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It isn’t often that Kaveh finds himself in Lambad’s.
He doesn’t usually drink to de-stress, unlike most of the patrons here (okay, maybe he sometimes has a small glass after a long day, but he’s always careful to moderate himself), and his father always warned him that bars were only full of troublemakers and drunkards.
Kaveh does not like to consider himself either of those things, but losing one’s magnum opus is something that warrants a little bit of alcohol.
The Palace of Alcazarzaray was going to be his finest work – his magnum opus.
Just last weekend, he had sat down with his mother and father – elderly now, still living in Sumeru City – and told them about how the project was going. How it was nearly complete, and how Kaveh couldn’t wait to place the final stone.
And yesterday, when they had met for lunch again, it was so Kaveh could tell them about how the withering had completely and utterly destroyed the palace.
His mother had adjusted his cape and told him she was sure it wouldn’t affect his reputation, while his father had patted him on the back like he used to do when Kaveh was a kid and said you’ll build something even grander, I’m sure.
Then Kaveh had asked if they could talk about something else, so his father launched into the story of how he won the Inter-Darshan Championship when Kaveh was young, and Kaveh had told himself to stop thinking about the palace and now here he is, sitting alone and feeling almost like he’s holding some sort of funeral rite for a building.
Which is silly, but in his defense, it was a beautiful building.
Kaveh drinks his wine slowly, tucked into a corner table so people won’t approach him. Kaveh gets talkative – more than he usually is, anyway – when inebriated, and right now, he doesn’t feel like talking.
The mourning process is interrupted by a tall figure walking into the tavern, dressed in teal and black, speaking to Lambad in a voice that sounds oddly familiar.
Kaveh narrows his eyes. Silver hair. Body wrapped in a long coat despite the heat, fabric composed of eye-catching greens and teals despite the way the figure seems to not want to be noticed. Sentences clipped, with a mild air of annoyance or discomfort, as if they’re trying to rush the conversation.
Then the figure turns, and Kaveh recognizes his face at once.
It’s Alhaitham.
What is he doing here?
Kaveh notices the odd way he carries himself, like Alhaitham is trying to make his body as small as possible. He shrinks away from other people when they approach him, flinches at every sound.
It’s not unlike the way he was at the Akademiya. Kaveh had once suggested he get a pair of headphones if noises bothered him so much, but the suggestion lasted only a week before Alhaitham’s aunt told him he couldn’t shut out the world and took them away.
Things would have been better if Alhaitham had lived with his grandmother, Kaveh had thought. Alhaitham still seems as uncomfortable in public as he did as a teenager.
He looks around the tavern, as if searching for a place to sit – all the tables are partly or mostly full, and Kaveh knows proximity to strangers bothers Alhaitham – his eyes eventually landing on Kaveh. He seems curious, puzzled.
“You can sit here,” Kaveh says awkwardly, gesturing to the booth.
Alhaitham does, pulling out a chair and folding himself into the booth. He still has a pained expression on his face, which only worsens when the band in the corner picks up the volume.
“How are you doing?” Alhaitham asks him. Kaveh shrugs.
“I could be better. I suppose that’s how I usually am, anyway.”
“From what I’ve heard, you seem to be well off,” Alhaitham says as a server arrives with a single fish roll. Alhaitham fishes mora out of his purse – it doesn’t seem to be very full – handing it over before he takes a bite of the roll. When he finishes chewing, he looks back at Kaveh. “Quite the accomplishment to be living in a home of your own design.”
Kaveh nods. “It’s… just a house, right now. A house needs people to make it a home, and it’s just me right now.”
He watches Alhaitham eat the fish roll with an unusual hunger. He was always a bit of a picky eater in the Akademiya, and tended to take a while to finish his food. “Is that enough of a dinner for you? You look hungry.”
“I don’t have enough mora for anything else,” Alhaitham says flatly. “I happen to be on a budget right now.”
Kaveh folds his arms. “Well, I feel bad watching you eat that like you’re starving. I’ll order something else. What do you want?”
The answer, as it turns out, is plain rice and one of the least flavorful meat dishes on the menu, which is such an Alhaitham response that Kaveh almost laughs before he remembers that’s exactly the reason he and Alhaitham aren’t friends anymore.
It was Kaveh’s fault their friendship ended, anyway.
With him insulting Alhaitham for being Alhaitham, and his friend walking out.
“I heard about what happened to the Palace of Alcazarzaray,” Alhaitham says while they wait for the food to arrive. “It’s a shame. People were speculating that it was going to be one of your finest works.”
Kaveh puts down his glass with a sigh. The palace is still a sensitive subject, and it irks him to have Alhaitham bring it up. Alhaitham doesn’t seem to notice or care, only regarding him with a cool, oddly weary stare.
Why does his old junior look so… worn-down?
“And what about you?” Kaveh asks. “What were you speculating? I’m sure you had many opinions, as you always do.”
“I found it far too gaudy,” Alhaitham admits. “But that’s to be expected from something commissioned by Lord Sangameh Bay. Why didn’t you attempt to rebuild it?”
Shrugging, Kaveh adjusts the edge of his cape. “I would have liked to. But in the end, Dori didn’t consider rebuilding it to be worth it.” He swirls the liquid in the glass, pondering. “I suppose I could have covered it out of pocket, sold my assets to cover the costs. But even a potential magnum opus isn’t worth that. Not sure why you’d care about this, though.”
Alhaitham frowns. His expressions are still as subtle as ever, discernable only because Kaveh has had practice. He’s gotten rusty, though, no longer reads them as well as he used to. Alhaitham picks up his glass, sets it back down. He hasn’t taken a drink yet.
“Is there a reason I wouldn’t be allowed to care?”
“You’re allowed to,” Kaveh huffs. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to, or something.”
During their thesis project, Kaveh had grown frustrated by Alhaitham’s unwillingness to engage with any of the other students and the way he frequently shut down when they tried to talk to him. He had accused Alhaitham of being cold to his fellow students and antisocial and all sorts of other things that were technically true but unnecessarily hurtful, and Alhaitham had calmly crossed his name off the thesis and walked out.
When Kaveh had knocked on his door later that night, Alhaitham had told him to leave him alone, his voice unsteady like he had been crying.
You’re just the same as the others, he had said. I’m not sure why I thought you would be any different.
“A-anyway,” Kaveh stammers when Alhaitham only stares. “Earlier, you spoke about Dori like you were familiar with her. Don’t tell me you’ve gotten involved with that merchant. Her prices are a crime.”
Alhaitham scoffs, or maybe he laughs, a quiet huff of breath that Kaveh nearly misses. “Lord Sangameh Bay’s prices are fully legal. I checked.”
Ah. Alhaitham. As blunt as ever. Kaveh narrows his eyes. “And?”
“I had the chance to become familiar with her earlier,” Alhaitham admits. “It’s partly due to those series of interactions that I now find myself in a far poorer situation, both literally and metaphorically. It would hardly be fair to assign all the blame to her, however, as I myself made a series of choices that led to where I am now.”
Kaveh stares, gaze tracing over the dark shadows under Alhaitham’s eyes, the traveling cape folded across his shoulders as if he’s cold even in the Sumeru heat.
“Why are you telling me all this? I thought you–”
“Hated you?” Alhaitham asked. “I never did. I was upset with you, and with valid reasoning, but you were still important to me. When you never reached out again, I…”
“I’m sorry I didn’t reach out,” Kaveh says quietly. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again. I wouldn’t blame you for it, either.” He pauses, looks away, takes another drink. “Well! You seem to have heard plenty about my life through the news. Tell me about yours.”
A server places Alhaitham’s food on the table, and he pauses to take a bite before answering.
“I work as a scribe for the Akademiya,” he says, eyeing Kaveh warily as if he’s unsure how much to reveal. “That’s all.”
“And?” Kaveh prompts.
Alhaitham sighs. “If you must know, I ended up in contact with non-insignificant amounts of forbidden knowledge. To stop it from contaminating me, I had to seal it away within my body.”
Carefully, he adjusts his cape to reveal a green gem embedded in his chest. Looking closer, Kaveh sees eerie shapes swimming within.
Alhaitham adjusts the cape once more, covering the gem. “Unfortunately, this required several rare components I had to acquire from Lord Sangemah Bay. Obtaining all of them required the selling off of much of my assets, including my house, and I still owe her a significant sum of money. Are you happy now?”
No, Kaveh thinks. I’m not.
“So you don’t have anywhere to live now.”
Alhaitham shakes his head. “I don’t. I’ve been sleeping in my office.”
When they were students, Alhaitham often forced himself to endure discomfort. Loud noises, bright lights, intense smells. Things that bothered him, but he forced himself through anyway.
It’s fine, he had always said. My aunt said it would be good for me to adjust to these things. I’ll have to live with them, after all.
“Live with me,” Kaveh says, before he can stop himself.
Alhaitham pauses. “What?”
“I designed my house with a spare room,” Kaveh explains. “In case I ever had a guest over, or… someone staying for a while. You can stay there.”
Alhaitham takes another bite of his food, seeming hesitant. “...if you’re sure.”
<><><>
Slowly, Alhaitham gets used to waking up in Kaveh’s house. He’s always struggled with sudden changes, but this one comes naturally. Kaveh insists he doesn’t have to pay rent as long as he helps with basic things like cleaning and cooking, and constantly and nonsensically treats him to entire meals.
Being a famous architect means Kaveh has lots of money flowing in, but rather than save it, Kaveh seems to spend it on making his friends happy.
Alhaitham starts to consider himself Kaveh’s ‘friend’ again.
They still argue, like they always do. Alhaitham sets up his grandmother’s aranara carvings, and Kaveh informs him they look horrendous. Kaveh cooks food with too much spice and Alhaitham goes back into the kitchen to make plain rice. Alhaitham reads a book and ignores Kaveh until the architect starts talking louder and Alhaitham covers his ears in protest.
Real mature, he can see Kaveh mouthing. You know, Alhaitham, we’re two grown men here.
Alhaitham scoffs. Let me finish my book.
Noises still bother Alhaitham, and Kaveh is a noisy person. Kaveh doesn’t seem to understand why he won’t go to the market or avoids crowded areas, and Alhaitham doesn’t understand why Kaveh enjoys those places.
Alhaitham likes to think that he’s a rational person, but the truth is, outside noises and sensations are always hammering at his mind until he is anything but.
Words fail him, now. They sit on his tongue like leaden weights, unable to be forced past his lips. Kaveh adjusts a heated blanket over Alhaitham’s shoulders, placing a mug of tea into his hands. Quiet music hums from the record player, which Kaveh had moved to Alhaitham’s room a few minutes prior.
“I’m sorry I forced you to go to the Grand Bazaar with me,” Kaveh whispers. “That– that was stupid. I thought today would be quieter.”
It wasn’t your fault, Alhaitham thinks.
The responsibility is solely on Alhaitham, for having this issue. He cannot exist normally in the world as everyone else does, and it is currently the reason Kaveh’s market trip was cut short. Alhaitham is not the kind of person to prioritize the convenience of others over his own needs, but they did not get the groceries they were supposed to get because of this.
“Can you talk yet?” Kaveh asks. Alhaitham shakes his head. He’s getting there, though.
Kaveh nods. “Okay. Take your time. Are you okay if I talk?”
Alhaitham nods. Kaveh’s voice can occasionally be abrasive, but at times like this, he is careful to keep it to a tone and volume that he knows won’t bother Alhaitham. Like him, specific sensory input can sometimes stress Kaveh, though his seem to be primarily temperature and texture related.
It’s the reason Kaveh has things like heated blankets for Alhaitham to use.
“Back in the Akademiya, you had headphones for a while,” Kaveh murmurs. “Why didn’t you ever get them again? I could probably find some that would cancel noise for you. Maybe even play music.”
Alhaitham only shakes his head. “It isn’t your job to fix my issues for me.”
His aunt had always maintained that the best way to deal with his issues was to face them head-on. It’s worked – Alhaitham now has more tolerance for noise and sounds than he once did – but it leaves him constantly worn out.
Though, obviously, the incident in the bazaar was more than he could tolerate.
Right now, curled under several layers of blankets, slowly drinking the tea Kaveh made him, Alhaitham wonders if things would be different if he had learned to manage this part of himself.
It’s useless to fantasize over what could have been, though. All Alhaitham can do is continue on the forward path.
The next day, a pair of headphones sits on the table when Alhaitham emerges from his room. Kaveh has already left to meet with a client, so there’s no one to thank.
<><><>
Several months later, there is a coup, and Kaveh is a part of it.
The Akademiya tries to create a fake god. Kaveh ends up nearly fistfighting the Grand Sage. The dendro archon is freed from captivity. The Akasha network is shut down. Forbidden knowledge is cleansed from Teyvat.
It means Alhaitham is no longer in danger, should the relic over his heart fail.
Alhaitham still has a debt to pay off. He says he plans to stay with Kaveh a while longer.
Kaveh… doesn’t mind that.
A lot of changes are happening in the Akademiya as it adjusts to the shift in power. Azar and most of the sages are in prison, which means they need replacements, and worst of all, they’re looking at Kaveh.
“They want to make me a sage,” Kaveh groans. “Which is ridiculous! I only participated in this whole coup because it was the right thing to do!”
Alhaitham regards him with an oddly fond, tired expression, eyelids half-lidded and the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “You would be a good sage,” he says. “You spent a not insignificant amount of time complaining that the previous sages didn’t care enough about the people of Sumeru. You’d be different.”
“They didn’t!” Kaveh exclaims. “I would actually care about– oh.”
There it is again – that faint smile from Alhaitham.
Would Kaveh make a good sage? Alhaitham is the kind of person who says what he thinks and doesn’t spare the feelings of others. It was something Kaveh had often been frustrated by in the Akademiya and part of what led to their fight, but now, it’s a relief.
He isn’t lying.
Slowly, Kaveh returns the smile, hand slowly inching closer to Alhaitham’s.
They stay like that for the rest of the evening, Alhaitham reading his book and Kaveh working on his blueprints, their hands always returning to the same spot on the divan, mere inches apart.
Eventually, Kaveh wraps his fingers around Alhaitham’s, and Alhaitham returns the gesture, the faint smile emerging once more as he glances at Kaveh from the corner of his eye.
Kaveh doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t need to.
<><><>
Time passes. Kaveh is appointed the Grand Sage, a position that both flatters and stresses him, and Alhaitham maintains his quiet role as the scribe. Not one to let his passion for architecture go, Kaveh spends significant time designing a branch of the Akademiya – complete with a library – intended to be built in the desert.
“We’re the nation of wisdom,” he tells Alhaitham as the two of them chop vegetables for dinner. “Yet we hoard it like a vishap. Where’s the logic in that?”
Alhaitham reaches over Kaveh to grab a larger knife. “I believe I’ve been proven correct. You make a good sage.”
Kaveh elbows him playfully. “Don’t tease me!”
“I wouldn’t dare tease our Grand Sage,” Alhaitham says with a smirk. Kaveh only rolls his eyes before telling Alhaitham to hand him the salt.
The two of them begin to spend more time together, hanging out in the shared spaces of Kaveh’s dwelling instead of their own rooms. Alhaitham complains that Kaveh takes up the entire table with his blueprints, while Kaveh replies smugly that it’s his house and he’ll take up however much space he pleases.
With the headphones Kaveh gave him, it becomes much easier for Alhaitham to exist outside of his office or Kaveh’s house. Now that noise no longer assaults him from every angle, he’s beginning to enjoy going to the market with Kaveh to pick out coffee or vegetables or to argue over which piece of furniture should go in the living room.
The latter had caused multiple vendors to speculate on their marital status, something that confuses Alhaitham and frustrates Kaveh.
Alhaitham’s financial state is slowly improving, now that none of his income has to be set aside for managing the symptoms of forbidden knowledge contamination. He could move out soon, if he really wanted to.
He could get a place of his own, a quiet place where he could soundproof the walls and buy a record player and spincrystals to fill the house with soothing music.
But something would be missing without Kaveh.
He suspects that something would be missing for Kaveh, too, were he not there.
What is Kaveh to him?
Alhaitham has never quite desired to spend his life with another in the same way most do, has never quite seen the appeal of romantic partnership or kissing or many of the other things couples do. He likes his peaceful life.
He… likes Kaveh in his peaceful life.
Sometimes, he catches himself watching Kaveh work or cook or rearrange furniture, thinking about what it would be like to hold his hand or lean against him on the divan.
He doesn’t want to kiss Kaveh, or go any further than the quiet comfort of a hug or fingers running though hair. He just wants to… stay. Here, with Kaveh.
So Alhaitham stays.
<><><>
Being the Grand Sage of Sumeru is a huge responsibility. Despite the praise from the people of Sumeru, Kaveh often finds himself wondering if he’s even able to fix Sumeru.
Alhaitham remains confident in him, but Kaveh, usually confident to a fault, isn’t sure.
One night, he comes home from Lambad’s still clutching the remains of a wine bottle, throwing himself onto the divan next to Alhaitham and throwing his troubles at his roommate.
“–and they’re all relying on me,” Kaveh hiccups. “What if I fail?”
“You won’t,” Alhaitham says. Kaveh looks up, reaches out to take his hand. Squeezes it.
“...thanks. I don't know if I believe you, though.”
Gently, Alhaitham takes the wine bottle from Kaveh. It’s half-empty, far more than Kaveh usually drinks at once. “What reason would I have to lie?” his roommate asks. “You’re a very capable person. You care far more than most. You–”
He breaks off there, looking away.
“What?” Kaveh asks. “‘Haitham, please tell me.”
The old nickname slips out without him thinking. Kaveh hasn’t called him that since… since the Akademiya. Alhaitham seems equally surprised by it, eyes widening as he glances at Kaveh.
“You’re drunk,” he says at last. “You’ll forget it in the morning.”
Kaveh scoffs. “I’m not that drunk.”
His voice slurs a little at the end, which doesn’t help to prove his point, but Kaveh continues anyway. “You can tell me again in the morning if I forget, anyway.”
Alhaitham hums, pausing as if to consider. He leans back on the divan, setting the wine bottle on the table and folding his arms across his chest. “You… allow me to live with you, even though there is nothing requiring you to open your house to me.”
“Why wouldn’t I let you live here?” Kaveh asks. He’s starting to feel that post-alcohol hunger, thinks about raiding the kitchen for leftover pita. Alhaitham only shrugs.
“We didn’t part on the best of terms. I’m not an especially pleasant person to be around. It isn’t unreasonable for me to expect you wouldn’t want me here. You’d be better off with a roommate who…”
He trails off, frowning. Kaveh huffs, swatting at him.
“Idiot. Have you considered you’re here because I missed you? You’re still my friend, ‘Haitham.”
This time, the nickname is intentional. Kaveh catches Alhaitham’s faint smile at it.
“I don’t suppose you intend to keep me around indefinitely,” Alhaitham says. “It’s likely you’ll have a partner eventually. It would be awkward to have me hanging around. I’m looking at this from a realistic perspective. My time here is, in the end, temporary. I’d be taking up a room that could be used for a kid.”
What?
Truth to be told, Kaveh’s never really considered the thought of having a partner. Yes, he finds some people attractive, and he’s tried dating a few times, but largely it’s been unsuccessful. He just couldn’t muster up the right kind of attraction, and eventually he had given up on it. Besides, his attraction seems to be purely from an aesthetic standpoint, the way one would find a sunset or a building beautiful.
And kids? Kaveh has never really thought about them.
“I don’t know,” Kaveh admits. “I would like to share my life with someone, I think. But the more I think about it–”
The more I think that someone is you.
He hesitates before saying it, chewing on his lip and worrying at his rings. Alhaitham tilts his head, his frown deepening.
“I can move out if you want.”
His voice is quiet, unsure, something in his eyes pleading. He’s actually looking at Kaveh now, which is unusual for Alhaitham, who seems to avoid eye contact as much as humanly possible.
“No,” Kaveh whispers, grabbing Alhaitham’s hand once more and tugging him closer. The alcohol is making it easier for Kaveh to say what he actually feels, or Kaveh is using the wine as an excuse to say it. “Listen to me, Haitham. I– I want you to stay. The house feels like home with you here.”
“What way do you want me to stay?” Alhaitham asks, still hesitant. If Kaveh isn’t imagining things, he seems almost… nervous. “As a romantic partner? Kaveh, I…”
Kaveh shakes his head. “I just want you to stay. I want to–”
He reaches for the wine, hoping for a bit more liquid courage, but Alhaitham blocks his hand, shaking his head. Kaveh huffs.
Fine. He can do this without the alcohol.
“I want to cook and eat dinner with you,” he starts. “I want to go on walks together through the gardens. I want to sit next to you on the divan and bicker about what the best way to end a book is. I want to be able to hug you and hold your hand and tell you about my day and–”
Alhaitham studies him almost warily. “You want me to stay… as a friend?”
“Something else, I think,” Kaveh admits. “I want to be closer than that. But I don’t want to kiss you or– I’m making a fool of myself here, aren’t I?”
Shaking his head, Alhaitham inches closer to Kaveh, his mouth opening before he starts to speak as if he’s choosing his words very, very carefully. “You just want me to stay, then?”
Kaveh nods.
Alhaitham hesitantly places his head on Kaveh’s shoulder, once more taking his hand and entwining their fingers. “I’ll stay,” he murmurs.
Kaveh smiles. “Good.”
<><><>
A month later finds Alhaitham and Kaveh in the kitchen once more, arguing playfully over soup. Alhaitham has paid off his debt, and Kaveh has finished the blueprints for the school and library in the desert, and the two of them finally, finally, have some time to relax.
Kaveh has suggested a vacation. Alhaitham says he’s content staying here.
A while ago, Kaveh had located a book in the House of Daena that had some annotations made by Alhaitham’s grandmother. Apparently, his aunt had not seen the book – a fairytale about aranara – as worth keeping, and she had donated it, where it had sat in a box unsorted until Kaveh recovered it.
Alhaitham’s grandmother had died from the same disease that claimed his parents, several years after their deaths. But she had left a note in the book for him, a few simple lines:
May my child Alhaitham live a peaceful life.
Alhaitham looks down at the lines, written in a graceful script that aligns with what he remembers of his grandmother. If she had lived longer, if Alhaitham hadn’t moved in with his decidedly un-peaceful aunt, would his life have been different? If something else had happened to Kaveh in his childhood, would he be the same?
He puts the book down, joins Kaveh in the kitchen.
He has his peaceful life now, with Kaveh. That’s good enough for him.