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They were roommates.
Well.
Kaveh hated to admit it.
But ever since he got himself into debt because of his grand project, things haven’t turned out the best.
So what did his best friend, Alhaitham do? Let the bitch stay at his place.
Kaveh avoided talking about it. Not the debt. Not the failure.
But the fact that he had nowhere else to go.
What made matters worse? Kaveh did everything.
Cooking. Cleaning. Maintaining a house that wasn’t even HIS.
While Alhaitham sat there, buried in his books, acting as if this arrangement was the most natural thing in the world.
At times, it felt less like he was staying there and more like he’d somehow become…domestic.
It was like he was a housewife, to put it bluntly. He felt humiliated in a way, but that’s how he sort of saw the situation.
But since he originally had trouble finding a place early before, this was the best he’d have to do with for now.
Because living with Alhaitham was already insufferable. It had always been. Even back then. Especially back then.
…When Kaveh had been stupid enough to fall for him.
While the days followed how they always went. There Kaveh was, doing the chores like he normally did.
Seriously, would it kill Alhaitham to help out every once in a while? Kaveh’s already been bending backwards with taking care of the place. Sure, it makes him feel less guilty staying with him, but the blonde gets tired of it.
And while he was cleaning the living room (seriously, this was the one room that got messy fast), he obviously noticed when Alhaitham placed a cup on the table.
It would’ve been nothing really, if Alhaitham didn’t just walk away from it.
Just…left the cup there. Not dirty enough to justify outrage. Not clean enough to ignore.
A provocation.
Kaveh stared at it like it personally insulted his entire lineage. He didn’t say anything at first. Oh no. He waited. Because surely, surely, Alhaitham will come back for it.
...He does not.
Alhaitham sat down. Opened a book of his like normal. Turned a page. Calm. Untouched by the mortal plane.
Kaveh snapped. “You know,” he started, voice already climbing, “there is a very advanced and highly sophisticated system in this house called putting things back where they belong.”
The architect heard the page turn. “I’m aware.”
Kaveh gripped the table like he was about to commit a crime against the man who let him stay. “Then why is there a cup on the table.”
A pause. A slow, painfully slow, deliberate glance. “I was using it.”
“WAS.”
“And I may use it again.”
Kaveh’s eye twitched. You could hear the vein pop. “So your solution,” he gestured dramatically at the cup, “is to leave it there indefinitely in case your future self decides to hydrate.”
“It’s efficient.”
“IT’S LAZY.”
“It reduces unnecessary movement.” Alhaitham simply said, as he turned another page of his book.
“YOU ARE NOT A MACHINE, ALHAITHAM.”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
Kaveh picked up the cup like it’s evidence in a trial. “This- this right here- is exactly what I mean. I do everything around here and you can’t even manage the bare minimum-”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
Silence. Complete silence. Oh. That one hit him. Kaveh froze for a second standing there, jaw tightening in the moment, because yeah, that’s the worst part, isn’t it? “…No,” he muttered out, quieter now, the bitterness creeping in slowly, “you didn’t.”
And now it’s not about the cup anymore. Maybe it was never about the cup. Maybe it was about everything. Alhaitham watched him for a moment, then sighs- sighs, and closed his book like this is a mild inconvenience. “I’ll put the cup away.”
As if that was the problem. “That’s not the point.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then stop acting like it is!”
He took the cup. Made his way to the kitchen. And washed it. Kaveh stood there, his arms crossed, still fuming, because somehow that didn’t fix anything.
Alhaitham set the cup down to dry. Then, as he walked past him. “Next time,” he said calmly, “you could simply ask.”
Kaveh whipped around like he’d been shot. “I DID-”
But Alhaitham’s already back to his book. And the worst part?
Later that night, Kaveh noticed the cup was gone. And the next morning… there were two cups on the table.
So yes. Kaveh was done. Completely. Absolutely. Fucking done with him.
They weren’t compatible. At least, that’s what everyone seemed to think. It was easy enough to think that. Kaveh, all his sharp edges softened by his emotion, guided by instinct rather than logic, by passion, by the kind of heart that bled too easily for a world that rarely gave anything back. And Alhaitham? He was the complete opposite of him in every visible way.
Majorily logical. Detached. Very efficient. Cold, if you asked most people anyway. Unnecessarily rude as well, if you decided ask Kaveh on a particularly bad day of his. The two clashed constantly at home, or even in public. That much was rather obvious to others. Anyone could see that.
Arguments over nothing. Over just everything. Over the smallest things one of them could think about. Over things that didn’t even matter, shouldn't have mattered, and things that mattered far too much. Voices raised, words were sharpened, doors nearly slammed, but never quite fully. It was exhausting to them than they ever realized. It should have been unbearable to the two.
And yet, Kaveh knew exactly how Alhaitham organized his books. Not just alphabetically, or by a certaine subject, but instead by how often he referenced them. The ones he reached for the most, were always within arm’s reach, stacked just slightly off-center, some angled in ways that looked kind of careless if you didn’t know better. Kaveh had known which cup Alhaitham preferred to use in the mornings. Which one he used more when he stayed up later than usual. The difference was subtle, but it was there. Knowing the exact cadence of his footsteps, the quiet shift of weight when Alhaitham paused to think to himself, the almost imperceptible sigh he let out when something had just mildly inconvenienced him.
Kaveh noticed everything there was. He hated that he did. He hated that even now, especially now, he couldn’t just stop noticing things about his roommate. Because noticing things like this, meant acknowledging something he had spent the past years trying to ignore for his own sake. That Alhaitham wasn’t as simple as he made himself out to be. That there was something more hidden beneath the still surface.
And worse? Kaveh understood it.
Alhaitham, for his part, had understood Kaveh in a way that felt almost invasive to him. Not just of his habits. Not just his daily routines. But Kaveh’s patterns.
The way Kaveh often deflected compliments, fishing for them only to turn around and dismantle the words piece by piece, like he didn’t want to believe even a single word of it. The way the tired architect had poured himself into his work, into the people he created for, into anything that was able to give him any sense of purpose, only to finally collapse under the weight of it when it inevitably became too much for him to handle in the end.
The way he drank, sometimes. Not often enough to be alarming enough to others who knew him, but rather enough for Alhaitham to notice, with ease or not. Enough for him to quietly intervene. He never said anything about it to him. Never told him to stop. Never called him out on it. He simply…adjusted things. Made sure Kaveh didn’t have the opportunity to go too far with it. Redirected him without drawing any kind of attention. Stayed close enough in proximity to step in, distant enough that it didn’t feel like control. Kaveh never realized just how intentional it was. Or maybe he did. Maybe he just chose not to look at it too closely to overthink things.
Because if he did, he’d have to confront the fact that Alhaitham cared. And to him, that was rather…more complicated than he wanted. And something he’d rather not think about in the slightest. Cause his brain would make him start thinking about other things. Things he could never think to admit to anyone.
People often said Alhaitham was a rude man. And, in a way, he was.
Blunt to the point of easy irritation, cutting in when he didn’t need to be cutting in, entirely uninterested in the case of softening his words for the sake of someone’s comfort. Kaveh had called him insufferable more times than he could count on his two hands.
But what people didn’t see? What Kaveh didn’t always want to see? Was that Alhaitham was careful. More deliberate than people stopped to think. He never crossed Kaveh’s boundaries. Not once. Never pushed too far, even when he could’ve. Never used what he knew against him in ways that would actually hurt him. Even his insults to him. They were accurately precise. Annoying, yes. Infuriating, oh absolutely. Irritating? Well, of course. But they never struck where Kaveh was most vulnerable. Not really. Because Alhaitham knew exactly where that was. And he always avoided it. Every single time.
Since there was one time, when the two were bickering and arguing like usual. And yet, it never went like that again. Alhaitham learned from that mistake that day. And made a mental note to never do anything similar to that ever again.
There were things Kaveh would never notice at all. The smaller things. Like how Alhaitham had ended up adjusting the layout of the house, just slightly, after the architect had moved in. Nothing really too obvious. Just enough to make it easier for Kaveh to be able to move through the space, to work comfortably, to exist there without friction caused. Like how he took on tasks Kaveh heavily disliked, but did them in quiet, at times Kaveh wouldn’t be able to see, just to keep it hidden. Like how he kept track of information, about his parents, about his past, things Kaveh struggled to face on his own alone. He never brought it up directly to him.
Just…left pieces where Kaveh could find them, when he was ready.
Alhaitham didn’t compliment Kaveh.
Not in the way he wanted. Not in the way Kaveh sometimes needed. Because he had learned, early on from before, that Kaveh didn’t exactly handle praise well. He would absorb it. Turned it over. Picked it apart until it became something ugly to hear, something that fed into the same doubts he tried so hard to ignore himself. So Alhaitham did something else.
He disagreed. He challenged him.
Poked at him in ways that made Kaveh bristle, made him get defensive with him, made him argue back. Made him just try to prove him wrong.
“You’re overestimating your abilities.”
“I am not-”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not, and I can prove it-”
And Kaveh would. Every. Single. Time. Kaveh would talk himself up just to contradict him. Build himself up higher, to be more stronger, just to be able to win the argument against him. And Alhaitham would let him. Even if it meant Kaveh thought he was insufferable. Even if it meant Kaveh got frustrated, annoyed, pissed off, angry at him. That was completely fine.
As long as Kaveh could stand his own ground. As long as he could believe in himself, even if it was only ever to spite the man he lived with. That would be just enough for Alhaitham.
Alhaitham didn’t need to be liked. He didn’t need to be understood by anyone. He didn’t need his life to be picked apart and feel like something to be learned of from anyone. But if there was one thing he wanted? The one thing that mattered to him?
It was for Kaveh to be okay. Even if that meant Kaveh would one day leave him. Even if that meant Kaveh would find someone better. Someone much more kinder. More softer. Easier to love. Alhaitham had already accepted that possibility a long time ago. It was the most logical conclusion, after all.
Kaveh deserved better.
And yet…
He failed to realize. Kaveh didn’t want the most logical conclusion. He didn't want what was easy to make sense of. Kaveh was the only one who ever looked at him and saw more. Not just the logic. Not just the indifference between the two. But the intent behind it. The weight of his choices. The way he cared without ever saying the words out loud to hear.
Kaveh saw it all. Even when he pretended not to. Even when he argued with him, when he complained to others, when he called him insufferable and stormed off in frustration every time. He saw it all. He understood him. Just as much as Alhaitham took his time to understand him.
Which was exactly why this was a problem for him. Because caring about Alhaitham had never been simple. He know it was never supposed to be easy. And it had certainly never been anything close to logical. But Kaveh had never been particularly good at choosing the logical options he was faced with at times. Not when it came to things like this. Not when it came to Alhaitham.
Kaveh had never really been good at saying how he felt. Not when it actually mattered way too much to him. Not when the words actually meant something that could change just about everything around him. It was always easier, to speak in literally anything else, arguments, sarcasm, long-winded complaints about things that didn’t quite reach the real issue they faced, circling around it instead of rather stepping into it, because stepping into it meant risking something far worse than just a fight, meant risking being seen too clearly, and Kaveh had never quite learned how to survive that kind of exposure.
And Alhaitham…he wasn’t any better, to say the least. If anything, he was worse in a more different way, because at least Kaveh felt everything loudly, even if he couldn’t say it very well, but Alhaitham? Alhaitham buried it, dissected it, studied it, filed it away, into such tiny little neat, logical compartments where feelings had become something to analyze rather than something to express verbally to others, something to understand rather than something to act on, and so the words never came from him either, not when they mattered so much, not when they would have changed something between them. Not when words held so much to them, enough to change how the other could feel.
They were both rather terrible at it. Terrible at saying anything that hadn’t been sharpened into an argument, or just dulled into complete silence. And maybe that was why they couldn’t stay in the same room for too long without something happening, without tension building in the space between the two like something that was alive, something just waiting to snap, because there was too much left unsaid, too much that lingered just slightly beneath the surface of every conversation they had, every small glance they held, every irritated sigh between them, and neither of them knew exactly what it was to do with it.
So how was Kaveh supposed to tell Alhaitham? How was he supposed to take everything that had been building between them for years, quietly, tenaciously, persistently, stubbornly, against his own better judgment, and just…say it? Blurt it out, like it was nothing? Like it was simple? Like it wouldn’t just change everything between them?
Like Alhaitham would even let him get through it without interrupting him, without picking apart his wording, without reducing it into something smaller, something easier to dismiss in the end? The thought alone was enough to make his chest tighten with pain and slight breath. Because it wouldn’t have just been a confession. It would absolutely be a high risk. And Kaveh had already lost too much to risks he thought were worth it at the time they happened. He didn’t think he could survive losing this too. Something he finally wanted.
Because if Alhaitham rejected him? No. It was worse than that. If Alhaitham was to understand him, and just simply choose not to feel the same? Kaveh didn’t think he’d be able to stay there anymore.
Yet leaving…leaving wasn’t an option he could even bear to consider. So he didn’t say anything. He never did. He kept it in. He refused to tell him. And Alhaitham, for all his understanding, never said anything either. Which left them here.
Suspended in something that neither of them bothered to acknowledge, something that existed in the quiet spaces in between their arguments, in the way they moved around each other with a silent familiarity that went far beyond irritation, in the way they noticed things they tried to pretend not to care about, but in the way they stayed.
Because they did stay. Despite everything. Despite the long countless arguments, the complete exhaustion, the constant friction that should have driven them apart long ago, they stayed in the same space, in the same house, orbiting each other in a pattern that never quite broke, never quite resolved into anything more, but never faded into something less either.
It was almost laughable. And a little sad. How two people who struggled so much to exist in the same room could somehow never quite leave it. Leave each other. How they clung to this strange, rather fragile balance of coexistence, as if neither of them wanted to be the one to tip it over and spill everything they've been hiding and struggling to confess.
Maybe they were doomed. Doomed to stay like this, stuck in something that could never fully become what it was really meant to be, because neither of them would take the risky step that was needed to change it. Doomed to choose silence, over and over again, time after time, because suffering in silence was safer than the truth. Because as long as nothing was said, nothing could be broken.
And maybe…maybe that was enough. Maybe if they just stayed like this,
Roommates. Just roommates.
Sharing space, sharing time, sharing company, sharing a life that never quite crossed the line into something else they’d like to have instead. And nothing more? Maybe that would be enough to keep Kaveh from losing the man he loved entirely. Maybe this was the only closest thing he was allowed to have in his life.
Alhaitham, on the other hand, understood the possibility of loss far too well.
He had already calculated it, like he always does, turned it over in his mind more times than he actually cared to admit, the probability of Kaveh eventually reaching his full limit, of growing tired of the arguments they had, the thick tension, the constant friction between them, and deciding that staying here was no longer worth it, that there were better options elsewhere, better people, better lives that didn’t involve someone of the likes of him.
It was a logical outcome. Extremely logical. Very logical. An inevitable one, even.
And yet, there was a part of him, small and persistent, that rejected it entirely. A part of him that hesitated at the thought, that felt something unfamiliar settle uncomfortably beneath his ribs whenever he considered it too closely, something that didn’t align with his logic, something that had no place in the careful structure he had built for himself through the years.
He did not want Kaveh to leave. Simple as that. He would not say it. He would definitely not act on it. But it remained there all the same. Like always. Just unacknowledged. Unresolved.
...Real.
And what Alhaitham didn’t know? What he had no way of knowing, because Kaveh would never say it out loud, would never tell him, would never admit to anything, would never risk placing it into something as fragile as words.
Was that Kaveh had already made his final decision. Long before now. Long before the arguments became routine, before the silence became something familiar instead of uncomforting.
He had chosen to stay. Not because he had nowhere else to go (He probably didn’t). Not because it was convenient to him. Not because it was the easiest option available to him.
But because, despite everything. Despite the frustration, the constant tension, the exhaustion, the irritating moments, the way loving someone like Alhaitham felt like trying to hold onto something that refused to be held. Kaveh’s feelings had never been something as simple as their fights. They had always been more than that. Deeper than that. And leaving him behind had never truly been an option to him.
What Kaveh didn’t realize, was that Alhaitham felt the exact same way. Just as quietly as he was. Just as stubbornly as he acted. Just as hopelessly as he thought. Just as complicated as he tried to make himself out to be. Just as he would. And neither of them would ever dare to say it to the other.
So silence sounded like a nice choice, wouldn’t you think so?
The living room smelled faintly of something rather bitter. Not unpleasant. Just…a little heavy. Like something that had been sitting there for a bit too long. Kaveh was slouched into the couch, one arm hanging off the side, fingers loosely curled around a glass that was already half empty, or maybe half full, it was hard to tell at this point to him, but it was harder for him to care.
How many had he had? He couldn’t exactly remember. Didn’t want to think about it. Didn’t think it mattered enough. The project had been finished hours ago. Days ago. Weeks, was it? Time had blurred when it came to things like this. All that mattered was that it had taken everything out of him, wrung him dry, left him so hollow in that familiar, dug his mind empty, exhausting way that made the silence afterward feel too loud, too empty, too much. Too painful to think about sober. So he filled it. With something else. Simple as that
Footsteps. Soft. Careful. Measured. Familiar. Alhaitham. Of course it was. Kaveh didn’t even turn his head at first, just let out a low, drawn-out sigh that turned into something closer to a long groan. “You’re late,” he muttered, words already slipping slightly, uneven at the edges as he stared at the ceiling.
“I had work.” Flat. Simple. Expected of him. Kaveh huffed, taking another sip like it proved something, like it mattered.
Alhaitham stood there for a moment longer than necessary, eyes flicking over the scattered evidence on the table, the way Kaveh sat, too loose, too unsteady, too...he couldn't place it sometimes, and there was a quiet, almost imperceptible shift in his expression. He should’ve been home sooner. Alhaitham knew Kaveh had been drinking more lately. He had noticed. Of course he had. He always noticed when it came to his roommate. He should’ve stopped him. Or at least…tried to.
But that would’ve led to an argument. It always did. Kaveh would push back. Insist that he was fine. That he was careful with it. That he wasn't drinking much. Accuse his roommate of overstepping. And Alhaitham? Alhaitham didn’t control people. He didn’t force them into decisions they didn’t choose.
So instead, he walked over, sat down beside the pretty guy, and gently lowered the glass from Kaveh’s hand before he could take another drink. Kaveh immediately frowned at him. “Hey-” he tried to reach for it, missing slightly from his current condition, “I wasn’t done with that.”
“You’ve had enough.”
“Oh, don’t start,” Kaveh slurred, waving him off with more effort than coordination, “you don’t get to decide that.”
“I’m not deciding anything.”
“Then give it back.”
“No.”
A pause. A tiny pause.
Kaveh stared at him, unfocused, irritated, then let out a laugh that didn’t quite land right with him. “God, you’re-” he gestured vaguely, searching for the word, “you’re so-”
“Aware?”
“Annoying.”
“That’s not new.”
Kaveh huffed again, rather annoyed than irritated, as he slumped back into the couch, muttering under his breath, words tumbling into each other in that familiar, messy way that came with being this drunk after a few too many glasses. Alhaitham didn’t take any of it seriously. He never did, really. Drunk Kaveh talked. Complained. Said things he didn’t fully mean, exaggerated, dramatized, turned everything into something louder than it needed to be. So Alhaitham listened. Half of it passed by without weight.
Until… Kaveh went quiet. Not completely. Just…more quieter. Mumbling now, words softer, less sharp without the usual edge, like they weren’t meant to be heard by anyone. And Alhaitham might have ignored it. Might have let it fade into nothing like the rest. If he hadn’t caught his name in the middle of it.
“…jerk,” Kaveh muttered. That, at least, was expected of him. Alhaitham didn’t react.
“…can’t stand you,” Kaveh added, voice small, slightly distant. Still expected of him. Still nothing really new.
But then,
“…can’t stop liking you either.” The words landed wrong. Too soft. Too honest. Too-...too...he couldn't think of another word. Alhaitham stilled. Kaveh shifted slightly, pressing his face into the couch like he was trying to hide from his own thoughts, still mumbling, obliviously, unaware, uncaring, unknowing what the outcome would be in the morning.
“…doesn’t make sense,” he continued, quieter now, not even bothering to look at him, “you’re awful…always arguing…always-” a weak, uncoordinated gesture, definitely from being drunk, “but I can’t…can’t leave you…I tried…I just…”
His voice trailed off, quieting down. “…too deep,” he finished, barely audible to him.
Silence settled between them. Heavy. Unavoidable. Not uncomfortable, just unexected. Drunk Kaveh went off on random things, but Alhaitham had a feeling this was more different than the last ones. He just stared at him. Unmoving. Uncertain. Just...thinking.
That was… that was just drunk Kaveh talking. It had to be. Kaveh would never say something like that sober, he would rather go to the desert unprepared instead of confess anything like this. Kaveh would never admit it, not like this, not so plainly, not without having to wrap it in layers of irritation and deflection and argument. And especially not when he was drunk in front of Alhaitham.
So this didn’t count. It couldn’t. It didn't.
…
Except, Kaveh was honest when he was drunk. Very painfully so.
The kind of honesty that slipped through before he could even think to catch it, before he could reshape it into something safer, something easier to deny, something to be able to avoid. Which meant that...
Alhaitham looked away, his jaw tightened just slightly as his eyes looked everywhere but at Kaveh. This changed things. Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe it only made them clearer.
There were only two choices.
Confront him in the morning. Ask him directly. Force the conversation into the open where it couldn’t be ignored by the blonde, where it couldn't be rejected and dodged.
Or…just say nothing. Let it sit. Let it settle. Let it become another unspoken thing between them, something to ignore, another piece added to the growing weight of everything they refused to acknowledge because then it’d be real.
Kaveh wouldn’t remember. Not clearly. Not enough to hold onto it. And Alhaitham? Alhaitham could pretend he hadn’t heard it that night. That nothing had changed. That this didn’t matter. That they could go back to just a normal routine without any second thought.
…
He stayed there for a while longer. Long enough for Kaveh’s breathing to even out, for the tension in his body to loosen, for his muttering to fade into nothing, just the quietness of the room. Carefully, quietly, Alhaitham adjusted him against the couch, moving him into a more comfortable position without waking the man, pulling a blanket over him in a motion so practiced, that it had barely required any thought. His hand lingered for a second longer than necessary, as he stared for a little too long.
Then he pulled away. The decision would be made in the morning.
Though, morning came rather too quickly for his liking. Kaveh woke up with a headache, and some regret. This was expected. It was easily manageable for him to handle. What wasn’t expected, though, was the glass of water already sitting on the table in front of him.
And Alhaitham. Simply sitting across from him. Not reading anything. Just…watching him. As if he was sitting there, waiting for Kaveh to wake up. Kaveh just squinted at him, confused. A little suspicious. “…What.”
Alhaitham didn’t answer immediately. He studied him for a moment longer, like he was confirming something only he was able to see. Then, “You said something last night.”
Kaveh froze. “…I...say a lot of things,” he deflected quickly, already looking away, already retreating, nervous on what that could even imply.
“Yes.” A pause. “But this was specific.”
Kaveh’s grip tightened slightly around the edge of the couch. “…I don’t remember,” he muttered out, truthful.
Alhaitham hummed softly, like he already expected that. “…then I’ll repeat it.”
Kaveh’s head snapped up. “No- wait- hang on-”
“You said you couldn’t stop liking me.”
Silence. It was sharp. Suffocating to him. All Kaveh could do was stare at him. Color rising on his face, he could feel his heartbeat stuttering, his mind scrambling for something, screamed at him, for anything to say, to speak something that could undo that, try to take it back, laugh it off, try and turn it into a joke that he could make mean less than anything.
“I was drunk,” he simply blurted out.
“I’m aware.”
“So it doesn’t count.”
“And why not.”
“Because-…uh- because I wasn’t thinking straight!”
“That would imply you don’t think that while sober.”
“I-“ Kaveh stopped. Because that wasn’t true. And they both knew it.
The silence stretched. This time, it wasn’t avoidable. They were both emotionally trapped in this conversation. Alhaitham leaned back slightly, expression as unreadable as ever, but there was something different in the way he held himself now. Kaveh noticed something.
Something more…certain.
“I’m not asking you to say it again,” Alhaitham said calmly.
Kaveh blinked, confusion already growing in his face. “…what.”
“I already have the information I need.”
“That- That’s not how this works-”
“It is for me.”
Kaveh made a frustrated noise, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re unbelievable,” he muttered.
“I’ve been told.”
“Are you just- what, going to act like this is normal?”
“It is.”
“It’s not-!”
Kaveh stopped again. Because Alhaitham wasn’t arguing with him. He wasn’t dismissing him. Wasn’t…rejecting him like he originally thought.
“…you’re not saying anything,” Kaveh said slowly.
“I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
Alhaitham tilted his head slightly. “I haven’t asked you to leave.”
Kaveh just blinked. “…what does that have to do with anything.”
“Everything.”
A pause. Then, without Kaveh ever expecting to hear it,
“I don’t want you to.”
The words were as simple as that. It was flat. Delivered without any flourish, without any hesitation from the scribe. But they hit harder than anything else he could have chosen to say, literally anythjing else. Kaveh’s breath caught. “…that’s not- ” he started, a bit weaker now, “that’s not the same thing.”
“No,” Alhaitham agreed. “It isn’t.”
Another pause. Then, more quieter, “But it’s what I’m capable of saying.”
Kaveh stared at him. And for once in their years of living together, he understood. Not in a perfect way. Not exactly in a complete way. But enough. It was enough to feel something in his chest loosen, just slightly. Enough to not run from him. Enough to stay there.
Over the days that followed, something had shifted. Not that extremely obvious way. Not in a way that could be pointed out immediately by anyone, and not in a way either of them would’ve admitted to if asked directly. But it was there. Rather subtle. It was noticeable.
Sure they still argued. Of course they did. That hadn’t magically disappeared overnight, that wasn’t something either of them could simply unlearn, not after years of it being the easiest way to communicate anything to the other at all. But it wasn’t as sharp as usual anymore. Not as cutting as it could've been. The words still came, but they didn’t land the same way that irritated the other. It didn’t linger the way they used to. Didn’t leave behind that same heavy silence afterward that felt like something had been broken.
Cyno noticed first. Tighnari right after.
Collei, a little slower, but once she saw it in person, she couldn’t really unsee it. “…They’re weird,” she whispered once, watching them from across the room as Kaveh complained about something that didn’t sound nearly as heated as it should have been, like in the past.
“They’ve always been weird,” Cyno replied calmly, as if this didn’t phase him. “Not like this,” Tighnari added, eyes narrowing slightly in thought, as he observed the two.
Because it was different. It had to be. Something had changed between them, something quiet but incredibly undeniable, like a shift in balance that neither of them had acknowledged out loud, but both had adjusted to regardless. Maybe it had something to do with that night. Maybe it had everything to do with it.
Alhaitham was…different than usual. Not drastically. Not in any way that would’ve drawn attention from anyone who didn’t know him well enough. But Kaveh did. And so, of course he was the one to notice immediately. The way that Alhaitham didn’t immediately shut him down mid-sentence anymore. The way his responses were still blunt, still straightforward, but lacking that sharp edge that used to come so naturally to him when they talked. The way he lingered just a second longer in the same space, rather than walking away the moment an argument ended. The way he listened to him. Actually listened. It was…a strange feeling. And it said more than anything Alhaitham could’ve possibly verbalized himself.
Kaveh, on the other hand, found himself doing things he wouldn’t have dared before. Speaking without the immediate urge to second-guess himself. Holding eye contact just a little longer with him. Sitting closer in the room without realizing it. Testing the boundaries of something that had always felt too fragile to touch directly. It left him surprised. How easily it came, once he actually let himself. How natural it felt, even when it shouldn’t have been.
Before either of them really noticed when it actually started, They were going out together more. It wasn't intentional. Not exactly planned by the other. It just…happened naturally. Errands that didn’t need both of them to do. Walks that lasted way longer than necessary than it needed to. Conversations that didn’t end the moment they could have ended. They stayed in the same room more often. Didn't retreat at the first sign of tension. Didn’t immediately fall back into old patterns they used to have. They didn’t back off.
They made an effort. Strangely quieter than others would've noticed, but they did.
And then there was that night. That one night. It wasn’t supposed to be anything significant, really. Just another evening together in the living room. Just another conversation they shared with each other.
Kaveh wasn’t drinking. Wow, for once.
The two of them sat on the couch, closer than usual, talking about something trivial- something that neither of them would remember later, something that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of anything they thought of. But the silence between sentences felt different. It felt heavier. More charged. Kaveh found himself staring at Alhaitham more than he usually would. At his bright teal eyes. At the way his expression barely shifted at all when he spoke to him. At the subtle movements he had engraved into his memory long before he ever meant to.
At his lips.
…No.
That thought shouldn’t have been there. He shouldn’t have been thinking about that. Shouldn’t have even been considering it, shouldn’t have been letting it linger in his mind, shouldn’t have-
Before he could even fully process what was happening-
Alhaitham moved. And then, he kissed him. Just like that. No warning. No build-up. No hesitation.
Kaveh froze. Stupid fucking idiot- he was supposed to. He had been thinking about it, he had been the one about to- and now-
Oh.
…
Oh.
The thought dissolved in his mind the second it registered. Because it was- it was…nice. More than nice. Simple. Unexpectedly so. Surprisingly comforting. There was no huge pressure behind it. No urgency. No huge demand. Just a quiet, deliberate action that felt like it had been considered long before it happened. Kaveh didn’t pull away. He didn’t argue. He didn’t want to question it. For once, he didn’t overthink it like he would've before. He just…let it happen.
And when it ended, when Alhaitham leaned back just slightly, giving him space, waiting to see what he’d say. Kaveh didn’t say anything. Didn’t try to overanalyze it. Didn’t ruin whatever it was between them. Instead, he shifted closer to him, letting his head fall against Alhaitham’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Don’t say anything,” he muttered quietly, almost embarrassed, almost defensive, like he was bracing himself for a comment he didn’t want to hear from him. Alhaitham paused, then. “…I wasn’t planning to.”
Kaveh huffed softly, closing his eyes, settling into the warmth next to him, into the quiet, into something that didn’t feel fragile for once. “…good.”
And for the first time in a long time, neither of them felt the need to argue.