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In any other situation, Alhaitham would’ve simply gifted a book without thinking twice: it was a good gift for anyone, and an easy one to choose, as long as you consider the recipient’s tastes and interests. But first, he had already given a book last year, and second, it wasn’t any other situation and not just anyone. It was Cyno.
To be fair, it was easy enough to impress him with a gift — perhaps Cyno was the most predictable person Alhaitham knew in that regard. Even choosing a gift for Kaveh was more difficult since he remembered everything he had been given before, and could actually be upset if the gift-choosing process wasn’t approached with enthusiasm and creativity.
Not that Alhaitham cared, since vintage wine from abroad or a couple of pieces of jewelry bought from Dori on sale were a hit every year. Either way, Kaveh’s reaction to his presents was and always will be the same.
As for Cyno, he didn’t care how creative the gift was or if it was repeated year after year or holiday after holiday — Cyno generally tried hard to pretend that he didn’t need any gifts from anyone at all — but Alhaitham saw through his little love language after their first argument, back when he came to apologize with a box of his favorite nut sweets straight from the desert. Now, after every argument, Alhaitham apologizes with a new ring or Cyno’s favorite flowers, a new edition of The Steambird with his favorite alchemy column or a Padisarah pudding and a custom-made card for his collection, and then watches as his beloved general reluctantly overcomes his grudge and pride and pretends to be uninterested in the gift and the apology whatsoever.
So this time, too, Alhaitham could’ve gotten him a new limited-edition card with a diamond dusting from Dori, and Cyno would’ve been genuinely happy, even though Kaveh had already prepared a new gift edition of the Genius Invokation novel for him, and Collei was drawing a card for him herself.
He could’ve given him a book, as he did last year. It was his favorite book from his library, the first one he had ever read when he was three years old, when his parents were still alive. A gift from his father. Cyno took a long time trying to convince him that he couldn’t accept his “family heirloom” as a gift, as the book must’ve meant a lot to him.
Alhaitham doesn’t remember if he said it out loud, but he certainly thought it back then.
“You mean much more to me.”
So yeah, he could’ve, and it wasn’t like he wanted to stand out — or maybe he did, but — he just felt that Cyno deserved something else. Something more. Something meaningful.
The idea came to him suddenly, when Kaveh told him about passing by a stall of a cloth merchant from Fontaine.
“Well yeah, the prices are a bit much... But the quality! And the colors! You can buy the fabric from him or place an order at Madame Chiori’s boutique and have it delivered to you later. He said that he was leaving for Fontaine tomorrow and would pass her all the orders.”
Alhaitham departed for Port Ormos the same morning.
A gallantly dressed young man scratched his chin thoughtfully and furrowed his brow, clearly not very pleased that his new customer verified every single one of his documents before describing his order.
“The order is simple and shouldn’t take more than a day to complete, but Madame’s boutique is currently booked up to the ceiling, so I’m afraid that if you wish for your order to be completed and delivered to Sumeru within five to six days, you’ll need to pay an additional fee for the urgency…”
“Three days.”
“Excuse me, what–”
The man adjusts his glasses nervously, unsure whether the person in front of him is very bad at jokes or just crazy.
“I need this order in three days. The money is not a problem.”
Alhaitham never bothered to leave reviews, neither good nor bad. He simply didn’t see the need. This time, however, he considered giving credit where credit was due and leaving a positive review for Ms. Chiori and her boutique, as well as for the Komania Express delivery service. The order indeed arrived within three days, and the work was commendable.
Alhaitham puts a small purple velvet box in his desk drawer and convinces himself that getting back to work will make the remaining four hours of his working day pass faster. If everything goes according to plan, Cyno should be back from the desert by five.
Which, expectedly, doesn’t happen, because it’s Cyno he’s talking about.
He returns home after six in the evening, leaves his weapon and headpiece in the closet as usual, and practically runs into the living room, announcing that he is home. Alhaitham can’t even be angry with him, hearing the impatient stomping of his bare feet as he makes his way to the room where Alhaitham rests, lying on the sofa and casually reading one of his books.
“Hi,” Cyno breathes out, sitting down next to him. “Sorry, we were supposed to leave together today, but unforeseen circumstances arose.”
Alhaitham lowers his book and looks up at him, suppressing a sigh.
“Tell me more about the incredible adventures the General Mahamatra has been through this time.”
Cyno rests his hands and chin on Alhaitham’s bent knee, tilting his head slightly to the side. Alhaitham feels a pang in his heart, but doesn’t let himself think much about it.
“A couple of weeks ago, I came across a caravan of poachers who were selling wild animal meat under the guise of poultry and beef. After the arrest, I asked Tighnari to examine all the animals we had rescued from the cages, and fortunately, most of them were healthy, so we released them back into the wild. However, there were a few foxes and birds that required medical attention.”
Cyno idly traces his fingers over Alhaitham’s knee and thigh, drawing simple patterns as he continues his story.
“Yesterday, Tighnari told me it was about time to release the last fox, because it has already recovered and it’s better not to take up space in case other animals need emergency care,” he rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue, but still smiles as he continues, “And today, he got angry with me for coming back to release the animal after arriving from the desert. So tell me, how should I know what exactly he wants from me?”
Alhaitham reaches out to brush the long bangs off his forehead and tuck a strand of snow-white hair behind his ear.
“I suggest he wants you to not overwork yourself and get some rest at least one day a year.”
The same as we all do.
Cyno replies simply, “Well, yes, that’s exactly what he told me. But crime won’t simply stop for a day just because I received my Ba fragment and the power of Hermanubis thirteen years ago on this day. I must be on guard every day, three hundred and sixty-five days a year,” he says the last part with the kind of pride that only he can muster while saying something like that.
Alhaitham doesn’t want to argue with him, at least not today, especially since they need to be in Gandharva Ville by eight. Collei announced that she wanted to try organizing the holiday party and cooking some new dishes this year. They can’t be late or waste their time. So he changes the subject to something more relevant.
“I don't know if you really forgot or you’re just playing innocent, but I have a gift for you.”
Cyno pouts and bites his finger, pulling away.
“I’m not playing anything,” he says, folding his arms. “Show me already.”
Alhaitham sits up, takes the same box out of his homewear trousers pocket and puts it in Cyno’s hand. The latter shifts his gaze from the mysterious gift to him and back several times, looking with a mixture of suspicion and interest.
“It doesn’t look like a card case, and even less like a book cover. A new accessory?”
Alhaitham nods in affirmation, “Warmer. Just open it.”
Cyno follows the instruction and finds a strip of black velvet fabric carefully placed in the inset inside the box.
“This is...?”
“A new choker. I noticed that yours had worn out, so I thought it was time to change it,” Cyno touches the fabric around his neck unconsciously as he continues to stare at the gift in front of him with the eyes of a beaten dog. “I placed an order in the Fontainian boutique, and it’s made of natural velvet, so according to the description, it should be soft, comfortable and durable at the same time. The metal clasp is sturdy and hidden.”
Cyno takes out the necklace, bites his lip and falls silent.
Alhaitham knows this is the moment where he needs a slight push to take the necessary first step.
He holds out his hand — no pressure, no demands. Asking for permission. If Cyno pushes him away now and returns the gift, he will understand.
“May I?”
A pair of amber eyes meet his gaze, then drops to his hand and back to the choker. After a moment of hesitation, Cyno hands him the jewelry, turns his back and lifts up his hair, exposing his neck and the back of his head. Alhaitham skillfully ignores the split-second gasp catching his breath and gets to work.
Long fingers deftly hook and undo the choker’s clasp, as if he’s spent his entire life taking jewelry off others. Cyno tries not to think about it.
The lack of fabric reveals a thin, pale cicatricial scar, almost perfectly ringed around the delicate neck. Alhaitham feels Cyno freeze and stop breathing when he touches the scar, tracing it lightly with his fingers. Feels him jump when he places a kiss on the back of his neck. Alhaitham knows Cyno blushed when he buried his nose in the back of his hair and took a deep breath before lowering his kisses to where the shoulder meets his neck, then to the shoulder and back up to the delicate spot behind his ear.
“Haitham… You seem to get a little off-topic,” Cyno scolds him, but the trembling of his voice doesn’t escape Alhaitham’s sensitive ears.
He leaves one last, apologetic kiss in the middle of his neck before pulling away.
“Apologies. It seemed necessary.”
Indeed, who can blame him? People have weaknesses, and Alhaitham, despite the doubts of many, is still just a man, after all.
He holds the new choker up to Cyno’s neck, pleased with the way the velvet fabric fits over his soft, tan skin. It’s not an accessory but a necessity for Cyno, yet Alhaitham still can’t help but appreciate how attractive it looks on him and how well it suits him. He clicks the clasp and puts his hands down.
“That’s it. Comfortable?”
Cyno lets his hair down, but puts it on one shoulder and touches his new jewelry again, turning to Alhaitham.
“Yeah, thank you. For the gift and… everything.”
He cups his face and pulls him into a kiss, hiding his own embarrassment and all the feelings that words are unable to convey. He always does. Alhaitham has long since figured him out by the way his cheeks heat up and eyelashes tremble. He doesn’t complain, though.
When the kiss ends, he doesn’t rush to pull away, finding it vital to remind, “I’m glad that you liked the gift. But you don’t have to hide it, remember?”
Cyno closes his eyes and wraps his arms around his neck.
“Yeah. I know. It’s just a battle scar like any other. I just want people to look me in the eye, not try to tear their gaze away from my neck and wonder what happened. I want to avoid unnecessary questions. And the last thing I want is for them to look at me with pity,” Cyno presses a kiss to his cheekbone. “You don’t do that, so I can show you.”
And Alhaitham will never take it for granted.
He gives him another kiss on the nose and one on the forehead.
“Happy birthday, Cyno.”