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He's in the middle of reading when a soft crash against the door grabs his attention. Alhaitham lifts his head and waits, still as a statue.
Kaveh's muttered complaints to Mehrak about lost keys and his stupid, too self-assured roommate make it so much easier to breathe again. He relaxes. Kaveh's keys are in his right pocket, and that's where they've been ever since he left them on the kitchen counter a few days ago.
They both know Mehrak has a spare key. Alhaitham wishes he could reach out and open the door for Kaveh, but he can't. No, Kaveh would take it as an assault on his autonomy and ramble about how he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself for at least half an hour.
He wonders if Kaveh would let anyone do anything nice for him if it wasn't wrapped in the disguise of a mutual transaction, if Alhaitham would drop the act of being disgusted every time he gets to bring Kaveh tea.
And then Kaveh stumbles into the living room, and Alhaitham closes his book with a soft sigh.
"Alhaitham," Kaveh starts. His eyes shine in the way he knows they only do when Kaveh has had too much to drink, and Alhaitham blinks away the thought before he can linger on it for too long. "You're infuriating."
Something in him settles, at that. As if his body knows when to relax, because Kaveh sticks to their usual script. He can breathe now. Alhaitham lives for familiarity and patterns and the feeling of home being exactly where he is right now, because he has Kaveh.
So he hums, and nods.
"You have too big of a personality," Kaveh sighs.
He stumbles again, and Alhaitham moves off the couch to catch him before he can even tell what he's doing.
And then his arm is around Kaveh's waist, holding him there as his heart swells and swells until it feels like there's nothing that belongs more in this spot than Kaveh does, as if he's meant to settle here forever.
He's so warm.
Kaveh smells like the same perfume Nilou gifted him ages ago, like sunriped sunsettias and the freshness of spring, and maybe the gods were right for once when they gifted Kaveh a Vision that breathes life, that breathes creation.
In the same way Kaveh does, maybe. In the same way his drawings morph into buildings morph into homes, in the way that Kaveh leaves a stamp of his soul in every finished piece.
And then Kaveh swallows hard, and sways in his arms.
His love won't save Kaveh. No, Alhaitham knows that, knows it perfectly well. It won't save Kaveh from the projects he takes on recklessly instead of thinking it through first, instead of discussing with his trusty roommate.
It won't save him from spending all of his cash on treats for the animals around him, or from buying a bracelet on the market from that one stall that says their profits will go to charity. Alhaitham doubts it.
He had voiced his doubt, once. Kaveh had frowned at him in the middle of the street and had said something along the lines of wow, Alhaitham, I didn't think you'd be this shallow, and Alhaitham had scoffed in return until Kaveh had said a quieter but maybe you've always been this way, and that had stung.
So Alhaitham had dropped it, and Kaveh still buys the ugly beaded bracelets on his way home from university every friday.
Most of all, Alhaitham's love won't save Kaveh from himself.
He's scared. More than anything he's terrified the light of Kshahrewar will go out one day, and there will be nothing to do except hold him like how he's holding him right now. Kaveh shifts in his arms, ever so slightly.
And Alhaitham stares.
The moonlight filters through their curtains, framing Kaveh's face perfectly until it settles around him like a halo. It makes him look so much younger, so much softer. As if Kaveh's worries simply don't exist in the haziness of his drinking.
Kaveh's eyelashes flutter open. Alhaitham is greeted with the most beautiful shade of maroon red he has ever seen. There's no hostility in Kaveh's gaze, no insecurity. Alhaitham won't have to decode his silence today.
No, Kaveh simply smiles, and then giggles as he tries to spin in Alhaitham's arms.
"Dance with me," Kaveh mumbles, and Alhaitham wraps his arm around his middle a little tighter. "'Haitham, pretend you don't dislike me. Just this once."
Alhaitham can do nothing but watch as his heart drops to his toes.
Isn't that the most awful thing about falling in love? Knowing that he won't be able to change anything? That this might be it? That maybe one day Kaveh won't get home drunk to their shared apartment, that Mehrak won't repeatedly bug him about the keys?
But Kaveh is here now. He's here now, looking up at Alhaitham like he holds all the secrets of the universe in his palm, and Alhaitham is just a man.
He lets his hand drop down until he's able to feel Kaveh's palm under his fingertips. Kaveh shivers against him, so softly, so gently, and Alhaitham pushes down the dizzying want that follows.
And then their fingers interlink.
It's nothing like how they describe it to be in romance books. There's no spark that shoots up his spine, but Alhaitham's throat runs dry and he has to fight the urge to pull Kaveh closer, and closer, until he's pressed against him.
Kaveh wants to dance, though. So Alhaitham flexes his arm and spins him around in a circle. He goes slowly, carefully, catching Kaveh when he's starting to wobble out of it, and then he rests his other arm on Kaveh's waist.
It's so easy to fall back into the steps his grandmother had taught him, back when Alhaitham was nothing more than a way too curious teenager who lived with someone holding all the wisdom in her eyes. She had been patient, teaching him, and he still remembers every step.
It makes him want to be patient with Kaveh, too, to see how much he'll remember.
Kaveh sighs as Alhaitham shows him how to step back without tripping over his own feet. "You're good at everything," he mumbles. He's almost complaining, as if the idea that Alhaitham might have skills personally offends him.
"You're doing good," Alhaitham murmurs, and he fixes their stance.
He hears a sharp intake of breath. Kaveh freezes up in his arms and then lets out a breathless sound that Alhaitham doesn't know how to place.
But there's a flush on his face when Alhaitham looks up to meet his gaze again. He looks pleased with himself for once, and maybe Alhaitham is doing a good job as well.
He moves them around the room with an ease that's so addicting to fall into. Kaveh relaxes in his arms and starts copying the moves on his own, and there's a small smile on his face that seems to widen every time Alhaitham praises him.
He wants to do it more often, if it means that Kaveh will let him stay this close. But Alhaitham has never loved anyone from this close, has never crossed the distance quite like this.
No, his love might not change anything. Not now. Not while Kaveh is unwilling to let him bear any more of the burden that he believes his heart to be.
So, Alhaitham spins him another time. Kaveh giggles breathlessly as he steps a little closer, as Alhaitham lets his hands settle on his waist and drift just a tad lower than he'd normally allow. Kaveh won't remember this.
Not in detail. He never does. He comes down the day after with a headache and a frown on his face that Alhaitham wants to smooth out and kiss until it disappears. Alhaitham will make him soup in the morning, and Kaveh will nag at him until he takes a sip.
He unconsciously frowns. Liquids aren't meant to be consumed in that way. At least he can share some of the fruit with Kaveh, after he peels the skin off the Zaytun peaches.
And maybe Kaveh will remember that, and that will be enough.
It doesn't take that long for Kaveh's movements to get sluggish, and Alhaitham leads them both into Kaveh's room as if he comes here every day. But Kaveh doesn't complain, not this time, and he doesn't make up an excuse for the mess on his desk.
He just smiles, warm and bright and so very alive, and Alhaitham swallows drily.
"You're too perfect," Kaveh mumbles into the pillows when he finally drops down on his bed. His eyes are shut, and he relaxes into the sheets so easily.
Alhaitham wants to reach out and tuck him into the sheets. He wants to kiss Kaveh until every doubt has disappeared from his mind. But it won't be that easy, and Kaveh is worth waiting for.
So Alhaitham waits until he has made himself comfortable. He watches Kaveh twist around in his bed for a second before Kaveh mumbles a sleepy and drunken, "Goodnight, 'Haitham."
His heart will one day swell to be the size of Kaveh's beloved Zaytun peaches. Alhaitham will be able to peel back every layer until he doesn't have to hide how much he wants to press himself into every corner of Kaveh's life.
"Goodnight, senior," he softly says instead, lingering at doorstep. "I've never disliked you."
Kaveh's eyes are closed and he's already breathing more heavily, but his smile widens all the same.
Alhaitham can only hope he'll remember this in the morning. And if he doesn't, well, then he'll stay here for the rest of eternity to wait for Kaveh to realise he's worth it.
It might not change anything, and he might not fix anything, but Kaveh matters. More than anything, always.