Work Text:
Alhaitham wouldn't say his life was dull before Kaveh. He had everything he needed to live life without worrying about what tomorrow would hold. He had a roof over his head, food to eat, his books to read, and world full of knowledge to be sought out and understood around him.
He'd had his grandmother too, before she passed away. He'd had Kaveh after that, until he found his senior's weak point and their friendship shattered. He had bluntly pointed out the Kshahrewar's altruism and how he was using it to cover the guilt he carried in trying to prove go Kaveh that his idealistic ways were unrealistic. Instead of shedding light on the issue, however, it only led to Kaveh angrily leaving, walking out of his life. His life lost some color then, sure, but he still wouldn't have said it was dull.
Some years later, when Kaveh returned to his life, he didn't come bursting in with color like he had before. Kaveh would have said he was dull, having just sunk himself deeply into debt building the Palace of Alcazarzaray. The blond was too stubborn to show the world that, but with Alhaitham, it was different.
It began small. Kaveh allowing the mask of being the Light of Kshahrewar, the mask that everything about his life was perfect, to slip. He was quick to remind Alhaitham about his achievements and his debts in the same breath, and as time passed, Kaveh became less concerned with maintaining the image the public had of him around Alhaitham.
The scribe watched as Kaveh bloomed again bringing color into the world that he hadn't realized had been quite so dull without the architect. When he began to lose his luster, Alhaitham would prod in just the right way to bring the color back. A taunt relating back to their days as students, pretending not to hear what the blond had said and asking him to repeat it more than once, a tacky looking decor piece that anyone would scoff at.
Alhaitham didn't miss the slow, cautious changes in Kaveh's relationship towards him. He didn't miss how the blond would adjust his route when they ran into each other at the bazaar. He didn't miss how the blond come into the kitchen every few minutes when the scribe was cooking dinner.
Just as the architect began to comfortably linger around, Alhaitham allowed his lingering to be known as well. He would be nearby when Kaveh was working to comment on how the blond shouldn't work himself so hard over ungrateful clients. He would pretend to be passing by as he chose to stop to critique the blond's purchases when they saw each other at the bazaar.
The seasons passed by and their relationship became closer. Both at home and in public the two were joined at the hip. When both men were home, one was never alone in a room for long. If Alhaitham was in the kitchen cooking, the other followed in and helped. If Kaveh was in the study working, Alhaitham would sit at the other desk and read. The pair of dutars in the living room ceased to collect dust and they would play together and sometimes sing as they did so, though neither were musicians.
Slowly, without fanfare, their lives became one. It was no longer Alhaitham or Kaveh. Instead, it became Alhaitham and Kaveh. To passersby, the sounds of constant arguments coming from within the walls of their home could signal a relationship coming to an end, but to them, they were debates filled with the joy they found in each other. Debates filled with passion and love. Debates that signaled the miracle of life as the colors of their lives coalesced.