Archive of Our Own

Kaveh looks at the mess of luggages and clothing on the side of one of Fontaine’s busiest streets and sighs. He's forgotten his keys again.

He's not too sure why he'd gotten so panicked about it in the first place— Haitham never leaves home unnecessarily, Kaveh could just have him open the door for him when he goes back. But the memory of those couple unfortunate nights spent waiting outside the door in the rain seems to have impacted him more than he thought.

Kaveh dejectly throws a shirt back into the opened suitcase. He was starting to hear whispers from the onlookers. Honestly, couldn't Alhaitham pay more attention when grabbing his keys?

—

Alhaitham pauses in front of his front door. Kaveh's forgotten his keys again.

The cumbersome keychain he's affixed to his copy of the house key clings to Alhaitham’s own. The little lion hugs its paws around the simple silver loop holding his key, weighing it down stubbornly even as Kaveh's key swung precariously below.

Alhaitham huffs. This was hardly unusual for them, but that Kaveh could anxiously stuff nearly all his belongings into two meagre suitcases “just in case”, yet still forget his keys… he can only say he's rather impressed.

He turns the lock and enters the house, tossing their hooked keys into a dish on the shoe shelf. It didn't matter anyways, he'd open the door for Kaveh when he returned.

For all his worry, Kaveh settles nicely into his mother's new home. Her new partner is lovely; stern looking on the outside, but endearingly awkward and earnest in reality. Camille, she had introduced herself, a nervous smile breaking her aloof facade as she stepped aside to coax out the last member of this new family.

A lovely little boy no taller than either of his mothers’ waist peeks out from behind her, and Kaveh is immediately struck by how alike he and Camille look. “This is August,” she introduces, “August, say hello to your big brother.”

The boy glances up at him and mutters a shy hello, before quickly averting his eyes yet again. “August…” Camille coaxes, and Kaveh smiles.

“Don't worry about it,” he waves it off, squatting down to level with August. “It’s nice to meet you too,” he says, pulling out a little puzzle toy from his satchel.

“Here, this is for you.” August’s eyes immediately light up, receiving the toy with a poorly restrained excitement. He fiddles with it, arranging the moving pieces and twisting the mechanisms. August looks up, opening his mouth to say something, only to catch himself and hesitate.

“Hmm?” Kaveh coaxes, tilting his head in a gentle invitation.

“…Did– did big brother Kaveh make this himself?”

“He did,” Kaveh smiles, ruffling August’s hair. “Do you like it?”

August nods shyly, hugging the toy to his chest, accepting the gift wholly. Behind him, Camille relaxes, a genuine smile finally replacing the nervous one that had been pacing across her face.

“Oh how lovely!” Faranak coos, glowing with joy seeing her two children get along. She squeezes Kaveh’s arm, ushering him further into the house, “come, dear, I'll show you to your room. You'll love it here, I promise.”

—

The house enjoys a long-awaited day of peace. Without Kaveh's late night bolts of inspiration, Alhaitham finally gets a proper eight hours of undisturbed sleep. And without Kaveh's constant stressing over his projects, Alhaitham passes this tranquil weekend morning unbothered.

He never really minds Kaveh's noise, but all the same, it's refreshing to get a few weeks of quiet. He'd gotten off work early yesterday, having finished all the paperwork beforehand. And after treating himself to a movie before bed, fell soundly asleep on the divan, waking up refreshed with the sun the following morning.

He foregoes his usual coffee, brewing a warm milk chai instead, readying himself for a day of uneventful reading and another early night's rest. And if he felt like it, maybe a lazy afternoon nap as well.

When Kaveh returned, he'd, as per normal, return to being exasperatedly fond of the liveliness he brings to the house. But for now, he's quite enjoying his perfectly useless, perfectly peaceful afternoon.

The court of Fontaine was nothing short of gorgeous.

…It was also, however, a navigation nightmare.

Kaveh had decided to go out to explore a little after settling into his mother's house. Both Faranak and Camille had work, while August had school, and he saw no point just lazing around alone in such a huge house, so he might as well spend that time getting to know the place.

Well… is what he planned to do in theory.

In practice, what it looked like was him walking circles in the Court of Fontaine, finding himself outside the Palais Mermonia when he had wanted to visit Chioriya Boutique, and mysteriously passing what was probably (?) the same fruit stall over and over again when he had wanted to take a look at the aquabus stations. At this point, he's convinced Fontaine was equipped with space bending portals to go with their incomprehensible architecture.

“Who designed this place…” Kaveh mutters, already quite irritated on his probably 17th round down the same path. “Who did the city planning… who approved this??” He spots the same fruit stand ahead yet again (by now he's quite certain it was the same fruit stand), and slumps to the ground where he stands, uncaring of the judgemental looks from passers-by.

“Uh… sir?” Kaveh looks up, the girl managing the fruit stand had come to check on him.

“Are you… okay?” She asks tentatively, “You’ve been walking around this same path for the past hour and a half…”

A despair grips Kaveh at the sound of her well-meaning words. An hour and a half? That's how long he spent walking in circles???

“Huh?” Kaveh manages eloquently. His incredulity must have been a little dramatic, because in spite of herself, the girl laughs. She quickly schools herself however, coughing into her palm to curb the sound before continuing, “do you need help? Like, directions or anything? Where are you trying to get to?”

She reaches out to him, helping him up from the ground. Kaveh collects himself, he's not making the best impression on the people of Fontaine if all they see of him is how he looks when he's having a breakdown.

“Well I wanted to go check out the aquabus stations, evidently that didn't pan out,” Kaveh sighs, “I’d love some directions to the central lift, I'm so lost.”

“Oh,” she perks up, before wincing ever so slightly, “uh, actually, the lift is just a couple hundred metres back where you came from.”

“What.”

“Yeah— that central water feature? walk ‘round it to the building at the back and you'll find the lift inside.”

“…That’s where the lift is?” Kaveh says after a long, baffled pause.

“God, this is awful urban planning— and not to mention the complete lack of signage! How do you expect your residents— let alone visitors— to navigate such an unnecessarily complex map without some guidance? Honestly.”

The girl chuckles as Kaveh complains, at least a little entertained by the absurdity of the situation. “Yeah I get you, I got lost tons as a kid too. You get used to it though, I promise.”

“Ugh, I hope. Can't say if I'll stay long enough for that to happen though.”

“Oh, here on vacation?”

“Sort of, to visit my mother.”

At that, the girl's eyes light up, “Is Miss Faranak your mother?”

Kaveh startles a little, his mother's Sumerian name coming a little awkwardly from the girl’s Fontanian mouth. “Yeah, how'd you know?”

“Just a guess,” she shrugs, “You have her eyes.”

Kaveh stills, it's been a while since he last heard something like that.

“She comes by pretty often, a few times every week or so,” the girl continues, oblivious to her companion's disturbance. “Usually gets some bulle fruit and Zaytun peaches. She talks a lot about her sons but I've only ever seen the little one around.”

“Ah, August,” Kaveh provides a little dazedly.

“Yeah him! But he looks nothing like miss Faranak. Did you move out early? I don't think I've ever seen you around before actually.”

“Nah, It was my mother who moved.”

“Ahh I see,” the girl's instinct was good, choosing not to probe further beyond that. “Do you need me to write down the directions?”

“No thank you, I think I'm good,” Kaveh dusts himself off one last time, “Oh—! Actually, let me get some fruit from your stand, all the walking around has really tired me out.”

The girl chuckles, “sure, what would you like?”

Kaveh scans her shelves, before getting a bag of bulle fruit and Zaytun peaches.

—

Alhaitham had no plans to go out on a Sunday… at first.

It seems the nightlight Kaveh's been using and abusing for years has finally decided to give up, almost on purpose as Alhaitham was given the notice for a scheduled blackout in the coming few days.

He grumbles his way to the grand bazaar, dragging his feet as he went. He had awful luck with the vendors that day as well, the lineup was leaning towards crafts instead of furniture.

“Nightlights?” Yousuf says, “I don't sell those, I think Nadia and Hussein carry those things in stock, but you just missed them.”

Alhaitham sighs, but he can't blame them, he gets off work as soon as he can as well.

“There were a bunch of furniture and household appliance vendors yesterday, timing really isn't on your side huh?”

“It seems not,” Alhaitham says, “thank you regardless, I'll be on my way—”

“Mr. Alhaitham?”

Alhaitham turns, finding the young dancer from Zubayr theatre behind him, a hefty wooden box hugged to her chest.

“Oh, Miss Nilou, good evening.”

“It’s nice to see you out and about!” Nilou smiles, “where's Mr. Kaveh?”

“In Fontaine,” Alhaitham huffs, “visiting his mother.”

“Oh my, that’s really far,” Nilou says, “I guess that explains why I haven't seen you around lately.”

Alhaitham means to ask her what she means by that, because, what does she mean by that? But she continues speaking before he gets the chance to.

“Did you say you needed a nightlight?” She digs around her box, “we happen to be clearing our storage rooms, and I know I picked up a nightlight earlier.” She produces a beautiful golden lotus, turning it around deftly in her hand to flip the power switch.

“There we go!” She presents it to Alhaitham, who receives it with a lot more care than one would expect from him. It was far too beautiful for a nightlight, something that, under normal circumstances, Alhaitham would scoff at. What use was there for needless theatrics and superfluous design? But unfortunately, this time around, its beauty had been thought through.

The diaphanous petals of the lotus served to amplify the light emanating from the central core, each seed pocket at the heart of the lotus a small golden light bulb. Even the way the petals were framed around the light source worked to direct the light outwards, reflecting and refracting it in both a stylistic and practical manner.

“Isn't it just beautiful?” Nilou says, “When I found it I couldn't bear to clear it actually, but Mr. Zubayr said that we really needed to free up our inventory, and we have no use for a nightlight anymore— not since we upgraded our lighting equipment.”

“At first I had decided to just keep it myself, but luckily I bumped into you!” She closes his fingers around it, “you should take it, when Mr. Kaveh comes back, I’m sure he'll be gushing over how well made it is!”

Nilou bids him goodbye as Alhaitham sends her on her way. He turns the nightlight between his fingers again before carefully tucking it away.

...She was right, Kaveh would appreciate something like this.

Kaveh straightens his collar, he'd been straightening his collar for the past fifteen minutes. It must be about straight enough by now, right?

He glances at the time, 4.36P.M. He was lucky August's school was only a ten minute walk from their house. Still, he supposes he should get going a little earlier, just in case there's a repeat of his hour and a half walk around the Court of Fontaine.

He finds the road to August’s school mercifully straightforward. He's glad that even if the rest of Fontaine insists on poor urban planning, his mother at least has some sense with choosing a good housing location.

It seems the kids were let off early, a sizeable crowd of them already running outside the school's main gate. The parents not to be bested either, a good lot of them having arrived considerably early to wait for their children.

He spots August running up to Faranak, jumping excitedly into her arms. Not long after, Camille runs up, clearly having rushed here from work. She pants as she applogises, a string of explanation and complaints falling from her lips about her boss and not respecting work-life balance. Kaveh's mother smiles, pressing a kiss to Camille's lips as August reaches to hug her as well.

Kaveh sees them speak, their lips moving as they talk. What about, he doesn't hear. Instead, he hears an echo from his youth, faint like the scent of mourning flowers on the dry desert wind.

“Mom!”

“Kaveh!”

Faranak catches her little boy in her arms as he jumps at her, spinning him around as they both break out in peals of laughter. She bumps him up in her hold to keep him from slipping, he's still light enough to be held effortlessly in her arms.

A few moments after a man comes running up to them, out of breath and sweating.

“Sorry, sorry! I got held up at work, the sages have no concept of work-life balance.”

He takes Kaveh from Faranak, bouncing him playfully in his arms. Faranak smiles, pressing a kiss to his lips before pulling them along.

“Come on, I'm starving. I can't wait to try this new place out.”

Kaveh thinks and thinks, playing what little shards of the memory he'd managed to hold onto over and over in his head. But try as he might, he can't fill in the face of the man who smiled as he held him in his arms.

“Kaveh?”

Faranak looks at him, her head cocked to the side in a gentle concern. “Is something the matter?”

She runs her hand down his arm, trying to bring him back to himself. Kaveh shakes his head, gently brushing off the concern.

“I’m fine, I'm fine, was just daydreaming for abit.” He looks back at her, and then at the rest of the family gathered around him. Camille and August level him with a matching set of worried gazes, and Faranak’s grip on his arm only tightens.

“Really, don't worry,” he swallows the strange sourness that swells up to his throat. “I was, uh, looking at the school's architecture and then got lost in a trance.”

His mother huffs, a fond sound of exasperation. “Occupational hazards,” she laments, patting him on the shoulder. “Come on, we've got a reservation at five thirty.”

Kaveh lets himself be pulled along by his mother, watching Camille keep pace with her enthusiastic strides, August held securely in her arms. Bitterly, he wonders if this was what he was missing all this while.

—

4.56P.M.

Alhaitham startles a little, it was getting late. If he moved a little quicker, he'd probably still be able go get packed before five.

4.59P.M.

Alhaitham dusts himself off and checks the time, his satchel packed and ready on his desk. He'd rushed a little, but it seems he still managed to make it.

5.00P.M.

Alhaitham closes the door of his office, walking at this speed, he'd be out of the Academiya building in under a minute.

Or at least, that's what he'd intended to do.

He spots Tighnari waiting by the gates of the Academiya, in spite of his continued refusal to return and his habit of holing himself up in Gandharva Ville. While it gave Alhaitham pause, this alone would not have been sufficient to hold his attention, not in the face of clocking off on time. But a few moments after, Cyno runs up, greeting on his lips as Tighnari welcomes him.

Cyno nods to the gates, and Alhaitham catches their conversation about post work dinner plans as his steps slow to a stop. That's strange, Cyno never clocks off this early.

Tighnari's ears flick, and his gaze darts momentarily to where Alhaitham stood, but he makes no move or comment. He’d probably already guessed the situation with just that brief look, but mercifully, he leaves it be.

It seems Cyno had noticed as well, cocking his head and making to turn. Thankfully, Tighnari stops him in time, bringing up Collei’s recent progress with reading. That gets Cyno's undivided attention, he nods along as Tighnari takes him through the updates, bringing up her improvements and her struggles. He takes all of it in seriously, taking the time to consider Tighnari's words before offering suggestions and feedback. Not forgetting to dutifully round off his contribution with a gentle encouragement, voice going soft as he praises her effort.

Tighnari's own gaze softens, and he moves on to ask Cyno about his own day, letting him complain about the paperwork he still unfortunately has to sort through, and sympathising with the amount of busywork stray tourists make for him.

They take their time, not in a hurry to return anywhere when their interest was already held by each other. Discussing dinner, cards, this weekend’s plans, the coming holiday's plans. Every stray topic seemed to have an endless amount of content, yet they moved from one to the other seamlessly, not at all like they were trying to ration their conversation.

Alhaitham pulls his attention away to check the time.

5.17P.M.

He was supposed to be out of here seventeen minutes ago, at latest, sixteen minutes ago.

He takes one last glance at the pair, they had started walking slowly towards the gates. It was about time he got dinner himself.

Kaveh is not used to Fontanian food, or at least, he hasn't gotten used to it yet. He doesn't know if he sees himself getting used to it ever, actually, but he looks across the table at his mother thoroughly enjoying her serving of mushroom soup and garlic bread and feels a little inept about it.

It was just food. It shouldn't take this much effort. It wasn't even bad food, everything tasted fine— more than fine actually— but it tasted like a fancy meal in a hotel while on holiday, a rare treat while abroad to try something new. Not like a meal with family you haven't seen in a long, long time.

He clears his mushroom soup, thinking about how Alhaitham would boil soup until it dried and call that cooking.

It gets in the way, he'd say, this is a lot more convenient.

Why not just make a dish that wasn't supposed to be soup? Kaveh would rebut incredulously, why mess up perfectly good soup?

Why not? Alhaitham would say, quirking an infuriating lip upwards, am I not allowed to?

By that point, Kaveh would have given up, his last stand being to steal a piece of the soup that Alhaitham had somehow made into pie as a form of retaliation, munching on the begrudingly delicious dish as he grumbled on his edge of the divan.

“My, you look happy Kaveh.” His mother says, “what’s got you smiling like that?”

Unconsciously, Kaveh brushes the corner of his lips, the tips of his ears burning as he properly registered the three pairs of eyes staring expectantly at him.

“I… uh,” Kaveh's voice catches, “I… I'm just really happy, to finally see you again Ma, and It's nice to meet your new family as well.”

“What are you saying?” She takes his hand from across the table and squeezes, “this is your new family as well.”

Kaveh looks at Camille and August. They smile warmly back at him, before turning to look at Faranak, supporting her offer.

He can only smile as he squeezes her hand back.

When they had their little bicker sessions over silly things like making soup into pie, Kaveh never turned back to look at Alhaitham after making his final stand, but he'd always feel Alhaitham’s gaze linger. He never could figure out why.

—

“If you're looking for Kaveh he's not here,” Lambad says immediately after spotting Alhaitham. “He hasn't been here in the past two weeks actually, must be a good sign for his commissions.”

Alhaitham can't help but huff out a small laugh, poor Lambad has had it rough with Kaveh's drinking sessions. “I’m not here for Kaveh, he's been in Fontaine for the past two weeks. I'm here for dinner.”

“Aw man, then I guess no change to his clientele?”

“I’m afraid not,” Alhaitham smiles, Lambad has always had a good sense of humour.

“Well what can I get ya today?”

“Something simple,” Alhaitham scans the menu, “I think fatteh would do. I'll have it to-go.”

“Coming right up!”

Alhaitham settles back into the dining room back in the house, Lambad's kitchen has always been mercifully efficient.

He places the takeout box on the table and it echoes a little too loudly in the empty space. He gathers his utensils from the drawer in the kitchen and finds the clanging racket it makes especially noisy. He sits down at the dining table and feels like he'd missed something.

Alhaitham shakes off the feeling, he probably just had to put his headphones back on.

He opens the takeout box and starts eating, the simple taste of fatteh refreshingly fragrant, the crunch of the crackers pairing nicely with the smooth cream and thoroughly cooked beans. The presentation was correspondingly straightforward as well, not too fussed with appearance in favour of the authentic flavour.

It was so different from Kaveh's take on the dish— or perhaps, Alhaitham should say Kaveh's take was so different from the traditional dish itself.

He'd spend a solid few hours assembling it, making sure the angles and shapes were correct. Alhaitham would chide him, asking him why he was making such a huge fuss out of a dish that was supposed to be simple, but Kaveh would always brush him off, muttering something about him simply not understanding a so-called “vision”.

Alhaitham huffs. The thought makes something tight swell in his chest, a sourness that wasn't bitterly tart, but rather a concentrated ache, gently pulsing between his collarbones, pulling at the segments of his skull.

Alhaitham swallows.

Lambad's cooking was of course excellent, but today, Alhaitham missed the taste of Kaveh's craftsmanship.

It's an odd day where Kaveh finds himself alone in the house. His mother and Camille had gone off for a private date, and August had an all-day camp at school, leaving him on his own in their too-big house.

His mother seems to have always had a penchant for spacious homes, albeit, Kaveh was working with a sample size of two with this observation— something that, if he were here, Alhaitham would definitely poke holes into.

But his mother's preferences are not an exact science, and the margin of error is always larger when it comes to human matters. This, at least, Alhaitham would agree with him on.

In both this house and his childhood home, his mother has arranged the furniture in a way that emphasised the openness of every room: the bulky pieces flushed close to the sides, carpets and low laying items used to fill the broad space between, and the curtains forever pulled open.

Even in her designs, Kaveh knows she leans towards open concepts. Her creations expansive and sprawling, an emphasis on the feeling of relief at home, of letting go and having the space to relax. It was clear a boxed in cosy house would only leave her feeling claustrophobic.

In many senses, Kaveh can appreciate this. He grew up in the home she had designed and decorated— if anything, he was the second best person to testify for the sense of freedom and comfort her big homes brought.

But now, what came most starkly to mind was the memory of that sense of absolution sublimating slowly into a stark, hollow emptiness. One that crept up on him like the gradual souring of overripe fruit, an over-fermentation potent enough that just the scent alone drove one away from the once sweet fruit, leaving an empty taste but a starkly bitter aftertaste.

Kaveh stood a little listlessly in the centre of the big living room now, the shadow of that old empty house looking over him. He quickly tries to curb that feeling, walking to the kitchen to grab a snack, something that'd keep his hands occupied.

He finds a bowl of bulle fruits that have been sitting on the kitchen counter for a while, the last few of the batch he'd brought back from that helpful girl's fruit stand the other day. He takes that and a handful of sunflower seeds, moving to the living room to busy himself.

Absent-mindedly, Kaveh finds his fingers picking at the orange pith of the bulle fruits. They meticulously peel off thread after thread, dusting off the fine bits of fibre that stuck stubbornly to the skin of the oranges. He rotates the fruit in his hand to inspect it, deeming his work satisfactory, he turns, ready to hand it off—

—Only to find his side empty.

…That's right, Alhaitham wasn't here.

He stares at the peeled orange, a little at a loss for what to do. Suddenly, there's an emptiness that sinks in his chest— one that he hastily stows away, swallowing it back down like a stubborn pill. He was being silly, it was just a fruit, he'd eat it himself anyways. Something as simple as muscle memory is nothing to be fussed about.

Stiltedly, he pops a segment into his mouth. These bulle fruits must have been left out for too long.

—

It's another quiet day in the house. Alhaitham paces about the living room and the kitchen, looking for something to busy himself with.

He settles on clearing a plate of Zaytun peaches that he'd gotten at the start of the week, wait any longer and they'd probably go bad.

He sets the plate and a fruit knife on the coffee table, laying out a book in front of him to keep his mind busy as well. The process is rather meditative; remove the stem, slice the fruit into pieces, peel off the skin, then pop the segment into your mouth. Just like that: pull, slice, peel. Pull, slice, peel. Over and over, until the Zaytun peaches disappeared from his plate.

He gets up, ready to clear the table, only to find a pile of uneaten peach slices still on the table. It gives Alhaitham pause, taking a rare few moments to come to his senses before remembering: right, Kaveh wasn't here.

He picks at the uneaten fruit, a little at a loss for what to do with them. In all honesty, if it were just himself eating, he wouldn't have gone through the trouble of peeling the skin. Zaytun peaches had thin, edible skins that provided a healthy amount of fibre, and Alhaitham thought the smooth texture hardly warranted the extra effort.

Kaveh, however, complained about the mysterious taste the skin apparently had. Too grassy, he had said, which Alhaitham had scoffed at, reminding him that he was, after all, eating a plant.

But fruit has no business tasting like that, Kaveh had countered. If I wanted grassy I'd just eat the grass directly.

Alhaitham had sighed, sagging into the divan and reaching out a resigned hand. Hand it back then, he had said, only for Kaveh to protectively hug his half eaten peach slice, the uneaten skin drooping off the face of the remaining fruit flesh. I didn't say I didn't want to eat it.

No one's trying to take your peach, Alhaitham rolled his eyes. I meant, hand it back and I'll peel the skin off for you. I don't want to be cleaning up sad soggy peach skin.

Oh. In an instant, Kaveh's demeanour changed, happily handing back his peach slice with a chirpy thanks, leaning back in the divan to wait while Alhaitham peeled the skin off with their old fruit knife.

It had been a begrudgingly accepted bit of extra hassle then. He can't remember when it became a force of habit instead.

“To Kaveh!” A chorus of cheers echoes in the dining room, the clink of glasses ringing in the air as everyone raised their drinks.

“To you, mom, and the new home you've built.”

Faranak smiles warmly at her son, “you never change my dear, don't ever change.”

She touches their glasses together, before downing her wine. It was the last night before Kaveh was set to leave, his ship already booked well in advance for midday tomorrow.

Faranak had insisted on a farewell dinner, one made at home tailored to everyone's tastes. She had opened up the old wine she'd been holding onto, several bottles of it in fact, and this late into the meal, it was definitely showing.

“Kaveh, I can't imagine how lonely it was for you back home after I left for Fontaine,” Faranak sets her glass down as carefully as one can while inebriated. Everything that followed lacked the same temperance.

“I know, I fell short,” Faranak chokes out, reaching across the table for Kaveh’s hand only to miss and hook her fingers onto the edge of his sleeve. Dutifully, Camille reaches a hand out to steady her, rubbing slow circles across her back. “When everything happened, I couldn’t give you the home you deserved.

“But now, now I’m back on my own two feet. Now, we have a home again.” She finds Kaveh’s hand, grabbing it properly, “this is your new home as much as it is mine, and you're welcome to come back any time.”

“In fact…” she reaches her other hand out to envelop Kaveh’s hand in her hold. “You don’t even have to leave.”

Kaveh looks from his mother’s imploring expression, to his hand in hers, to his still full wine glass, and falters.

He opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out but a hoarse stutter.

“You don’t have to be rushed to say anything Kaveh,” Camille says. “We both know what kind of state she’s in right now, I’m just glad I sent August back to his room earlier.”

Kaveh chuckles in spite of himself, Camille had a way of clearing the tension despite her stern appearance. “She just means to say: you’re always welcome here. I hope you know that.”

Kaveh swallows, managing a soft and reedy ‘yeah, I do,”, before downing his wine.

Dinner wraps up soon after, and Kaveh retires to his room. It was a makeshift cleared and arranged in preparation for his stay, his mother’s work desk and tools all still displayed, flushed to the corners to make space for a bed.

Her desk had been arranged, clearly to make the space more welcoming for Kaveh, but it was also very obviously a job done by his mother. The pens and pencils were thrown into mismatched cups and the tools slotted into old tins and bottles; whatever papers that could be filed were stuffed messily into folders, corners sticking out with edges showing, and whatever papers that couldn’t were strategically displayed on the desk, arranged to look like intentional decor.

Kaveh huffed, clearly, he had inherited his mother’s organisational skills if his room back home was anything to go by. And clearly… he had inherited his mother’s alcohol tolerance as well. It’d been so long since anyone had cleared a space for him like this, haphazard of an effort as it was, it made his heart twist and flood. Perhaps… perhaps he really has been missing something like this.

He looks at the letterset on his desk, hesitates for a moment, and then sits down to write.

—

Alhaitham is… a little dazed to be sure. He doesn't quite remember how, but he finds himself on a ship bound for Fontaine, already a good couple of hours out from shore.

He already sees the massive waterfall that separates Fontaine from the rest of Teyvat ahead; it's been a while since it appeared on the horizon.

It was… a moment of weakness, to say the least. It'd been another uneventful day and quiet night, and he'd suddenly received a letter.

He doesn't get letters— not at home anyways— his friends know to just find him personally. So when he opens the door and is handed an envelope, he stills.

It was a neat, lightly embossed cream paper, sealed a little lopsidedly with wax in what looked like a Fontainian styled stamp. He takes it in, and something urges him to be gentle when opening it, to be careful while handling it.

…The next morning, he finds himself at Bayda harbour, almost as if his body had acted of its own accord. There was an anxious energy in his bones that he wasn't quite used to, his grip on the keys in his hand digging an indent into his palm.

He was being irrational. Kaveh had clearly written that letter while intoxicated, his words slanted clumsily and the excessive emotion clear even through text. Sentence after sentence, all Kaveh poured out was woes with simple solutions.

I don't know why, but I've been feeling really homesick.

Then come back.

I can't help but think I must have been missing something this whole time.

You have.

But I don't know how to say goodbye to you. I don't want to.

Then don't.

All hopelessly obvious questions with even more hopelessly obvious answers…yet, Alhaitham worried. He runs his thumb over the golden key in his hand, wondering if it was instead him who had gotten too complacent.

—

Alhaitham orients himself quickly, following the navigator in his hands to the return address written on the envelope. Grumbling to himself as he walks through the far too ornate layout of the Court of Fontaine.

Kaveh hovers over his packed suitcase in the living room, a few hours to go to his scheduled boat back. He doesn't think his mother really meant it— it was just something said when emotions were high and alcohol was burning— yet, it gave him pause.

Was this really what he was missing? A new home? And was it really here, back with her?

Alhaitham finally finds the house at the address on the letter, a lovely navy door decorated with Sumerian patterns around its borders greets him. He finds himself hesitating for the first time in a long while.

There's a knock on the door that interrupts Kaveh's thoughts. That's strange, they weren't expecting anyone today, not even mail.

The sound of Kaveh's voice comes from the other side of the door, a muffled ‘coming’ all it took to make Alhaitham freeze on the spot. Suddenly, he forgot himself, the words he'd prepared beforehand clogging themselves at the edge of his lungs.

Kaveh opens the door, and sees the last thing he'd expected to see in Fontaine.

“Huh?” He says, eloquent as ever.

“What, did you forget my name in the short two weeks you've been here?” All the tension drains from Alhaitham's muscles as he immediately settles into their back-and-forth dynamic, worry forgotten in favour of a comfortable habit.

“No— you— wait. What are you doing here?”

“Fetching you back. Hurry up, your ship is in a few hours and with Fontaine's urban planning we'll need that time to get there.”

“Huh??” Kaveh says, diction unmatched as always.

“You can't have really forgotten my name can you?” Alhaitham rolls his eyes.

“No of course not you buffoon— who said I needed fetching??”

“You did. In the letter you sent by rush mail last night.”

“Huh???” Kaveh repeats, truly, wise words bear repeating.

“I see, you really have forgotten my name. It's okay, repeat after me—”

“No I haven't— Gods, Alhaitham, what are you doing?? Did you book a last minute ship to Fontaine just to come here to make fun of me??”

“Of course not, I already said: I'm here to fetch you. Now hurry up, it's always good to be early for things like travel.”

“How old do I look?”

“Not a day over 25, but if you keep up the late nights, that probably won't last—” Kaveh smacks him, cutting him off.

“Oh my god you really did just come here to make fun of me.” Kaveh presses a hand to his temple, trying to curb the already forming headache. “Why did you even do this Alhaitham? Why are you here? Was it that boring at home?”

Alhaitham finally pauses. Home. That word from Kaveh's mouth, nonchalant and slotted at the end of a prodding question as it was, felt incredibly right.

Kaveh stills as well, watching intently as Alhaitham ruminates. Despite what he said, it was clear with just a moment of reflection that this wasn't just a simple whim of boredom.

“The house has been quiet without you,” Alhaitham finally settles on after a long beat of silence, stiltedly presenting a set of cumbersome keys before Kaveh.

Against the atmosphere of the moment, Kaveh finds himself imagining Haitham lounging at home, slumped on the divan and bored out of his mind. He lets out a soft huff, Haitham never goes out without his headphones, and even at home, he'd put them on from time to time— always paired with a comment about how unbearably noisy Kaveh was being. But maybe… maybe even he had moments where he tires of his own thoughts.

“Well, that won't do, would it?” Kaveh chuckles. He means for it to be a playful tease, but his voice comes out awfully soft, too afraid to raise it lest it wavers.

He takes his keys from Alhaitham’s palm. “Let’s go home.”