Work Text:
Opening his eyes to the blinding Sumeru sun trickling in through colored glass was a mistake. Kaveh was all too familiar with that sort of sickening feeling he got after pulling a work-induced all-nighter, yet this time, his eyelids felt heavier, his face flushed hotter, and the world spun unnaturally faster. Even sitting up to stretch was a struggle; his fatigued limbs were practically chained to the soft, pillowy mattress he lay atop. The equally sudden and unpleasant thought that he was getting sick came to mind, and he groaned, both out of pain and annoyance.
When Kaveh had lived by himself in his parents’ house, he never had to worry about getting sick. Well, no. Not exactly. It was moreso that he never had to worry about someone hovering over his shoulder and escorting him back to bed as though he was some sort of helpless child. Though it sounds rather unpleasant to the outsider, Kaveh almost felt comforted by the thought that he could continue working on his projects even when faced with a barrage of irritating symptoms. He knew that burying himself in work was far from the best medicine, but the world wouldn’t stop spinning just because he felt a little under the weather. Or a lot under the weather.
Kaveh felt as if his body got even heavier as he sat up, wrists shaking as he heaved his back off of the mattress. He caught a glimpse of the cover messily strewn on top of him; to call it a “cover” at all would be generous, actually, seeing as most of it was on the floor, the rest of it clinging onto his torso for dear life. Though he had lived in Sumeru for all his life, he was never partial to the heat. Yet when instinctively pulling his feet back under the blanket, the warmth of the fabric against his shivering legs felt like a blessing from Lesser Lord Kusanali herself.
Placing a hand on his now throbbing head, Kaveh suddenly felt all the memories of last night flood back to him. Lambad’s concerned inquiries fading in and out, the pitter-patter of rain against his drunken, stumbling figure, his sopping wet hair and clothing–by the archons, this was a disaster! Did he seriously get sick from the rain of all things? Tossing himself onto his bed and knocking out like a light without even changing out of his soaked blouse–just how much did he drink last night? Kaveh let out a frustrated groan before plopping back down onto his damp pillow. Agh, he was an idiot! He knew he was frustrated with his current client, but still, why did he do this to himself? And he promised them an updated draft in the next four days! Out of all the things–!
The sound of the coffee machine whirring from the kitchen was suddenly much louder than usual. Kaveh’s scrambling thoughts dissipated. Nonono, how could he have forgotten? Alhaitham was on paid leave for the next five days–something about being entitled to vacation days as part of workplace benefits? But whatever the case, Kaveh knew all too well that if Alhaitham figured out that he was sick, he’d be restricted to the confines of his fluffy pillows and cozy blanket and soft mattress! And Alhaitham would dutifully stand watch like a prison guard…or even worse, an overprotective boyfriend!
Hastily, Kaveh sat himself up again, hand almost slipping off the sheet before he caught himself. When he went to heave his legs up and over, two things caught his unwilling attention. One: his feet, the moment they touched the wooden floor, regaining that shivering feel of the cold. And two: his head, pulled and pushed by muscles, moving a little too quick to the point he could feel the blood rush through it. He had to blink a few times too rapidly, adapting to not only his adjusting vision, but also so he didn’t fall off the bed.
Kaveh found himself staggering to his dresser, only to be met with his own disheveled reflection staring back at him in the mirror: hair as messy and dry as a Shroomboar’s fur, face as flaky and red as a Pyro Fungus, and clothes so wrinkled and rain-stained it was like he hadn’t washed them in months. Even his red hairclips were loose at the ends of his strands— he was shocked they were still hanging on for dear life. It was a bit embarrassing to admit, but Kaveh almost startled himself with his own reflection–he looked horrible . There was no way he could let Alhaitham see him in this state–though Alhaitham was far from the detail-oriented type, Kaveh knew far too well that Alhaitham had an uncanny ability to pick apart his brain just from a simple glance. If Alhaitham caught him, he would be sent back to his comfy bedroom cell and forced to bid farewell to his drafts, clients, and meetings.
Drafts…drafts! Right, right–Kaveh had been slaving away at his desk for the past few weeks, drawing and erasing and drawing what seemed like an endless amount of drafts for his most recent client. It was tiring, to say the least, but if he could just finish up the latest details on the most recent change, he could get it to them, and maybe… just maybe… they’d be happy with it…? Maybe, but he just needed to find his blueprints. Now, where did he last leave them?
Okay, Kaveh. Time to search through the cabinet files of memories in that genius mind of yours! He had last done some work before he went to Lambad’s for a break last night, which would usually mean it would be on his desk. But if he remembers right, Alhaitham had gone to bed early, which meant he was working in the.. the living room. The living room?! Seriously?! Of all places!? Alright, Light of Kshahrewar, calm down…
All he had to do was sneak past Alhaitham’s watchful gaze, acquire his blueprints from the living room table, and carefully inch his way back into his bedroom…nothing he couldn’t handle!
Slowly opening his bedroom door and peering through the doorframe, Kaveh spotted Alhaitham sitting at the dining table with a cup of coffee in one hand and (surprise, surprise!) a book in the other. Okay, okay, okay. Professor Zaha Hadi always stressed the importance of planning–even the simplest of buildings could not be constructed without a plan of sorts. That was all he needed to do: formulate a plan to get himself out of this mess.
Plan A: Walk by so nonchalantly as to not grab Alhaitham’s attention. This way, he’ll probably be too engrossed in his…— was that a mathematics book..?— To notice Kaveh was even there.
Plan B: Stop, Drop, and Roll.
Plan C: Proceed to spark a heated argument with him, something like— ‘I think water is wet and you can’t tell me otherwise’! — and Alhaitham will get so focused on proving Kaveh wrong, that he won’t even notice how horrendous he looks!
Plan D–
“Good morning, Kaveh. I made some coff–”
“EEEK!” Kaveh, startled, jumped back and hastily turned around, ensuring that Alhaitham didn’t see his face.
. . .
“…If you don’t want the coffee, you could have just said that.” Alhaitham crossed his arms.
Kaveh pathetically attempted to clear his throat— ow— before stuttering to make up an excuse. “…Good- Good morning, Alhaitham. Lovely weather we’re having!”
“It’s raining–”
“--So! I was thinking of spending this wonderfully bright morning doing some sketches and.. y’knoooow… the usual… Being productive as a good start to the day, yeah?”
Alhaitham, upon not responding, eventually prompted Kaveh to keep talking. Despite not looking at him, he could feel Alhaitham’s gaze burning through the back of his head straight through his knotted hair. “All I need are those blueprints on the table, so you won’t mind if I just…”
Kaveh proceeded to then attempt to shuffle past Alhaitham, which was significantly much more difficult when he was trying so hard to face away from the man. As he was passing, the look Alhaitham was giving him appeared so clearly in his mind. What a lovely expression that he sees almost every day.
Finally, upon reaching the living room, Kaveh strode over to the table, not missing a beat to start the search for last night’s blueprints. Let’s see…Alhaitham’s gibberish books, essays on King Deshret’s monuments, rejected Kshahrewar funding proposals…rejected Kshahrewar funding proposals?! Oh, he was sure to have a stern word with Alhaitham after this! All this, but where are his— Aha! Blueprints! Kaveh, you are a genius!
Holding up the papers to the ceiling light triumphantly, Kaveh basked in the glory of his victory up until the point where Alhaitham snuck up behind him, and he wouldn’t have noticed if the man didn’t speak up, “Kaveh, is something wrong?”
“No, no, not at all!” Kaveh huffed an awkward laugh, “I just needed to grab my stuff, so I’ll be out of your hair now…”
During the attempted turn he was making while still trying not to let Alhaitham see his face, Alhaitham himself hummed. “Aren’t you going to grab breakfast?”
Ah. Right. Kaveh turned again, this time the other way, but since he was already somewhat disoriented, only ended up getting a few pathetic shuffles in before— ow! — bumping his leg into the table… Of course. Just his luck.
He went to continue walking, but when he almost tripped and fell, something caught hold of his wrist. Before the blonde man could even blink or sneeze, he’s standing face-to-face with his boyfriend, whose eyebrows are furrowed and nose is a little scrunched. That’s almost cute , Kaveh would think, if he didn’t know that expression was reserved for when Kaveh didn’t take care of himself properly.
Alhaitham opened his mouth to speak, but before he could even start, much to Kaveh’s dismay, that adorable irritated expression was fading to lean more towards confusion and concern. It was super subtle, Alhaitham subtle, but Kaveh was Kaveh, Light of Kshahrewar, so of course he could see any twitch of movement Alhaitham even thought of making.
“…You look horrible.”
There it was. Kaveh’s eyes darted away, but he knew it was futile— he'd been caught, red-faced! What was he gonna do now? Not work on his client’s design?!
“W-Well, I just— I woke up weird, alright? Nothing to get worked up for.”
Alhaitham then pressed a free hand to Kaveh’s forehead, face visibly relaxing just a bit. “Ohh,” He mumbled, “So that’s what this is about.”
This was it. He’s done for. Everything he has worked so hard for is crumbling right before his very eyes! Goodbye Cruel World.
“You’re blushing.” Alhaitham raised Kaveh’s gripped wrist just a little, and if Kaveh’s face could turn any more red, it would.
He almost protested with the truth, but then remembered, wait, he’s not supposed to tell Alhaitham he’s sick, so then stuck with the usual; playing along. Horribly.
“Oh, don’t start! I’d punch you right here and now if I could.”
Alhaitham smirks, and it’s visible to Kaveh and Kaveh only. “And you can’t, because you’re sick. Come on.”
“Wh— Wait!”
And within the blink of an eye, before he could register that Alhaitham knew all along, the sickly Kaveh was being dragged back to his room. Off he goes, he guessed… Oh, just great!
By the time they reached his room, Kaveh was already complaining- head dramatically thrown back and everything. He’d slap his free hand on his forehead if he had the energy to.
“Alhaithaaamm,” Kaveh groaned, “I’m fine, I’m fine! Really! Can I please just—“
“No.” Alhaitham interrupted, apparently already with the knowledge on what he was going to say. Of course.
“You didn’t let me finish.”
“I’m not letting you work while sick.”
“ Alhaitham! ”
They reached the bed, and Alhaitham turned his head, staring at the blonde man like he was waiting. Kaveh’s eyes flickered from the other to literally anything else in the room, hoping and praying and desperately scraping up excuses in his head.
“I’m okay enough to keep working.”
“That is exactly what you would say if you were not okay enough to keep working.”
Kaveh scoffed, “What does that even mean?”
Alhaitham rolled his eyes. “It means; rest.”
The sick man pouted and pouted until finally, eventually, he just crawled into bed. It was pathetic, and it was barely effortful, but it was good enough to where Alhaitham could cover him with the blanket and kiss him on the forehead.
“Alhaitham, I know you care and all,” Kaveh started, clearly unwilling to let it go despite being tucked into bed, “But I promised this client I’d get this new draft done within 3 to 4 days…”
He could hear his boyfriend sigh, loud enough to make it seem like those gray strands were not from birth. “I’ve seen you finish projects in shorter amounts of time. Plus, don’t you think you’d finish it faster if you were feeling better than this?”
Kaveh cursed in his head. He hated it when Alhaitham was right. No! Don’t admit defeat, Kaveh!
“ You—! ”
Ah, but victory was as far as the sun at the moment. So instead, Kaveh ended up crossing his arms, turning away and pouting like the oh-so-mature Light of Kshahrewar he was.
He’d hear Alhaitham sigh again in his head at this point, with how many of those he hears a day.
“Well,” Speak of the Devil, “You’re awake now, so you might as well eat something. Fuel your body and mind, whatever you might say.”
Kaveh opened one eye to look at him, still mid-pout. “Didn’t you just make coffee?”
Even with one eye, he could see Alhaitham subtly deadpan at him. “You’re not going to get any better by just drinking coffee. I’ll take care of breakfast this morning.” Then, Alhaitham stood up straight, preparing to leave. “In the meantime, if you’re so insistent on not resting, you can do something to unwind.”
Oh, good! Perfect, even! Alhaitham will leave, and Kaveh can grab his draft while he’s not looking, and—
“Not your work.”
Archons! How in the world?!
Ah… probably Kaveh’s own expression. He could feel his eyebrows furrow more, at least up until Alhaitham finally took his leave.
Mm…this was awful. No, this was a disaster! There goes all the planning he put into his schedule for today! Though he loved Alhaitham with all his heart, he still couldn’t understand the scribe’s unenthusiastic attitude towards anything career-oriented. Maybe for Alhaitham, a sick day was an excuse to not come into work, but for Kaveh, it was an absolute waste of his time! He had things to do! Clients to meet! Ideas to put on paper!
…ideas to put on paper. Hm. Kaveh eyed his sketchbook.
…Well, Alhaitham said to not work, not to not draw… Oh, Kaveh, you sneaky little genius… You deserve a pat on the back for this one!
He reached over for his sketchbook, struggling to reach but— Aha, got it! Kaveh set it in his lap, spinning the pencil along his fingers. Oh, whoops, he dropped it.. Maybe the sickness really is getting to him…
The usual routine of his pencil spinning, then hovering, then him pressing the eraser against his chin before finally deciding on what to doodle played out. Hundreds of ideas would frequent his mind, each one with more color than the last. But the bags under his eyes made it hard to think this time, and he had to reduce the count from hundreds to somewhere in the double-digits.
Kaveh frowned. None of the ideas were particularly appealing, and each one of them he recalls having at least started a previous drawing on. Though he might not have finished every single one, he’s at least had these images in his head since he saw the scenery itself. Well… this is to unwind, so maybe he shouldn’t mind all that much.
With the pencil finally pressed against the paper, he lines a stroke. Then, a square. Then, another. Life itself cannot exist without simple shapes, he’d always kept in mind. So, there he was, mindlessly sketching away.
…Now that he thought about it, something about this felt familiar. The lines, the shapes, the paper and the pencil, the movements, even the way he was sitting. Except before, he believed he was writing. Writing a letter, placing small shapes next to little half-finished sketches of houses that fit the corner of the paper.
But before that, before the writing, he was reading. Reading a letter, observing the handwriting and slight-cursive of the words. It was a letter his mother had sent him from Fontaine, and she had said something along the lines of…
“ I hope your current project is going well, Kaveh. Your talent and creative eye make me incredibly proud to call you my son. But more importantly, I hope that you’re doing well. Art can be beautiful, but excruciating. While you may want to pour your time, heart, and soul into everything you create, you must remember that your friends can help you weather any pain your work may cause you. I hope you’ll visit me in Fontaine soon–I know you’ll love the architecture here! Love, Mom. ”
As he finished reading the last line of the letter in his hands aloud, Kaveh delicately folded the paper and set it on the dining table in front of him. Leaning back in his chair, the sound of silence was an uncomfortable anomaly for the architect.
Kaveh’s eyes drifted off to the side. Though he clung onto the slightest bit of hope that he would look over and see his parents laughing and chatting on the couch, he understood the harsh reality: that sort of childlike fantasy was nothing but a memory now. Instead of his loved ones, Kaveh caught a glimpse of scattered blueprints carelessly laying on the couch cushions. Ugh. Don’t get him wrong–he absolutely loved his work. Still, sketching with heavy eyes, a light head, and an uncomfortable tickle in one’s throat was an almost intolerable experience.
The flu had been spreading around Sumeru City like wildfire recently. Kaveh surmised that it had something to do with the dropping temperatures, but he never gave it too much thought until he became one of the unfortunate ones to come down with it. Well, it’s not like he didn’t expect this–he was always one of the unfortunate ones. Doesn’t make it any less troublesome, though.
Still, Kaveh knew he couldn’t sit idly by and stare at his blueprints when his client and chance to construct the masterpiece he had always dreamed of were waiting. Granted, this client was an odd one–a shrewd woman with a sharp tongue and lackadaisical attitude who gave Kaveh essentially complete freedom in regards to this project–but he had no intent of disappointing her or himself. If Kaveh didn’t grab this opportunity to make his mark on the architectural world by the reins in this very moment, it may slip out of his hands like fine grains of sand. As he even felt the slightest urge to lay down and rest his eyes, he could hear his client’s requests echoing in his head: “All I desire is something bold! Something brilliant! Something grand and extravagant!” And of course, brilliance, grandeur, and extravagance could not be conceptualized overnight–it took weeks, even months, of planning, measuring, and sketching to create a masterpiece. His hands were itching to grab a pencil and continue his draft of what he dubbed “The Palace of Alcazarzaray.”
But not only did the empty halls and overwhelming silence of his parents’ house suffocate him, his stupid illness was also there to fan the flames of procrastination and fatigue. Though Kaveh was never one to shun his emotions, even he had to admit that sometimes they could be bothersome: how could he possibly design a home for someone else when the only house he knew was no longer a home at all? He could still vividly recall his mother’s gentle voice and his father’s warm embrace comforting him when he was feeling under the weather. All he had now were his ideals, his project, and his tired body to drag around.
Kaveh shakily inhaled and exhaled to fend off the stinging feeling in his eyes. No matter. Being sick wasn’t going to keep him from his responsibilities–so long as his client was satisfied, nothing else mattered, much less his own well-being. Begrudgingly, Kaveh heaved himself off of his chair, grabbed the blueprints off of the couch, and wiped his eyes–his client wouldn’t be happy with tear-stained drafts. Soon after, he got to work.
…Archons, he really needed a drink after this.
The door began to creak open, and the sound itself was enough to snap Kaveh back into the present. When he looked up, the figure shadowed by the hallway light was not actually either of his family members, but rather another loved one. One that was taller, one whose features were dimmed softer by the evening light from the window, and one carrying what looked like a bowl in his hand.
The figure spoke, and somehow, it put Kaveh at ease; “I brought you soup and medicine. And yes, before you ask, it’s your favorite kind.”
Before you ask , Alhaitham said… Of course, always has to be the one to know everything. Kaveh set the sketchbook to the side, sitting up straighter and making room for the proper breakfast.
“Here,” The Scribe hums, setting the bowl on the covers in Kaveh’s lap. He then placed the medicine bottle on the bedside table as the blonde examined the soup, sitting down on the end of the bed.
“…You didn’t have to.” Kaveh started. Immediately, he could hear his boyfriend inhale to speak, like he was prepared for that exact sentence.
“No, I didn’t. But I did anyway. Is that so bad?” Alhaitham glanced at him, using that snooty tone of voice he always used to get on Kaveh’s nerves. And even here and now, it was working.
Kaveh pouted, “From my point of view, it is. I can’t get any work done when you’re hovering over my shoulder like this.”
To this, Alhaitham raised an eyebrow, and Kaveh could practically predict all 4 words that were about to come out of his mouth. “That’s the point, Kaveh.” And still, it managed to tick the architect off.
“When do you ever let me work?”
“When do you ever let others take care of you?”
Alright. Okay. Low blow, but Alhaitham was right. But Kaveh can’t admit that! That would be admitting defeat! And never, especially at the hands of his Akademiya Scribe Boyfriend, would Kaveh ever admit defeat!
“You—!”
Before Kaveh could even scrape up something to fight back with, Alhaitham smirked and crossed his arms. “At least I’m not the one that got sick so carelessly. If you really cared about your work’s efficiency, you’d rest until you’re better.”
Kaveh’s face burned redder than it was just from pure annoyance. “Why, you..! You know what?!”
A second passed, then another. “What?” Alhaitham teased, and Kaveh continued to struggle for words.
After a few failed attempts, spitting out letters and incomprehensible sounds, the blonde simply huffed, and to protect his pride, took a very quick spoonful bite of the soup in front of him. He turned his head to the side, glaring at Alhaitham, when suddenly he blinked— Oh, this is actually pretty good…
Kaveh took another bite, then another. He heard Alhaitham hum amusedly, but at this point he didn’t care— He hadn’t eaten breakfast yet, and this was his favorite soup… Kaveh knew deep down that his argument of pride just now was fading, but he was too tired to mind. Besides, he couldn’t see the look of content (and quite subtle fondness) on his boyfriend’s face.
A moment or two passed before Alhaitham finally seemed to prepare to get up. “Hm. You know, they say that–”
“Yeah, yeah. That earnest thanks should be given thrice.” Kaveh interrupted, spoon still in his mouth. This guy.
“Well?”
Kaveh looked off to the side before sighing. “Thank you. Thank you…” Though his first two thanks were rather exasperated, upon seeing the small smile on his boyfriend’s face, Kaveh couldn’t help but chuckle out a more earnest, “Thanks, Alhaitham.”
“You’re welcome. Now, you should get some more rest. If you need anything else, just call me, alright? You already know that I’m going to be home all day.” Alhaitham, now standing, replied. “I know you probably won’t want to, but I hope you can allow someone else to take care of you today. Even just this once.”
As Alhaitham made his way towards the door, Kaveh couldn’t help but softly smile to himself at the thought of his boyfriend’s genuine care. Still, though, an ever-so-slight pang of guilt began to make its way through Kaveh’s body–why was he troubling Alhaitham like this? Kaveh took one last sip of the soup Alhaitham had made for him, then placed it down in his lap and stared down at the empty bowl. What a fool he was.
Kaveh delicately placed the empty bowl on his bedside table and laid back down, covering himself in his blanket. If it were completely up to him, he wouldn’t be lounging about like this, but since it was Alhaitham’s request…perhaps he could humor the scribe a bit. He found himself dozing off rather easily–guess he was more exhausted than he thought…
Though Sumeru was rather warm in the daytime, the nights that befell Sumeru City were awfully chilly, as though it was the Cryo Archon who willed it to be as such. Sumeru City, a city that never slept, was, for once, at a state of frigid stillness.
Tense shoulders pressed firmly against the mattress, Kaveh couldn’t help but begin to toss and turn under the covers, yet still trying to keep the covers firmly in place. Everything was uncomfortable; his rising body temperature and chaotic jumble of thoughts only made falling asleep even more impossible than it already seemed. He couldn’t tell if it was his illness or the stiffness of the air that made it difficult to breathe–even inhaling and exhaling seemed like items to be checked off on a to-do list.
Eventually, he tossed over to lay on his side, and his eyes fixated on a blur of shapes and colors dangling by the window. After squinting, he just managed to make out the shape of a dreamcatcher—right, the dreamcatcher Alhaitham had gifted him on his birthday. It was teal, it was stationary, and it was beautiful. Kaveh was still impressed even here and now by its craftsmanship, the design and overall quality delivered the idea of soothing one to sleep awfully well.
The memory of the gift stayed fresh in his mind; Alhaitham’s teasing smile, the weight of the gift box it came in, and the texture of the feathers that danced in the air and dangled between his fingers when he held it. There’s a feeling here— an emotion that this dreamcatcher emits and that Kaveh receives, one that he’d like to think would look and feel lovely in this new building he’s working on.
How it would dangle from another window— a different one— maybe even some other spot, like the wall beside an old painting or just above a baby’s cradle. Maybe there would be other items and objects around, decorations and surfaces like tables and desks. How long has it been since he’s sat at his own desk, pencil in hand? And how long has it been since he’s sold his soul for boxes and lines?
180 degrees, 175, 170…the world began to tilt on its axis, bestowing upon Kaveh a pang of nausea and anxiety. Sounds of the dreamcatcher’s beads bumping and crashing faded into his ears, feathers so still like statues carved fluttering in the wind. It tilted and dangled as the world rotated, pulled along by gravity that existed only in his unreliable eyes. There was nothing there— there was nothing happening— and still, there was sound, and movement, and pain.
Even the dreamcatcher was putting more effort in than Kaveh was in this moment—how could he let himself laze about when there was work to be done? How could he possibly finish his project in the end when he’s already wasted this much time? Grasping his head and slightly shifting his position, Kaveh slammed his eyes tightly shut to block out the incessant thoughts—
But if the draft was good enough in the first place, he wouldn’t be in this position, now would he? Why did he allow himself to get sick when he knew he had someone to please? The answer was rather simple, really: he was foolish. And the world doesn’t stop for fools, especially not when they’re ill.
Before another thought could cross his mind, Kaveh found himself in a familiar position, body getting no lighter by the second when his wrists shook just from sitting up. He threw a glance towards the cover so neatly tucked over his body, and felt a little guilt, knowing the effort Alhaitham put into it. Though he had lived in Sumeru for all his life, he never got used to the feeling of being put to bed like a child— at least not since he was a child. Yet when instinctively pulling his knees to his chest, the warmth of the fabric against the heat of his skin felt like a curse straight from Celestia.
Slowly, unsteadily, Kaveh sat himself up, hand almost slipping off the sheet again before he caught himself. He had basically thrown off the blanket by this point; the unbearable comfort of heat was horrible, torturing his mind and chaining his body. The world kept spinning, the world kept tilting, slow— then fast— but that wouldn’t stop him. He couldn’t let it. So, up he went, staggering over to his table; he’d drag himself across the floor if he had to. He sat, and he hunched, and he leaned… and he continued his work.
Seconds turned to minutes, then minutes turned to hours as Kaveh let his pencil clumsily dance around on the paper in front of him, his wrists trembling and body begging for mercy.
“…veh…?”
Five more minutes, please…opening his eyes to the blinding Sumeru sun trickling in through the blinds was a horrible mistake.
“Get…! …did you…? …veh…!”
Kaveh was all too familiar with the sickening feeling spreading throughout his body from the day before, yet this time, his eyelids were chained by responsibilities, his face burned up with guilt, and he was an unwilling rider on the world’s unending carousel of misfortune.
“…aveh…”
The equally sudden and unpleasant memory that he stayed up through the night for his project came to mind, and he groaned, both out of regret and exhaustion.
“Kaveh.”
Suddenly, Kaveh jolted awake. The soreness of his head hit first, yet upon realizing he had been laying on his desk and not his pillow, he almost felt a bit of pride. That means he’d been working. Alhaitham caught the subtle expression on his face, however, and forced Kaveh to look at him with a gentle nudge of his hand.
“You can hear me now, yes?”
The look on Alhaitham’s face was a mix of disappointment and concern, and the architect wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
“Yes,” Kaveh groaned, “I’m not deaf.”
He was met with a scoff, “You were just a second ago. Did you get any sleep?”
The blonde took a slow turn over his shoulder to the sight of his unmade bed. Just the view of it filled him with a couple of conflicted feelings, ones he wasn’t sure he could put into words. Then, his eyes caught sight of the dreamcatcher, swaying only slightly from the morning air. It.. was moving, wasn’t it?
“Kaveh.”
Finally, his head turned back up, back to the silver-haired man staring at him with expressions he didn’t want to face. The simple sight of it turned his stomach and stuffed his throat with tears he wasn’t going to let show that easily.
“…Yeah. I’m fine.” Kaveh puts his head in his hand. “I’m okay. I’m just… getting some stuff done.”
Silence. Only for a moment, but it was enough to fill the emptiness in Kaveh’s head with dread. How much had he even gotten done? He barely remembered any of the specific parts he was actually working on. Was it okay? Was it enough to present? Could he finally r—
In the blink of an eye, the blueprint in front of him was suddenly gone. By the time Kaveh looked up, he found the blueprint in Alhaitham’s hands, where he examined it with squinted eyes.
“Hey— give that back,” Kaveh declared, much quieter and raspier than he would like, reaching up in attempts to get the paper back. Alhaitham, in all his stubbornness, doesn’t even move, and yet Kaveh is still unable to even graze the item.
“The door is too big.” Alhaitham remarked, and Kaveh had just about had it. He finally manages to swipe the blueprint from his boyfriend’s hands. “It is not! And what would you know of architectural design? I’ll bet you’ve never even seen a blueprint in all its glory until I moved…”
…As Kaveh trailed off, his stare at his own work began to actually process in his mind. The.. the door was too big. In fact, it was as big as the first floor. Not only that, but there were way too many windows, and the roof was curved on one side, but not the other. What is this? Did he make this? There’s no way. He refused.
“. . .”
Then he heard it. A small scoff. Almost akin to that of a snicker. Kaveh looked up, slowly but surely, offering Alhaitham an expression that said it all.
“…I can’t believe you.”
“Hey, I’m not the one that made the blueprint.”
Kaveh slammed the desk with both fists, blood suddenly pumping again.
“You—!”
Alhaitham, however, didn’t seem to buy it, putting down the book in his other hand and stepping forward. Despite just mustering up energy, Kaveh suddenly felt all of it dissipate upon Alhaitham practically dragging him out of his chair.
“Hey, what—“
“I am putting you to bed, since you don’t seem to be able to do that yourself.”
“But…!”
But as much as he protested, there was no saving it. Alhaitham proceeded to basically carry Kaveh over to the bed, setting him down with care and concern. Instead of simply standing over him, however, the man walked and sat himself at the end of the bed.
The quietness of the room began to seep into the air, and Kaveh couldn’t bring himself to look his boyfriend in the eyes. This type of silence was optional for either of them to fill; though it was eerily similar to that silence of Alhaitham waiting for Kaveh to speak and explain himself. It put him a little more on edge, it made him a little more disappointed in himself, but just until the relief of hearing words utter from Alhaitham’s mouth came.
“Kaveh, I know.”
…The relief only lasted a minute’s stay.
“…Know what?” The sickly man whispered, enough for his voice to crack.
“I know how much you want to appeal to others. I know how much that means to you, and I know how hard that must be.”
…’But’..?
“But,” There it was, “You can’t do that. Not until you appeal to yourself first.”
Oh, the times Kaveh could count he’s heard that sentence. Internally, he rolled his eyes, but even still, Alhaitham caught on.
“What I mean , Kaveh, is that if you want the same efficiency you see out there, out in the buildings and pieces and works of art in the real world, you need to have the energy to replicate that amount of passion.”
Every word slid in and out of Kaveh’s ears, but he knew deep down, begrudgingly, that Alhaitham was probably right. But just how could he create a masterpiece if he had so little time in this life? He wants more than just one magnum opus, more than just one work to stick his name in the stars— there are just so many things he wants to create, in such long amounts of time that sometimes he wishes he had the immortality of an Archon.
“If you do not have the energy to fuel passion, how will that show in your work? If you keep going like this, then by the time you’ve created all your ‘masterpieces’, you’ll have wished you spent the time resting to focus harder on the size of that door. The curve of that roof. Understand?”
Right. Because when his life reaches its end, the only things the people will take value and understanding of in his work are the half-awake deluded dreams he accidentally put on paper. A dance he unwittingly composed, a song he unknowingly choreographed.
“The work you put in, Kaveh, is ultimately immense.”
The blonde finally eyes his boyfriend, eyes soft with gratitude for the compliment.
“But that’s not always a good thing.”
Oh. Well, alright.
“Too much working exists. Too much work exists.” Of course Alhaitham of all people would point that out. “When it comes down to it, don’t you wish the quality to be greater than the quantity?”
Kaveh’s lip trembled. “I just—“ His voice cracks again— “I just want to… I just want the client to be happy. I just want the things I love to be things other people love.”
Alhaitham kept the eye contact, genuine enough to an almost soft degree. “Not everyone is going to love what you love, Kaveh.”
“I know.”
“No matter how much work you put into creating something, not everyone is going to see it.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you so determined to perfect each and every piece of art that spills out of your ideals?”
And to that, Kaveh did not have an immediate answer. The only conclusion he could eventually place was the one he figured earlier; he was foolish. Foolish enough to care, foolish enough to have a heart and use it. And the world doesn’t care for fools, not when it knows it could hurt them any moment.
But Kaveh didn’t want to believe that. To have art, to make art, to be art— none of it was foolish. The simple idea of creation and what it means to be an artist, whether you’re Teyvat’s best painter or a child stacking building blocks, having a heart and soul and connecting it to the mind with such a flow that it could be painful to the touch, should not at all be something only fools do.
“I can’t live knowing something I put my heart into has mistakes.”
Alhaitham draws a sigh.
“Not even when mistakes make what you’ve created human?”
Kaveh falls silent.
There’s a tree sway or two, inaudible with the window still closed but sounds that Kaveh’s ears were trying so very desperately hard to hear. Anything but here, anything but now, anything but the silence scraping at the edges of his mind and the corners of his head.
Mistakes. Kaveh couldn’t afford mistakes. His work, his art, everything he was to the world— if it wasn’t perfect, who would he be? An imperfect artist? A flawed creator? A faulty, second-rate, inferior architect?
…Maybe he’d be a person worth caring for.
“You’re not a robot, Kaveh.” Alhaitham continued when Kaveh failed to scrape up an answer. “Every one of your dreams, goals, and ideals are going to come out flawed one way or another. There’s not a single work of art in Teyvat that is not faulty somewhere.”
Perhaps it was those works of art that made Teyvat the beautiful world it was. Khemenu Temple, the Dune of Elusion, the Dune of Magma…though to an ordinary person, these were just ruins, for Kaveh, these were landmarks of architectural development that contained the stories of King Deshret’s people. Though history has run its course, those ruins still stand tall today, connecting the past to the present and the present to the future. Kaveh could marvel for hours at the fissures in the bricks, the weathered Primal Obelisks, the uneven sand dunes beneath his sandals, but…
“But my work isn’t ancient— I can’t afford to have cracks in the walls or centuries-old doors.” Kaveh strained; there was no more pride to be won, but he still went on. “Art changes with the world, and the world doesn’t stop for the sick. I’m just one person… how could I possibly keep up with the world if I can’t keep up with myself?”
Alhaitham placed a gentle hand on Kaveh’s knee atop the blanket. “Exactly. You are one person. Catch up with yourself first. Only then will you have the energy to run with the world.”
And with that, Kaveh sighed. It would have been a groan if he so had the energy to, but the words finally seemed to process, at least. The world is constantly running because there is not just one pair of legs to make the globe spin. If he rested, he could get back up again, and see another stop running to rest, too. This cycle is different for everyone, and that’s why the globe spins on a golden axis.
The noise became still again, but in this moment it felt more akin to tranquility rather than deafening silence. There was a comfort to it; the knowledge that he didn’t necessarily have to speak. Alhaitham knew Kaveh, just as Kaveh knew Alhaitham, and this kind of understanding didn’t require too many words. Sometimes, he liked to break the silence. Other times, he was grateful for it.
“… Thank you. ” Kaveh muttered, under his breath.
“Hm,” Alhaitham hummed, eyes closed. “You’re welcome.” When he waited to speak again, Kaveh knew what was coming; “You can save the two other thanks for after you’ve eaten.”
Of course. Because who would Alhaitham be if he didn’t require two other earnest thanks? Kaveh catches the twitch of a smile on his own lips, matching the smirk Alhaitham ended up growing on his own face.
Finally, slowly but surely, Alhaitham began to stand. Kaveh’s eyes watched as he made his way closer, leaning down to place another soft kiss on the blonde’s head.
“I’ll bring you food and medicine. Stay in bed, alright?”
Emphasis made clear by the tone of voice, Kaveh replied with a sigh. “Alright, alright. Thank you, Alhaitham.”
There was another hum, a reassuring and warm one, before Alhaitham drew back and started for the exit. By the time he left the room, even though the warmth of his presence was gone, Kaveh wasn’t feeling too horrible anymore.
In the past, the only person he had to take care of him when he was ill was himself, surrounded by cold walls and empty hallways of what once was. Shivering on the floor where his building blocks used to be, walls clear of old paintings and instead marked with red X’s to signify where to put what.
Here and now, he had somebody. Somebody cold and calculating on the outside, but deep down, wants nothing more than to help Kaveh be okay. Though he’ll tease and jest and bluntly correct Kaveh on multiple occasions, none of it was out of sheer malice— and even afterwards, he’d leave a small kiss on his cheek as an apology. There was always food being made, clothes being folded, coffee being ground, books being read— the smell of all of it was warm, welcoming, like home. The presence of it was gentle, beautiful, loving, like home. He was home. Kaveh was home.
Within every building, there are bound to be pride-made mistakes. Any man behind a work of creation will be flawed, but the flaws and mistakes might just be what make it all memorable. Carved into history are names only some have seen, but names made with passion nonetheless. Each name has different handwriting, different curves and different textures, behind them each a meaning only they can understand.
Kaveh will carve his name one way or another— he’ll mark it with his signature handwriting, make it as bold as he would like, and whoever chooses to read it could decipher his values in their own way. And though Kaveh couldn’t stop everyone from having different eyes for different perspectives, he’ll take whatever he can get upon setting his very own constellation in the stars.
He turned over to glance at a letter pinned to his corkboard. Though its words were obscured by sunlight, he could still make out what it said: “ While you may want to pour your time, heart, and soul into everything you create, you must remember that your friends can help you weather any pain your work may cause you…Love, Mom.”
Though it had taken him a longer time than he expected to fully understand his mother’s words, in this moment, everything seemed clearer as he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, just before he could see the hot soup, tea, and medicine placed for him on the nightstand. Even if he was the Light of Kshahrewar, an unlucky fool, or just plain old Kaveh, he knew deep in his heart that he would always have a home to come back to–a home whose name was Alhaitham. And he knew that Alhaitham would always stand by his side for better or for worse, in weal and woe, and in sickness and in health.