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The icy liquid flowed over his tongue, plunging into his stomach. A bitter, pungent heat exploded on his taste buds, and waves of warmth surged from within, steaming upwards to dissipate the stifling anguish trapped in his mind.
He wasn't an alcoholic, he thought. If he could only escape the current predicament, then this thing, which made his eyes water just like life itself, would also vanish. But just as he gradually grew accustomed to alcohol, most of the time, he seemed able to endure this kind of life too.
The tavern music played on as usual, lights reflecting off the green window frames in the corner. His glass emptied again and again, and his disarray was like a Nilotpala Lotus at dusk, its vulnerable petals unfurling in the moonlight.
This unexpected reunion with an old friend was slowly turning into a one-man show.
Alhaitham's voice hadn't changed at all—young, even refreshingly clear, yet still so mature and indifferent in his words. His expression showed not the slightest crack despite Kaveh's wretched state, occasionally offering one or two brief, flat replies. He was still the same, frighteningly rational, his green eyes with red pupils seeming to pierce through all of Kaveh's thoughts. Even now, in a moment when a normal person would offer a few words of comfort, he just sat there quietly, as if still observing him.
Kaveh, at this moment, surprisingly found himself unable to feel angry at him. The fierce arguments before their parting were still vivid in his memory; he certainly hadn't forgotten them. Sometimes, even waking from a midnight dream, they would stir a complex bitterness in his heart.
Perhaps he was just a little tired.
He also remembered that cold night, the withered, twisted branches of the Withering Zone silently growing, brutally tearing a large hole in his heart. He sat quietly amidst the ruins of his ideals, the clear starry sky unfurling above his head. He calmly contemplated an un-calm plan all night, until the horizon was edged with gold by the sunrise. He rubbed his face, numb from the night wind, and left the ruins beneath his feet, facing the morning sun. Golden sunlight fell upon his eyelids, he took a deep breath, and that large hole was filled once more.
Since then, life's turning points had accumulated too much fatigue within him. The pungent alcohol ignited a brief fire, burning away those growing weariness, leaving behind layers upon layers of ash.
He might genuinely be a little tired.
Kaveh gazed into Alhaitham's placid eyes, and it felt as if all his usual, carefully hidden worries and predicaments were suddenly unnecessary.
Would you meticulously get dressed up in front of a mirror that was already shattered beyond repair? he thought, and so he allowed himself to sink into those unruffled eyes, to sink into the unshakeable past. He complained recklessly about everything he had experienced, laying bare the conflicts between his ideals and reality.
This was probably one of the few truly heartfelt conversations he'd had in years. When he finally came to his senses, he realized he was already standing "naked" before Alhaitham, and only then did he shut his mouth.
But what did it matter? Kaveh smiled, a little relieved.
All his disguises and pretenses had never mattered in front of Alhaitham; he could always see through people at a glance, always effortlessly find the most important load-bearing structure, and then expose it without a second thought.
How are your ideals working out?
And so, Alhaitham did exactly that.
The cold wind brushed against his cheeks, flushed crimson from the alcohol and the tavern's warmth. He looked towards the direction of what used to be his home, fully sobered from his memories.
To be honest, not so great—he certainly wouldn't say that.
But after such a confession, any rebuttal seemed so pale and powerless.
He opened his mouth, then closed it, confronting the silence. Long, slender eyelashes veiled the fleeting gloom in Kaveh's eyes.
He was homeless now, but this was definitely just temporary, he thought.
The word "ideals" momentarily punctured his courage. He evaded Alhaitham's sharp questioning, only admitting to the difficulties of his current life.
Yet, he didn't believe this predicament stemmed from his ideals.
Kaveh didn't meet Alhaitham's gaze, instead staring at those famously terse lips as they opened and closed.
What he heard made his body stiffen slightly.
What?
Alhaitham watched his old friend's changing expression with considerable amusement, rephrasing his response to Kaveh's incredulous tone, and not forgetting to lightly mock his dumbfounded state in a seemingly indifferent manner.
Kaveh's mind was a jumble. Like a castaway adrift for ages suddenly pulled onto a passing skiff, in the end, joy took precedence. He quickened his pace to follow Alhaitham's figure, who had already started to leave.
The stars shimmered brightly overhead; the ashes of his weariness were scattered by tonight's wind.
And just like that, Kaveh, by a strange turn of events, moved into Alhaitham's house.
Yet, their disagreements weren't mended by living together.
Sometimes Kaveh would think that perhaps that night was just a momentary impulse of Alhaitham's kindness. He recalled the clear breeze and starlight of that night, Alhaitham's silver-grey hair lifted by the gentle wind—everything so quiet and beautiful, like a soft, dreamy embellishment from his own mind.
His financial struggles hadn't significantly changed just because he had a temporary place to stay. As long as Kaveh remained unchanged, those troubles wouldn't let him go for a moment. Getting utterly drunk at the tavern was common, and Alhaitham wouldn't come to "collect his corpse" over and over again like a worried mother. It was the kind tavern owner who always reserved a warm corner for this "down-and-out" youth, preventing Kaveh from becoming a puddle of mud stranded on the streets.
"Don't you think this is quite childish?"
"What do you know..."
"How long are you going to keep running away?"
Kaveh fell silent.
Running away. He had always been running away, fleeing the old shadows that pursued him, running without a moment's rest. But the faster he ran, the tighter his ankles were entangled, like a pair of shackles, dragging him, dragging this self-proclaimed convict.
The Grand Scribe, who was naturally unburdened by the past, certainly perceived the absurdity of Kaveh's self-imposed stagnation. Sometimes Kaveh was like a child trapped in a nightmare in the afternoon, and Alhaitham's blunt words would disregard his pride, only serving to shatter the illusion.
...How long will you run? ...
Even if, from Alhaitham's perspective, Kaveh absolutely didn't need to carry that guilt, Kaveh dared not look back, dared not step into the dock to face the past. He only wanted all the blame to find a resting place as quickly as possible—he couldn't wait for a trial, so he let it descend upon himself.
"But if it wasn't for me..."
"If it wasn't for you? Let's not even consider 'if only.' Do you think everything revolves around you? Don't be so arrogant."
Too generous, naive, soft-hearted, and passionate—sometimes these traits made him seem "arrogant." Alhaitham didn't believe that giving was natural, reckless, or without expectation of return. Of course, Kaveh disagreed with him.
"Since you believe your giving can be without expectation of return, then by the same logic for others' giving, do you also believe you don't need to reciprocate?"
Kaveh frowned and opened his mouth, but no words came out.
Kaveh was incapable of comfortably accepting gifts from others; Alhaitham was acutely aware of this. For instance, this property, registered under his name, was originally meant for both him and Kaveh. Although Kaveh chose to relinquish ownership, logically, his current stay meant that a partial waiver of rent would be reasonable. Yet, Kaveh not only diligently paid rent but also voluntarily took on household chores, internalizing the feeling of living under someone else's roof. Even after an argument with Alhaitham over trivial matters, where he once again lost, Kaveh merely spitefully used half a bottle more of Alhaitham's cleaning agent. The result, however, was that he worried about waste and ended up cleaning the entire room inside and out. Besides adding to his workload, it brought him no other benefit.
But perhaps it was this endless giving that allowed Kaveh to temporarily escape that damned guilt.
"I... you don't understand..." Kaveh's slightly parted mouth moved, then he closed his eyes, deflated, his raised tone dropping to a hoarse whisper. "But I can't..."
He wasn't arrogant; he knew he wasn't a savior, incapable of saving everyone. He just couldn't help but extend soft tendrils to those around him, not thinking about what they might touch—good or bad, soft or hard.
The alcohol churned in his brain, and his mouth began to open and close again, mumbling something. He wasn't trying to complain; he was just a little tired.
Alhaitham's fingertip traced the rim of his glass, sitting quietly.
Usually, he heard Kaveh's incessant chatter quite often, and would frequently prick him with a word or two. Kaveh clearly knew he didn't like listening, yet he always seemed to want to tell him. Alhaitham never found these conversations delightful, but he always listened attentively, and still picked apart his words.
Now, with the alcohol taking effect, Kaveh's words came even faster, his expression unmanaged. Those beautiful, ruby-like eyes seemed to be misting over with moisture, his emotions written clearly on his face—he didn't need to pretend in front of Alhaitham.
When he finished speaking, Kaveh rubbed his aching eyes, propped his elbows on the table, and rested his chin.
"Done talking?"
Kaveh tugged at the corner of his mouth, letting out a self-deprecating snort from his nose. He realized he seemed to have grown accustomed to displaying his most wretched side to his annoying junior.
As he thought this, he anticipated how the other would rationally refute his always "troublesome" sensibility. He stole a glance from the corner of his eye, only catching Alhaitham's serene face, a hint of red from his pupils visible amidst his silver-grey hair—such a fiery color in Kaveh's eyes, yet so restrained on Alhaitham's face.
Alhaitham's sigh was too soft to hear.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
"...What?"
Kaveh suspected he had misheard, suddenly looking up directly at him, mouth slightly agape, a little stunned.
"..." Alhaitham withdrew his hand from the table, crossed his arms, and looked at Kaveh's bewildered eyes. The red in his green pupils, usually unmoving, now seemed to tremble slightly. Alhaitham deepened his breath, closing his eyelids; if one were close enough, they would see the faint tremor of his eyeballs beneath the lids.
"I still don't agree with your fooli..." Alhaitham quickly opened his eyes, everything back to normal, as if the sudden tremor of that seemingly always-calm flame in his eyes was merely an illusion caused by the bar lights. He began to speak, but upon seeing Kaveh's rare, silent demeanor, the words on the tip of his tongue took a turn. As if by a ghost's hand, he swapped the adjective he was about to blurt out. "...childish ideas."
Uncharacteristically, Kaveh didn't argue back.
But Alhaitham knew he hadn't compromised; perhaps Kaveh was just too drunk. They were like two sides of the same coin—so many differences, but in at least one respect, they were similar: both were stubborn to the bone. He suddenly began to ponder again what kind of material those eyes and that heart were made of, that they could be shattered and regenerated with such ease. It was like carving out a piece of flesh or shattering a bone; no amount of immense pain could stop him from growing. Right or wrong, the answer in Kaveh's heart had never changed.
So, was he someone who needed validation for solace? Alhaitham wondered. Arguments were the norm between them; the kind of validation that offered nothing more than a psychological effect would never come from Alhaitham's mouth. Did he need comfort? Did he need Alhaitham's approval? He continued to wonder, his rationality, for once, unable to deduce a near-accurate answer.
He looked into Kaveh's eyes again, his tone, usually flat and unperturbed, now laced with a deeper conviction.
"You were not wrong."
This time, Kaveh heard it clearly, every single word.
The alcohol prevented him from processing this information immediately, so he remained stunned for a good while.
Then, as if he'd suddenly understood a foreign language, he snapped back to reality. The words that tumbled out of his mouth were a jumbled mess, saying things like, "Of course I know I'm right," and, "Even a broken clock is right twice a day," and, "I don't need your phony comfort..."
His words still carried their usual disdain, but his softened expression was exactly like that of a child who, after being neglected for a long time, finally receives a beloved gift.
Alhaitham watched the lively play of emotions on his face, and a smile suddenly rose from the bottom of his heart—faint, but it climbed to his lips and eyes.
Kaveh's mind was a complete mess, oblivious to his nemesis's inexplicable smile. He hadn't expected it and couldn't understand why Alhaitham would suddenly throw such a line at him.
After rambling incoherently under the influence of the alcohol, he rubbed his glass a little uneasily and finally looked his rival square in the face.
"Alhaitham... do you really think I wasn't wrong?" He detected an unconscious cautiousness in his own tone, an emotion akin to hope, and was instantly annoyed with himself for it, giving himself an inconspicuous pinch.
This is enough, Alhaitham thought, and suddenly smiled again.
"What are you smiling at?" Kaveh was a little flustered—what had he figured out now?
"Is there a rule that says I can't smile?"
"You!" Kaveh was so incensed that the alcohol's effect wore off by half.
He pushed his glass aside, stood up, and was about to leave when he suddenly remembered that he'd rushed out this morning without checking his bag. He'd only realized upon his return that he hadn't brought his keys. His mood had already been terrible, and this just made a bad day even worse, so he had decided to go to the tavern to drink his sorrows away. And so, he awkwardly sat back down.
"It's getting late. I'm heading home, there's still work tomorrow." As soon as Kaveh sat down, Alhaitham stood up as well.
"...You go ahead. I'll be back in a bit." His stubborn pride flared up again.
"Are you sure? I'd rather not have to get up to open the door for someone after I've already gone to bed."
Kaveh was silent for a moment. Alhaitham had no intention of just waiting for him there; he dropped the line and quickly walked away. He pushed open the tavern door.
The streets were nearly empty, lit only by the streetlamps. The air held the damp, earthy scent that was the final note of the night.
Alhaitham walked back the way he came. Suddenly, a rush of hurried footsteps broke the silence. He slowed his pace slightly, listening as the footsteps caught up to him, then gradually evened out behind him. He finally stopped and turned slightly, seeing Kaveh standing just behind him, looking a little anxious.
The stars shimmered brightly overhead, and the night wind stirred their silver-grey and brilliant-gold hair.
Kaveh saw Alhaitham's lips move. As if he were imagining it, he suddenly heard Alhaitham say softly to him:
"Let's go home together."
FIN.