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“I just don’t understand how this man got the position of Grand Sage. All I remember him doing is denying applications and disappearing before meetings!”
“Acting Grand Sage,” Kaveh mutters under his breath.
The woman must be an employee of the Akademiya, if her robes were anything to go by. She looks to be around Kaveh’s age but her eyes are bright with the youthful fire of outrage. Her voice is sharp, cutting through the Bazaar with all her complaints about the new Acting Grand Sage of the Akademiya.
“Sania,” her friend hisses.
“What? It’s true!”
Sania and her friend move to the stall next to the one where Kaveh is shopping for groceries. He tilts his head trying to dip out of their conversation, but Sania’s sharp voice cuts through again.
“Al-Haitham is the worst coworker I have ever had the displeasure of dealing with. He’s rude, lazy, and a complete asshole for no reason. I have never met a man so dedicated to doing the absolute bare minimum at his job.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches. Oh, sure, he’d certainly call Al-Haitham rude, lazy, and a complete asshole, but that’s because he know s Al-Haitham. Who was this random woman Sania to say all this about Al-Haitham when she doesn’t even know him! Let alone live with him?
He barely manages to bite back the urge to give her a piece of his mind. He reminds himself that he is in the Bazaar and the last thing he wanted was to cause trouble.
“I’m sure he must have some redeeming qualities…” her friend says hesitantly.
“He doesn’t.” Sania turns her nose up. “He has absolutely none.”
Which Kaveh also vehemently disagrees with. Sure, Al-Haitham is a rude rat-bastard, but he remembers an Al-Haitham that was round-faced and rosy-cheeked. He remembers an Al-Haitham that sat with him in late nights in the House of Daena, reading while Kaveh finished a project, and nudging him awake each time he nodded off. He remembers an Al-Haitham who had overthrown a corrupt leader, despite all the work it would take, and helped return dreams to Sumeru.
Of course, he also remembers an Al-Haitham that tore him and his principles to shreds at the end of their disastrous group project, but he let Kaveh live with him later on anyway. So.
The friend nudges Sania. “Hey, maybe we shouldn’t be talking so loud in public—”
“It’s fine, it’s whatever.” Sania jerks away. “I know a lot of people agree with me. Hell, all of his former classmates would agree because I heard he was the worst student. He always skipped lectures and argued with professors and still managed to pass. He thinks he’s so much better than everyone else.”
It was true. At least the former part. Al-Haitham had been the most annoying kind of student: one who rarely showed up to class, who argued with professors when he did, who destroyed the curve of an exam without batting an eye. Kaveh had found it obnoxious once, endearing once, now he thinks nothing of that time except how it’s filled with grief.
“I don’t think—”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he took this position just to bolster his ego. I’m sure that he feels so much better being able to boss everyone around when he didn’t do anything—”
“Actually.” Kaveh turns toward the two women. “Al-Haitham cares nothing for the position other than the higher pay. Whatever you believe about believing the position puts him above others is incorrect.”
Sania and her friend blink at him, confused.
“Who are you?” asks Sania.
Kaveh narrows his eyes. “I’m—”
He stops. He wonders: what is he? A friend? Well, they aren’t quite that anymore, and haven’t been for years. Al-Haitham’s senior? True, but what does it matter now that they’re out of the Akademiya? His roommate? True, but absolutely undisclosable information that Kaveh would take to the grave before he admitted it to someone. He’s certainly in close proximity with Al-Haitham, all things considered. Whatever that meant, it at least meant he knew Al-Haitham.
“Kaveh,” he settles on.
Sania blinks. “Kaveh? As in, the Light of Kshahrewar?”
Kaveh rubs the space between his eyes. “Surely, there are more Kaveh’s out there.”
“Didn’t you work on a project with him?”
“That’s not important.” Kaveh takes a deep breath. “Look, whatever you believe of Al-Haitham, know that holds no superiority over being the Acting Grand Sage. He cares nothing for it. And he may be rude and lazy and an asshole, but who are you to say these things when you barely know him.”
Sania and her friend stare at him open-mouthed, and it’s then that he finally realizes that his chest is heaving. He turns, suddenly embarrassed, and steps back.
“Um, I mean…”
“I think—” Sania grasps her friend’s hand between their robes. “I think we should go.”
“Yes,” agrees her friend, and together they turn and flee down the street of the bazaar.
“Are you alright?” The auntie running the spice stall reaches out and pats his forearm.
“Fine. I’m sorry for disturbing you.”
She waves her hand as if it were nothing. “I don’t mind, especially when you just wanted to speak up for someone you clearly care for.”
Kaveh freezes and then forces himself to relax. “Ah, yes…”
“It would upset me, too.” She pats his forearm again before drawing back. “Is there anything else you needed?”
“Did you remember the cardamom?”
Kaveh jumps and whirls around to find Al-Haitham walking up to the stall. He has a canvas bag in one arm carrying all the produce they needed while Kaveh was supposed to take care of the spices and the bread. His heart stalls in his chest and he hopes, if Devi Kusanali is kind to him, that Al-Haitham hadn’t heard a word.
“I did.” Kaveh turns his nose up and shoves the little pouch of cardamom on the table towards him. “Right here.” Asshole, he doesn’t add.
Al-Haitham stares down at the bag, unimpressed. “I’m glad you remembered the most essential spice we cook with this time.”
“Fuck off.” Kaveh waves a hand at him before turning to hand the auntie a pouch of Mora.
“I can’t,” says Al-Haitham dryly. “You forgot your keys again.”
No way. Kaveh quickly pats his pockets and finds that yes, indeed, he did forget his keys again, and so if Al-Haitham fucked off the way he wanted him to, he’d have no way of getting back in the house.
Rat-bastard, he thinks as he gathers the pouches of spices from the stall before dropping them in Al-Haitham’s canvas bag. He waves at the auntie goodbye before walking towards the exit with Al-Haitham.
“I don’t care,” Al-Haitham suddenly says. “By the way, what my coworkers think.”
Kavh’s blood runs cold. “Huh?”
“You didn’t need to disturb the bazaar with your yelling.”
Ah. His blood runs cold and his face runs hot and he feels two forces pulling at his stomach in an attempt to rip it apart. So, Al-Haitham had heard him talking.
“I wasn’t yelling.” Kaveh sniffs. “That one woman was, though.”
“Regardless, it was unnecessary.”
“Fine, see if I ever defend your name ever again.”
Kaveh speeds up to the exit of the bazaar. There’s a lump in his throat that’s uncomfortably thick and he’s hot with embarrassment, but he can barely think about it over the supreme mortification that Al-Haitham had heard him.
But when they return home and Al-Haitham unlocks the door, he lets Kaveh walk in first before putting the groceries away by himself. And when he cooks that night, Al-Haitham seems to be in a much better mood than usual.
-
Dinners in the Avidya Forest with Tighnari and Collei are always eventful—for better or for worse. It usually begins with Kaveh getting fed up with Al-Haitham’s books on the floor or Al-Haitham’s headphones in his ears when Kaveh’s trying to speak to him or Al-Haitham’s rearranging of the spice rack without telling Kaveh or whatever bullshit is going on. Then, after thoroughly arguing until his tongue went dry, Kaveh grabs his keys off the hook and storms out to the Avidya Forest.
Or, it begins like today: a planned dinner with Tighnari and Collei hosting. Cyno showed up first because despite his General Mahamatra duties, he never fails to show up on time for a dinner with Tighnari.
Kaveh shows up second because despite his earnest attempts to arrive on time, something else always catches his attention at the last minute, making him late to every gathering.
But it’s fine! It’s great! They’re all sitting around the dinner table eating various mushroom dishes with mushrooms Collei had foraged earlier, all in the orange glow of the hut. The forest gets cold at night so the warmth of the hut always feels like a shelter.
And he’s very happy about it. Even though he was late because Al-Haitham had left his books near the shoe rack and Kaveh, in rush, hadn’t noticed so he’d slammed his toes into Al-Haitham’s heaviest tome and then had to limp all the way to the Avidya Forest.
But he’s fine. He’s not mad about it. Not in the slightest. In fact, when Tighnari asks what caught him this time, Kaveh, on his third glass of wine, doesn’t yell, only says very gently:
“That asshole left his fucking books near the shoe rack! Who does that? At least have the damn courtesy to put your books on an elevated surface so no one can run into them!”
“I see.” Tighnari nods very sagely. “And I’m assuming this is the third time you told him to move the books today?”
“Fifth!” Kaveh downs another gulp of wine. “That asshole never thinks about anyone but himself.”
“I would believe that,” says Cyno. “Al-Haitham rejected another proposal today because it was submitted too close to his lunch break.”
“That’s horrible,” Collei frowns.
“Whoa.” Kaveh presses his palm to the table. “I highly doubt Al-Haitham would do something as unethical as reject a proposal for personal reasons. There must be some other reason he rejected it—like, perhaps, it was awful and nonsensical.”
“Weren’t you just complaining about how he doesn’t think about anyone but himself?” Tighnari raises an eyebrow at him.
“Yes…” Kaveh furrows his eyebrows. “But I live with him so I get to say it.”
“How does that change anything?” Collei tilts her head.
Kaveh huffs. “Well, obviously I’m more attuned to his living habits so I know the general motivators behind his actions. And you guys didn’t hang around Al-Haitham in the Akademiya like I did. You don’t understand him the way I do.”
“Who don’t they understand?”
They all whirl around to the door to see Al-Haitham standing in the doorframe, pulling off his shoes at the entrance.
“Ah, Al-Haitham, you made it!” Tighnari grins. “I’m so glad you could.”
“I thought your Akademiya event was supposed to go late into the evening,” Kaveh mumbles into his wine glass, face burning.
“It did,” says Al-Haitham flatly. “It’s now nighttime and the event is over.”
“Ah.” Kaveh turns his head and takes a drink.
“Who don’t they understand?” Al-Haitham repeats as he takes a seat next to Kaveh.
“Nothing, nothing.” Kaveh waves his hands, scooting his chair over so their legs don’t touch under the table. “No one important.”
“He was talking about you,” says Collei helpfully.
“Collei!” He throws her a devastated glance.
“What? Was I not supposed to say that?”
Kaveh resists the urge to crawl under the table. Cyno and Tighnari exchange a glance across the table.
“What? What is that look?” He leans forward, suddenly anxious. “What are you saying to each other with your minds?”
Tighnari turns to him first and a slow smile tugs up the corner of his mouth. “Nothing.”
“And you were right, Kaveh,” says Cyno. “He rejected the proposal because it was terrible, not because it was too close to his lunch break.”
“Oh, this again?” Al-Haitham rolls his eyes. “Please. The man wouldn’t leave me alone after that. Maybe I should have approved it just so I could eat my shawarma in peace.”
“You wouldn’t do that,” says Kaveh, wine sloshing around in his gut.
“I wouldn’t.” Al-Haitham takes a sip of the water glass next to his empty plate. “Seems like you do understand me after all.”
All around the table, Cyno, Tighnari, and Collei cough into their fists in what sounds like aborted laughs. Kaveh chooses not to understand.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” he mutters.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Yes, dinners in the Avidya Forest are very eventful.
-
Night comes prowling on the horizon when Kaveh enters the bar, and it pounces after several glasses of beer have disappeared under the table. All he can think is that the air feels languid and soupy—it’s something about the crowd of bodies in the tavern, the sleepy moonlight sliding over the windowsills, the muted speech in the tavern as its occupants try not to get any noise complaints. Kaveh came here for pleasure—to celebrate the success of a project without him needing to shell anything out of his savings, but instead he ended up overindulging himself.
Oh, well.
“Can I get another one?” Kaveh calls.
Lambad turns with an amused smile on his face as he wipes the glass. “How many does this one make?” he asks as he dips the cup under a spout.
Kaveh lifts his fingers and begins counting.
“Where’s that guy that always gets you?” Lambad set the glass of beer down in front of him, saving him from the embarrassment of trying to recount how many glasses he had. “Shouldn’t he be here by now?”
“Why would he be here?” Kaveh presses the glass to his lips and takes a long drink. Then, he wipes his mouth. “He’s not my caretaker.”
“I ask because he usually also takes care of your tab.”
“Hey!” Kaveh raises his eyebrows, offended. “I have enough to pay for everything myself this time. I just finished a great project today so this is well within my means.”
“So you’ve said.” The corner of Lambad’s mouth quirks like he’s amused.
“Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’d never laugh at a paying customer.”
Kaveh lifts his glass as if up in a toast, but instead he just gestures with his hand. “I’m not so drunk that I can’t hear your sarcasm.”
“Thank goodness. Hopefully that means you won’t fall asleep on the table either.”
Kaveh makes a face and Lambad walks away chuckling to himself.
He takes another sip of beer and starts to wonder. Where is Al-Haitham anyway? Despite his teasing, Lambad was right—Al-Haitham usually came by now. Where is he?
No, no. It doesn’t bother him. Kaveh doesn’t want it to bother him. He doesn’t care because Al-Haitham is not his caretaker and they may be roommates but they certainly aren’t friends. They haven’t been for a while.
“Well, don’t you look a little out of place here?” A voice sleazes in the distance—a poor attempt at flirting.
“I’m sure I can’t look that out of place in a public space,” a familiar voice responds dryly.
Kaveh straightens. He knows that voice. And, embarrassingly, his first thought is: so he did come after all. He takes another sip of beer for courage and then turns.
There, at the tavern entrance, is Al-Haitham speaking to a seated man in the Akademiya’s green scholar robes. The man has turned around in his chair, arm resting lazily against the table. He’s handsome, that can’t be denied, with floppy black hair and a quicksilver smile that’s directed fully at Al-Haitham.
Al-Haitham, for that matter, looks neither charmed nor disgusted. In fact, his face is painfully unreadable—or perhaps it’s just the dim light of the bar—as he blinks at the man.
“Really? Perhaps you just naturally stand out.”
Kaveh shudders. What an awful fucking pickup line.
“Perhaps it’s because I just walked through the door,” says Al-Haitham, unperturbed.
The man laughs. “Funny and eye-catching. You’re quite the rare find.”
Kaveh grips the glass in his hand, fingertips whitening under the pressure and an ugly feeling coils in his chest like a snake, curling up in his throat until he can’t breathe. Why in Devi Kusanali’s green nation is Al-Haitham still entertaining this man?
“I highly doubt that’s the case.” Al-Haitham folds his arms across his chest and raises an eyebrow. “The two traits are hardly mutually exclusive and I’m sure you can find one right in the tavern.”
The man laughs again though Kaveh isn’t sure what the joke is. The man tilts his head and smiles crookedly at Al-Haitham.
“Well, don’t break my heart. I only wanted to say that you looked lonely without a drink in your hand and I wondered if you might allow me to fix that for you.”
Kaveh finds himself rising and halfway across the floor before he blinks. The back of his neck is on fire and he wants to hurl his beer glass across the room, and even the threat of Lambad kicking him out permanently almost isn’t strong enough to overpower it. Who is this man openly and greasily flirting with Al-Haitham? In the middle of the tavern and so shamelessly? And he found Al-Haitham funny? Only Kaveh was supposed to know he was funny. Al-Haitham came to pick him up, not to procure a free drink from some random fuck stranger—
“That would be unnecessary,” says Al-Haitham dryly.
Kaveh freezes. The man blinks as if caught off guard. “Oh?”
“There’s nothing to fix,” says Al-Haitham. “I don’t need a drink.”
“Well,” says the man. “Maybe it’s not late enough in the night.”
“It is,” says Al-Haitham flatly. “I don’t need a drink.”
“Are you sure?” The man rises this time and Kaveh is startled to find that he’s just as tall as Al-Haitham. They’re looking at each other eye to eye and yet Al-Haitham doesn’t falter.
“Yes.”
“Come on, don’t be difficult.” The man reaches out and grabs ahold of Al-Haitham’s arm. “I’m just trying to be friendly.”
Al-Haitham tugs his hand away. “Well, you’re failing spectacularly.”
The man goes to grab him again but Kaveh slices in with a hand in front of Al-Haitham, only stumbling slightly from the alcohol.
“He said ‘no.’” Kaveh meant for the words to come out stronger, but instead they slur a little because his tongue feels like a flapping piece of rubber in his mouth. The taste of beer is still bitter at the back of his throat and the world is spinning in front of his eyes.
“Aww, who’s this?” The man leans closer, that quicksilver smile turning sharp. “Someone who wants to be a hero?”
Kaveh straightens, nearly pitching forward when a warm hand grabs the top of his shoulder.
“Steady now,” murmurs Al-Haitham, voice low.
His shoulder blades cinch together and a chill slides up his spine, but he’s not so drunk that he can’t shake it off in the face of a sleazebag not taking no for an answer.
“I’m his roommate,” says Kaveh. “And he said ‘no.’”
The man gives him an entirely too amused look, like Kaveh is a small animal that poses no threat to him. He snorts and leans back against the table, arms spread.
“You look familiar.” The man tilts his head, eyes widening. “Wait, aren’t you the Light of Kshahrewar? I heard you came back to the city, but I had no idea you were rooming with someone.”
His face floods with heat but he presses forward. “Is that really the important part of the conversation right now?”
“I’m just surprised that you’d be here.” The arrogant stance slides into one of more awe as he straightens his spine. “I was in Kshahrewar, too, so I heard—”
“No, no, I am not talking to you about this.” Kaveh steps forward and jabs a finger at him. “You were harassing my roommate.”
The man scoffs and he’s suddenly back to his old self. “I was hardly harassing your roommate.”
“You were being far too pushy despite his responses and you kept goading him with a drink despite saying no.” Kaveh stabs his finger into the man’s sternum, jabbing it one more time for good measure. “He is allowed to say no to unwanted advances.”
The man raises an eyebrow. “He never said my advances were unwanted.”
“They’re unwanted,” Al-Haitham deadpans behind him.
In front of him, the man scowls. Kaveh bites back a laugh.
“Exactly.” Kaveh draws back and points two fingers at the man. “They were unwanted. So why don’t you turn around and finish your drink and then leave before you bother anyone else.”
“I’m here for a birthday party.”
“Then we’ll leave.” Kaveh slams his cup down on the nearest table and then grabs Al-Haitham by the wrist. “I hope I never see you again.”
The man blinks, looking bewildered, but he doesn’t follow as Kaveh pulls Al-Haitham into the cool night air.
Outside, the moonlight is a cold silver flooding through the streets. Sumeru City doesn’t sleep quite so early, but the fires of the lamps have cooled to an orange hue and the crowds of people have thinned to a trickle. There are a few patrons around them going in and out of the tavern, but Kaveh pays them no mind.
The moment they’re out of the tavern, Kaveh lets go of Al-Haitham. He can feel the warm line along his fingers where they were pressed into Al-Haitham’s wrist—a stark contrast to the cold of his other hand from pressing into the beer glass. The crickets are singing around them, and Kaveh takes one breath before he whirls around.
“Why did you leave me alone back there?” Kaveh bursts. “You let me yell at him like—a fucking maniac.”
“I told him his advances were unwanted.”
“After I prompted you, you asshole.”
Al-Haitham cocks an eyebrow. “You looked like you had a handle on things. I wanted to see how far you would go.”
“So you just used me for entertainment.” Kaveh rolls his eyes and turns around. “Unbelievable.”
He begins to walk up the street before he hears the click of Al-Haitham’s heels clattering against the cobblestone behind him. Al-Haitham is close, telling by the sounds of his footsteps, but Kaveh keeps his face resolutely forward.
“Kaveh,” says Al-Haitham.
Kaveh ignores him in favor of the crickets.
“Kaveh.”
The sky is an inky black, pooling over their heads.
“Kaveh.”
He whirls around. “What?”
“Did you pay your tab?” Al-Haitham is giving him a flat look.
“Fuck.” Kaveh turns frantically toward the tavern. “That’s what I forgot to do.”
He goes to march back down to the tavern but Al-Haitham holds out an arm before he can make it.
“Wait,” he says. “I’ll do it.”
Kaveh narrows his eyes. “Like hell you will, I don’t need you to hold this over my head—”
“You just finished your project,” says Al-Haitham simply. “Let me.”
“Oh.” The fights drains out of him. He hadn’t realized Al-Haitham had noticed. Before he can say another word, Al-Haitham is turning down the road and pulling a pouch of Mora before pushing into the tavern. He’s sure Lambad’s getting a chuckle out of this—being right that Al-Haitham would take care of his tab again.
Kaveh waits for him in the cold under the stars. He shivers as a wind gusts through the back of his shirt and he wishes all over again that he’d worn something different.
Al-Haitham returns a moment later looking no less smug.
“You’re welcome,” he says as he walks by. Kaveh follows after him.
“You took your sweet time.”
“I took the appropriate amount of time it takes to return to the tavern and get Lambad’s attention to give him the Mora,” says Al-Haitham matter-of-factly.
Kaveh rolls his eyes.
They step a few more paces into the dark, climbing up the tree of Sumeru City. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest at the incline, at the alcohol, at the residual adrenaline for yelling at a stranger who knew who he was.
“Thank you for defending me,” Al-Haitham suddenly says.
Kaveh blinks. “You would have done fine without me,” he mutters.
“Regardless, the gesture is appreciated. Even at the risk of your anonymity as my roommate.”
Something twists in his chest, growing warm until it’s uncomfortably hot. He’s not used to gratitude from Al-Haitham.
“Don’t think I did it for you,” Kaveh blurts. “I did it for me.”
Al-Haitham turns to raise an eyebrow at him. “What do you mean you did it for yourself?”
An ugly emotion rears its head in his body, writhing like a snake. He clamps down on the beast inside him that wants to bite at the thought of someone else seeking out Al-Haitham, of someone wanting to know Al-Haitham the way Kaveh knows him.
His face burns hotter than the pale street lamps lighting the cobblestone. “Just…telling him not to be a dick. That’s all.”
Al-Haitham huffs a laugh and a knot loosens in his chest. It’s the easiest he’s felt around Al-Haitham in a long time and the thought frightens him.
“Don’t laugh.” Kaveh shivers. “And hurry up, I’m freezing.”
He only makes it another three steps before something hot and heavy drapes over his shoulders. He turns to find Al-Haitham walking past him, pale arms bared out white to the world. Al-Haitham’s jacket is on his shoulders, and it smells like ink and old paper.
“Wait, wait.” Kaveh hurries after him. “What’s this?”
“So you don’t complain the rest of the way home,” says Al-Haitham simply.
“...won’t you get cold?” he asks tentatively.
Al-Haitham doesn’t bother looking at him. “This kind of weather doesn’t bother me.”
“The cold?”
Al-Haitham doesn’t answer, but Kaveh catches the tail end of a smile as Al-Haitham moves past him.
When they make it home, they’re quiet as if all the chaos of the night pressed their tongues together. The alcohol is still swirling around his system so Al-Haitham holds him steady while he strips off his shoes and his outside clothes.
Al-Haitham helps Kaveh to his bedroom, which he says is entirely unnecessary until he pitches forward into the pillows and narrowly misses slamming his face into the headboard by the grace of Al-Haitham’s hand. He pushes Al-Haitham off and buries himself under the covers.
As sleep begins to reach for him, he thinks he feels fingers brushing against his forehead—warm and distinct like a streak of stardust smeared against the sky. He curls into it and the movement stops, but he’s far too tired to care. They linger until they’re gone and Kaveh is asleep.