Work Text:
In a turn of events that has shocked exactly no one, Kaveh’s sleep schedule has once again taken a turn for the worse.
In his defense, it’s quite simply that time of the year. Midterms have passed, and finals loom on the horizon, but this is the deadly lull known as project season. Many students far wiser and more studious than him have fallen victim to a project too grandiose, or an idea that cannot possibly become reality in such a short amount of time. It’s a common horror story, meant to scare the students into doing something manageable yet showstopping.
(Because clearly the two go together.)
It would be wisest for students to play into their strengths, play it safe instead of getting too experimental. This is one of their final architecture courses, so in many ways, it should be the culmination of all the work that came before. It should be easy enough to slice apart your former sketches and paste them together into something coherent.
In theory, Kaveh could do exactly that and get a fine enough grade. Something that will help him pass his course and get enough hours of sleep at night that Alhaitham doesn’t start calling him an insomniac-in-training. But this professor has quite literally seen Kaveh at his best and worst, and Kaveh’s best is impressive. He has to find a way to blow her expectations out of the water, damn the consequences. He’ll ruin his sleep schedule for the next year if he has to.
In his defense, this one project could have far larger implications than a simple good grade. Kaveh could score straight As in architecture in his sleep if he wanted to — which, of course, he doesn’t. He has too much pride in his own work for that.
No, this project could land him a future. After being graded, every project will be submitted for review by an actual company, and the winning design will be brought to life – not to mention the fact that the student whose idea wins every year is at the top of everyone’s mind when they need an architect at their beck and call. It’s practically Kaveh’s dream to have a job lined up for him the moment he has a diploma in his hand.
(As long as, you know, he doesn’t manage to screw it all up again. Kaveh’s stuck scraping pennies together just to finish out his last semester. His bank account looks drier by the day.)
It’s this line of thinking that has Kaveh paralyzed at his desk for days on end, killing an excessive number of trees with all the paper he’s going through. Every scratch of his pencil is a mistake that needs to be immediately corrected, each idea that flies through his head is either total nonsense or something that can’t properly be transposed from mind to paper without his useless fingers screwing it up.
Kaveh presses his fingers against his temples and tries to come up with a clear vision for his project, the Palace of Alcazarzaray, but he’s just… stuck. His fingers itch with the desire to create, but there’s nothing he can do about it, not unless he wants to drive himself genuinely insane.
So instead, Kaveh slumps forward in his chair until his forehead rests against the desk and lets out a groan loud enough that he’s sure his despair spans the entire campus.
The deadline crawls closer. Kaveh has largely given up on sleep, and only eats when his vision goes too fuzzy to do anything else. He books study rooms in the library for excessively long chunks of time so he doesn’t bring his work home to bother Alhaitham. If that means he sometimes falls asleep in the study room and gets woken up by whoever signed up for the next time slot, then… oops?
This past time, he’s lucky enough that Tighnari stumbled across his snoozing form and was able to drag him back into the land of the living. Tighnari, who naturally settles into his pre-med persona and starts acting like Kaveh has one foot in the grave.
“Your cheeks are starting to get flushed, and your forehead is warm,” Tighnari notes, scribbling down everything he’s saying into an actual notebook, like Kaveh is some sort of case study. “Have you had enough water today?”
“I don’t know,” Kaveh says, frowning as he tries to bat Tighnari’s hands away. “I guess?”
The sound Tighnari makes in response is clearly disapproving, but his expression is as kind as ever. “And you’ve eaten?”
“Uh-”
A granola bar is slid across the table at him wordlessly. Based on the resounding silence following this action, Kaveh gathers that he is supposed to begin eating before Tighnari will allow this to continue.
So, slowly, Kaveh does. He appreciates that they both pretend not to hear the loud growling coming from his stomach.
“I’m growing worried about you, Kaveh,” Tighnari says as gently as he can manage. “And I’m not the only one. Alh-”
“It’s the last week!” Kaveh protests, gesturing wildly with his granola bar. Crumbs scatter across the table, and Tighnari’s nose twitches. “You know just as much as I do that as soon as the semester is over, I have an entire month to recuperate.”
“Yes, but these conditions can have long-term effects on the body-”
“And this project can have long-term effects on my life. A couple weeks of pain won’t kill me – you won’t be that lucky.”
“Ha, ha.” Tighnari’s laughter is as dry as ever. “I’m serious, Kaveh.”
“So am I.”
There’s something strange about the way Tighnari squints at him then, but it’s gone before Kaveh can understand what he sees. “Alright, then. I will let this matter go, but only on one condition.”
“And that is…?”
“I’m walking you home. And you’re going straight to bed.”
Kaveh’s mouth drops open in surprise and mild outrage. He’s twenty-five years old and getting grounded?
Tighnari’s expression doesn’t respond to Kaveh’s arguments, no matter how convincing. In fact, he doesn’t stick around to listen to any of them. Before Kaveh’s numb brain can scrape together a coherent explanation for why he should be allowed to dictate his own bedtime, Tighnari has scooped up his entire stack of sketches and walked off with them, leaving Kaveh no choice but to follow.
He stares after his friend for a few seconds too long, completely baffled. He can’t tell if it’s the sleep deprivation, the post-nap fuzz, or the stress addling his mind at this particular moment. Tighnari would probably insist on all three, but Kaveh isn’t inclined to listen to him right now. Instead, he grumbles to himself before shoving the last of the snack in his mouth and jogging to catch up to his friend.
The house is dark when Kaveh gets home. He’s more than a little relieved by this discovery. The clock reads barely shy of midnight, and all Kaveh has to do is collapse in his bed. There’s no noisy project to work on tonight, so it’ll be all too easy to slip past Alhaitham’s darkened room without having to deal with his roommate at all.
Tiredly, Kaveh rubs his temples. He feels like he’s hungover, or maybe like he’s gotten hit by a bus. Maybe both. At the same time.
Kaveh wants this week to be over so bad, to be able to return to some semblance of a normal life, but no idea is good enough to fit into his portfolio so far. At this rate, he’ll be lucky to hand in a completed project at all.
He has half a mind to get in bed right now, but Kaveh instead finds himself angling towards the kitchen, intent on getting some water. He’s only just realized how parched he is.
“Where have you been?”
Kaveh jumps, whirling towards the intrusion so fast that he has to grab the counter to regain his balance. The tall shadow standing a few feet away is familiar enough that his shock swiftly gives way to annoyance.
“What are you doing?” Kaveh turns away and returns to his task of pouring himself a drink. “I thought you would be asleep hours ago.”
Alhaitham hums. “I would be, if my roommate had taken it upon himself to return home at a timely hour. I won’t ask again.”
Kaveh’s mouth flattens into a thin line. “I was working, as I have been for the past week. Surely you remember-”
“I remember plenty. What I don’t remember is you deciding it was in your best interest to forsake your basic human needs.”
“I am not, and it’s temporary.”
“Your body craves rest. You cannot expect to come up with something you will be satisfied with if this is how you treat yourself in the process. You look awful.”
“ Shit, ” Kaveh hisses. “First Tighnari, now you? What, is everyone keeping tabs on me? Why is everyone so hellbent on treating me like a child?”
It’s too dark to read Alhaitham’s expression, tell what he’s thinking. Kaveh misses the days where he knew each of Alhaitham’s thoughts as intimately as his own, before they grew so different that roommates is the only way Kaveh can describe their relationship without attaching an it’s complicated.
“Well, are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Acting like a child.”
“I- what? Are you serious right now?”
Alhaitham regards him silently, too stubborn to say things a second time. Kaveh has half a mind to lash out blindly, with words or nails or anything that would make Alhaitham react. He hates the way these fights always go, where he’s fighting a losing battle with his own emotions while Alhaitham manages to stay perfectly composed the entire time. It’s not fair. He knows that Alhaitham can’t stand him, that Kaveh’s own stupidly empathetic heart is a weakness, but…
(... is Kaveh allowed to say he misses when Alhaitham was his friend? When they were young and Kaveh wasn’t constantly worried about how many bills he had to pay, when his father was alive and his mother was happy and Alhaitham’s smile was a comfort known to very few, but mostly to him.
Is that fair? Can Kaveh say any of that right now? Would it end up mattering?)
(Why does Alhaitham care what he’s up to, anyway?)
His roommate has kept talking, and somewhere during this conversation, or maybe when Kaveh was lost in his thoughts, Alhaitham has moved close enough to touch. From this distance, Kaveh can see the way the corners of his mouth have turned down, tugging into a barely-perceptible frown. His hand hovers close to Kaveh’s forehead – close , but not touching. Kaveh has to sink his nails into his palms to keep himself from moving.
“You need to be more careful,” Alhaitham chides. “Your best work isn’t made when you’re like this.”
No, Kaveh’s best work is only made to be thrown back in his face, a permanent reminder of his failure. Kaveh seethes, barely able to string words together. “You don’t know anything about my work.”
It’s like he’s not listening anymore. Alhaitham leans in closer, examining Kaveh even further. He feels as vulnerable as a butterfly pinned to a table, like all his helpless fluttering won’t do him any good in the end. He wants to tell Alhaitham to go away, but the words get stuck in his throat.
“You look feverish.” He must be imagining the way Alhaitham’s tone has grown tender. “Didn’t Tighnari tell you? This level of exhaustion has made your body more prone to sickness. If you don’t stop now, your body will force you to stop.”
Tighnari said no such thing – and if he did, Kaveh doesn’t remember it – but Kaveh isn’t going to admit that. Through gritted teeth, he says, “I have everything under control.”
Kaveh doesn’t have to see to know that Alhaitham’s silence is due to him scanning Kaveh’s entire body, and likely not being satisfied with what he sees. “Do you?”
“Listen,” Kaveh hisses, something ugly twisting his stomach into knots. He jabs his finger into Alhaitham’s chest hard enough to bruise. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that I live in your house, so I’m sorry for not being up to your standards. But you have no idea what I’m trying to accomplish right now, and all I really want is for you to leave me alone. ”
He spits out the last three words like they burn, a scald so hot it must be some remnant of a fight from years ago. Warmth stings at the corners of his eyes, and Kaveh has to make himself look away. He can’t understand what’s wrong with him right now, why he’s so-
“Okay.”
The single word that falls from Alhaitham’s mouth feels far too gentle. Kaveh shrinks back, daring to look up at him – not that it helps. Alhaitham’s expression is as flat as ever, like this entire conversation has been something he was forced to tolerate.
“Okay?” Kaveh croaks out.
Alhaitham nods. “Yes, I will… I will leave you to your work.”
The tension in Kaveh’s shoulders is immediately gone, but his stomach only twists tighter. “I… okay.”
Silence fills the kitchen once more as Alhaitham turns to leave, and Kaveh can’t do anything but watch. It’s only when he reaches the entrance to the hallway that Alhaitham turns back one last time.
“Goodnight, Kaveh,” he whispers into the darkness.
It’s later, when Kaveh has tucked himself into bed, heart beating loudly in his ears, all hot and cold at the same time, that Kaveh finds it in him to respond. Goodnight, Alhaitham.
Kaveh doesn’t leave bed the next day.
He’s rather glad for it. He heard Alhaitham leave early in the morning, and in his feverish haze of sleep deprivation, used tissues, and a small mountain of blankets that barely suppress his shivers, Kaveh feels relieved. There won’t be any I told you so lingering in Alhaitham’s eyes every time they cross paths. Instead, there’s just… a lingering silence that pulls Kaveh back down into an endless slumber.
( Relief… that’s what the ache in his chest is, right?)
The next time Kaveh awakens, midday sun is glaring through his windows. Every single blanket he owns is in a haphazard pile on the floor, and he’s drenched in sweat. When Kaveh hauls himself upright, the room spins around him swiftly enough to make a wave of nausea wash over him.
Stars dance behind his eyelids as Kaveh presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, sucking in a deep breath to stave off the discomfort in his stomach. The sensation eventually subsides, and Kaveh aims to haul himself to his feet, intending to raid the kitchen for resources, but-
A glass of water and a plate of fresh fruit sits innocently on his bedside table.
Kaveh frowns. He didn’t leave that there, did he? And surely he’d only just woken up – there’s no way he somehow managed to sleepwalk into the kitchen, fix a glass of water, and cut up fruit into a delightfully arranged plate for himself.
There is, of course, another option, one that Kaveh isn’t particularly eager to confront. So he pushes it off to the side and indulges in what he sees in front of him. The glass of water is swiftly drained; Kaveh hadn’t realized how thoroughly parched he was. He takes a little longer with the fruit, slowly savoring each and every bite until his mind stops buzzing and the plate is empty. There’s no doubt in his mind that he’ll need to eat something more substantial later, but for now…
Kaveh heaves himself out of bed, and feels… well, not good, but better. The room doesn’t spin around him. His legs don’t threaten to crumple like he’s a fawn. It feels like a miracle.
Naturally, there’s only one thing on Kaveh’s mind. He makes his way over to his desk, tenderly caressing the worn grain of the wood. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers, knowing no one can hear him.
His serenity lasts all of about two seconds, until Kaveh starts digging in his desk and realizes that none of his supplies are readily available. All of his sketches have disappeared, his folder of commissions, every single pen and pencil he owns…
Damn that Alhaitham.
Kaveh slams the drawer shut, and every bit of vitality drains out of him at once. It’s a long and arduous walk back to bed, but he manages to gracelessly flop down before his eyes flutter shut. His cheek presses against the cool fabric of his pillowcase, and Kaveh’s last thought before sleep takes him is that he wishes he had something else to lay his head on right now.
When Kaveh awakens again, this time late in the evening, it’s the smell that entices him to his feet. Something warm and comforting, something so familiar that Kaveh can’t quite manage to wrap his head around…
The call of sleep is tempting, but Kaveh’s stomach grumbles too loudly for him to ignore. He takes several minutes attempting to heave himself out of bed, and then he shivers so violently that he has to wrench a blanket loose from the pile he made on the bed. He wraps it around his shoulders, and that manages to help pull him together enough that he can pad his way into the kitchen.
The sight in front of him is jarring enough that Kaveh briefly wonders if he’s still asleep. Alhaitham stands over the stove, squinting at a recipe. He’s in shockingly casual clothes – in total, Kaveh could count the number of times he’s seen Alhaitham look casual on one hand. Though this simple black shirt and sweatpants look nothing like the Alhaitham he’s used to, there’s something about it that makes Kaveh… crave?
(He has no idea how to unpack what that could mean.)
“You’re cooking?” Kaveh asks, awed. His feet are cold and bare against the tiled floor, but he can’t bring himself to retrieve slippers. Not when Alhaitham is in front of him like this.
Alhaitham won’t look at him, his head stubbornly bent over a large pot. “This is not an uncommon occurrence.”
“Well, no, but-” Kaveh struggles momentarily. “... Thank you.”
The other man hums. “Surely you didn’t think I’d allow you to cook and wear yourself out? Or worse, get the both of us sick?”
Kaveh can’t bring himself to explain how he’s just grateful Alhaitham is still tolerating him at all after last night. He swallows and shuffles closer. “What are you making?”
Something changes in Alhaitham’s posture, so subtle that Kaveh almost misses it. He almost tucks into himself, like he’s… shy? Embarrassed?
Slowly, Alhaitham slides the paper he’s been referencing to the side so Kaveh can look at it. “I stumbled across this recipe in our cabinets, and decided to try it out tonight.”
Alhaitham says it so casually, but Kaveh’s eyes water at the sight of the paper. It’s a handwritten recipe from his mother for a soup that Kaveh hasn’t tasted in years, but the mere thought of it brings him more comfort than he thought possible. He sniffles and wipes at his eyes.
“I hope this is okay.”
His tone is as soft as it was last night. There’s something like shame causing Kaveh’s face to burn now. He thinks back to their argument, to the water and fruit earlier, the soup now. It doesn’t make sense together, but…
(He seems so sincere?)
“But you…” Kaveh’s mouth opens, closes, opens again. “You don’t like soup?”
“I do not.”
“But… you made it. For me.”
“It is common knowledge that soup is a comfort to anyone who is particularly under the weather. This meal choice was intended to assist your healing.”
“But you made it for me.”
Alhaitham meets his gaze this time, and nods once. “I did.”
They’re standing close again. Kaveh glances away, tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. When he looks back at Alhaitham, the taller man is watching the way his golden hair falls over his shoulders.
Oh.
“Thank you,” Kaveh manages.
A sly smile makes the corner of Alhaitham’s mouth twitch upwards. “You know,” he says slowly, and Kaveh instantly groans in dismay. “It’s said that earnest thanks should be expressed three times…”
Kaveh spends only half of the next day in bed.
He could swear that soup had straight up drugs in it. He’s never slept better, his fever has gone down, and he’s positively buzzing with ideas. Good ones, even! The kind that have him working away furiously in a sketchbook, trying to work out all the kinks before Alhaitham gets home in the evening. He only has to take one nap in the middle of the day, and he wakes up from it early to get more ideas on the paper. He’s not really sure which part of yesterday contributed to his sudden vigor, but Kaveh more than willing to seize the inspiration while it strikes.
But as the day passes, he grows antsy. Alhaitham’s taking an ungodly number of classes to finish out his master’s, so he often gets home late, but… can’t the man be early for once? Is it too much to ask for? Does he have some sort of sixth sense that tells him exactly when Kaveh wants him home the most?
He falls asleep a second time by accident. When he awakens again, Kaveh knows it’s late because he’s hungry. He seeks out the kitchen once more, already salivating at the thought of leftovers, and then stops short at the sight of Alhaitham casually lounging on their couch reading a book.
“When did you-?” Kaveh stares, a flash of irritation running through him. “How did you get in here?”
Alhaitham stares at him. “I have a key?”
“I meant without me hearing. ”
“I presumed you were sleeping. Did you want me to wake you up?”
“No, I-” Kaveh huffs. “I wanted to… talk to you.”
“We’re talking now.”
“About the other night.”
Another pause. “Okay.”
Kaveh squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”
“Oh?”
“I… was unfair. I said things I shouldn’t have. This time of year… well, there’s no real excuse. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to leave me alone. Not at all.”
There are other things Kaveh wants to say, thoughts that make his fingertips tingle and his face burn, but he can’t – not now. Not when he hasn’t quite figured out what it all means.
(And oh, how he’s overwhelmed with the sudden urge to card his hands through Alhaitham’s hair and show him how sorry he is. Kaveh wants to see if his ears turn pink when he blushes, if his hands are as strong as they look, if he’s just as warm as he makes Kaveh feel.
But there will be time for all of that later.)
“I accept your apology.” Alhaitham nods, as frustratingly formal as always. “But you will take care of yourself now, correct?”
“I’m not so sure. If this is the treatment I get, then…” Alhaitham glares at him, and Kaveh has to cut himself off with a laugh. “I will, I will. Now… can I join you? Please?”
Alhaitham raises a brow, tilts his head to the side. He looks Kaveh over again, and Kaveh tries to fight off the rising heat in his cheeks. Finally, the other man says, “Yes, but if you get me sick, I will require you to nurse me back to health.”
“You can just say yes, you know.”
Alhaitham hums thoughtfully and turns the page of his book. Kaveh hides a smile and tucks himself into Alhaitham’s side, leaning his head on the man’s shoulder. An arm tucks itself around him in return, hand grazing his waist.
He feels warm, he feels safe. He feels home. Kaveh had almost forgotten what that felt like.
Before he drifts off, Kaveh swears he feels Alhaitham’s lips gently pressing against his temple.