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In their usual fashion, Kaveh and Alhaitham went through the day like clockwork, following their routine- which had been carefully crafted so that the “getting on each other’s nerves” could be kept to a minimum. As per the Saturday schedule pinned to their cupboard, Alhaitham made breakfast, Kaveh cleaned the rooms, Alhaitham did the marketing, and Kaveh cooked. Now, with the food ready, the roommates have dinner in mostly silence, peacefully eating across from each other at the dining table.
Alhaitham is in the middle of ladling some more soup into Kaveh's empty bowl when Kaveh breaks the silence.
“I've just realised it's been over a year since I moved in here.”
Alhaitham pauses, looking over at his roommate for a moment before resuming his actions. “Really?” He asks.
Kaveh hums in assent. “Yesterday was the day I moved in last year. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long.”
Alhaitham turns that thought over in his head, tinkering with how it feels in his brain. He still remembers the day he found Kaveh drunk in Lambad's tavern, tear tracks dried on his face and a broken pencil grasped in his hand. He remembers how he considered walking away briefly, in fear that old feelings from their last real conversation- their argument- would get dredged up and make Kaveh feel even worse. But, a feeling he couldn't name writhed around in him upon seeing his old friend so miserable. So, despite his doubts, he slid into the seat opposite the drunk architect.
He places down the ladle and sits back down before responding. “Really? For me, it feels like it’s been longer than a year that you’ve been sticking to me like a barnacle.”
Kaveh makes a noise of indignation. “Do you have to insult me at every turn?”
“Kidding,” Alhaitham interjects, before his roommate even finishes his sentence, with a dry but slightly fond expression. “You know I’m kidding.”
“Really? I’m not sure I do,” Kaveh raises an eyebrow skeptically at him. “Don’t you mean it?”
Something twists in Alhaitham’s gut at that, and he has to take a deep breath to push down the something that bubbles up in his chest. In lieu of an answer, he changes the topic.
“I can’t believe you remember the exact date you moved in. Was it that significant to you?”
Kaveh huffs at the topic change but allows it with only a small grumble under his breath. “It’s mostly because I had to fill in so many papers, and wrote the date down next to my signature over and over. But- it was significant- I mean, we see each other every single day, and almost everything I do affects you and vice versa.”
“Hmm, what a logical reason,” Alhaitham replies. “Here I thought you remembered the date because you were so excited to move in with me,” he teases. Kaveh scoffs amusedly.
“Please. We both know I was the furthest from excited then; I was ashamed and at the lowest point in my life.”
Alhaitham does know that. Of course he knows that- he remembers how reluctant Kaveh was to accept his offer, and how he kept on crying throughout the conversation. He's the only one who will ever know, in fact, because he promised Kaveh he wouldn’t tell a soul about that embarrassing day.
Kaveh must be thinking about the same thing, because he continues with a non-sequitur that perfectly ties into the memory.
“Do you regret that choice now?”
“What, my choice to offer you a place to stay?” Alhaitham asks. He already knows it's what Kaveh means, but for whatever reason, his heart grabbed the reins on his tongue, and before he knew it, he was trying his damndest to delay answering. Kaveh gives a nod, but that unsettled, tight feeling in his chest is still there, so he puts on a sarcastic tone and replies, “Yes, maybe. Perhaps it was a big mistake. You talk too much.”
Kaveh laughs. “That’s fair. Well, don’t worry. I’ve been taking on high paying projects, and my financial situation is slowly looking up. As soon as I have enough money to get my own place and stay afloat, I’ll be out of your hair.”
Alhaitham’s heart drops into his stomach.
There's a moment of quiet that rings loud in his ears, and he feels his breath stutter. “You… really?” He asks, feeling all of a sudden rather lightheaded. The loss of control over his body sends him reeling- Why am I reacting this way? Keep it together, this doesn't make any sense.
“Yes, really,” Kaveh replies easily, oblivious to Alhaitham’s inner storm. “I finally started listening to your advice on which projects to take. I hate to admit it, but you were right. I still do regret rejecting that project for designing the community shelter, but you made a great point when you said that I could do a better job of it if I stabilised my income and didn’t have to balance that along with my other projects…”
Kaveh’s voice melts into the loud ringing in the scribe's ears. He takes a breath in and opens his mouth, causing Kaveh to stop talking.
“I didn't think you'd actually leave,” he says, forcing his voice to remain neutral.
“I… well, I can't possibly impose upon your goodwill for the rest of my life, can I?” Kaveh laughs, frowning.
“Who ever said it was goodwill? Do you know me to be someone who has goodwill?” Alhaitham responds, and finds himself fighting a defensive edge out of his tone.
“Well, no, but I've never quite understood how you worked,” Kaveh says, sitting up and looking a little more serious. “Do tell… What is it then, if not goodwill?”
“I had a house, and you needed one. This house was meant to be yours too anyway, before you forfeited your right to it.” As the words leave his lips, Alhaitham has the faint sense that he's lying. Which is not to say that he wanted to, but rather that he didn't want to reach too deep, and ended up grasping at the suddenly fleeting wisps of his usual philosophy. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alhaitham desperately asks himself, What am I like, again?
Kaveh frowns, not believing him. “That sounds rational, but too emotionally rational. It's too aligned with social norms- it's the way I'd think, not you.”
That little voice in the back of Alhaitham's mind curses at itself for a cover-up job poorly done, and Alhaitham asks it, a cover-up of what? What possibly has me so tense? He puts a hand on his knee and closes it over the kneecap, squeezing lightly, and Just like Amma used to flickers through his brain at light-speed. It's a useless thought, so he quickly shoves it out of his mind, but a worse, terrible thought he doesn't want to materialise takes its place and he violently shuts it out- Stop… are avoiding… acknowledge that… Enough- What even started this? Oh, one year of living together. What was the last thing Kaveh said? He doesn't… remember anymore… Was Kaveh the last to talk, or was it him? Another knee squeeze. That's your calming method. It isn't working, though. Why isn't it working? A flash of a memory- Amma's funeral. What significance is that? Stop- Too many thoughts. Change again. Why does everything have to change again? Being alone is fine, but not once I've gotten used to…
“Haitham,” Kaveh says, a touch loudly. It cuts clear through Alhaitham's thoughts and halts them for a moment- though they buzz quietly in the background, ready to leap out again if silence returns. “What's going on with you? Are you okay?”
He swallows, absently noting how his throat feels dry as he does. “I'm fine,” he croaks. “I just- my headphones lost power,” he lies. Kaveh's eyes widen with concern.
“Oh,” he says, and quickly stands. “I have some instrumental songs logged in my old akasha. Will that help?”
“No, that's okay,” he cuts in quickly. Truthfully, he doesn't feel like he needs music now, and Kaveh's concern and his walking away have started blending together with their previous conversation topic in his mind, and all of it together are forming a very clear and loud Kaveh is leaving, and it makes him feel even sicker to the stomach than before. “Please just sit,” he says, giving the word Please just a bit of an edge to get Kaveh to listen.
Kaveh does, but not without a worried look at him. “Okay,” he says, his hands hovering about near each other like he doesn't quite know what to do.
“Is this also because of something I said?” Kaveh ventures carefully.
Alhaitham's heart, though still tense, feels tired, and while he could lie again and say no, he finds that such a simple word gets stuck in his throat.
“So it is,” Kaveh guesses. “And… it’s because I started to prod at your philosophy? I didn't know that was a sore point for you- you're usually up for debate.”
Alhaitham shakes his head. “It's not; I am,” he manages.
Kaveh thinks quietly for a moment. Then, after a while, he seems to realise. With a bit of doubt, he asks, “Is it because I said I would leave?”
Alhaitham's mind goes radio silent. A complicated little buzz drones in his head.
“You don't want me to leave,” Kaveh says, but it's a question, and with the new, strange clarity and detachment in his head, Alhaitham knows he owes the architect an answer.
“Yes,” he replies. Little, tiny spikes in pitch appear in the quiet buzz as he awaits Kaveh's response.
“... I didn't realise you wanted me around,” Kaveh says. “I thought you just tolerated me.”
That doesn't tell him anything about what Kaveh thinks about all this. “You assume too much,” he says, still holding his breath.
“I won't leave, then,” Kaveh says.
Relief floods him at the simple sentence. The intense release leaves him so shaky that his usually steady and stoic voice wobbles as it comes out.
“Thank you,” he replies. Kaveh nods slightly, and then goes back to his food, knowing Alhaitham won't want to be watched or given attention any more, and he gratefully takes the time to calm himself down.
It takes a while, but finally the feeling returns to his hands and the little sounds in the house come back to him. He blinks a few times and flexes his fingers to be certain, and sure enough, he feels himself again. The only thing left to do is reintegrate himself back into normal life, so he steels himself and picks up his cutlery, and he sees Kaveh pause ever so slightly in recognition of him coming back.
“Can I ask why you want me around?” Kaveh asks after a while.
Alhaitham still feels a little uncomfortable answering, but now that his world is spinning again, he thinks he can try to be honest. “Like you said, it's been a year,” Alhaitham manages to say.
“And now you're used to me and don't want to adjust to life without?” Kaveh fills in for him.
It's so much more than that, Alhaitham admits to himself. Kaveh has been the light through the window in the mornings; the hand painted jars he sees at the marketplace; the tea in the evenings and the lamp they put on at night when they work side by side in the sitting room. He creates the detours in Alhaitham's life and pulls him out of his head.
As history would tell it, he used to be Alhaitham's best friend. But if he were honest, he still is. Conflict, petty squabbles, arguments and all.
He wants to say it all. Truly, he does. And he believes Kaveh needs to hear it too, because he knows his friend doesn't know how loved he is, but he doesn't feel ready to vocalise all of that, and especially not now. So he just nods again.
Thankfully, Kaveh seems to read between enough of the lines to know exactly what to do.
“To another year of living together, then.”
Alhaitham laughs shakily and takes his own glass, clinking it against Kaveh's. They both just have water, but the symbolism is nice enough. And as Alhaitham puts down his glass and they return slowly to a comfortable normal, he thinks that some day soon, he'll tell Kaveh all that he deserves to know.
He doesn't know how soon, but then, it doesn't really matter, does it?
After all, they have another year.