Chapter Text
At his core, Alhaitham is lazy. He takes things like work seriously, yes, but he also has explicitly said to Kaveh many times that he will never be an overachiever, never stretch himself past what he is expected to do or is capable of, even if it means earning more money or recognition.
That’s exactly why Kaveh has been so worried about him lately.
Alhaitham’s new position as acting Grand Sage on the tail end of such political unrest has been stretching him thin, and Kaveh can tell. He’s not eating, he’s not sleeping, he’s not doing much of anything besides working, working, working.
Kaveh was most worried when Alhaitham first came home with a stack of paperwork tucked under his arm, messily tied together with a string. He hadn’t even bothered to put it in a folder. Kaveh had asked him why he was bringing work home, and Alhaitham had mumbled some half-assed answer that couldn't have been the whole truth.
“I had a lot of meetings today,” he had said, and maybe that was true, but it didn’t explain why he had decided to bring the paperwork home instead of delegating or leaving it for the next day. It also didn’t explain why he started bringing work home every single night, getting back later and later, with more and more stacks of papers clutched in his hands.
One night, about two months into his term in office, Alhaitham is out even later than usual. He had been making it back around eight or nine, sometimes ten, for a few weeks in a row, but when Kaveh checks the clock for the fifth time in the past ten minutes, it’s striking eleven.
Kaveh stands up from the divan, where he had been sitting and pulling at his hair for almost an hour now, and begins to pace, nervously wringing his hands as he crosses the room, back and forth, back and forth.
Where in the world could Alhaitham be at this hour?
He’s about to give up on waiting and start forming a search party when the doorknob finally jiggles. Kaveh quickly makes his way over to the front door, unlocks it, and throws it open. He opens his mouth, ready to give Alhaitham the scolding of a lifetime, when he notices that something seems… off about him.
Instead of the tired, grumpy expression he’s gotten used to seeing on him for these past two months, Alhaitham looks almost… content. Serene, one might say. Kaveh would wonder what caused this sudden change if it wasn’t so glaringly obvious from the smell that lingers on his clothes.
“You’re drunk,” he accuses, barely believing it even as the words leave his mouth.
Alhaitham never gets drunk to the extent that Kaveh can smell it on him. Ever. But it’s as clear as day in the way he’s holding himself, the way his eyes struggle to focus, the flush on his cheeks, the smell of his breath.
Kaveh is the one person in Sumeru City who is most likely to be able to call someone’s bluff when they’re hiding intoxication, so the fact that Alhaitham shakes his head stubbornly at the accusation almost makes him want to laugh. It would have made him laugh if it didn’t make him want to cry.
“Don’t lie to me, hayati,” he murmurs sadly, reaching out to cradle Alhaitham’s cheek in one hand. It’s warm, and Kaveh’s hand must seem cold in comparison, but Alhaitham doesn’t complain, he just tilts his face into the touch, his eyes half-lidded and heavy.
“M’not lying,” he mumbles, the slight slur to his words giving him away entirely. “Just… tired.”
“Yeah, ‘just tired’ and smelling like the inside of a wine barrel,” Kaveh comments sarcastically.
He sighs, cupping both of Alhaitham’s cheeks in his hands, directing his gaze so they’re looking each other in the eyes.
“You cannot lie to me about this,” he says seriously. His voice is unwavering, though he feels shaky with emotion. “You can lie to anyone else about anything else, hell, you can even lie to me about anything else. But not about this. You know how seriously I take this issue, Alhaitham.”
There’s a moment of silence, and Alhaitham averts his eyes. Kaveh squeezes his cheeks to get his attention again.
“Look at me,” he orders firmly. His throat feels tight, but he can’t let himself cry yet. Alhaitham needs to see how serious this is. “You are not allowed to lie about coming home from work intoxicated. That’s not how we do things here. You know that.”
Alhaitham still can’t look Kaveh in the eyes, even as he responds. “It’s not an issue,” he says softly. “It’s not— I don’t have a problem with alcohol, it’s just one time.”
“If it’s ‘not an issue,’ and ‘just one time,’ then why did you lie about it?” Kaveh asks. He can hear the tremble in his own voice now, and he hates it. He hates that he’s still so impacted by his own past, hates that he’s pressuring Alhaitham about it now, but he’s so afraid that his partner is perfectly poised to go down the same dark path Kaveh had spent so long trying to escape from.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” Alhaitham responds quietly. He finally meets Kaveh’s eyes again, and gods, he looks so tired. So much more tired than was ever on Kaveh’s radar, and it’s definitely not all a result of the wine. Kaveh’s fragile heart is breaking, hearing his exhausted partner try to reassure him.
“I was already worried,” Kaveh murmurs, gently running his thumb over one of Alhaitham’s many dark circles. “Even before you showed up drunk, even before you lied about it. I’ve been worrying about you for weeks. You’re not eating, not sleeping, all you do is work. I hate to be a hypocrite, but you’re burning yourself out, and drinking isn’t going to make that any better.”
There’s a pause.
“But… what are my other options?” Alhaitham asks tremulously. His fingers wrap around Kaveh’s wrist like he needs something to anchor himself with, and Kaveh can feel how much he’s shaking.
He hesitates only briefly before pulling Alhaitham into his arms. That seems to be the last straw for the exhausted acting Grand Sage, because he almost immediately starts crying quietly into Kaveh’s shirt, clutching at him with trembling fingers.
“I know, I know, there’s a lot going on for you right now,” Kaveh says soothingly, holding Alhaitham close, carding his fingers through his hair gently as he weeps. “It must be really overwhelming, but getting drunk isn’t going to solve any problems, hayati. It will only make things worse in the long run, I promise you.”
“I don’t— I don’t know what else to do,” Alhaitham sobs softly, his tears and snot dampening Kaveh’s blouse. Kaveh doesn’t mind the mess, he’s more focused on how he’s seeing Alhaitham cry for the first time in years, and it’s absolutely as heartbreaking as the last time he cried openly.
“Everything is too much. I can’t even function anymore, I get overwhelmed about fifteen minutes into my day, and I just have to keep going for hours like— like nothing’s wrong…” Alhaitham hiccups, his words trailing off into sniffles as his energy seems to wane.
“I’m just… doing what I — hic — what I need to do to survive,” he murmurs finally, and the dread that had been building in Kaveh’s gut now rises into his throat. He feels like he’s about to puke.
The word ‘survive’ is similar to a knife in his chest. That’s exactly how Kaveh had framed his own alcoholism to Alhaitham when he was first confronted about it all those years ago. He had framed it as ‘survival,’ and now that word is being thrown right back at him. Whether Alhaitham is using the word intentionally or not, Kaveh isn’t sure, but it’s the biggest red flag for an issue with addiction that he’s ever seen in anyone, and it’s being waved directly in his face by his beloved partner.
“Hey… Alhaitham, I have a clarifying question,” he starts cautiously. “This… is the first time you’ve gotten this drunk in the past few weeks, right? There weren’t any other times you decided to drink to feel better?”
Alhaitham doesn’t respond, he just continues to hide his face in Kaveh’s shirt. He doesn’t nod, but he doesn’t shake his head either.
Kaveh’s heart sinks like a rock.
“The fact that you’re not responding doesn’t inspire confidence, my love,” he says shakily, threading his fingers through Alhaitham’s hair. “Please answer my question, or I will have to assume the worst.”
There’s a long, tense silence, and then Alhaitham speaks up in a small voice, still hiding in Kaveh’s blouse. “It’s not the first time. Just the first time you’ve noticed.”
Kaveh has to bite down on his lip hard to keep himself from letting out a pained noise.
He didn’t notice.
Alhaitham has been actively struggling with alcohol, and Kaveh didn’t notice until he was literally slapped in the face with it.
“I— I don’t know what to say to that,” he chokes out, fully earnest in his shock and despair. He holds Alhaitham closer, squeezing him almost painfully hard, as if that could keep the pieces of him together, keep him from slipping away.
“Haitham, why didn’t you tell me?”
It’s a stupid question, Kaveh knows. An utterly stupid question. But he just doesn’t know what else to say.
Alhaitham only shrugs in response, and Kaveh doesn’t press him, because he knows the answer already. No one in the grips of an addiction ever wants to disclose it to their loved ones, that’s simple common sense. And Kaveh doesn’t blame him. It’s not like he voluntarily went to Alhaitham for help when he was struggling, either, so there’s no way he could’ve expected Alhaitham to come to him with his issue.
It still hurts, the lack of trust.
“How long have you been doing this?” Kaveh asks gently, breaking the silence. He’s not entirely sure that he wants to know the answer, but it’s an important question to ask if he wants to be able to help. “How long and how often?”
Alhaitham hesitates in his response, but when Kaveh tugs on the back of his hair to bring his face up from his chest, he finally speaks.
“S’been about a month,” he admits quietly, his gaze averted from Kaveh’s in shame. “And… multiple times per week. I’ve been… waiting until you think I’m asleep, drinking only at night, so you’d never catch me. Today it couldn’t wait, so I went right to Lambad’s after work.”
Alhaitham’s eyes meet Kaveh’s once more after the truth comes out, and the haziness in them is deeply upsetting. Although he’s still speaking in full, coherent sentences, Kaveh can tell how drunk he is from how dazed he looks, and it’s bad enough that he probably won’t even remember this conversation later.
Kaveh wishes he didn’t have to remember this conversation later, if he’s honest. The secrecy, the lying, the timeframe, it all makes him sick to his stomach. And the fact that things have gotten so unbearable for Alhaitham that he ‘couldn’t wait’ a few more hours to get drunk, and risked Kaveh catching on in order to fuel his addiction… that makes him sick, too.
“You know what I’m going to tell you, right?” Kaveh asks, choking up slightly. “You can’t keep going like this, you have to get help.”
Alhaitham shrugs again and offers no verbal response. Kaveh does actually start crying, then, silent tears building in his eyes and flowing down his cheeks. He knows very well that if Alhaitham doesn’t want to stop, no ‘help’ is actually going to help. His shrug puts him in an impossible position. Forcing Alhaitham into recovery against his will is not something Kaveh wants to have to do, since it definitely won’t be of any value to him unless he buys into it, and it would be crossing a boundary of trust and independence that Alhaitham tends to keep very firm.
But what else can he do?
“I don’t want to get help,” Alhaitham mumbles, closing his eyes and resting his head back down against Kaveh’s chest. “I know it’s not good, I know… I just… I can handle it. M’not that far gone yet.”
“That feeling of control is an illusion, you know that,” Kaveh whispers unsteadily, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. The tears aren’t stopping, but Alhaitham doesn’t seem to notice.
“It’s not real, ya amar,” Kaveh continues to insist, tightening his grip on Alhaitham, wanting to keep his attention. “You tell yourself that you’re making choices, but you’re not. None of this is in your control anymore, and the longer you put off getting help, the harder it will be to break free of the cycle.”
“Mm.”
Alhaitham’s body has gone almost fully slack against Kaveh. He’s fading, Kaveh can tell. He sighs.
“This conversation isn’t going anywhere,” Kaveh concedes sadly, then braces his hands under Alhaitham’s butt and lifts him off his feet. There’s not a single sound in protest, and Alhaitham’s arms immediately wrap around Kaveh’s shoulders, his face nuzzling into his neck like it belongs there.
“You probably won’t remember much in the morning, anyway. We’ll have to talk about this when you’re sober again,” Kaveh says, mostly to himself, as Alhaitham seems to be falling asleep as he carries him past the threshold and into the house.
The door closes and locks behind them, and Kaveh brings Alhaitham to his bedroom. He sets him down on the bed and covers him with his weighted blanket, stroking his hair as he sits down on the mattress next to him.
“I won’t be letting you sleep alone anymore, I hope you know that,” he murmurs. He doesn’t expect a response, and he doesn’t get one. Alhaitham is fast asleep.
He looks peaceful like this, but Kaveh knows that it’s fake. He’ll wake up and be in the same circle of hell that he was in before he passed out.
Kaveh just wishes there was more he could do to get him out.