds him, hours past midnight, he has Mehrak in his lap. Kaveh watches as Alhaitham stares down at it, lips pursed in thought. 

“What happened to you?” Alhaitham says, voice low.

Mehrak slumbers on. Alhaitham keeps staring at it, expression unreadable, and Kaveh gets the sudden feeling that the question wasn’t aimed at Mehrak at all.

Finally, Alhaitham places Mehrak on Kaveh’s bedside table. The gentleness in his movements makes Kaveh ache, and it takes everything in him to tear his eyes away.

Along with Cyno, Tighnari makes it a point to visit Kaveh as often as he can. 

“It’s been a month,” Alhaitham says, during one of his visits. He stares down at Kaveh’s body with faint disapproval.

Tighnari wipes Kaveh’s brow, and places the cloth back into the bucket. “Yes. I wish I had better news for you, but… well.” 

He gestures to the body on the bed. It’s still unmoving. 

“Don’t worry,” Kaveh mutters, from his perch on the windowsill. “You’re not the only one frustrated by all of this.”

It makes sense, Kaveh muses. His friends aren’t going to randomly kiss him in the hopes he (or his body?) feels better. They’re doing what they do in crises; seeking the most rational course of action and following through on it.

That approach has always worked well for them. And yet Kaveh wishes that for once they would have a sobbing fit and dramatically kiss him on the forehead, instead.

The only thing he can do at this stage is wait for the girl to show up. If she shows up, that is,  because at this rate it isn’t looking so likely. 

Kaveh exhales loudly, and does his best to lean against the window. He’ll cross that bridge should he come to it. 

“Kaveh is stubborn,” Alhaitham is saying, when Kaveh tunes back into the conversation. “He’ll wake up, if only to spite me.”

Alhaitham’s face is stoic as usual, yet Tighnari still claps his shoulder. Cyno makes a noncommittal noise from the doorway, and the conversation dies out as quickly as it had started.

Kaveh furrows his brow. The atmosphere is so uncannily sombre for the three of them, especially when they’re in Kaveh’s room, which is generally messy and unkempt and thus invites more boisterous behaviour than not. Kaveh would rather watch them squabble over cards for the six hundredth time than painfully watch whatever this is.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to watch for much longer. Once Cyno’s had enough of meaninglessly tidying his papers, and Alhaitham’s had his fill of boring holes into Kaveh’s face, the trio filter out into the dining room and start to prepare dinner together. For once, they don’t play TCG, but spend the time instead slowly chatting away.

Kaveh is glad. He does space out at some point because there’s only so much Alhaitham drivel he’s willing to put up with even when half-dead, but he’s happy that they’re at least trying to continue their everyday lives. It’s still uncomfortable to watch them being uncomfortable, but with any luck, he should be free any day now, and this will all be a distant memory. Or so he hopes.

Once Tighnari and Cyno have said their goodbyes, Alhaitham wanders over to Kaveh’s body, and opens the drawer in his bedside table. Kaveh swallows, feeling suddenly parched. Even when clearly exhausted, Alhaitham still takes the time to do Kaveh’s skincare. Kaveh doesn’t know what to make of it, other than suddenly wanting to hold Alhaitham and squeeze him, even if he knew his roommate would scoff at him the minute he tried. 

When Alhaitham finishes, he doesn’t immediately walk away. Instead, he sits and simply stares at Kaveh’s body for a long moment, before he finally takes out his book. 

At least this one is clearly a book for leisure. Kaveh has no idea what he would do if Alhaitham tried to work to find a cure again. Explode, maybe. Try to comfort him, most probably, and remember that he still can’t.

Instead, Kaveh gingerly sits next to him. He tries to imagine his fleeting presence as his own small way of offering comfort, even if Alhaitham can’t feel him, and even if Kaveh desperately wishes he could.

Slowly, Kaveh begins to hum. Alhaitham reads on.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Alhaitham says, frowning at Kaveh’s body.

Tighnari and Cyno stay over far more often now. They even stayed over for a few days the last time, despite surely having their own things to do. 

It’s all very ominous, and the tensions between his friends only leaves Kaveh feeling restless again.

Alhaitham gently pats Kaveh’s face. “Kaveh. Wake up.” 

Kaveh wishes he could . He knows that Alhaitham is getting frustrated. What he would do to be able to snap back at him.

Alhaitham slumps, his expression even. Almost as if he had expected nothing to happen. He sighs, then, a little puff of air hardly noticeable to anyone but Kaveh, and draws his chair closer to the bed.

“This is really hurting you, isn’t it,” Kaveh says quietly..

Alhaitham remains in his seat even when the doctors visit, their faces grim. He converses with them eloquently, smoothly. When his mouth opens in a question, the doctors simply shake their head.

Kaveh moves away. He doesn’t want to hear this.

When the doctors finally leave, Alhaitham leans forward and takes Kaveh’s limp hand in his own. His fingers flex, and Kaveh wishes distantly that he could feel the squeeze of that hand. Instead, he only feels a hollow ache claw its way open in his chest, almost like someone had reached in and pulled his heart out, beating and all. 

A few days later, Tighnari visits again. If he notices that Kaveh’s hair is neat and clean, he doesn’t mention it.

“Cyno got held up. He’ll be here soon,” Tighnari tells Alhaitham, who nods and stands to offer  him food. Tighnari shakes his head, and turns back to the bed.

Kaveh watches with morbid fascination as Tighnari pulls his eyelid up and fiddles with the tube in the back of his hand. Alhaitham continues to busy himself elsewhere. He only looks up when Tighnari sighs.

“Nothing?” Alhaitham asks

“No.” Tighnari flops back into his chair, and rubs his eyes tiredly. The circles under his eyes look darker than when Kaveh last saw him, and guilt swoops low in his gut. “You know, I’m really starting to wonder what Kaveh got himself into.”

“You’re wondering this only now?”

Tighnari shrugs. “We explored all the avenues at hand, of course. But as you know, nothing matched.” He taps his fingers against the chair, and gives Kaveh’s body an unhappy look. “It isn’t unheard of for coma patients to take months, or years, to wake. In times like this I can’t help but wish for some root cause. It’s better than waiting around like this.”

Alhaitham makes an affirmative noise, but stays silent. 

“I just wonder what happened to him out there,” Tighnari sighs. “Kaveh is a clever man. He’s been to the desert before. He knows his way around, and he had Mehrak with him.” 

“He once built a house over a Withering Zone,” Alhaitham interjects.

“And despite the ill effects on his health and the trouble he caused us, it was a remarkable house. For one that was built on a Withering Zone, at least,” Tighnari smiles, before it drops to a frown. “Don’t tell him I said that. I don’t want him trying something similar again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Alhaitham says smoothly.

“Hey,” Kaveh protests. That was one incident! 

In an uncharacteristic show of affection, Tighnari leans over and ruffles Kaveh’s hair. It completely messes up his braid, but Kaveh can’t bring himself to complain. Not when Tighnari looks so tired, despite his efforts to stay pragmatic.

“Come on, Kaveh,” Tighnari says, gently. “Wake up.”

Kaveh grits his teeth. He bows his head so he doesn’t have to see Tighnari’s expression as he pads out of the room.

Alhaitham waits until Tighnari is well away from the door before he speaks. “You heard your doctor. Wake up.”

Oh, that is enough. 

“I would if I could!” Kaveh explodes. The air crackles, almost imperceptible, but he barrels on. “Do you think this is easy on me, having to watch you all hurt like this? I wish I could tell you to stop spending hours poring over books that won’t help all night long, or to make yourself a nice meal for once, or to take care of yourself. All things you’ve been forgetting about recently, for whatever reason.” 

His breathing comes in short, quick pants. Hardly useful, when Alhaitham didn’t hear a single word of it, but getting something out there feels like a load was lifted off his chest. A very small load, but still a load.

“I suppose I should count my blessings,” Kaveh continues. “I could have been left for dead. But this is still agonising.”

Alhaitham laughs, then. There is no humour in it; only a pensive sort of resignation. “Stubborn as always, I see,” he says, getting to his feet. “I leave you to it, then.”

Despite his words, Alhaitham doesn’t leave the room immediately. He stands and looms over Kaveh’s body, brow wrinkled in thought. Kaveh fights the urge to fidget. 

Then, Alhaitham bends down, and Kaveh nearly jumps out of his skin.

Is this it? Kaveh thinks hysterically, as Alhaitham’s mouth comes dangerously close to his face — is this finally it —

Alhaitham pulls Kaveh’s eyelid up, and proceeds to stare into his lifeless eyes.

“Hmm,” he says thoughtfully. Like he’s inspecting a scientific sample . 

Kaveh really, truly wants to hit him.

“YOU’RE SO CLOSE,” he screams. “Please kiss me! I swear I’ll never ask anything from you ever again!”

Alhaitham purses his lips. He seems to come to a conclusion, because he pulls away—and this is not the conclusion that Kaveh wanted, because Archons, he really thought he was so close— 

Kaveh puts his face in his hands. “I hate my life,” he laments. “I really, really hate my life.”

Unfortunately for this, he misses the part right after, where Alhaitham swoops down and presses his mouth to his forehead. He also misses how Alhaitham blinks afterwards, too, as if the gesture was a mistake, or simply unplanned, or even just an afterthought gone wrong.

Therefore, Alhaitham gets a front-row show to the moment Kaveh-the-body’s eyes blink open. And for his part, Kaveh-the ghost? simply knocks out cold where he’s stood.

“Kaveh?”

The voice nagging him is insistent. Kaveh wants to roll over and go to sleep. His bones ache as badly as if got into a tussle with the Setekh Wenut, and it is unpleasant enough without being yelled at.

“Kaveh, do not go back to sleep,” the voice says. “If you go back to sleep now I will double your rent.”

Against his will, Kaveh cracks his eyes open. “Not like you need the extra disposable income,” he coughs.

Alhaitham’s eyes widen. Tighnari’s face darts into view from above, and Kaveh slowly but surely registers that he is very horizontal, and that his throat is as dry as the desert, and that he can feel the softness of the sheets under him—and it is absolute bliss.

“Back with us?” Tighnari asks, hopeful.

“I had… better be,” Kaveh groans. “Pinch me, would you?”

Tighnari flicks Kaveh in the middle of his forehead. His finger is sharp, and the force behind it makes Kaveh feel more disoriented than he already feels. 

“Ow,” he complains. “I said pinch, not cause a permanent scar, Tighnari.”

Instead of his usual snark, Tighnari only grins back at him. He must really be happy. 

Kaveh feels warm. He turns his head to look at the other occupant in the room, who is strangely silent.

“What, not even a ‘welcome back’?” he teases.

Alhaitham blinks at him, before he rolls his eyes. “Considering that you’ve been in this bed for the better part of a month, I don’t see why I should be welcoming you back now.”

“Leave it to you to ruin the moment,” Kaveh mutters. 

Something crosses Alhaitham’s face, then. Kaveh’s too dizzy to really register what it is, but if he were to hazard a guess, he would describe it like barely concealed… relief? 

Kaveh looks at him. Really looks at Alhaitham; the creased lines under his eyes, the dullness of his skin, and how unkempt his hair really is. Taking it all in feels strange. Surreal, even—like he’d been seeing the world in a haze these past few weeks and someone had only now handed him a pair of glasses to sharpen his view.

Kaveh still feels woozy, but he manages to beckon Alhaitham closer with one finger. Alhaitham frowns at him, but—surprisingly enough—actually acquiesces.

When he’s near enough, Kaveh grins at him. “I tried throwing tomatoes at you,” he tells him.

Alhaitham wrinkles his nose. “What?” he asks. 

Kaveh waves him off in lieu of reaching up and tucking that stray strand of hair behind his ear. It’s the one that’s been bothering him for days. How surreal it is to finally feel those strands between his fingertips after days of daydreaming about the sensation. 

Alhaitham’s eyes go comically crossed as they track Kaveh’s hand. For once, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just goes strangely pink around the ears.

Kaveh cackles. “Finally managed to shock you into silence, have I?”

Alhaitham narrows his eyes, and makes an aborted motion with his hand. Whether it’s to smack Kaveh or to feel his forehead for a fever will remain a mystery, because a cough from the door interrupts them.

Cyno is there, looking exceedingly awkward. “Well,” he says, looking determinedly at the window. “Welcome back, Kaveh.”

Tighnari is smiling slightly. Kaveh blinks, and wonders what that’s all about. Perhaps Cyno’s coming down with something.

He stretches his arms, and groans. “Thank the Archons! You would not believe how infuriating that was. Never again! And you!” Kaveh points an accusing finger at Alhaitham. “Don’t think I didn’t see you rearrange my paintings!”

“Rearrange what?” Tighnari asks, puzzled.

Alhaitham is staring at Kaveh with a funny expression. Cyno’s still fixed on the window, but he’s turned slightly—enough for Kaveh to see the trace of confusion on his face.

Perhaps explanations are in order.

So, despite his exhaustion, Kaveh explains.

“A curse,” Cyno muses. “Huh.”

“That…. is extraordinary,” says Tighnari. “So you were actually here all this time?”

Kaveh nods gravely. “I couldn’t even leave. I was stuck with him, you see.” He jabs a thumb towards Alhaitham. “Imagine how much I suffered!”

He conveniently doesn’t mention the cure, spinning his story to make it seem as if he woke up by coincidence. If his friends learnt of the actual reason why he woke up… well. Kaveh would never hear the end of it.

Nervously, he casts a glance towards Alhaitham. Alhaitham was the only person in the room when he—kissed him. With his intelligence, it wouldn’t be such a leap of logic to put two and two together. And even though none of this was his fault or choice, Kaveh realises with a sinking feeling that he feels almost… worried, about what Alhaitham might say.

To his surprise, though, Alhaitham smiles. It’s smug, and exudes Alhaitham’s particular brand of condescending that he seems to reserve for Kaveh only, but it’s still a smile. It certainly doesn’t look like an expression of hatred, at least.

Slowly, Kaveh breathes.

“You saw the paintings, then,” Alhaitham sighs. “That’s unfortunate. I wanted to keep doing that for a while longer.”

Kaveh’s Alhaitham-related fears evaporate in an instant, and he beats Alhaitham’s chest weakly. “You are insufferable.” Then, quieter: “Thank you. And I’m sorry for the trouble.” He turns to Cyno and Tighnari. “You were very kind to me. All of you.”

Alhaitham, understanding immediately, tenses. Cyno simply nods, and Kaveh makes out the beginnings of a smile on Tighnari’s face.

Finally, after so long, he lets himself relax.

“Loath to admit it, I feel woozy,” Kaveh says. “And I’m starving. So if it doesn’t trouble you, help me up?”

Alhaitham rolls his eyes, but he actually does prop up Kaveh against the bed without complaint. 

“So agreeable! I didn’t know you had it in you!” Kaveh teases. “Maybe I should go missing more often.” 

Alhaitham shoots him a disgusted look. 

“I am joking. That was a joke,” Kaveh hurries. “I won’t do it again. Not that it was my fault, anyhow.” He yawns. “For the record, I much prefer you like this, though.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to get used to my house no longer being nice and empty now,” Alhaitham says.

“Liar. I saw everything. You can’t fool me,” Kaveh says brightly. 

Alhaitham rolls his eyes. After he’s finished with settling Kaveh against the headboard, he starts to move away, but in a rush of inspiration (and foolish courage, perhaps) Kaveh grabs Alhaitham’s hand.

Alhaitham makes a startled grunt. Kaveh ignores it, and focuses on inspecting his hand. His skin is unfairly soft to the touch, nails clipped short and unfiled, and Kaveh delights that he can do this now—that Alhaitham’s touch and scent and everything else carries the same familiarity that Kaveh can never quite seem to forget, no matter how hard he once tried. 

Alhaitham doesn’t pull back. He simply sits there, expression unreadable, and lets his hand be manhandled.

A minute later, someone coughs. 

“I’m still here,” Cyno says, voice muffled from behind the door. Kaveh nearly jumps at the sound. Cyno must have left at one point, but now he just sounds pained. “In case you were wondering. But don’t mind me. I can wait.”

Through the crack in his door, Kaveh can see that Cyno is indeed there, inspecting his TCG deck with sudden interest. It’s a far cry from his usual image of the stalwart warrior on duty.

Kaveh coughs down his laugh. Tighnari is doing very badly at concealing his own grin. He simply hums, before looking directly at two of them with a knowing glint in his eyes.

… Whoops?

“Cyno,” Alhaitham grits out. His ears are red again, Kaveh realises fondly. 

Then, he lets go of Kaveh’s hand, and lets it fall unceremoniously to the bedside..

“Oof—would it have killed you to be gentle! I told you to help me up, not rudely dump my arm — ”

Tighnari seizes the opportunity to cut in before Alhaitham can rebut. “I don’t suppose you can stay awake for long enough for me to look you over?”

Kaveh grumbles, but eventually acquiesces. 

Tighnari declares him fit and healthy—as healthy as he can be after his ordeal, anyway—and tells him to stay in bed to recuperate over the night, just in case. Cyno leaves with him, face inscrutable once he gets Kaveh’s report detailing his time in the desert. He only breaks character once to tell Kaveh a long-winded joke with the straightest face Kaveh has ever seen.

It’s a terrible joke. Kaveh wonders if Cyno spent his visits wondering what joke to tell Kaveh once he woke up. Perhaps that was why he stared so intently at him half the time.

It’s nice, though, to feel so cared for. Kaveh feels almost sad to see them off. 

“What really broke the curse?” Alhaitham asks, as soon as the two leave.

“Typical. Asking questions of a patient even before they’ve fully recovered, just for your own gain,” Kaveh huffs.

Alhaitham crosses his arms. “You just spent the last half an hour explaining what got you into this mess, so I hardly see why you can’t explain this.”

“It’s called getting tired, Alhaitham,” Kaveh retorts. “And why do you assume that something broke the curse? It wore off over time, I told you.”

Alhaitham raises his eyebrows. “You expect me to believe that.”

Kaveh grins at him. Alhaitham simply scowls back.

Hah. Having the upper hand for once feels very good indeed. 

“I have a hunch,” Alhaitham tells him, interrupting Kaveh’s internal gloating. He purses his lips in thought, and gives Kaveh a considering look. “I suppose there’s no way to curse you again to test my theory?”

“Oh, don’t you dare. I might actually commit murder if you do. One time was enough.” Kaveh tries to look threatening, but can’t help the yawn that slips through. “I wouldn’t mind if you made me some chai, though.”

“Make some yourself,” Alhaitham says smoothly.

Indignant, Kaveh makes a feeble attempt to rise on his forearms. “Excuse me—what happened to bedside manners?”

“You’re hardly a patient anymore. I see no reason to exercise such manners,” Alhaitham shrugs, before smirking. “Make sure you make me a cup too, while you’re at it.”

“You—!”

Kaveh reaches out, and ruffles his hair.

“What is your sudden obsession with my hair?” Alhaitham grumbles, patting it down once Kaveh finishes. He doesn’t do a very good job, and Kaveh resolves to find a proper comb for him once he’s up and about again.

Now, though, Kaveh only smiles broadly. “Nothing,” he tells Alhaitham, and quietly gloats when Alhaitham fixes him with a glare.

That night, a wayward traveller attempts to climb in through their window.

“Oh—I hate this! Just let me in!” She scrabbles for purchase on the wall, cursing when her fingers slip down polished stone. “This is the right house, isn’t it? Stupid Akademiya, not letting me in and making me resort to breaking and entering…”

After an age, she finally reaches a window. Her breaths come in short pants, fogging up the windowpane. She tries to quieten herself, and peeks in.

There is the golden haired man, and to her surprise, he is awake and well. Despite the late hour, he’s chatting amiably to a silver haired man sitting next to him. Two half-empty mugs sit on their bedside table, and she can’t help but notice that their hands are inches away from each other on the blanket. If she squints, it almost seems as if their little fingers are overlapping.

Suddenly, she wants to hit something. 

“ No one loves me enough to kiss me, my foot,” she grumbles. “Making me come out all the way here only to be cured well beforehand anyway! What did I tell you…”

It seems like she’s no longer needed here. She lets go of the windowpane and lands on the floor in a huff before walking away, leaving the spirited conversation far behind her.