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“Kaveh!”
“Huh?” Kaveh turns, slips on a wet piece of rock. He sees Alhaitham reaching for him, hand outstretched. Time doesn’t slow down. Kaveh stumbles, and his vision goes black. Weirdly, nothing hurts.
When he opens his eyes again, he’s in a lab. What he thinks is a lab, anyways. It looks like a dangerous cross between a chemical and mechanical lab. When he turns to the side, Alhaitham is there, staring strangely at him. “Alhaitham?”
Alhaitham startles, like he hadn’t expected to hear Kaveh’s voice.
“You’re transparent.”
A quick look at himself tells him that he is, in fact, see-through. So is Alhaitham, he thinks when he gets closer to poke at Alhaitham’s chest—surprisingly, he does make contact, but when he tries to put a hand on a nearby table, it just phases straight through. Kaveh makes a face at the feeling.
“Where are we?”
“A lab,” Alhaitham supplies, very helpfully. “Possibly inside a ley line. That was what I was warning you about before you tripped.”
“Why not just let me fall in? You were further from me, if I remember correctly.”
Alhaitham only shrugs. He almost looks like he’s going to reply before a door slams open hard enough that it makes him flinch. They watch as someone stomps into the room, yelling something unintelligible, followed by someone at a more sedate pace.
The figure turns around, and Kaveh understands two things at once: why their voice is so muffled, and why Kaveh feels like he’s seen this person before.
The first fact is explained by the mask and ventilator attached to the person’s mouth, leading to a tank in his stomach that’s see-through and looks to be housing a tiny little terrarium. Kaveh isn’t going to think too hard about how all that works.
The second fact is that this person(?) looks incredibly similar to Kaveh. Could be his twin, in fact.
Kaveh turns to Alhaitham slowly, wanting to make sure he’s seeing the same thing and that Kaveh hasn’t actually gone insane, but Alhaitham’s gaze is fixed on the second person, and when he looks, Kaveh can see why.
It’s because, just like Kaveh, the other person looks exactly the same as Alhaitham, and it’s more evident because he’s not wearing a mask at all.
In fact, it looks like this Alhaitham isn’t human at all, because there’s a metallic sheen all over his body. His joints are exquisitely crafted but obviously metallic, with wires and plated sheets resembling corded muscle. The only thing that’s vaguely human on him is his hair, and even that looks painstakingly crafted into his head to mimic real human hair.
The masked Kaveh is fuming. “Why did you have to rush in? I know I made you with the highest grade materials but you can’t just jump into danger.”
“You were just going to get yourself killed,” Robot Alhaitham says.
“So what,” Kaveh fumes, and then he realizes what he says and falls silent. Beside him, the real Kaveh, Alhaitham’s knuckles are white from where they’re gripping onto his own coat. “I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“You shouldn’t,” Robot Alhaitham says evenly. He doesn’t sigh, doesn’t look like he can, but he steps closer to Kaveh to rest a palm on Kaveh’s cheek.
“I just want you to be safe.”
Kaveh sighs. “I know. And I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt.”
“That makes the two of us, then,” Robot Alhaitham says, and even though he isn’t smiling Kaveh hears it anyways. And then he leans forward to press his lips to Kaveh’s forehead.
The real Kaveh jerks his head to the side to see if Alhaitham’s seeing the same thing he is—and just as he’s reaching out, trying to touch him again, his vision blurs.
When it clears, he’s standing in the middle of a forest. Alhaitham is beside him, but he looks more shaken than Kaveh feels. Gingerly, Kaveh reaches out. And when Alhaitham doesn’t move away, he links their translucent hands together. Alhaitham’s grip is tight. Maybe he’s more confused by this ley line disorder than he’s let on.
He opens his mouth to say something. What, he’s not sure. The argument that those other versions of them had? The tenderness they shared immediately after?
This time, something swoops down from the sky fast enough that Kaveh yelps after being yanked out of his thoughts. Alhaitham pulls him closer to his side.
And it’s—another version of him. Except this version is a winged creature, where Kaveh’s arms extend into large wings as he folds them up to hop about on a branch.
“Oh,” Alhaitham murmurs, “You do look pretty like that.”
Before Kaveh can ask what that means, something steps out of the trees.
It’s a horse, Kaveh thinks wildly, before he registers that there is a very naked, very human torso attached to it, and the fact that the naked torso belongs to this universe’s Alhaitham.
“Alhaitham!” Bird-Kaveh trills.
“Kaveh,” Centuar-Alhaitham returns. Bird-Kaveh lets out an excited little trill and swoops down, right into Alhaitham’s arms. “How have you been, dove?”
“For the last time, I am not a dove,” Bird-Kaveh pouts. “And I have been doing fine. I have missed you.”
They get to watch in real time as Centuar-Alhaitham’s eyes soften. “And I, you.”
And then they kiss. Just a quick press of lips.
It’s not anger, not exactly, that he’s feeling. He knows it isn’t. It’s just slight… resentment, mixed with jealousy, that all these other versions of them get to live the life Kaveh so desperately wants for them, and yet he doesn’t get it. Why can’t his own Alhaitham look at him like that, hold him like that? So tenderly and so loving?
The scene changes again. Alhaitham has been silent all this while, and when Kaveh looks over, he can’t quite read the expression on his face. Is he angry? Disgusted?
They’re being chased. Unwillingly, their spectral forms are dragged along with this universe’s Alhaitham and Kaveh, who are apparently attempting some kind of heist if their pursuers are any indication, and they’re running, laughing, and Kaveh watches them as they get into the car and speed off, Heist-Kaveh yelling out instructions while half-laughing. They’re dressed like they’ve gone to a masquerade.
“We totally didn’t fuck that up,” Heist-Kaveh says, when Heist-Alhaitham pulls them over onto the side of the road for a breather. In the backseat, Real-Kaveh starts panicking about the possibility that they might try to have sex in the car.
“And if we did, it wasn’t my fault,” Heist-Alhaitham says breathlessly, and Kaveh sees the way they’re looking at each other, and in the next second, Heist-Kaveh lunges over the car seat to kiss Alhaitham.
It goes on. Different universes, all of which center on Kaveh and Alhaitham, where they’re together and happy. Universes where Alhaitham’s a Fatui Harbinger. Universes where Kaveh’s an Archon. Universes where they’re both aranara.
Where they’re just versions of themselves living in different times, different countries. Kaveh has to giggle at the universe where Alhaitham is dressed in a Fontainian getup, and even Alhaitham has to crack a smile at that.
There’s one where they’re both mushrooms. There’s one where they’re a Rishboland tiger and a snow leopard, respectively. There’s one where Kaveh is the Grand Sage and Alhaitham’s the architect, and that’s a weird thought to have.
There’re universes where one of them is a knight and the other a prince. There’re universes where one of them is a vampire and the other is a werewolf. There’re universes where they’re witches together and separately, and there’s universes where they’ve supposedly swapped roles with Cyno and Tighnari.
But the common thread through all of them is that they love each other.
After going through so many of them, all Kaveh feels is tired. He wonders if that was the purpose of the ley line; to show someone what they could’ve had and then spit them back out into real life with the knowledge that they’ll never have what they want most in this life?
Alhaitham hasn’t said a word. He’s gone through all of the scenes quietly, though his grip on Kaveh’s hand hasn’t wavered. Small mercies, Kaveh thinks, as they’re transported to another scene. He hopes this is the last one, because he’s getting sick and tired of having to watch himself be happy but only in another life.
Blinking, Kaveh looks around. The architecture is familiar. The high, overarching ceiling built into the stone and sand. The descriptions, the murals along the walls, of a long-forgotten age.
Kaveh realizes numbly that he’s been here before. During his thesis with Alhaitham. Before the worst time of his life.
And judging by the way Alhaitham’s hand grips his tighter, he hasn’t forgotten either.
Pacing in front of the throne is a man, dressed in desert clothes that speak of wealth and strength. He’s not wearing armour, but they rest against the foot of his throne.
And in front of him, standing still, watching him, is someone dressed in light, flowy silk clothing, the elaborate robes of a dancer. Despite their seemingly fragile visage, they’re actually taller than the man pacing around on the platform, and Kaveh has to drag the both of them closer to the front of the room just to confirm that it is them, still.
“Al-Ahmar,” this universe’s Alhaitham says. “You need rest.”
“I need answers,” Al-Ahmar, King Deshret, Kaveh, says. It’s an echo of the argument that argues frequently in their own house. “I can’t rest until I’ve found them. They are, as you might know, extremely important.”
“More important than your health?”
Kaveh pretends not to notice the look his Alhaitham shoots him.
“Yes, Nabu Malikata,” King Deshret says. “My people need me. And resting for even one moment means failing them.”
Nabu Malikata sighs. “Must you go to extremes? Listen. Come have tea with me. I promise I will try to help you with your problems. But please, sit down with me for a few minutes. We haven’t spent time together in a long while.”
King Deshret sighs, but he descends the platform, grumbling something under his breath about Nabu Malikata taking advantage of him, and when he reaches her, picks up her hand to lead her out through one of the side doors in the hallway.
And then Kaveh gets so dizzy he almost throws up, and tightens his hand on Alhaitham’s in panic. The dizziness lasts for an intense and almost unbearable few minutes, but when it abates, as quick as it’d come, he’s sprawled out on the ground in the forest again. He looks down at himself. He’s no longer translucent.
Beside him, Alhaitham lies still in the grass. Kaveh almost thinks he’s passed out if not for the fact that his eyelids are fluttering like he’s keeping himself from opening them.
“Hey,” Kaveh says softly, tugs on their hands that are still linked together. “Come on. We should… report this or something.”
Slowly, Alhaitham stands.
“I can go talk to Nahida about it,” he murmurs, despite Kaveh’s wince at him using their Archon’s real name. “Tomorrow. Today I’d like to rest.”
“Good plan.”
They walk home in silence. Hands still together. Kaveh hopes that if he pretends he forgot he was holding Alhaitham’s hand, he can keep holding it a little longer. They only separate when they reach their house and Alhaitham digs into his pocket for his keys, and leaves to take a shower first.
For a moment, Kaveh just sits on the divan. Thinking. Replaying the scenes in his head and how obvious it was that he was so fond of Alhaitham in all universes. Had Alhaitham seen that? Had Alhaitham been disgusted? had Alhaitham wondered at himself, why he was acting that way in all their other lives?
When Alhaitham returns, towelling his hair dry, he pauses. Stares at Kaveh staring into nothing on the couch, and opens his mouth. Like every other time in Kaveh’s life, he asks a question, pondering, and breaks all the carefully structured foundations of Kaveh’s mind.
“Why don’t you look at me like that now?”
Kaveh looks up.
“Assuming they were all different universes,” Alhaitham says. He refuses to make eye contact, which is nice because Kaveh doesn’t want to either. “And not just a projection of either of our wishes—but that’s unlikely, because I do not think either of us has thought about ourselves as magical weeds. Assuming they were different universes, in all of which you looked at me like you loved me, it should continue to be a statistical probability that you should look at me the same way in this one too. Is there a reason why you don’t?”
Kaveh gapes at him.
“What about you, then,” he squawks, sidestepping the question entirely if not gracefully, “Aren’t you the statistical outlier then?”
Alhaitham goes quiet. “No,” he says quietly. “I’m not.”
Kaveh gapes at him, too many thoughts in his head. But the most important one—
“I’m not either!”
Alhaitham’s snap to his. “Huh?”
“You’re an idiot,” Kaveh says, ignoring the voice in his head that says he’s worse, “if you haven’t noticed the way I look at you.”
The words take a moment to sink in, but when they do, Alhaitham crosses the room. Holds out a hand, and Kaveh takes it. Stares at their palms together, and then looks up to give Alhaitham a small smile.
It’s not the start of something new, but they’re getting there.
They have all the universes in the world.