Chapter Text
Alhaitham was not a fan of working late. He was a pragmatic and practical man and knew his time was valuable, which meant the moment he could leave work, he was gone. Nevertheless, some days were worse than others, and that's how he ended up arriving home well after dinner.
He expected Kaveh to be there to greet him, to give him a piece of his mind for missing dinner, and thus let the delicious meal his roommate so graciously made for him go cold. No lecture or greeting came, which was especially odd, as Alhaitham never said he'd be working late tonight.
Kaveh always liked to know Alhaitham's schedule so he could plan dinner and chores accordingly, and the blonde became quite perturbed when his schedule was changed without his knowledge.
Alhaitham walked further into the house and felt a slight sense of relief when he heard the scratching of a pencil from Kaveh's room. The Scribe threw his cloak on the couch, a transgression that Kaveh would get on him about later, and walked towards Kaveh's door, knocking once before opening it.
Kaveh sat, hunched over his desk, scribbling away at a design for a client. His golden hair hung in loose curls and waves, messy and slightly frizzy from a day running around in Sumeru’s humid weather. The architect always took such good care of his hair, it reminded Alhaitham of a crown or a halo, which seemed fitting, although recently Kaveh hadn't asked Alhaitham to grab his favorite conditioner. Alhaitham made note of it in the back of his mind.
“Kaveh, I'm home,” Alhaitham spoke softly, trying not to startle his roommate. He walked closer to the desk as Kaveh lifted his head, dark circles under his eyes, “You look awful.”
Kaveh rolled his eyes at him, scrubbing his face with a hand, “Thanks Alhaitham, you really know how to make someone feel good about themselves.” He huffed, then looked out the window to see the night sky, groaning as his neck cracked, “Archons, what time is it? I totally lost track of everything.”
Alhaitham sighs, “It's past dinner time if that's what you're asking. I'll just heat up some mushrooms and stick them on a skewer.”
His roommate makes an indignant noise, wrinkling his nose in disgust, “You can't seriously be suggesting that for dinner, that's so… unrefined.”
“So? It's convenient. Learning to be convenient is a skill you could benefit from.”
Kaveh scowls at him, rising from his stool and stretching, his back making a cracking sound that made Alhaitham's eye twitch. He walked past Alhaitham and into the kitchen, surveying the contents of their pantry.
“I'll make butter chicken. It's relatively quick, and we haven't had it in a while,” Kaveh decided, putting up his hair in a bun.
Alhaitham exhales, not looking forward to eating something that requires more cleanup than he'd prefer, but clenches his jaw and stays quiet. He'd endure the inconvenience if it meant Kaveh was doing something other than hunching over his desk, wasting away. He'd never tell Kaveh that, of course, because the architect would argue that it was part of his job, and he was making art, and he truly was happy.
In all honesty, Alhaitham wasn't convinced. He'd seen Kaveh make art, the joy and sorrow that went into something he cared about. The numbness that floated around whatever Kaveh created right now reeked of something sinister. And was it truly art if there was no emotion behind it? Alhaitham couldn't say, he was just a scribe after all.
There was always some anguish that came from Kaveh’s commissions, that wasn’t new. He hated having to adjust his artistic vision to the confinement of his commissioner, but that’s what paid bills. The level of work he was taking on, and the manner in which it was being done, was new. That, and the way he now approached conversations with Alhaitham; which is to say, not at all. Alhaitham was now the one regularly reaching out.
He sat at the table, listening to his roommate move about the kitchen humming to himself. The aroma of fresh food wafted through the room, tantalizing and inviting all at once, reminding Alhaitham he hadn't eaten in a while. Kaveh smiled back at his roommate, an actual, real smile; a sight Alhaitham hadn't realized he'd been missing dearly.
When the food was done, the architect set it on the table with a flourish, the bags under his eyes looking slightly less heavy at the relief of doing something other than work. They ate in relative silence, Kaveh picking at his food, and glancing towards the door where his work was, before redirecting his attention back to his food. Kaveh had never been a particularly fast eater, but now it seemed to drag on, every scrape of his silverware against his plate becoming grating to Alhaitham. Nevertheless, he sat and ate slowly with his roommate, for he knew if he moved the architect would not eat until he was satiated, and that wouldn't do.
After a while, Kaveh seemed to grow restless in the silence and decided to make small talk. “How was your day at the Akademiya?”
Alhaitham let out a disinterested hum, “Fine. Lackluster. A fool from your darshan submitted paperwork asking for money. I denied it, of course, the formatting was all wrong, and I disliked the use of italics. There is a proper format that requests for funding are required to be in.”
“You bastard, that was my request!” Kaveh slammed his silverware down. “You’re well aware Kshahrewar is underfunded, you're just being obtuse.”
The Scribe smirked, glad he was getting a rise out of his roommate. He had been too… distant recently. So caught up in his work, that he seemed disinterested in the world around him.
“Submit the paperwork correctly, and I'll see what I can do.” Alhaitham taunted, observing Kaveh's face reddening with anger. In the Scribe’s defense, the paperwork was submitted incorrectly. Granted, he refused to make the proper formatting common knowledge. It made his rather dull job the slightest bit more entertaining.
“We both know you can do whatever you please, Acting Grand Sage,” Kaveh said his title mockingly, like a playground insult. “You just choose not to, because you're a loathsome contrarian, determined to make me go grey by 30.”
Alhaitham rolled his eyes, “We both know that I don't give out special privileges, Kaveh. Just because you're my roommate does not mean that I will neglect my duties as an impartial body. Besides, my position as Grand Sage is temporary, you’re aware of this.”
The architect actually snorted at that, in a way that made something flutter in Alhaitham's chest. “Impartial my ass. Please, I saw you sic Cyno on some guy because he made a comment about Tighnari's research methods and said he didn't believe Tighnari should be allowed to be a researcher because of his heritage.”
“We don't tolerate discrimination within the Akademiya, you're well aware of this fact,” Alhaitham sipped from his glass of water, the picture of innocence.
Kaveh eyed him smugly, “I also know that a report of discrimination is filed before action is taken, and the victim of said discrimination is spoken to before the matra are involved. I was unaware that involving the victim's boyfriend, the General Mahamatra, was the first course of action.”
“So would you prefer I go through the proper channels next time, and not defend your friend?”
“You know that's not what I'm getting at. I am very grateful that you defended our friend, and have no doubt that Cyno gave that guy a good scare. I'm just disagreeing with your claim that you are an impartial body within the Akademiya.”
Alhaitham studied Kaveh, curious about what the point of this was. He knew Kaveh would never accept anything less than what was proper and legal, the exceptionally difficult blonde was never one to cut corners, so perhaps it was just to argue. Arguing seemed to be their favorite way to communicate after all.
The Scribe sighed, “Submit your request properly, and I'll see what I can do. Funds are already tight as it is, as rebuilding what's left of the Akademiya has been particularly taxing.”
Kaveh just about glowed at that, which Alhaitham decided was fitting, being the Light of Kshahrewar. And he lived up to the title. He was gentle, empathetic, and passionate. Everything Alhaitham wasn't.
Finally, he started cleaning up from their meal, despite how much his skin crawled at the prospect of dealing with dirty dishes. He took a breath, running a plate under the water and scrubbing it, watching out of the corner of his eye as Kaveh headed back to his room. Alhaitham finished with the dishes, leaving them on the drying rack, and headed for his room, pausing when he heard the scratching of charcoal.
He pushed open the door to Kaveh's room, seeing his friend back at his desk, studying the blueprints underneath him. Alhaitham scowled.
“Kaveh. Go to bed.”
Kaveh let out a squeak of surprise and turned around, glaring at the man who disrupted him, “Knock next time! I could've been in a state of undress!”
“You're so dramatic,” Alhaitham sighed. “It's late. You promised Tighnari you'd help him tomorrow. Go to bed.”
He heard a frustrated groan as he closed the door, followed by a sharp, “Fine.” And that was the best he could hope for.