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The sun is beginning to set, long evening rays casting the dining table in golden relief - crumpled napkins folding up like crinkled flower petals, empty plates gleaming, and rings of condensation glittering around cups all signs of a slowly, thoroughly enjoyed meal.
"A nursery, can you believe it? Me, design a nursery? Look at me - Tighnari, look at me - do I seem like someone who knows how to handle that kind of responsibility?”
“Yes, actually, Kaveh, you do - “
“What? Hang on - that wasn’t something that you were supposed to just agree with - “
“ - because, as I have told you countless times before, just the fact that you care so much makes people trust you far more than the brainless, soulless, practically lifeless architects that Kshahrewar seems to be graduating by the droves - but that’s besides the point, really. Kaveh, your clients trust you because they know their vision is safe in your hands, okay? They have faith in you.”
“Sure, but - “
“Don’t undersell yourself, Kaveh. I’m sure your ideas will simply bloom into fruition. You know, like if it was a plant nursery? Get it?"
Pained winces, slow exhales, exasperated groans around the circle - in the distraction, Alhaitham plucks Kaveh’s cup out of his wine-slackened fingertips and sets it down on the other side of his own plate. Under the table, Kaveh knocks their knees together, none too gentle, but then his leg stays there pressed against Alhaitham’s. He is warm and steady, and the contact is more distracting than it really ought to be.
“Weak,” Tighnari is saying, though he still sounds vaguely amused. "That was weak and you know it."
Cyno shrugs, unbothered. “There wasn’t much setup. And I’ve had some wine to drink.”
“Please, you're not even tipsy - “
“I think you needn't worry, Master Kaveh," Collei pipes up from Tighnari's right, smiling shyly. “You always make the most beautiful things, and your clients should know that they’re lucky to have you. I’d be honoured to have anything designed by you.”
“Well… thank you, Collei, truly - I would toast you, but someone’s stolen my drink."
Kaveh glares, pointedly, and Alhaitham pushes back against his leg, equally charged.
"You," he says evenly, "have already designed three separate versions of this room, two of them featuring birds and then the last one, for reasons I cannot fathom, fish - "
“That is a gross oversimplification! I was experimenting with a theme of marine life - "
" - so forgive me, senior, but perhaps more alcohol will only have you falling over dizzy with all the circles you seem intent on running around in your head."
Kaveh leans in close, eyes narrowed. Alhaitham watches his lips as he speaks - his breath is hot on Alhaitham's mouth, sweet and intoxicating. "As if you are not similarly affected."
Alhaitham frowns. “I am not.”
"Are too."
"Would you like to inspect my cup? You will find it full of water."
Kaveh waves a flippant hand. "Sure, now it is. Tell me, do you truly believe I missed you pouring yourself two glasses of wine earlier and drinking it just like the rest of us?"
"Alright, that's enough," Tighnari interrupts. "Kaveh - you are far more drunk than you realise, like always. Alhaitham, do us a favour and try not to rile him up? Life was better when I didn't know this shameless bickering was how you two flirted. Archons."
Collei giggles. Kaveh retreats, retort already flying, and Alhaitham simply cannot look away - later, he decides, he is going to take his time with Kaveh, catch his voice between their lips and lick all the words from his mouth until they are both breathless from it, winded -
Kaveh reaches over and reclaims his drink, pinching Alhaitham's side sharply as he does. "Quit staring," he hisses. "It's embarrassing."
"But you're so nice to look at," Alhaitham murmurs, dazed. Kaveh pinches him again.
The shadows on the table grow ever longer, though no one makes to stand up just yet. Cyno’s jokes become increasingly far-fetched. Tighnari threatens to leave three times, before Cyno intertwines their fingers in clear view of everyone, causing Tighnari to squeak and clam up out of shy embarrassment. Collei coaxes out more details of Kaveh’s house project - straying away from the nursery - and Kaveh speaks about the beauty of young love and what it takes to build a home.
Alhaitham listens, sips his water, splays his fingers across Kaveh’s thigh and soaks in his warmth - his home is here, within reach, and he does not want for anything more.
It is when Collei tries to stifle a yawn for the fourth time in half as many minutes that the others make gentle noises of returning to the forest. At their front door, Kaveh shoves leftover dessert into Cyno’s hands and hugs Tighnari and Collei, already making them promise to come again soon.
“Next week, maybe? We could go to Nilou’s new show together!”
“Sounds good to me.” Tighnari pats Kaveh’s arm. “At least that way you’ll be more distracted. Fretting so much about your commissions will do you no good and you know that, Kaveh.”
“Haha, yeah - don’t worry about little old me, I’ll be fine - “
Alhaitham steps forward, slotting a hand on the small of Kaveh’s back. “Stop entertaining him and maybe then he will stop complaining.” He nods at each of their leaving visitors, ignoring Kaveh’s squawk of protest. “Goodbye. Safe travels.”
Collei wiggles her fingers as a wave, smiling brightly as she steps out under the awning. “Bye! See you soon!”
Alhaitham and Kaveh stand on their front porch, shoulders brushing as the forms of their friends get smaller and smaller, until they round the path and disappear into the orange horizon.
“Menace,” Kaveh grumbles into the quiet. “I thought you said you liked the sound of my voice.”
Alhaitham hums in acquiescence, snaking his arm around Kaveh’s waist, hand settling on his hip. Kaveh does not turn to look at him, but Alhaitham watches the pretty blush bloom across his cheeks, and satisfaction curls languidly around his heart. He tightens his hold.
Kaveh reaches a hand up and knocks against Alhaitham’s collarbone. “Hey, I’m not done with you. Who do you think you are, calling me ‘senior’ like that in front of everyone? Sevens, you are strange on alcohol. Maybe we should do this more often.”
“Have our friends over?”
“No, silly - get you tipsy. I think it’s fun. I’m having fun. You never drink unless you’re in a good mood. What’s the occasion?”
“What do you mean?”
Kaveh pushes against Alhaitham’s chest, finally turning to face him, even if it is only to glare. His hand is firm, but also gentle. “I said, what’s got you so pleased today? I’ve been trying to figure it out. Did that shipment of texts you were waiting for finally arrive? Or - don’t tell me, did you piss off one of the new Sages? Oh, don’t say it’s something so utterly mundane as getting to come home early, that’s much too boring. You’d rot in these walls if you could, I know you would.”
Alhaitham blinks. “Am I not allowed to be in a ‘good mood’?”
Kaveh squints. “You rarely are.”
“Hmm.”
“Listen, I’m just saying - from where I’m standing, you’re hiding something, and there is simply no reason I can suss out for you to be in any mood other than your usual aggravating state - !”
Alhaitham pulls Kaveh close, bringing them chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose, linking his hands together around Kaveh’s waist. His gaze lingers over Kaveh’s immediately widened eyes, parted mouth, furrowed brows and that damning flush - oh, but how easy it is to feel at home.
“On the contrary,” he whispers, “I believe there is every reason to be.”
Kaveh’s breathing is loud, unsteady. His eyes flicker repeatedly down to Alhaitham’s lips, an unconscious action he would vehemently deny if Alhaitham pointed it out. Still, he looks pleased. “Sap.”
“For you,” Alhaitham agrees, and kisses him.
His legs are weak almost immediately, for Kaveh always gives as good as he receives - it is achingly slow but no less addicting, Kaveh warm but never pliant, his mouth as sweet with the wine as Alhaitham had known it would be. It’s messy, it’s perfect, it’s everything.
Alhaitham pulls, or maybe Kaveh pushes - whatever the case, the door ends up closed and they’re inside. Alhaitham grunts when his back hits the wall, and Kaveh laughs, a puff between their lips, and then he keeps giggling, his smile so helplessly wide that Alhaitham can’t even kiss him properly anymore.
“Would you stop it,” Alhaitham huffs, “I’m trying to - “
“Sorry, sorry, I know, sorry - ah - “
Alhaitham feels a breathy sigh billow out from Kaveh’s lungs as he ducks his head, tracing along the line of Kaveh’s jaw and curve of his Adam’s apple with indulgent, open-mouthed kisses. Shivers burst at the nape of his neck and chase down his spine as Kaveh’s fingers wind their way through his hair - Alhaitham is grateful, then, for the wall, because he is already dazed beyond belief, and surely would have collapsed already without the support.
“Menace,” Kaveh repeats. He sways on his feet, drawing impossibly closer; Alhaitham stares unabashedly as Kaveh cups his face, gentle as a feather, bringing him back up, near enough for Alhaitham to feel the fluttering of his eyelashes, count the lightest smattering of freckles across his nose. Kaveh opens his mouth to speak, but Alhaitham interrupts him with another kiss, then another, because he wants to and he can.
Eventually Kaveh pulls away and presses his thumb to Alhaitham’s lips, stopping him from chasing after. The air between them is hot, heavy with the sounds of catching breaths. Kaveh’s fingers trail across Alhaitham’s face, circling nonsense patterns on his cheeks, tapping against his cheekbones, brushing across his brow - Alhaitham closes his eyes just to feel, to revel in it, to cherish the calm and cling to the serene.
And then Kaveh abruptly steps back, leaving Alhaitham bereft and blinking at the sudden emptiness of his arms. He frowns, reaching out again, but Kaveh only pats his cheek and laughs, dancing out of the way.
“Let’s not end the day just yet,” he says, backing up to the other wall where they keep their shoes, neatly tucked in the corner. “The sun’s still out, the weather’s nice, I have your company - walk with me?”
Alhaitham crosses his arms.
“Oh, come now, don’t look at me like that,” Kaveh wheedles. “It’ll be good for our digestion after such a heavy dinner. The night market’s probably still getting set up, the crowd won’t be there for a long while still.” He looks up, bent at the waist, already pulling a shoe on. “Just until sunset, I promise. Please?”
“I think you are the one in a strange mood,” Alhaitham mutters. He inhales, pushing the sea of desire sitting in his chest out to the very ends of his body until it simmers just below his skin, festering but no longer an imminent tsunami - sated, for now.
He exhales.
Kaveh is looking at him expectantly. “Well?”
Alhaitham makes a point of glaring, but something must not be quite right, because Kaveh’s smile only grows wider. Nonetheless, Alhaitham toes into his shoes and pointedly looks between Kaveh and the door.
He waits for Kaveh to fully step outside, evidently forgetting to take his house key, before reaching for his own and walking out into the balmy evening, drawn to Kaveh’s side the same way he always has been, where he has always belonged.
The city is relaxed tonight - or maybe Alhaitham only feels that way because he himself is as well.
Kaveh is technically leading the way, arm linked through Alhaitham’s; occasionally, he tugs in certain directions, but really, they both know they are only wandering. The streets of Sumeru are so well-walked between the two of them that wherever they go, the ghosts of their younger selves are there too, blurry with time but no less vivid in memory.
It makes excursions like these a little quiet, a little reflective - together, though, there is no risk of getting lost in the past. The here and now is simply so much better.
No doubt the main street of the Grand Bazaar would make for more entertaining sights, but as it is, they are barely skirting the edges of the market. Far from the flashy, eye-catching stalls in the central area, this is where Alhaitham and Kaveh can just be - sure, they are still accosted by aunties and uncles who are strangely invested in feeding them atrocious amounts of food, but better them than the Akademia types who are much too interested in bizarrely specific details of their private lives.
“What, you don’t like being the subject of office gossip?” Kaveh had cackled, unreasonably entertained on the one occasion Alhaitham had come home and perplexedly explained how he had been grilled on the exact layout of their house, and where he preferred to sleep. “Tell me, did you get their name? I’m sure I have a sketch of you collapsed on the divan like a helpless damsel in distress somewhere - “
“If only they also knew how Kshahrewar’s prized architect has terrible posture and engages in unsightly contortionist poses at his desk,” Alhaitham had snarked in return. “How would that go for the reputation you are so keen to remind me of whenever we are out together in public?”
“No one would believe you,” Kaveh had retorted, sticking his tongue out like a child - and then Alhaitham had pushed Kaveh onto said desk and aggressively kissed all the fight out of him.
And then they’d taken a nap together, on said divan, so really they both had had their points.
They come to an intersection. A stray cat pads across the cobblestone, closely followed by a toddler with outstretched arms and wobbly legs, who is then accompanied by two adults who are undoubtedly the parents. They look like a happy, peaceful, normal family.
The toddler waddles past Kaveh, babbling cheery nonsense into the air. Alhaitham knows Kaveh smiles at the parents as they draw near, because Kaveh is the type to smile at anyone to be polite - but once they are gone he also feels Kaveh pressing into his side, and hears the quiet, bittersweet sigh that escapes Kaveh’s age-old mask of indifference.
“There was a study done recently concluding that stray cats in Sumeru are more interactive and less fearful of young children than those in other regions of Teyvat,” Alhaitham says abruptly.
Kaveh huffs. It’s not a laugh, but it’s something. “Really, now.”
“Yes. Although, it is unclear exactly what makes Sumeru special. Some have likened the relationship to the chicken-and-egg riddle - the children are taught to be protective of the strays, while the animals in turn feel safe enough to interact with humans.”
Kaveh blows out a breath. It sounds heavy. “Never-ending cycles, huh?”
“I believe it to be more of a mutual coexistence, with perhaps some level of give-and-take. But it is also undeniable that both parties have grown inexplicably attached to the other over the years.”
“Are we still talking about cats?”
“We are not not talking about cats,” Alhaitham says, just to be contrarian. “They have also been found to be remarkable companions for children who struggle more with making connections with their peers, whether it be as a bridge or as another playmate entirely.”
“You know, I’m curious as to why you have been reading studies about animals that you have been around for your entire life.”
Alhaitham glances at Kaveh, but it is difficult to read him from this angle. “You are the one who has begun to leave food out in bowls on our windowsill,” he reminds. “If there is anyone who needs to explain a sudden interest in feline relations, it is you.”
“What if I don’t have an answer?” Kaveh challenges. “What if I just woke up one day and decided, on a whim, to start nurturing my relationship with our strays?”
“You cannot call them our strays - “
“I’ll call them whatever I want, Haravatat. After all, I’m the one feeding them our leftovers, as you have so clearly pointed out.”
Alhaitham wrinkles his nose. “I hope you are not poisoning them.”
“Excuse me! Who do you think I am? Oh, don’t answer that. Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“And yet I am still telling you to shut up. Isn’t it funny how things work sometimes?”
“You tell me, Kshahrewar.”
“Shut up.”
They circle around a small cul-de-sac and Kaveh turns them down the path back home. The wind nips at their cheeks as light fades from the sky, orange sunset blending into cloudy blue night; Kaveh’s hair is long enough now that it tickles Alhaitham’s shoulder, blown back by the breeze, washed-out gold under the weak rays of pale moonlight. Maybe later, if Kaveh can sit still for long enough, he will let Alhaitham braid it - though Alhaitham doubts he will get that privilege tonight, not when the line between then and now has been crossed once already.
“Relax,” Kaveh says suddenly. “I’m okay.”
Their home comes into view. Alhaitham stares at their awning, the vase he set outside, their small garden of herbs creeping around the corner. “I am relaxed.”
“Sure you are,” Kaveh says disagreeably.
“I am.”
“Are your shoulders aware of this?”
Alhaitham scowls and begins to speed-walk, bodily dragging Kaveh along with him all the way to their front door. He earns himself another pinch to the side and a loud curse in his ear for his shenanigans, and then a groan when he makes a show of patting his pockets and very carefully pulling out his key.
“Come on, hurry up already,” Kaveh complains, bouncing on the spot and jostling Alhaitham’s side. “It’s getting chilly.”
Alhaitham slowly turns the metal around in his hand. “You wouldn’t have to wait if you’d remembered to bring your own key. Did you even notice you left it behind?”
“Sometimes I think you forget that I am a perfectly functioning adult and regularly go out of the house by myself,” Kaveh says crossly. “I know I didn’t bring my keys. Maybe I did forget them at first, but I realised before we got too far.” His voice twists into something suspiciously smug. “But can you guess why I didn’t say anything?”
Alhaitham turns the doorknob and looks at Kaveh flatly.
“Because I don’t need mine when I’m with you,” Kaveh says, bright-eyed and sounding entirely too pleased with himself.
Alhaitham’s breath catches. He has to wait a beat for it to return, which is entirely too telling.
“Who is the sap now,” he accuses, but Kaveh only sends him a sharp grin and pushes past into the house, kicking his shoes off and drifting away.
“You go shower first,” he calls over his shoulder, as Alhaitham resignedly nudges their shoes back against the wall. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”
Alhaitham pauses. Raises his voice. “You will?”
“What did I just tell you? Perfectly functioning adult! I can handle chores!”
“Can you really,” Alhaitham mutters. He aims to walk towards the kitchen - to supervise - when Mehrak suddenly appears from the bedroom, unceremoniously throws a towel in his direction, beeps twice, and then redirects to follow after Kaveh.
Alhaitham feels, vaguely, as though he is being scolded. But this is hardly a battle worth fighting, so he quietly folds the towel in his hands, tucks his confused ego away, and goes into the bedroom to collect a change of clothes.
When he steps out of the bathroom, the house is silent.
He leaves his earpieces where they are on the nightstand and steps out into the hallway, floorboards creaking gently under his weight. From here he can see the kitchen - unsurprisingly, Kaveh is not there, but the dining table is cleared, and most of the dishes are in the drying rack, although the way the dishcloth is thrown carelessly onto the counter tells Alhaitham all he needs to know.
He finishes washing the last two plates and singular cup, then picks up the empty bowl from the windowsill - evidently the strays do enjoy the free meal - and cleans that, too. The table still needs some seeing to, and Alhaitham takes his time straightening the placemats and pushing in the chairs, so slow that it has been quiet long enough for him to deem it necessary to go and pull Kaveh out from whatever depths he has sunk into.
He finds Kaveh in the spare room they use for the extra office space, standing by the desk, one leg straight and the other bent at the knee and braced on the chair, as if he didn’t want to stand any longer but hadn’t fully consigned to the act of actually sitting down. Mehrak is perched on the edge of the wood, projecting a blueprint into the air and spinning it around slowly, unobtrusive to the stillness of the room.
Alhaitham leans against the doorframe and contentedly takes in the sight. For all the many years he has spent watching Kaveh, memorising his laughs, smiles, and singularity, he finds himself wishing only to spend a lifetime more, here in this home - in this state - in this being. Everything he needs he has, everything he wants is safe; peace these days has never been so easy to maintain.
Mehrak beeps softly, three times. Kaveh starts and snaps his head up, meeting Alhaitham’s gaze.
“You almost finished the dishes,” Alhaitham says.
Kaveh at least has the grace to look somewhat sheepish. His flyaways are messy, and Alhaitham walks towards him now, reaching out to brush them down. The sight of Kaveh blinking around Alhaitham’s hand is suddenly, overwhelmingly, too much to handle - Alhaitham is drawn in by an undescribable force, as he cups Kaveh’s face and captures him in a firm kiss. He pulls back quickly, so as to catch the surprise in Kaveh’s widened eyes, and the satisfaction from earlier rushes in full-force, flooding his veins and filling his head, dizzying and powerful.
Kaveh seems to catch on, because he reaches up and pushes Alhaitham’s face to the side to break eye contact, groaning. “Now this is just embarrassing.”
“What is?”
“I saw the patterns on our plates,” Kaveh mutters. “Clovers. I thought, that would be nice for a nursery, wouldn’t it? And then I immediately just saw the room in my head, but it was fading so fast so I couldn’t finish and I had to come here to - “
“Shh.” Alhaitham presses his thumb into Kaveh’s lips, and looks down at the sketches on the table.
Kaveh thinks he cannot understand art, a topic that they still regularly debate whenever they have free time, but what Alhaitham takes as his own personal truth is that he knows Kaveh, the same way Kaveh knows him. He sees the clovers dancing on the page and understands, implicitly, how they are more certain and sure of themselves than anything from the previous drafts.
It is with quiet relief that Alhaitham concludes that this project will not be one that brings Kaveh to his knees. He can rest easy, knowing Kaveh will finish standing tall.
He looks back up to see that Kaveh is now the one staring, and raises his eyebrows.
“It’s nothing,” Kaveh says absentmindedly. “Just...” He reaches down and pushes the fresh sheet of paper away, revealing the older drafts buried underneath. His finger traces over the arc of a bird in flight, the leap of a fish out of water. “You pay attention.”
“Is that really so surprising?”
“Maybe, once upon a time. Now? Not so much.”
Kaveh smiles, but there is still a restless quality to it, so Alhaitham waits. He wraps his arms around Kaveh’s waist, falling into that familiar position - keeping distance, because Kaveh hasn’t showered yet, but it is hardly as if physical intimacy has ever been more powerful than words and honesty. Not for the two of them.
“I have built a palace,” is how Kaveh begins, slowly and softly. “I have built bridges, designed city infrastructure, drawn countless offices, libraries, sunrooms, any extension to any building you could possibly think of - and yet.” He stares down at the sketches, as if they are a script he cannot understand. “This is the first time I have ever been asked for a nursery and it is the novelty that makes this project possibly so much more important than anything else I have done before. I am responsible for an infant’s immediate world, and even if they will not understand the importance of the room until they are much, much older - it needs to be good from the start. It needs to be right.”
“It will be good,” Alhaitham says firmly. “You will not let it be anything but.”
“Oh, well, if I just can’t let it be bad then I suppose it will magically be fine, then - “
“You will not let yourself present a design you are not wholly satisfied with,” Alhaitham amends. “Listen to Tighnari, for once.”
“And Cyno, too?” Kaveh asks dryly.
Alhaitham fixes him with a stern look. “Collei, as well. These clients trust you with the freedom. You must also extend that trust to yourself.”
“If only.” Kaveh exhales sharply. “Ugh. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. You’re right, Tighnari’s right, Cyno’s right, Collei’s right - it’ll be fine. I don’t even know what I’m complaining about, considering that I’ve already solved my own problem.” He waves at the clovers. “Archons - I’m not even that upset, just talking out loud - I enjoyed today, honestly, there’s hardly anything for me to complain about.” He nods. “Yes. Today was good.”
Alhaitham studies him. “Is that a question, or a statement?”
“A statement,” Kaveh says decisively. His face is open and his shoulders are relaxed, hands dangling unclenched at his sides, so Alhaitham concludes that he is telling the truth. Perhaps it is only the effects of a long day, combined with the tiring cycles of that ever-turning mind, that have loosened Kaveh’s lips and caused the frustration to raise its ugly head.
“Shower,” Alhaitham tells him, gentle. “Then sleep.”
Kaveh turns his head, lips brushing against Alhaitham’s bare ear in silent thanks. Then he steps away, picking the clips out of his hair as he goes. Mehrak follows, floating behind silently, and Alhaitham is last, pausing only to pick up his current reading from the coffee table before making his way to the bedroom as well.
He sinks into bed easily, lower half covered by the blanket, leaning against the headboard for the optimal reading position. Mehrak begins playing his usual calming background audio tracks unprompted, and accompanied with the muffled sound of rushing water, the world fades away into nothing but words on a page and his own shapeless imagination.
An indeterminate amount of time later, the door clicks shut, and Alhaitham looks up to see Kaveh moving slowly into the room, shuffling around the furniture until he all but collapses back onto the comforter, expelling the air from his chest in a long, dramatic sigh. A sketchbook flaps open on his chest, covers worn and pages fanning out to reveal neat notes and diagrams of various sights that have caught his eye and attention.
Alhaitham sets his book to the side and lifts an arm. Kaveh scoots into his usual place against Alhaitham’s side, the top of his head bumping against Alhaitham’s jaw - his hair is still damp from his shower, but it is warm and familiar, soft as silk and smelling sweetly of desert flower scented conditioner.
Alhaitham tips his head to rest on top of Kaveh’s, letting Kaveh prop the sketchbook up on his chest and opening it to the latest drawings Alhaitham has not yet seen, to tell him stories he has not revisited since they last looked through these pages together. His voice is soothing in the quiet, sending gentle vibrations through Alhaitham’s chest and thrumming in time with his heart.
Alhaitham closes his eyes.
It is moments like these that he has learned to treasure the most. After so many years, they have finally settled in this home, and they are happy; the knowledge of this, the sturdy surety of their lives, is what fills Alhaitham’s throat with choked-up pride, because when he walks through these walls he is simply proud of the paths they’ve walked and the home they’ve built together, in the absence of those who have left them behind.
Alhaitham blinks - he’d been drifting asleep, he realises, as fog clears from his mind - when Kaveh suddenly reaches over to turn down the light. He raises a hand in the darkness, holding Kaveh’s shoulder, staring unseeingly, waiting until his pupils adjust enough for him to see all the minute details of Kaveh’s face, inches from his own.
Kaveh runs his hand along Alhaitham’s side, fingers dragging up his arm, and leans down to brush his lips fleetingly into the crook of Alhaitham’s neck, mirroring exactly where Alhaitham had been unable to control himself earlier. He moves upwards, then, skirting around Alhaitham’s lips but continuing to gently pepper more kisses on his jaw, cheek, nose - his hand pushes Alhaitham’s bangs back and he lands one last kiss right in the center of Alhaitham’s forehead, tenderness coalescing between their skin.
Alhaitham blinks again, eyes fixed to Kaveh’s. The only light comes from Mehrak in the corner of the room, her screen already dimmed to the lowest possible level; he can just barely make out the red tint to Kaveh’s irises, gentle and fond.
“My sweet junior,” Kaveh whispers.
“Senior,” Alhaitham returns.
He catches Kaveh before he shifts away and pulls him down into a proper goodnight kiss, done with the teasing and light touches. Kaveh’s fingers weave into his hair and twist, ten points of pressure that feel like one tug, bringing them closer together, bodies pressed at every possible spot, from head all the way down to toe.
Alhaitham is anchored, here - not to the bed, not to reality, but to Kaveh. What makes everything between the two of them a home is this: the tangible weight in his arms, the fullness of life and being, and the steadfast sense of belonging.
“Sleep now,” Kaveh mumbles, rolling off of Alhaitham’s chest - just enough to get comfortable, never going far.
Alhaitham sleeps on his back, Kaveh on his side - so Alhaitham simply shifts down until his head falls on the pillow and then waits for Kaveh to finish shuffling around, allowing him to claim Alhaitham’s arm and pull it towards his chest, curling around it the way the stem of a plant would bend towards the sun.
Alhaitham closes his eyes again, and waits in anticipation for a tomorrow just like this.